The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Psyche vs. Fractal: Strange Attractor

(MC, cb, Ff)

Disclaimer:

I wrote this. This is an original work of fiction, bearing little to no resemblance to reality. This is neither intended nor recommended for minors, the faint at heart, or forums/areas/locales where such depictions are proscribed, censored, or illegal. This has been posted with the kindly aid and permission of Simon bar Sinister, who also correctly notes, “The situations described here are at best impossible or at worst highly immoral in real life. Anyone wishing to try this stuff for real should seek psychological help and/or get a life.” Please do not repost, publish, or distribute in whole or in part without the author’s explicit permission. Stories by this author (and many others) may be found at MC Stories.

(MC Times Wire) – The old Sanders Bank on Fifth Street was held up today by an as-yet unidentified robber. Witnesses described their assailant as a young, confident brunette who’d taken out the cameras and security guards with ease. “Just like she owned the place,” one patron recalled. “She knew just what to do and how to do it.”

Bank robberies were nothing new in Midas City; indeed, some banks would later adopt a security policy to have a silent alarm go off unless the head teller pressed a button every hour, to save time. The robber was masked and provocatively dressed, but in a city that seemed to teem with superbeings, mutants, sorcerers and psionicists, that wasn’t particularly remarkable. No, three things made this robbery different. One, the amount, less than fifty thousand in sum. A lot of money for the average person, but not generally considered much by bank robbery standards. But the robber was alone (also somewhat unusual), so the money wouldn’t need to be divided between a ‘crew’ of henchmen most villains used, and it was all loose, smaller bills, nearly impossible to track or identify later.

Two, the villain got away with the money. Although the woman used no visible powers, witnesses all agreed there was ‘something strange’ about her, and such confidence in a solo robbery could be explained by a powerful ability kept in reserve. Once she’d collected enough, she simply walked out, not taking hostages, waiting for a showdown with some arch-nemesis, or taking media interviews. Whatever her motive was, it didn’t seem to be greed, fame, or the generic fallback of Evil. But the third thing was what roused the most attention. A superhero by the name of Rapid Response answered the alarm, and apparently caught up with her after she’d left the scene. Apparently, because he wasn’t found for several hours afterward.

The police department and hospital kept it out of the papers, of course. Superheroes put their lives on the line every day, and most people understood that, especially in public service. But they couldn’t completely cover it up, and before long people in the know had begun to wonder about the new girl. Rapid Response was young, but his speed and agility made him a formidable fighter, particularly in hand-to-hand combat. So how had the nameless woman been able to beat the speedster so easily?

Two weeks later the Crimson Cowboy was treated for gunshot wounds, still stunned by the lady he claimed had out-drawn his legendary Gun Hand. And only three days after that, Dreadlock solemnly reported his failure to his fellow municipal defenders, admitting his spells had been no match for the red-and-black clothed sorceress. She’d given him her name before she defeated him, for all the good that did him. She’d been in the city less than two months, and already she was getting notice in a town where super-powered individuals were almost literally an everyday sight. And as yet, no one knew what her agenda was, whether she was alone or with some sinister team, or even what her powers were.

* * *

Rico noticed the girl first. Grinning, he nudged his partner with an elbow, drawing the other’s attention to the opposite side of the street. “Lookee there,” he stage-whispered. “Christmas come early this year, Billy.”

Billy nodded in appreciation. The girl was obviously lost, clutching her tiny purse tightly and glancing about with little furtive movements. High-class tail, no doubt about it, probably trying to score some drugs or took a very wrong turn somewhere. Old Town was not a good place to be lost in the daytime, and the sun had set hours ago. She looked nervous, uncertain, bringing out the same instincts in the pair watching her as a limping mouse might trigger in a cat. Fur coat, high heels, tiny black dress… prey.

They watched her progress for half a block, cautiously ensuring no other predators were claiming this tender morsel. Then, incredibly, they watched her make a turn into a blind alley, one of many the two knew well.

“Christmas and birthday all in one,” Billy told Rico, sauntering across the street. “Gonna get me some pay, gonna get me some play, gonna have it to-day.”

“Yup.” The two stalked to the mouth of the alley and made one last check for witnesses or unwanted interference. Nothing out of the ordinary. “Hey, man. I’ll let you keep the necklace if I get ta bang ‘er first. Deal?”

Billy considered. “Sure,” he decided. One of his bitch’s birthdays was coming up soon, and that necklace might be real. “But none too rough, ‘k? I want a shot at her too.”

“Afraid I’ll spoil her for your pencil dick?” Rico taunted. “Don’ worry, I’ll be a real gentleman. Just got a thing ‘bout sloppy seconds, is all. Let’s go.”

The girl was so distracted by her wrong turn she didn’t turn to face the pair until they were almost on her. A look of terror passed across her face, quickly replaced by a smile as fake as her handbag. “Uh, hey, guys,” she ventured. “Nice, uh, night, huh?”

Up close, she was even hotter, a high-class hooker for sure. Easy-access clothes, purse just big enough to hold an ID and some rubbers, and thick layers of makeup. “Bitch don’ talk,” Billy growled. “Bitch be on all fours, ‘less bitch wants beat.”

She took a step back uncertainly, hands coming up placatingly. “Easy, guys. I’m just, ah, looking for some weed. You got any I can buy off you?”

She had some balls, Billy had to admit. Not many girls would try to bargain at a time like this. But he wasn’t buying her line; she didn’t have anything they weren’t about to take. “Cherry, huh? ‘Splains the hair.” He gave a forced laugh, wanting to make the moment last. “Ever fucked a redhead up the ass, Rico?”

“Naw, man, I ain’t ever fucked a redhead up the ass,” Rico said, going along with it. “Redheads s’posed to be all wild n’ shit, man. Bet you fuck her ass, she go all crazy on you, man.”

“No shit, man.” Billy stepped forward, smiling at the girl’s obvious fear. He was already hard at her helplessness, as turned on by it as her world-class figure. “Might not be real redhead though. Let’s do it and see how much fight she puts up. Bend over, cherry. Time I make you a woman, proper.” He pointed at an overturned trashcan, then looked at it for a moment, confused

Publicly, Psyche had billed herself as a telepath, and that was true, in a manner of speaking. She lacked the range of most telepaths, unable to sense much apart from mental noise beyond fifty yards or so. And unless that subject was unwary, off-guard, or weak-willed, she could seldom read much more than surface thoughts from a given person. But she did have an ace up her sleeve, one she’d kept secret even from her friends and comrades-in-arms.

She looked past the thugs’ physical forms, sensing their mind-fields superimposed on the shells that carried their consciousness around. The clouds sparkled and whirled with a life of their own, every mote and particle a separate thought of feeling. She could watch them wink and fly around for hours, but there was work to be done.

Two streams spun off from Psyche’s own cloud, long wavy lines stretching to intersect the clouds of the two men. Tethered to her own conscious, the waves peeled away from her inner self with a sensuality she’d never found words for before. It was like the slow beginnings of a seduction, first touch of a long-awaited caress, the gentle warmth of arousal. As her waves met their clouds, the brought order to the chaos, gradually bending their thoughts into whatever form she desired.

It was always hard to resist the urge to take them over completely, redrawing their entire mental processes into a pattern completely her own, but she’d never dared follow up on the impulse. Instead, she let the waves play in their temporary homes for a few moments, enraptured with the unique thrill of psychic intimacy before reluctantly withdrawing them, her mental constructs folding gently back into her self.

Within the alley, all was silent. Three bodies stood still, obedient to one will. Then, as if in slow motion, the two criminals dropped to the ground, sinking into the filthy water that had puddled in the alley.

Billy was awake, he just couldn’t move; it was as though his entire body had locked in place, imprisoning him. His eyes stayed open steadfastly, and he heard the distant splash of Rico landing heavily beside him.

“‘Make you a woman’. Sheesh. That old chestnut? Twenty years of listening to rap albums and that’s the best you come up with? I’ve gotten better propositions from the Silent Strangler.” That chick… oh, no… she must be some kinda…

Suddenly her face loomed into view, calm now. She withdrew a match from her purse and struck it on Billy’s face, lighting a slim cigarette with care before continuing. “I was hoping for some real action, but I guess you two clowns are about it for tonight. Sad, really.” She took a deep drag, carelessly placing one stiletto heel on his sternum. “This used to be such a dangerous part of town, too. Once upon a time you were tripping over muggers, purse-snatchers and hell-dogs. Now you two are the entirety of my evening’s entertainment.”

She smoked reflectively for a while before rolling Billy over onto his back with her foot. “Well, that’s the price you pay for success, I guess. Me, I mean, not you two. You parasites get the booby prize.” Her eyes narrowed, and Billy felt a warmth in his jeans as his bladder released itself spasmodically.

“Congratulations, assholes. You’re cornered in a back alley with a very cold, very bored Psyche. Any idea what that means?” She leaned closer, blowing a cloud of smoke into Billy’s face. “It means you’re gonna wish you’d never laid eyes on a woman, much less me. It means you’re gonna wish you’d stayed off of drugs and stayed in school. It means I’m gonna make you very, very sorry you ever got your miserable asses into a life of crime. It means I’m going to make personally sure you’re never going to hurt anyone again. It means you’re gonna beg me to hand you over to the police. Anything to make it stop.”

Rico managed a whimper.

* * *

The Silver Sentry was a rarity among superheroes, a hero who never set foot on the front lines. An accident in childhood had left him a paraplegic, unable to physically do much beyond shift his weight in the expensive bed and speak. But sometimes Fate gives with one hand even as she takes with the other, and while there was much to hate about his condition, there were some bright spots. For starters, there wasn’t a major superhero in the city who wouldn’t take his calls.

“Psyche here.” Psyche squinted at the vidscreen on her cellphone, and her face broke into a genuine smile. “Oh, hey, SS! How’s my favorite all-seeing eye?”

His brow furrowed in consternation as he took in Psyche’s attire. “Fur? I trust I’m not interrupting anything private…?”

“Nah,” Psyche said, flipping a lock of hair back. “Not my style; I’m undercover. Come on, I don’t think Leona Helmsley wears this much makeup. What’s on your mind, Sentry?”

“Just bringing the independents up to speed,” he told her, relaxing. Psyche was a solo, but was capable, worked within the law, and was likable enough. He had a bet with the Blue Fox that she’d join one of the city’s hero associations within the year. “Sure, you get to miss all the boring meetings, but you get the juicy stuff last, too.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” Psyche giggled. “So what’s the poop? Mad scientist, Nazi overlord, genocidal wheat?”

“Nothing like that, I’m afraid. But we do have some info on a new villain: Fractal. Heard of her?”

Psyche shook her head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”

“I don’t think so. Wears red and black, varying costumes. Wanted for assault, bank robbery, the usual list.” He looked to the side, trying to place the sudden off-screen noise . “Is someone else there?”

Psyche surreptitiously kicked Rico’s calf, motioning him to silence. The two would-be rapists got the hint, and Billy bit his lip hard to keep from groaning in pain as his partner continued to sodomize him in silence. “No one worth mentioning. Go on, what’s this chick’s angle? Powers, goals, world domination by Tuesday?”

“We don’t know.” Psyche frowned, and he quickly filled the heroine in on Fractal’s activities. “Four encounters so far, and she’s won every one. We didn’t even find out her name until Dreadlock fought her, and he only found out because he asked. One day she’s a fighter, the next she’s a spell-slinger. Even the name doesn’t give us much to go on. It may be some kind of reference to her affinity for chaos, but that’s just my guess. Or it could be more misdirection.”

Psyche nodded. For all of her joking with him, the Silver Sentry was someone to be respected. He was the most powerful clairvoyant in the city, maybe the world. Most heroes, including herself, owed him a debt of gratitude; indeed, having him call you with some vital bit of info was considered a rite of passage by many, a sign that you had made it as a hero. Confined to a hospital bed somewhere secret, he had probably done more to fight crime than any ten superheroes combined.

“Well, that sucks. Is she heading my way?”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know.” Silver Sentry grimaced. “She’s got some way to block me from finding her, or I’d have called the artillery in on her by now. Just letting the ‘lancers know, I’m afraid. Expect her to be good, and don’t let your guard down. She’s cagey about even her name, so don’t expect her to be any less cautious with her abilities.”

“A real pro, sounds like.” Psyche sighed, a movement whose effects Sentry appreciated as he watched her bosom swell and fall deliciously. “I like ‘em better when you can see ‘em a mile away, burning their name into the moon and stuff. Is this hush-hush, or are we telling everyone?”

“Keep it to supers, for now; we don’t want the people to panic, and frankly, she’s not done a lot of damage so far. Do you know Silver Girl? If you see her, let her know too; I don’t have a point of contact for her, and she’s dropped off my radar lately.”

Silver. Psyche stifled a giggle, thinking of the last time they’d gotten together. Oh, yeah, I remember her all right. “Will do. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her, but we bump into each other sometimes. Oh, and it’s just Silver now, I think. Anything else?”

“That’s it. Take care, girl.”

“You too, man.” She hung up, thinking.

A new super-villain, confounding the old guard, eh? Sounds like fun. Sounds like a lot of fun. Psyche looked at where her two erstwhile attackers were switching places, Rico having finally spent himself. Both were sobbing quietly, compelled by her will to do to each other what they’d planned to do to her. “Gotta go, boys. Once you’re finished there, you will forget my involvement in all this. You followed the girl but lost her, and argued about it in this alley, until things got so heated, you lost control and somehow ended up fucking each other.”

She stubbed her cigarette out and headed for the mouth of the alley. “Neither of you will talk about this night’s events to anyone but each other. You will think about this night for a long, long time, reexamine your lives, and decide that a life of crime and inflicting misery on others is not the way for you. Get a job, go back to school, whatever. Anything to not have this happen again.” She rounded the corner, pausing just long enough to finish her instructions. “‘Cause if you do… you’re fucked.”

* * *

Feh. Two months in this rathole, and not a decent fight or fuck to show for it. Fractal slumped into her chair, pouting. She had money to burn, a place to live, and a body to die for. So why can’t I just be happy with what I’ve got? The question was entirely rhetorical. She knew why she wasn’t happy: boredom.

Two months, and what’s my haul? Some kid not old enough to shave yet, a gay cowboy, some smelly hippy... It’s not exactly ‘The Love Connection’ out there. Maybe I’m looking in the wrong place. Maybe I should try someplace else, like… She sighed and turned on the television, not really watching.

Boredom had long been the bane of her existence. Her power had developed early but slowly, gradually making itself known to her. When it finally did surface, fully and unmistakably, it was more of a realization of power than a sudden ‘Bang! You’re supernatural!’ The only daughter of wealthy socialites, she was used to getting her way, but she routinely got away with stunts that left her peers green with envy. So it had come as no surprise to her fellow debutantes that while they were making the last-minute preparations for the Social Event of the Year, Fractal had bribed the doorman, fucked the chauffer, and run off to seek her fortune. No one knew her new identity, as far as she knew, but she doubted many of her former friends would be too surprised to find what had become of the enchantingly beautiful hell-raiser.

Born into a privileged life – or, as some would have it, spoiled – Fractal had enjoyed the best of everything in life – perhaps, she sometimes admitted to herself, the very reason she’d left her old life. But even now she enjoyed some of the fruits of her pampered lifestyle: clear, well-tanned skin, a lithe, curvy figure sculpted by specially-tailored diets and personal trainers, and an artist’s touch with makeup. Her dark, lustrous hair almost seemed to glow with an inner light, one that matched the ever-present twinkle in her brown eyes. She hadn’t modeled since she was fourteen – not unless you counted the one time with an ex of hers, an amateur photographer and budding horn-dog – but she got offers regularly. No thanks. Found what I want to do in life, for now.

She’d had some false starts at first, but the thrill of conflict, of testing her limits and herself – it was like a drug, hooking her in, sending her reeling and gasping for more. Fractal wasn’t a heroine by a long shot, but neither did she consider herself a villain, exactly. Oh, she stole when she needed to, but generally from criminals themselves, with one recent exception. The bank job had been as much for the high as out of need, a way to draw out a challenge. More than enough cash for a new outfit and a place to live, too. I don’t know where these people shop, but you can’t get threads like this at the mall!

She wasn’t too thrilled with the way her new costume had turned out, but it beat the pants off of the old one, figuratively and somewhat literally. Leather pants and a halter top had seemed like a good idea at the time, as well being financially accessible, but hadn’t worked out. The pants were all right, if a little too confining in a fight, but the halter was an unmitigated disaster. For reasons that now escaped her, Fractal had gone with an oversized top, which had proceeded to come loose in the first few seconds of the fight. By the time the scuffle was over, she was grateful she’d won; she could just picture the nightly news showing Rapid Response towing a half-naked robber to jail, little pixilated blurs over her exposed breasts. As it was, the poor kid’s eyes had bugged out of their sockets most of the fight, and she would’ve sworn he’d tried to rip the top away once or twice with ‘accidental’ near-miss attacks. Pervert. Guess I can’t blame him much, though.

For the latest incarnation of her costume, Fractal had gone with her instincts and bought a very pricy dress, a red slinky number that hugged her curves in all the right places. Next came a pair of full-length red leather opera gloves, as much for style as for protection, and not coincidentally matching her brassier and panties. The calf-high red boots weren’t particularly cute, but with a little attitude she could manage the grrrl look. A red and black bandanna held her long hair in place – or would have, had she not spiked it with an absurd amount of gel. With some of the tips reddened, it was a little risky, fashion-wise, but she was beautiful enough to pull it off. She could always ditch it later, if it proved too ridiculous. But the crowning touch – the flash of inspiration she’d had while leafing through a magazine on Milan’s latest – was the scissors. Or rather, what she’d done with them. Snip-snip, snip-snip, here and there, until the whole outfit featured rents and slashes every which way, a chaotic design she hoped would underscore her chosen name.

It’s all insured money anyway, she rationalized, back in the present. But she would have done it anyway, just for the battle that came afterwards. She’d though she’d gotten away clean, then, BANG! he was on her. He was nearly everything she’d hoped: cocky, cute, and oh-so noble… unfortunately not to her taste, but her luck had to improve sooner or later. Maybe I should have made a play for him anyway. He wasn’t too too bad…

Fractal’s hand crept down, pushing under the waistband of her panties as she indulged herself in one of her favorite, but as yet unfulfilled, daydreams. Oh, the look in his eyes when my little secret caught up with him… ahhh…

In her mind’s eye, the boy grew older, a little more square in the jaw, a little more muscular… Yes… come fight the bad girl, you super-stud, you… tell her you’re here to punish her…

Midway through her fantasy, the man had become a woman, a delicious taboo adding to the excitement. Fractal had enjoyed lovers of both sexes, but found women more to her taste overall. She had nothing against a good hard cock per se, but the man it was attached to was often another story. The contrast between the fumbling nervousness of a boy desperate to get to third base, and the unhurried sensuality of a woman’s touch… those wonderfully eye-opening movie nights and sleep-overs she and her friends had enjoyed back in high school had left her decidedly bisexual, if not quite a full-fledged lesbian just yet, and she longed to broaden her experience.

That’s why I didn’t jump your bones that day, you poor beautiful boy. To bad for you, ‘cause you would’ve loved what I would’ve done to you… The heroine she now assaulted in her vision struggled gamely, but her defeat was already at hand. She saw the lust in Fractal’s eyes, and it ignited her own inner spark, even as her goody-goody façade tried to quash it…

The television was still blaring away, and Fractal grabbed the remote with her free hand, annoyed. She raised it to turn off the chattering, then stopped as her eyes registered the news story. Her other hand slowed its work, then drifted to a stop as she watched as if entranced.

Channel 6 was doing a profile on Midas City’s lesser-known heros, the second-stringers and up-and-comers. Some were squeaky-clean, some were borderline crooks in their own right, but Fractal only had eyes for one, a relative unknown by the name of Psyche.

She was small, petite without being stocky or short. Bright red hair complimented her blue eyes, innocent or piercing depending on circumstance. Looking more closely at the images cycling over the reporter’s shoulder, Fractal noted Psyche wore high-heeled boots in every one, adding three or more inches to her height. High cheeks, well-executed makeup, supple form… Fractal could almost imagine her with pointed ears, so elfin was her appearance.

She favored stockings and leggings, it seemed, long legs seeming longer in the short skirts she wore. The tops varied from tight to skimpy, but always conspired to make the most of her sumptuous mounds. Her costumes were uniformly risqué: an exposed cup here, a flash of garter there, and a whole lot of skin revealed when she flounced about her overactive lifestyle.

My god. Fractal was sure she was sweating, and her hand resumed its task with renewed fervor. She’s perfect. Cool outfit, hot moves, and that ass! Got to love superpowers; how else could you explain a waif with big tits and an Olympic body? She’s like the girl next door you always wanted to have… and have… and have… A brief montage was cycling through now, giving Fractal even more eye-candy to watch. Ye gods, what a honey. Those lips, those legs… a body to die for. She’s got to work out, like, all the time. A girl people would do anything to have… and she lives in my own zip code.

Fractal’s finger was plunging into her sopping pussy now, closing fast on what felt like a first-class orgasm. She pictured Psyche’s face when Fractal’s surprise came out to play, the feel of their bodies meshing together, holding, caressing, loving…

You will be mine, Psyche, Fractal told her future lover. You’re going to come with my name on your lips, and you’ll beg me for more…

* * *

That was out of line, Psyche. Way too harsh. Psyche undressed on her way to the shower, shedding clothes as she went. The hot water was an old friend, massaging away tension and stripping off the filth of Old Town and the layers of makeup, scouring her clean. Stupid. I should have just done my job. I’m bored, and I’m letting it get to me. I’m starting to act out and it’s affecting my work.

Briefly, she thought of the Lash, and dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come. Idiot got caught up in some stupid drug scam, so back to prison again. Serves him right. But with him locked away, Psyche now had to do without her guilty pleasures. The man was a vile and despicable human being, but he had his uses, at least for Psyche. Well, use, anyway. She’d never quite reconciled her superheroine career with her blatant sexual exploitation of the telekinetic criminal. As awful as he was, he didn’t deserve to be her sex puppet, even just every once in a while. She hadn’t used him often, but when she had, use was the operative word. Their encounters had been little more than an orgy of brutal carnality.

It wasn’t him, she knew, although his enhanced stamina and invisible tendrils of force made him a potentially stellar lover. It was the forbiddenness of it, the naughty, perverse, deep-down wickedness surrounding the act itself. He’d never made love to her, and didn’t even remember ever having done anything other than fight her. But he’d fucked her, savagely and without apology, operating almost purely on lust. It had been easy to channel his weak and fairly one-track mind to her own ends, puppeteering him into trying to master her whenever that secret need came on her. And once she was in his clutches, he held nothing back, eagerly undertaking every dark kink she wanted to indulge. It was wrong, senseless, risky, and so dammed erotic: rough play, roleplay, bondage, D&S, and S&M all rolled up in one big kinky package. It left every other sexual experience Psyche had had in the dust, and as much as she tried to repress it, she knew she loved every quaking minute of it.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Psyche stepped out of the shower and toweled herself dry angrily. I’ve got to get some help before this gets out of hand. That, or find myself someone who’ll…

She refused to let herself finish that thought.

* * *

The next night Psyche was still doing her best to put her personal problems out of her mind. Flying had always been a good way for her to relax and unwind. There was just something calming about the simple pleasure of soaring over the earth. Plus, it was a good way to keep an eye out for trouble, her ostensible reason for patrolling tonight. Well, nothing so far, but the night’s young. Maybe a quick look at New Town, just in case…

Just as she was banking into a turn, a strange faint green glow caught her eye, and she halted in mid-air to investigate. There, painted in large glowing letters on a dilapidated rooftop, was a single word: “Psyche”. Well, someone certainly seems to want my attention! Cautiously, Psyche extended her senses, but felt nothing out of the ordinary nearby. With one last slow circle, she landed on the tarred roof and made her way to the sign.

“Hey, Red. Just so you know? When you land like that, you’re flashing everyone below you.”

Psyche whirled around to face the girl stepping out of the shadows behind her. “At least I’m wearing underwear,” she shot back, rattled by the woman’s sudden appearance. “Who’s your tailor, Edward Scissorhands?”

The girl in the slit-cut red-and-black dress frowned, stung. “Cute. You must really make the girls cry down at the playground.”

Psyche jerked her head backwards. “Your work, I take it.” She’d already figured that much out, and was stalling for time. The newcomer seemed to have no mental signature at all, a mere puff of smoke instead of the bright cloud Psyche was used to. Must be how she snuck up on me.

The girl clasped her hands behind her back and looked down, scuffing her boot coyly. “I’m flattered you noticed, Psyche. I thought of a few other ways of getting your attention, but this seemed the easiest.” She batted her eyelashes in a smile. “Took me four glow-sticks to do. Next time I’ll use cursive. Or call.”

“Well, you found me… Fractal,” Psyche guessed. Fractal wasn’t able to completely mask her surprise, so she pushed on. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. So. You want to tell me why I shouldn’t beat you senseless now?”

Ohh, scary…” Fractal put up her fists, Marquess of Queensbery style. “Maybe that’s what I want, candy-ass. But don’t you want to hear my offer first?”

Psyche considered. Fractal seemed sincere; she’d given up the element of surprise for the chance to talk. But bargaining with a villain was always dicey, especially an unknown, and the Silver Sentry’s warning still held true. “I’m listening,” she said warily.

Fractal seemed genuinely happy. “Cool! Ok, here’s the deal. We fight, no powers, girl-on-girl.” She smirked at her little joke. “If you win, I give back the money I got from the bank heist.”

“If I win, you’re going to jail,” Psyche pointed out.

“Maybe, maybe. Let’s cross that bridge if we come to it.”

Psyche narrowed her eyes. This had to be a trick, but what? Where? “That sounds… sporting,” she hazarded. “I can’t turn off some of my abilities, though.”

Fractal waved that aside. “I’m not so worried about the stamina and stuff, just the big two: flight and telepathy. If it’s gonna be a fair fight, I don’t want you flying around or reading my moves.”

“And what about your powers?”

“I’m a bit enhanced, like you, but no super-strength or anything, so I think we’re even there. And my main power… well, when I’ve used it, baby, you’ll know it.”

She might be on the level. And if she does cheat, I can always dom her. She’s not the only one with a secret power… “Did you make the same offer to the others?”

“Just you, babe. I kinda like you.” Fractal gave the air a kiss.

Hmm. “What do you get if you win?” Not that you will, she added mentally.

“Oh.” Fractal looked suddenly nonplussed. “If I win, then you, um, have to tell when who does your costumes. Or at least point me in the right direction.”

Psyche started laughing. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be mean. I just…”

The brunette grimaced good-naturedly. “I know, it’s awful. Damn thing gets in my way all the time. You think this is bad, you should have seen my first try. I looked like I wanted to be called ‘Industrial Accident Girl’.”

“Don’t worry, everybody I know started out with a bad outfit. My first one was a–” Psyche cut herself short. You’re here to take down a criminal, not make friends! Focus! “Madame, I accept.”

Fractal fell back into a judo stance. “All right, then. Ready? GO!”

Judo is primarily a defensive martial art. Knowing this, Psyche went on the offensive, feinting a high kick at Fractal’s head, then coming in low to sweep the girl’s feet out from under her. Psyche was in the air, pouncing on her opponent before Fractal had time to rise.

But Fractal had a few tricks of her own. At the last moment she brought up her legs, planting her heels on Psyche’s torso and pushing up and over, sending the green-clad heroine into a battered air conditioner. Fractal took a moment to shake her head clear as Psyche disentangled herself.

“That looked like it hurt.”

“Had worse falling off a bike,” Psyche retorted, and launched herself again. Fractal was better-prepared this time, and answered the assault with one of her own, landing a few good shots before a sucker punch sent her spinning into a rusty aerial. Seeing Psyche moving at her again, she dodged hurriedly to one side, a goodly-sized piece of her dress staying behind with a loud ripping noise.

Psyche stopped mid-attack. “Oh! Oh, I… I’m sorry! Your dress…”

Fractal surveyed the damage. “Damn it.” The hem had torn three-quarters of the way around, making a limp pool of fabric around her feet. Sighing, she tore away the rest, turning her dress into a ragged miniskirt. “It was torn already. And I hear high hemlines are coming back. No big deal.”

“Oh.” Psyche felt a little embarrassed, both for Fractal’s wardrobe malfunction, and her own reaction to it. She’d not only missed a good opportunity, but she’d also found herself looking to see whether or not Fractal was wearing panties, compelled by some strange corner of her mind. A black thong, as it turned out; slightly surprising, but it wasn’t as if Psyche didn’t own one or two herself. And it’s not like she planned for anyone to see... did she? Is this some facet of her mystery power? Ok, now that’s just plain dumb. Her handle’s not ‘Super Stripper’, for crying out loud. Mind out of the gutter, girl.

Fractal patted her ragged dress into place and smiled vulnerably. “Sorry. Let’s try that again. Shall we?”

“Absolutely.” Psyche lunged, hoping to take the brunette off-guard again. Fractal ducked under a roundhouse to plant both fists on Psyche’s chest, sending the crimefighter sprawling. Psyche stumbled backwards, seemed to right herself, then fell back heavily against and air vent. She pushed herself off to the side as Fractal closed, barely avoiding the booted heel that crumpled the sheet metal she’d come to rest on. The two circled each other warily, looking for an opening.

What was that? I haven’t been that clumsy since I hit puberty! Fighting in high heels was no picnic, but she’d never had a lot of trouble with it before. Of course, being able to fly had always offset that… Maybe that’s it. I’ve gotten so used to using flight to keep my balance, I’ve gotten out of practice maneuvering in heels. Wish I’d known before we started; I would’ve brought flats or something. Chalk it up to the price of looking good, I guess.

“Not bad,” Fractal remarked. “Didn’t figure you’d be much of a fighter.”

“Thanks.” Psyche wanted to follow up with something properly taunting, like I thought you’d be tougher, but it seemed… rude, now. Despite herself, she was starting to like this girl. “You could always give up, you know.”

“What, and miss all this? That’d be no fun! I like being a bad girl. Don’t try to talk me into becoming some kind of sissy.”

“That’s not what I–” Psyche’s protest was cut off as Fractal attacked, catching her off-guard. She blocked the flurry of punches as best as she could, and get in a few hits of her own, but she couldn’t quite seem to regain the initiative. She began to fall back, defending, stumbling over the debris littering the roof-top until she fell. Fractal was on her at once, knees pressing the girl’s body to the ground, hands closing around the heroine’s throat. Psyche scrabbled at Fractal’s hands, but couldn’t break her grip.

“Nighty-night, cutie,” Fractal breathed, straining to keep the girl beneath her immobilized. “Looks like I didn’t need any powers to beat your ass…”

No! I can’t lose! Psyche’s peripheral vision was already gone, her sight narrowing rapidly. In a minute or so she would pass out, brain starved from lack of oxygen. And then, unconscious at the feet of her adversary, helpless while Fractal… while she…

No. Psyche let her power slip into place, uncoiling eagerly from its dormancy. It was cheating, but she couldn’t afford to lose, she just couldn’t. She sent forth a glowing strand of will into the cloud of Fractal’s mind, with one imperative: Obey me.

Fractal sat back in alarm as Psyche’s face suddenly went blank. Her struggling ceased all at once, like someone had flipped a switch on her back. She’d felt the girl’s power flare up once, hard, and then… nothing.

What the hell? She’s breathing, and she has a pulse, she just… Suspicious of a trick, Fractal let go, jumping back into a guarded stance and waiting. The superheroine didn’t move.

Fractal gave her a few moments more, waiting. Maybe she tried some kind of mind-blast thing, some kind of telepathic KO. “Psyche? You ok?”

To her surprise, Psyche answered. “Yes.” Her voice sounded strange, distant.

Well, she’s not dead. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”

“No. And yes.”

Creepy. She didn’t seem inclined to explain further, though. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t know.”

This is getting weird. Fractal waited, but Psyche didn’t add to her statement. “Ok, fine, I’ll ask. What did you do?”

“I tried to take over your mind.”

What?” Psyche repeated the sentence, but Fractal wasn’t listening any more. “You sneaky little witch! You can do that?”

“Yes. It’s my real power.”

Fractal sat back on her haunches. “I’ll be damned. I had no idea. It’s a secret, huh? Who knows about this?”

“It’s a secret. You’re the only one who knows, I think.”

“Well, well, well. OK, fill me in, cupcake. What were you going to make me do? What was the plan?”

“Obey. After that, I’d get my breath back and figure out what to do next. Probably make you think it was a draw and go our separate ways, or forget it entirely. I don’t know.”

“Wow. A real live mind-controller. Do you do that a lot?”

“Sometimes. More than I ought to.”

Fractal sat down next to Psyche, chuckling to herself. “‘Obey’, huh? Well, serves you right.” She patted Psyche’s head. “So now I know your power. Guessed mine yet, hot stuff?”

Psyche hesitated before answering. Lacking facial expression, Fractal supposed she was thinking about it. “I think so. You block other people’s powers.”

“Give the lady a gold star!” Fractal crowed. “Well, maybe a silver. You’re almost right, sweet thing. A little speed, a little agility, blah, blah, just like you, but without the flying around. Is that as fun as it looks, by the way?”

“Yes.” Pause. “No. More fun.”

“Cool. Sit up, will you? People will think you’re dead or something.”

Psyche sat up, leaning on her hands; Fractal had half-expected her to rise up like a vampire in a coffin. “Neat! You ever make people do silly stuff, like sing and dance for you?”

“No, I want to keep my power a secret.” Pause. “I used to, sometimes, but I try not to any more.”

“‘Try’, huh? Sounds naughty.” She slapped her forehead dramatically. “Oh! Now you totally made me lose my train of thought! Oh, yeah, my power. It doesn’t block powers, it counteracts them. A super-genius gets dumb when I use it on him, spells turn against their caster… you get the idea. And best of all, it works on normal people, too! Cops get all shy and polite, born salesmen give me half off wholesale…” She sighed happily.

No wonder she’s beaten everyone she’s fought! Psyche thought numbly. That explains why I had so much trouble seeing her mind-field…and why we couldn’t figure out her power. It was too big to see!

“But enough about me,” Fractal continued. “Too late for that to do you any good now, right? That should teach you to try to cheat an honest criminal. Stand up.”

Psyche stood, giving Fractal a hand up. “Thanks. Ok, so, that mind control thing of yours was a big surge, almost knocked me over. Is it always that powerful? How long will you be like this?”

“I call it ‘domming’,” Psyche explained. “Usually, the bigger the change I’m trying to make, the longer it takes to do, and the harder it is. I guess since I was effectively domming myself, it was really easy this time. I’ve never done it to myself, so I’m not sure how long it’ll last.” Psyche gulped. “Until you release me, I guess.”

Reeeeaallly?” Fractal raised an arched eyebrow. She stood a moment in thought, her smile getting bigger with each passing second. “Let’s go to your place, doll-face. I want to get to know you a little better.”

* * *

“So this is how the other half lives,” Fractal commented, sinking luxuriantly into Psyche’s plush sofa. “Nice. And roof accessible, too. Don’t the neighbors ever say anything about you flying in at all hours?”

“No.” They’d arrived at Psyche’s apartment almost an hour after the rooftop incident. Fractal had insisted on an aerial tour of Midas City before coming home. Psyche brought the glasses and Merlot Fractal had asked for earlier, and began filling them. “I dommed them when I first moved in, to help protect my secret identity.”

“Ah. Sneaky. Don’t be shy, fill ‘em all the way up.” Fractal took her glass and sipped it. “Mmm. Ever feel guilty about that? Mind-fucking the innocent, I mean?”

“Some. I try to limit it to criminals, or when I’ve got no other choice.”

“There’s that ‘try’ again. We’ll get to that in a bit. But first, that ‘yes, Master’ tone is getting annoying. Hold on.” Fractal closed her eyes, thinking for a minute. “Ok. I want you to act, speak, and respond normally to events, unless that means aiding your escape from my control. You are still totally obedient to me in all ways, and do nothing to harm, discomfit, or even annoy me. You will follow any command without hesitation unless it will harm me and answer any question I ask, especially if you don’t want to. Got that?”

“Yes. I mean, yeah.” Psyche no longer sounded monotone; tense, but conversational.

“Good. Now, drink up! I want you to drink as much as I do.” Fractal folded her legs under her while Psyche began gulping at her drink to catch up. “That’s better. This isn’t too bad, is it?”

“No. Not so far.”

“Good. I know this is kind of weird, but it’s not every day a girl gets a submissive superheroine to boss around, you know? Don’t worry, Red.” Fractal pulled Psyche into a one-sided hug. “I’ll probably take a few more liberties – like, get us some more wine, please? – but I’m not going to kill you or anything. Not my style.”

“What is your style?” Psyche asked, getting up to fetch another bottle. Somewhat startled at being able to ask questions, she followed up quickly. “And why did you want to talk to me in the first place?”

Fractal looked pleasantly surprised at the questions, and waited until Psyche had reseated herself. “My style… well, I’ll let you be the judge of that, dear. I think you’re already getting an idea, though. As for why, well…”

Fractal shifted in her chair. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but, um… I think you’re hot. When I started playing Midas, I liked the action, but I wasn’t finding anyone who really got me going, you know? Not just the battles, I mean… mmm, I think you know what I mean.” Fractal sat back. “So. What do you think of that?”

Psyche couldn’t lie, much as she wanted to. “Oh. It’s… flattering, I guess. A little exciting. But I’m not, you know, gay or anything. Sorry.”

“Really.” Fractal’s tone was one of polite disbelief. “Are you sure? That outfit, your powers… I’d have expected you to be a little more… adventurous.”

“I’m plenty adventurous, I’ll have you know! I’m just not… not…” Psyche trailed off, uncertain.

“Of course you’re not. Well, let’s see. You can fly, right? Have you ever made love in-flight?”

“Um… no.”

Fractal gave her a lopsided smile. “Half an hour in your arms today, and I don’t see how anyone could resist. On a warm day, anyway. Why not?”

“I… don’t know. I just…”

“Never mind, for now. When was the last time you had a steady boyfriend?”

“A few years back.” Fractal’s eyebrow rose ironically. “I’ve had sex since! It’s just, the job, and everything, I don’t have a lot of time to date!” she put in defensively. “I’m not close-minded, really!” God, don’t let her ask the right question…

“Sure. So, no boys lately. Ever even kissed a girl?”

“No. Yes… sort of,” Psyche answered, genuinely confused as she tried to recall. “Silver and I… um. I think we kissed. It was… I mean, we were all…” she searched for words, finally gave up. “I don’t remember it very well. It was kind of confusing, at the time.”

“The plot thickens. ‘Silver’, huh? Have to meet her sometime.” “Sounds like you’re more unsure about your feelings than the events.” Fractal leaned in closer, her lips coming closer to Psyche’s than the heroine would have liked. “This kiss, or whatever. Did you like it? Would you do it again?”

“I’m not gay!”

“Not what I asked.”

Would I? “…Yes. Yeah, I think so.” Psyche’s cheeks were burning. This would be a good time for a sudden rescue. Anyone? “It was wild. Sort of… indescribable. But… I liked it. A lot.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere, baby. Silver. She’s a super-babe?”

“Do you mean super-powered, or super-beautiful? Ah… both, really. But...”

“…But being able to appreciate feminine beauty doesn’t imply homosexuality, I know. Tell me this: was it her, or was it the situation? If you were just regular girls, would it have been the same? Was it ohmigod, I’m kissing a girl hot, or ohmigod, this is so hot, or ohmigod, she’s so hot?”

A rescue, please? Anyone at all? I’m dying, here… “I’m not sure anymore. I’ve tried not to think about it. Maybe… maybe all three.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone’s a little overdue for some self-examination. My opinion though, you’ve got a bad case of bi-curious, Red.” She leaned closer, closer, and Psyche waited for their lips to touch, to kiss those full, glossy…

Fractal pulled back, sipping at her wine, and Psyche found herself mirroring it. “We’ll see. I’m really, really tempted, but… I don’t know. I could so do you, and no one’d know. Not even you, right?”

Psyche fought back a shiver. “You could make me forget.”

“Ok, too serious right now for me. Let’s back-burner that one.” She took a long gulp, finishing her drink, and thought while Psyche refilled the glasses. “Ok, got one for truth-and-dare. What’s the naughtiest thing you’ve ever done?”

Forget the rescue. Someone just kill me. “It’s easier to show you than tell you.”

“Here? With me, you mean? Oh, my.”

“Not exactly. I have a DVD. I, um, had it recorded.”

“Oh, my! I’m guessing this is one of those indiscretion-type times when you used your domming?”

“Er… yeah. A lot.” Psyche gulped. “I really don’t want you to see this.”

“All the more reason to. Put it on, slave.” Fractal shivered and hugged herself. “Ohh, ‘slave’. Kinda like that.”

Dreading the moment, Psyche dragged her feet as much as possible, and shut her eyes when it started to play on the television. Oh, god, I’m done for. Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“Damn, girl, you got some sweet cheeks! The camera just loves you! Cool place, is that out in… Oh, I see, a Bad Guy… but how is this…”

Please, no. I didn’t want this, didn’t want anyone to know, I tried to stop but I couldn’t, and I hardly ever even watched it, and…

“Ah, the face-off, Wrong versus Right. And they’re off… oh, nice hit… ok, that was… Oh, boy…”

Fractal trailed off a few minutes into the recording as the fight progressed from typical, to brutal, to sexual. Psyche couldn’t bear it.

“Psyche… open your eyes, hon.”

She did so. “Watch it with me. We’ll watch it together. Oh, jeez… this is what you get off on, Red? Is this what gets you hot?”

“Yes.” Psyche’s voice was almost inaudible.

“Wow… touch yourself, baby. Through your vest, through your panties, but no skin… just tease yourself, just enough to simmer… just enough… to arouse…”

It was hardly necessary, but Psyche had little choice in the matter. Her hand alternated dreamily from breast to cleft, gently stroking through fabric as the show played on. She watched her digital self progress from one humiliation to the next, stripped, whipped, and shaking in orgasm as he took her again and again. Progressed from unshakable, to defiant, to wanton. Finally, it ended, and the silence in the room was disturbed only by the synchronized breathing of the two young women.

“Oh. My. God.” Fractal looked as stunned as Psyche felt. “That was… oh, that was crazy! That was…” She looked sidelong at Psyche, still teasing herself through her panties. “How… how many times have you done that?”

“Eight,” Psyche said, squirming. “Eight times, so far. That… that’s the only one I’ve recorded. That was the most involved one, though. They’re usually not so…” She struggled for the words.

“Hot?” Fractal asked. “Don’t get defensive, baby. I’m just… surprised. I was beginning to expect your sex life to be pretty much nil, and then… well, you know. I don’t know if I could do that, and I think that’s saying something.” Fractal took a large gulp of wine, forcing Psyche to take one as well. “Damn, but you’re kinky.”

Psyche stayed silent.

“As it happens, so am I. Not that kinky, maybe. But who knows?” She drew Psyche in for a long kiss, long fingers cradling the unresisting heroine’s head to hers. Psyche felt the barest flash of tongue pressing between her lips before they parted.

“Now this doesn’t seem fair. I know your kink, but you don’t know mine.” Psyche jumped as Fractal’s hand ran along the inside of her thigh, fingertips sliding dexterously under the leg of her panties to rest against her damp sex. Two fingers pulsed there, caressing her intimately before withdrawing as suddenly as they had arrived.

“I’m going to do you a favor, sweetness,” Fractal said softly in her ear. She chuckled throatily and drew her fingers along Psyche’s lips, leaving a wet trail in their wake. “You seem to have… some unresolved issues with your sexuality. I’m going to help you explore some of those, altruistically.”

Eyes locked with Psyche’s, her hand slid under the ragged hem of her dress, flexing gently before withdrawing. She drew her own juices across her lips, leaving them glistening shiny-moist in the fading light of the setting sun. “Since you showed me yours… I’ll show you mine.” She drew closer to Psyche, arms wrapping around the girl. “Lick my lips,” she whispered. Psyche obeyed, tongue-tip tasting Fractal’s essence, tongues tracing the other’s lips in kind.

“Mmm…” Fractal purred. “You taste as good as you feel. And I want more of both. So.” She settled back with bright eyes. “Psyche, you are now bisexual, enjoying the intimacy of women as much as you do men. Both are beautiful, fulfilling, exciting to you, equally as arousing and sexual. Do you understand?”

Psyche nodded. “Wha… what are we… what are you going to do with me?”

“I’m going to enjoy you, and let you enjoy me,” Fractal said easily. “Now, I’m going to tell you my name. After I tell you, the very next time you hear it, two things will happen. One, you will again forget you heard it. And two, your feelings will return to normal, whatever that may be. You will continue to obey all other commands and so on, but your sexual orientation will revert to its natural state. Do you understand? At that moment, you’ll go from bisexual babe to just you, making love to another woman. If you’re as straight as you seem to think, it’ll be obvious right away. And if not… well, we’ll both have learned something, right?”

Psyche couldn’t feel the change at work, but she knew it was there. And just like that, I’m suddenly bi. Bi, with a girl who’s as hot for me as… What have I done? What will I do?

“Excited?” Fractal asked.

“Yes. Very.” Psyche smile weakly. “And nervous as hell.”

“Good. Just like your first time, huh?” Fractal stood, guiding Psyche up by the hand. “My name is…” Psyche heard the word, felt it slip away, unable to hold it in her head for even a moment. “Now go lie down on your bed and wait for me,” Fractal told her, sending the girl away with a playful swat to the bottom.

* * *

“Will that hold you?” Fractal asked, tugging the fishnet stockings experimentally. “I know it’s not much, but…”

“I don’t know,” Psyche admitted. “They’re tight, but I might tear ‘em if… once I, ah…”

“Come?” Fractal finished. “Come on, don’t play the coquette with me, you hot little hussy. You’re tied up, helpless before your foe, and about to get some sweet lesbian lovin’. I happen to know you’re as wet as I am, so say it.”

“C-come,” Psyche stammered, laughing.

“Who’s gonna come?”

“I’m gonna come!”

“How are you gonna come, baby-cakes?”

Psyche didn’t hesitate. “Hard! I’m gonna come when you fuck me, you sexy bitch!”

Fractal looked serious for a moment. “I didn’t think anything could make me hotter than the prospect of laying a super-powered sex puppet.” She broke into a smile. “But an enthusiastic super-slut, now…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Ok. No matter how hard you try, you can’t free yourself from these bonds until I say otherwise. Will that do it?”

Psyche jerked the improvised bonds lashing her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. The wooden headboard creaked warningly, but held. “That should do it.”

“Hmm. I should take a picture before we start. For your collection, you know?” she teased, clambering onto the bed and straddling Psyche’s waist.

“Don’t you dare!” Psyche squeaked. God, this feels good! “I’m in enough trouble as it is!”

“That you are, my little pretty,” Fractal said, twirling an imaginary mustache in a bad impression of a cinematic villain. “Now you’ve fallen into my clutches, and I shall have my way with you at last!” She flipped Psyche’s skirt up onto her bare belly, exposing the girl’s drenched panties to her leering gaze.

“Oh, no, please don’t,” Psyche responded in a mock-girlish falsetto, dissolving into a squeal as Fractal untied the sides of her panties and drew them off with a flourish. “Oh, someone please rescue me! Help, help!”

“But I shall, my dear. Ah… a genuine redhead, I see! And how well-manicured a garden you’ve prepared…” Psyche struggled vainly against her restraints as Fractal eased a finger into her pussy, stroking its way inside with practiced ease. “And so snug a fit. Tell me, what other marvels have you concealed?”

Psyche bucked her hips, trying without success to escape Fractal’s seductive fingers. The brunette’s free hand had begun attacking her tight vest, releasing her perspiring breasts to the cool room air. “Oh my… my virtue! You fiend! My womanly modesty is imperiled by a dastardly villain!”

Fractal smirked and added a finger below, massaging the girl’s bared breasts in time with her stroking. “Not quite accurate, my comely maid. For while I am dastardly, and you are most certainly imperiled… I am not a villain.” With a long, shuddering pull, Fractal tore the remains of her dress from her body, tossing it aside. “Behold, for you shall be ravished by a villainess!” Towering over the distressed damsel beneath her, Fractal placed her fists carefully on her hips, arms akimbo, striking a dramatic pose in her red leather bra and panties.

“Oh, no! A woman seeks my innocent body! I am undone!”

“Indeed, my bewitching beauty,” Fractal sneered, removing her bra and panties with comic menace. “‘Twas I that defeated you in honorable combat, and ‘tis I that will overwhelm your breathless body with a surfeit of Sapphic sensuality.” She lowered herself slowly, hot skin gliding on skin, her long tongue licking a trail up to the hollow of Psyche’s neck.

“Oh, save me,” Psyche said, far too quietly to be convincing. Fractal’s body was meshing with hers, fitting between her spread thighs to lock into place. She jolted as Fractal’s pubic bone ran over her vaginal lips, until the girl’s pussy was pressed directly onto her own. “What strange manner of love-making is this?” she whispered.

“We Amazons term it ‘tribadism’, my fetching filly.” Fractal gave her hips the smallest of turns, and was gratified by a gasp from below her. “Through it, I shall initiate you into pleasures beyond your imagining.”

“Ohh… oh, noooooo…” Psyche breathed, pressing back against her lover. “I… I’ll…” Her half-formed thought was cut off as Fractal’s lips covered hers, tongue darting insistently into her mouth. Psyche returned it with interest, her mouth hungrily devouring Fractal’s. Her whole body tingled, microjolts of pleasure snapping at her from every direction. She was so caught up in the heat of the moment, the new, nervous exciting unbridled right/wrong thrill of kissing a girl that it came as a welcome surprise when Fractal’s hips began to move again, and her groan of lust was lost in her lover’s mouth.

Psyche felt the slight pressure on her chest lifted as Fractal raised herself up. Psyche watched the girl’s glorious nakedness rise above her, letting her eyes roam every tanned inch before meeting her steady gaze. Her own warmth and charged passion was reflected there, an unmistakably genuine yearning she was destined to fulfill.

“This is… I never knew…” she tried to explain, unable to think clearly as their bodies pressed together rhythmically. “It’s… oh, god!... it’s so…”

“I know, baby, I know.” Fractal gently tweaked Psyche’s nipple, sending her into a long wave of moaning. “Don’t think about it, just feel it. Feel my weight on you, my pussy fucking your pussy. Feel our bodies so close, so hot, so tight, loving each other…”

Psyche’s hips seemed to take on a life of their own, thrusting back with each surge of Fractal’s hips, grinding up against her whenever their slick juxtaposition threatened to come apart. Her legs and arms pulled uselessly at the stockings, and all the while Fractal was whispering to her, the words lost in the rush of blood pounding in Psyche’s ears…

“Oh god… oh, god… ohgodohgodohgodohgod… baby… baby, ohgodI’m…” Fractal’s body jerked against her, her fingers digging into Psyche’s hips as she neared climax. Psyche ground against her clit, hard tiny circles to take her the rest of the way, push her over, make her come

“Ahhhhhh…” Fractal humped convulsively between Psyche’s parted thighs, teeth biting down hard into Psyche’s sensitive neck. She received the pain gladly, a distant part of her grateful for the knowledge that her enhanced biology would take care of the hickie before long. Finally Fractal slowed, hips still moving in a long, sinuous oval, and she smiled dreamily.

“Whew!” she breathed, blowing an errant strand of hair from her face. “It’s been too long…” She caressed Psyche’s warm globes with her palm tenderly. “You close, baby?”

“Yeah…” Psyche whined, panting.

Fractal planted her palms on Psyche’s shoulders, pressing her further into the mattress. “You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” she breathed. “I’ve been wanting you since I first saw you. Wanting to see you, wanting to know you, wanting to have you.” Her voice was hypnotic, evocative, like cinnamon and honey to Psyche’s ears. “So come for me, you beautiful bitch. Just let go… and come… and… come…”

Psyche lost the inner battle at last, unable to hold back any longer. The words, her bondage, her helplessness and desire mixing and remixing, Fractal’s slick cunt rocking against her own… it was too much to resist. A growl started deep within her, picking up speed until she finally arrived, thrashing in her restraints, crashing herself into Fractal’s taut waiting body.

Psyche was dimly aware of someone gently stroking her hair. Smiling foolishly, she moved to snuggle close to the warm flesh that held her, but was brought up unexpectedly short. She opened blurry eyes to see Fractal smiling fondly back.

“You know, I don’t care if I was your first girl or not,” Fractal told her, tousling Psyche’s matted hair. “You can fuck me like that anytime.”

“Mmmmm… niiice…” Psyche purred, stretching. “More?”

Fractal gave Psyche’s flank a playful slap. “Why you greedy little slut! Not five minutes into the afterglow and you’re already asking for more!” Fractal pulled herself away and stood, making as if to leave.

“Please?” Fractal turned, and her arousal resurged at the plaintive look on Psyche’s face. “Please, Fractal. Make love to me again.”

Fractal fought back a grin, walking imperiously to the foot of the bed. I was right, she thought, Any sane red-blooded human being would give anything to have her like this! “Perhaps,” she said icily. “I suppose I could be persuaded…”

Psyche rose valiantly to the task, sensing the new game in play. “Please, Fractal, come back and make me come again. I tried so hard not to, but I couldn’t help it! The way you tied me up, held me down, and had your wicked way with me…” Psyche shuddered in a frisson that was entirely unfeigned.

Fractal sat on the end of the bed, calmly inspecting her nails. “Go on.”

“Earlier I flew over the city, wearing my short skirt and high heels, knowing everyone who looked at me would want me, and no one could touch me. Now look at me.”

“Oh, but I am,” Fractal said huskily, now beginning to stalk up the bed on her hands and knees.

“And now I’m begging you to take me. Look how much I need you. Tied, trembling, aching for your touch. I’m your whore, Fractal, your horny little love-slave eager to do anything to please you, to make you come back and fuuuu...”

“Mmmm…” Fractal’s tongue had found its mark, and she began her oral assault on Psyche’s love-nest.

“Oh… oh… oh my God!” Psyche’s head lolled back as Fractal went to work, her tongue tracing graceful spirals around the heroine’s delicate flower. Psyche rocked senselessly in the bed, her body lost in a torrent of sensation, of flesh and bone and nerve made to obey… “Ohhhhhhh gooooooooodddddd…”

Time and time again Fractal would bring her close, then ease backwards a step, each minute taking Psyche cresting over another hard-won plateau. She lapped at her charge with confident ease, unhurriedly easing her towards a climax even richer than the first. “You should see yourself,” she told the girl between licks. “Like a goddess in heat. And you taste so very sweet…”

Psyche was moaning almost constantly now, her passion’s vocalization broken only by gasps for precious air. Her whole body thrummed; she felt energized, mastered, utterly broken to Fractal’s sexual will. She was awash in a sea of bewildering sensations, each one crashing over her, surrounding her, then receding, the promise of the next impending wave implicit in its farewell.

“Be loud, sweetness,” Fractal told her gently. “Don’t hold anything back. Be as loud as you need to, without any shame or restraint. Let the gods themselves know you’re coming…”

A dozen anxieties clamored at once, to be instantly quelled by Fractal’s order. Her modesty, worries about what the neighbors would hear, what would Fractal think of her – all were swept aside. The room seemed to be spinning around her, as if the whole world was drunk on their lust. And Fractal was licking her, and licking her, and licking her…

“Oh. Oh… Oh, no. Ohhh… I’m… you bitch… you hot, sexy evil bitch…”

Psyche yelled loud enough to rattle the window panes when her orgasm clawed its way out. Fractal stayed with her the entire time, lips sealed between Psyche’s labia, tongue coaxing her orgasm out and on, bringing her slowly, eventually, back to rest.

* * *

“Still want more, sweetness?”

Psyche lazily tilted her head. “I think,” she said carefully, “that that would kill me.”

“Good. I was beginning to think you were a total nympho or something.”

“Mmm. Maybe. But not right now.” She paused, a thought gradually surfacing. “Unless you want…”

Fractal bit her lower lip shyly. “Well, yeah. But only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to!” Fractal smiled and made her way up, wiping her mouth on the back of her arm. “You could’ve just ordered me to, and I’d have done it without a word,” Psyche added slyly.

“I could’ve, I guess. But this way is better.” Fractal positioned herself over Psyche’s head, gripping the headboard for support. “Psyche… do you think you could read my mind while you’re going down on me?”

Psyche considered. “I… I think so… if your power was turned off, yeah.

“How deep could you go? Would you be able to feel what I do?”

“You mean, feel you feeling me…” Psyche’s eyes widened. “I… I’ve never thought of that. You’ve got to be totally open and willing, but… yeah. Definitely.”

“Do it,” Fractal commanded. “Tune me in and enjoy the ride, baby. You’re about to eat out two chicks at once.” She looked down at the masked girl mere inches away from her spread pussy. “You ready, sweetness?”

“Totally,” Psyche said, already feeling Fractal’s eagerness sweeping though her. “Gimme that hot snatch, babe. Time for me to show you what I’ve learned about the finer points of lesbian love.”

“Then let’s you see you put your mouth where… ahhh… nevvvvrrrrr miiiinnnnnddddd…”

* * *

Two girls lay on the sweat-damp bed, lying in each other’s arms and languorously sharing a cigarette in post-coital bliss. Occasionally one or the other would stroke the other’s breast, thigh, or nexus, eliciting a tired sigh from the other. Neither spoke for a long while.

“God, I’m exhausted,” Psyche said, rubbing her chin on Fractal’s shoulder.

“You ought to be, you’ve had a busy day. Got your ass kicked, flew all over the city, got drunk, watched a home-made porno, and then got girlfucked to within an inch of your life. The whole neighborhood knows by now.”

“Shush.” Psyche smiled and suckled her fingers, tasting Fractal’s juices again. “I was pretty loud, wasn’t I?”

“Sure were,” Fractal agreed. “Twice, really, although the second one was a wee bit muffled. Lucky for us that slutty tongue of yours was buried in my box that time, or we’d have rescue workers breaking down the door right about now.”

“God, that was incredible. Being in your head… you’re incredibly sensual. And with that kind of feedback, I could master this in no time.” Psyche sighed. “Guess I’ll have to re-dom the neighbors now.”

“Why? Don’t want ‘em to know you got yourself righteously laid?”

“Well, yeah… but I’m afraid they’ll ask who.”

“You’ll think of something.” Fractal took a deep drag and passed the cigarette. “Time for me to leave, sweet.”

“So soon?” Psyche looked a little upset. “I thought we’d…” She trailed off.

“Right, the light dawns. I’m a super-villainess, and you’re a pillar of the community. A spread-legged, mind-controlled pillar, but still. And besides, it’s kinda cool to fuck and run.” She stood and stretched, then began to draw on her underclothes. “Got any clothes I can wear? My dress is totaled.”

“Sure. Take whatever.”

Fractal ended up with a black T-shirt and jeans, considerably lower-profile than what she’d arrived with. “I’m taking the loose pair,” she announced. “You’re smaller in the waist than I am. And bigger in the chest.” She squeezed her more-than-adequate chest through the shirt lewdly. “Bitch.”

“Bitch, yourself,” Psyche giggled. “There’s more to a girl than her cup size, you know.”

Fractal pretended to consider. “Sure,” she allowed. “There’s how she kisses, how she tastes, how good her cunt tastes, how well she can get you off…” She ducked the thrown pillow easily, and grinned. “Oh, before I forget, who’s your tailor?”

Psyche gave her three or four names of designers and clothiers in the city. “I’d order outside of Midas City, for anonymity’s sake.”

“Got it. Thanks.” She sighed. “Well Red, we’re even.” She set a bus terminal locker key on the nightstand. “That’s for locker 128, where I put the bank job cash. I used a couple thousand, but most of it’s still there. I’ll leave the story of how you got it from me up to you.”

“Thanks,” Psyche said, not sure what to say.

“So, this is where you and I part for now. It’s up to you whether or not there’s a next time. But if it makes any difference… I’ve got some toys that’ll make your head spin.” She cupped Psyche’s cheek and kissed her. “I’ve never been that much into kink, but after today… well, I think I might be willing to give it a try. With the right person, you understand.”

Psyche started to speak, but Fractal cut her off. “Don’t make this harder on me.” She took a deep breath. “Ok. Firstly, you have no doubt noticed neither of us removed our masks the entire time. Besides being kinda sexy, it means neither of us knows for sure who the other is. After I’ve gone, I want you to forget any identifying details about me past the basics. Not even my real name. Note also that I haven’t asked you to divulge your name, weaknesses, and so on. In fact, I want you to make me forget where you live as soon as I get home. Can you do that?

Psyche nodded. This line of ‘forget everything’ was familiar to her, although it wasn’t normally quite this consensual… or two-way.

“‘K. I want you to stay there, not moving, for oh, half an hour after I leave, so I can make a good getaway. And as soon as I leave, you are released from all other compulsions, inhibitions, whatever else. You don’t have to be loud during sex, you don’t have to match my drinking, anything else I may’ve forgotten. The only changes I want in you is that you won’t remember me well enough to ID, and you won’t remember what my power is. That’s my little secret. But I want you to remember every last detail of everything else. Every beautiful minute of it.” She kissed Psyche again, tenderly and long. “I’m sorry, sweetness, but this is how it has to be for now. Forgive me?”

“Sure. It’s fair.” As Fractal straightened up, she added, “But next time I’m gonna beat you good!”

Fractal smiled. “Maybe so. And if you do, maybe we’ll do it your way next time. Have to admit, it looked kinda fun.” She cocked her head. “You really like getting… you know, spanked and all that?”

Psyche blushed. “Um. Yeah. Although, now, I…” She trailed off, then looked up sharply. “Hey! You said you were gonna… you know…”

“I was gonna what?”

“Um. Make me not a lesbian. Or something. While we were together.”

“Oh, that. I was wondering if you were going to ask. I did do it, baby. You just forgot, ‘cause you forgot my name as soon as I said it.”

“Oh. Ok. But when…”

“When did I use it? Right around the time we were making sure your fishnet bondage would hold. Way before we did anything else.”

Psyche was staring, she knew, but her eyes refused to blink. “You mean, the whole time…” Her vision swam, as if she’d suddenly had a immobilizing head rush.

“Yup. You were an involuntary bi-girl for all of about two minutes.” Fractal picked up Psyche’s discarded panties where they’d landed on the floor. “I didn’t do anything you didn’t want me to, sweetness. Maybe that’ll clear some things up.”

She tucked the panties into her pocket. “I’m gonna keep these as a little souvenir. I can tie it around the arm of my new costume, like a favor from the knight-and-maiden days, you know? That way, I’ll always have a little reminder of you near me…”

She sat on the bed. “Ok. Do the memory thing on me. Do it like yours; no addresses, no damning details, but everything else whole.” She sat still while Psyche dommed her dommer, shaking her head when it was over.

“Man, that’s a cool power. I honestly don’t know which one I’d want, if I had a choice between yours and mine.” She stood and bowed formally. “M’lady. I look forward to making your acquaintance again. I hope you’ve learned as much as I have.”

Psyche watched her leave, heard the door shut before she could bring herself to answer. “Probably more.”

* * *

Epilogue: Fractal

Fractal practically skipped the whole way home, whistling tunelessly to herself. Her first encounter with Psyche – surely not her last, and could you call it a first date? – had gone better than she could’ve imagined possible. Famished, she ordered out, getting more Thai food than she could possibly eat, and kissed the delivery boy impulsively when he arrived.

Fan-fucking-tastic, she sighed, wolfing down her later dinner. That could not possibly have gone better, not in a million years. I hope she feels the way I do after she’s had time to think about it.

Belly full to bursting, she set aside her bowl and belched contentedly. Poor kid, all mixed-up about her urges n’ stuff, she reflected. With a little luck, I helped straighten her out about some of that! If ‘straight’ is the word… She took a long, luxurious bath before bed, inhaling Psyche’s faint scent from her clothes as she undressed.

Clean and bone-tired, she turned in, making a mental note to order a new costume soon. Have to pick up some more cash from somewhere. She didn’t regret giving the money back, not really; it hadn’t seemed real, and money was a minor detail, easily overcome. There’s more where that came from. Let someone else play for pay; I’m in it for something else.

It was odd, how effective Psyche’s mental editing was. It had been hard to turn her power off, both times, but she’d never felt it at work. There wasn’t even a tell-tale gap in her memory; it was as though she’d never known where Psych lived at all. Creepy if you think about it. But it means she won’t remember, either. And we’ve got plenty of other memories between the two of us…

She sighed in remembrance, closing her eyes sleepily. Lots of memories. There might be hope for this town yet. I think I’m gonna like being a super-villainess. Big fights, dramatic speeches, facing off against hunky heroes and babelicious heroines, like the Blue Fox and Psyche and…

Fractal’s eyes snapped open. Wait a minute. Silver! She smiled and lay back. I’ll have to pay her a visit sometime soon. She certainly made an impression on my psionic spitfire! Wish I’d asked about her now. Ah, well.

She turned over, tucking her hands beneath her pillow. All in good time. It’d be nice if there was a list of superheroes somewhere, though. I can’t exactly grab a phone book and look under “Silver” now, can I?

Two minutes later she was paging through the Midas City directory, leafing towards the ‘S’ section.

* * *

Epilogue: Psyche

“…so that’s the story. Got most of the money back, but she got away pretty easily.”

The Silver Sentry looked sympathetic. “No shame in that, Psyche. Fractal is good, very good. The Crimson Cowboy and Dreadlock are both more experienced than you, and neither of them did nearly as well. Call it a qualified success.”

Psyche found herself smiling back at Sentry’s image. His calm, friendly face had that effect on people. “Yeah, I guess so. Sorry I can’t help with the mystery power thing, but at least we know a little more about her now.”

“Indeed. Young, impulsive, deservedly confident, but with a rebel streak and her own code of honor. Old-school villainess. Wish there were more like her around.” Realizing how that had sounded, he corrected himself quickly. “I didn’t mean–”

“I know, I know,” Psyche laughed. And I agree. Tell the mind-types not to try anything with her. I was lucky to find where she’d hidden the loot, and she shut me out fast. I doubt she’ll fall for that trick again.”

“Will do. Get some rest, Psyche, you’ve earned it.” As Psyche moved to hit END, he added, “And don’t let this bother you too much. I’m sure the next time you meet, you’ll lick her good.”

She didn’t quite hit the button fast enough to keep him from seeing the strange expression cross her face.

* * *

Twenty Questions with: Psyche

Hello, Midas City Post readers, and welcome to another edition of ‘Twenty Questions’! Mind-Maiden, Psychic Siren, call her what you will. I was lucky enough to convince the up-and-coming Psyche to put off fighting crime for a few minutes to do this month’s interview, and as usual it’s got the dirt you can only find here! Enjoy!

MPC:

Thank you for agreeing to do ‘Twenty Questions’.

Psyche:

It’s my pleasure. (laughs) Is that one of the questions?

MPC:

Nope, just warming you up. OK, here goes. Why ‘Psyche’?

Psyche:

God, I knew you were gonna ask that. Well, I’m a telepath, primarily. It suggested mental power, and a certain classical sense of mystery. Plus, no one had registered it yet, so I didn’t have to worry about trademark infringement or anything. I’d hate to have to become ‘Purple Psyche’ or something because somebody out in Yuba City already took ‘Psyche’, you know?

MPC:

I see. So you’re telepathic. Any other powers?

Psyche:

That’s the biggie. I’m pretty tough, enhanced stamina or something, and I’m pretty sure my agility’s gotten a nudge. I was such a klutz in high school! Oh, and I can fly, which is super, super sweet. I can’t afford a cool car or anything, and I’d hate to have to patrol on foot or by bus. Yuck!

MPC:

Since you bring up money… how do you make ends meet?

Psyche:

Ah. Good question. I’ve got a job – not telling what – and some savings from pre-Psyche days. I’m not big into tools n’ toys, so my costs aren’t too bad; I probably spend in a month what Arsenal does in a day! I don’t have a Municipal contract, but that might be a good idea in the future. Some of those can be pretty lucrative, and it’d be nice to bring in the bad guys with a little more official authority than I have right now.

MPC:

Which is more tempting, official status or money?

Psyche:

Oh, official status. Trust me, you don’t get into this line of work for the pay (laughs). I know, people like the Fabulous Four rake it in, but think of how much they spend, too. It’s like any other business. The minute you get some surplus cash, you start looking into improving your act: costume, training, Bat-computer, whatever.

MPC:

Does official recognition make that much of a difference?

Psyche:

Absolutely. At my level – there’s probably a legal term for it, but I don’t know it – at my level, you’re basically running around in tights making citizen’s arrests. My burden of proof for some things is lower, but it’s limiting sometimes, especially when you’re trying to find the bad guys. Once you’re in ‘hot pursuit’, things open up a lot; that’s why you see so much action at the scene of a crime. But push it too far and the cops don’t have a case, so your guy’s back on the street in no time. Or worse, you get labeled a vigilante. With a municipal contract – or better yet, a full license – you get access to the police, search warrants that aren’t as challengeable in court, that kind of thing.

MPC:

Sounds like you’ve done your homework on this.

Psyche:

(blushing) Yeah. Everybody makes mistakes early on. I watched the police release several bad dudes I’d collared, am I’m standing there going why? My ignorance. I’d caught ‘em, bagged ‘em, hauled ‘em in and left ‘em for the police to sort out. No evidence that would stand up in court, no proof of wrongdoing except some girl’s say-so. I can read minds, but that comes down to she says-they say in court, which is weak. And the poor cops have these guys, they know they’re guilty as sin, but they have to let ‘em go, all because I messed up. You can’t just learn to levitate cars, throw on some spandex and do this, you’ve got to have your act together or you end up doing more harm than good.

MPC:

Is that why you avoid the vigilante label?

Psyche:

In part. A vigilante gives the rest of us a bad rep. They’re not playing by the rules. That sounds cool in the movies, but it usually means innocent people – or at least, not necessarily guilty people – are being put in danger. A vigilante takes it on his or her self to be judge and jury, and that’s not only illegal, it’s wrong. ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ can be a kick in the teeth sometimes, but for a real hero, it’s more important to protect than to prosecute. Heck, I’m a telepath, and I’m not infallible, so I’m pretty leery of people who act like they are.

MPC:

So the so-called ‘mask’ controversy…

Psyche:

No controversy for me. It gets misused, like anything else, but it’s there for a reason. I’ve heard it compared to musicians incorporating themselves. They protect their own assets, create a legal ‘individual’ for all their superhero needs, leaving the ‘normal’ persona compartmentalized and secure.

MPC:

Gotcha. What are your feelings on Dr. Nordstrom’s case?

Psyche:

(sighs) I feel bad for him. I’ve worked with him once, met him a couple of times… I don’t know. I don’t know him well enough to judge, but I get the feeling he’s getting a bad rap. Superheroes are big news, and a fallen hero is just as big, if not bigger. I know a lot of twisted people are rubbing their hands as this drags on; every day he’s in a courtroom is a day he’s not taking the fight to the enemy. I don’t think he’s guilty, but that’s not for me to decide. It does make me wonder if superheroes shouldn’t have some kind of malpractice insurance. Insurance companies won’t touch us because of our lifestyles, but maybe a law firm could set up something? I don’t know, but it seems like someone could make a lot of money just keeping superhumans safe from frivolous lawsuits and such.

MPC:

Good idea. Let’s try a more upbeat question now: what’s the deal with the costume?

Psyche:

Oh, good, I was going on there, wasn’t I? Ok, ah, costume… why, what’s wrong with it?

MPC:

Oh, I think it’s great. But some have complained that your choice of attire may be inappropriate.

Psyche:

Hmm. I think I’m going to have to disagree. I’m not wearing anything more revealing than you’d see in a music video. Heck, last time I watched one I thought I’d gotten an adult channel by mistake! I don’t really see myself as a role model for young girls. You should look up to people who exemplify what you want to be: MLK, Thomas Jefferson, Einstein, people like that. Not because they’re smart, or have powers, but because they’re good people in some way, dedicated, forthright, or what have you. And for heaven’s sake, if I am a role model for someone, dressing like me is not the way to go. This is a uniform, a way for people to know what I’m about, like a doctor’s smock-thingy, or a policeman’s badge. If I went around in a muumuu, it would be a lot harder to do my job. Yeah, there’s the mask, and it shows a lot more skin than my mom likes, but when I shout at people to get out of the way, they know I’m serious and they move. If you think I’m a good role model, do what I did: get a good education, be smart about your friends, and take pride in who you’re going to be when you grow up. There’s more to life than just showing up, you know? I had to work really hard to get here, and I’m still learning.

MPC:

That was very inspirational. Was that really unrehearsed?

Psyche:

Ohh, suspicious, aren’t you? Yeah, I’m afraid that’s off the top of my head. Think you can clean it up so I don’t sound incoherent?

MPC:

It’ll stand on its own, trust me. Next question: what are you like in real life?

Psyche:

Aha! Knew it. Uh, nice, I hope. Quiet, keep to myself. That’s the point to a secret identity, right? If I’m doing my job, I could be the barista slinging your morning coffee or that mousy girl reading a book on the back of the bus. I get enough excitement in my job to want to avoid it the rest of the time.

MPC:

Mousy? It’d take an army of special-effects technicians, I think.

Psyche:

Nah. This is my game face. You should see me first thing in the morning. My cat avoids me until my second cup of coffee.

MPC:

Any love interests?

Psyche:

Ah, ‘single gal with cat’ equals ‘lonely spinster’, right?

MPC:

No, I–

Psyche:

I’m kidding, relax. No one special in my life right now; I’m kind of waiting for the right person. I date some, but it’s not a big priority at the moment.

MPC:

Are you dating as Psyche, or as your other self?

Psyche:

Ohh, good question. Mostly, as myself. Psyche… would do well to avoid romantic entanglements. It’s like any other job, in that it’s probably a bad idea to date at the workplace. Not that I’m not tempted…

MPC:

Really? Who gets Psyche’s motor running?

Psyche:

(laughing) Pass, pass. There’s no way to answer that without getting myself in trouble. I’ll leave someone out who deserves to be in, or something. Let’s just say there’s a good selection.

MPC:

Fair enough. Are you ok?

Psyche:

(still laughing) God, I’m gonna… I’m in so much trouble now. Sorry. I’m all better now, but no more questions like that, ok?

MPC:

Well… ok, but I was gonna ask you about those pictures?

Psyche:

Pictures? The ones from the River Fiesta?

MPC:

No, although those are nice. I meant the ones floating around the Internet of you-

Psyche:

No way. Really? What of?

MPC:

I don’t really know. They’re, um… pretty graphic.

Psyche:

Now I get it. Nope, sorry folks, they’re fakes. I have never, ever, ever posed nude for any person or cause. Not even ‘artfully dishabille’ or whatever they’re calling it now. Probably some porn actress’s body with my face pasted on, sorry.

MPC:

You’re not embarrassed?

Psyche:

Nah. It’s kind of flattering, in a rather creepy way. If I catch anyone passing this stuff off as real, I’ll sue them into the ground, though. I didn’t pony up to buy a trademark just so people could play ‘Pin the Body on the Heroine’. Plus, you’re gonna make my parents sad. I hate to see my mom cry, so don’t do it, ok guys?

MPC:

That’s very understanding of you. Uh… I don’t know what number we’re on any more.

Psyche:

Fourteen? Eighteen? I don’t know.

MCP:

We’ll just bull on for a few more, and hope my editor doesn’t kill me. Maybe if I get a good enough picture for the story…

Psyche:

As long as none of ‘em end up in your personal scrapbook.

MPC:

Oh, my… ok, so changing subjects quickly… what’s your take on the Fabulous Four?

Psyche:

‘Queer Eye for the Super Guy’? They’re pretty funny, I think. I haven’t watched many shows, but they seem pretty talented.

MPC:

They’ve caused some controversy with…

Psyche:

Oh, for heaven’s sake. We’re in the ‘Oughts, people. Becoming a hero – or a villain, or a greengrocer, or anything else – does not make one automatically hetero or homo. They’re pretty flaming, sure, but Elton John and KD have been out for years, and they’re as successfully as you could want to be. And with Tom Cruise coming out last year, it’s getting easier and easier to ‘out’, even for us spandex types. I wouldn’t be surprised if they give a few masked types the courage to work up to it.

MPC:

Such as?

Psyche:

Ohhh, gossipy. Even if I knew, I wouldn’t tell; ‘For everything, a season’. People stay in the closet for a reason, you know. But I approve of the coming-out thing, when it’s time: every dark little secret eventually becomes a weakness someone’s going to exploit, and most people have enough problems without creating new ones.

MPC:

Deep. Is it hard to be a telepath?

Psyche:

Ah. I think… yes. I wasn’t always, but it’s been a while since I didn’t have some part of it. In one sense, it’s like being able to fly. Lots of clumsiness and embarrassment early on, getting good after a whole lot of practice. Physically it wasn’t as bad as flight – I banged into a lot of stuff, early on – but day-long migraines and constantly hearing other people’s thoughts whether you want to or not are no picnic. Feelings are hardest of all, ‘cause they come at you from a primal level, to a primal level. That can get rough if you’re not filtering well. Most TPs I know tend to stick to line-of-sight stuff most of the time, just to make life easier. The biggest headaches are usually moral ones, though.

MPC:

Invasion of privacy?

Psyche:

Sure. No one’s sure how to label it – invasion, trespassing, theft? I doubt anyone’s going to have a definitive answer for years to come, if ever. Point is, it’s ethically tricky. Luckily, most telepaths are pretty limited in how they go about it and how hard it is. It’d be neat if I could keep it on all the time, low-level so as to catch people sneaking up on me, but it doesn’t work that way. Nor can I bust up someone for having ‘evil thoughts’. Most people have millions of thoughts all day long, from sense impressions to point-one second fantasies. Bad guys worry about the rent, and good people have nasty thoughts sometimes. But that’s not enough.

MPC:

Is this like what you were saying earlier about vigilantism?

Psyche:

Exactly. Suspicion can’t be enough. Case in point – you can skip this if you want in the article – you’ve probably thought about my breasts at least five times since I sat down.

MPC:

What? I was? I didn’t think-

Psyche:

I said probably, I don’t know. Brief noticings, a fraction of a second. It’s not because you’re a pig – necessarily – but because you’ve got eyes. A gay man or a hundred year-old straight woman would think about it a few times too, in your place, just like you’ve thought about how it smells, what the light’s like in here, what you’re having for dinner, et cetera, et cetera. To be honest, I tune out almost everything until I need to pay attention, and common stuff like that gets filtered out almost automatically. I don’t care what the Green Meany thinks about my legs, I need to know what he’s going to do next. And even if I did care, that kind of thought’s not particularly flattering. It’s impersonal, preconscious. He might actually hate my legs, but likes the way it looked for that one particular instance in time.

MPC:

Oh. Wow. That must be… hard.

Psyche:

Nah, not once you get used to it. You learn to take uncomplimentary stuff in the same vein, too. By the time a given thought’s worked its way up through filtering, processing, language centers, social editing, and to the mouth, it’s amazingly refined, complete. Becoming a telepath has taught me to pay a lot of attention to what people say and how they say it.

MPC:

OK, too deep for me.

Psyche:

Me too. (suddenly doing a ‘bimbo’ impression) “Like, ohmigod? I just luuuuve to like, dress all chic and super, and stuff? Okay?”

MPC:

God, don’t do that.

Psyche:

Sorry. What question are we on now.

MPC:

I’ve totally lost track.

* * *

Author’s note: Special thanks to Madam Kistulot for the encouragement and the loan of Silver’s name. If you haven’t read that series yet, go check it out. See you in the forum!