The Return of the Confectioner – Part 4 (Sealing the deal)
Awareness returned in slow stages, each new revelation another horror. Her world was blanketed in a thick cotton-candy fog and, no matter how far she stretched, it seemed impossible to pierce that cloying barrier.
Ampere was a passenger in her own body, forced to watch, impotently, but able to experience everything with painfully sharp clarity. Alien thoughts impinged on her, forcing themselves into her mind and growing increasingly more difficult to deny. The pleasure of her absolute obedience massaged her mind and she could almost sense herself growing more servile.
She howled, recognising her defeat and yet unable to believe it could possibly end like this. The tiny, locked-away piece of her consciousness could do nothing as her body was finally released from the syrup-filled prison. Thin strands of devotion coiled around her perceptions, adding a strange dichotomy to her emotions and just for an instant she couldn’t remember why she was still fighting.
The girl collapsed, tumbling from the cylinder amidst a torrent of sticky sap. The light, rubber mask clung to her face and a mess of matted blonde hair was plastered to her scalp. She gasped for air, filling her straining lungs with the last wisps of sugar steam. Only then did she become aware of her surroundings, and her eyes almost immediately found those of her master.
Despite the fatigue, her body immediately snapped to kneeling attention. Her spine ramrod straight, hands clasped together in the small of her back and her legs parted in submissive invitation. She averted her gaze, staring down at the puddle spreading around her. Her body trembled in anticipation, longing for his voice and the commands she would have no choice but to obey.
The thought of being compelled to act resonated through her mind, thrilling her with its depraved intensity. She was just so weak and helpless. So defeated, so owned and that understanding would have been enough to make her cum, if only master had given his permission.
She shivered deliciously, fighting to stop herself from making a sound. The girl wanted to beg, to plead for instruction, but she held her tongue, knowing that the reward for her obedience would be so very sweet when it came.
The Confectioner watched the once proud woman, his liquid features twisted and hungry. Almost tenderly, he stripped away the now unnecessary mask, exposing his captive’s beautiful face. Arousal thrummed through his body, stirring lust as well as anger. Unconsciously he began to softly stroke the nape of her neck.
“Hello, pretty slaveslut,” he grinned triumphantly.
“Master,” the girl breathed, her voice filled with longing.
The villain’s heart hammered to a potent combination of desire and jubilation. The words he had dreamed of hearing for such a long time were pure music to his ears. It thrilled him, to the very depth of his being.
He tangled his slimy fingers in his slave’s long, matted hair and drew her to him. Pressure knotted between his buttocks, promising a release that had been denied him for so long. Ever since his transformation, in fact. How fitting that the cause of his disability would also be its cure.
“Come,” he coaxed. “Taste the bliss of your surrender.”
Sickly sweet flesh flowed into the heroine’s welcoming mouth and she immediately began to suckle and lap at the cloying syrup. The Confectioner groaned his approval, pressing into his slave’s clever tongue.
He had been wound too tight and for far too long. All thought of prolonging his pleasure simply melted at the first touch of slave’s soft lips and then, when her teeth grazed his skin, it was clear that it was all over. He gasped, feeling his body tense, becoming all but rigid in anticipation. Then, he was pumping his hips frantically and grinding himself into his captive’s face.
The former heroine’s reaction was far more impressive than his own. Unable to hold the tide of rich ooze in her mouth, it spilled forth, running in sluggish trickles over her shining breasts. But even a taste of that potent distillate was enough to bring the full weight of orgasmic ecstasy crashing down upon her.
They came together, sealing the transformation and leaving them both spent.
She lay collapsed in an oozing pool of her own submission. Dishevelled, abused and utterly exhausted. Her once resolute features spattered with the undeniable proof of her complete and total defeat.
Meanwhile, back in Crescent City, Geist surveyed the lair. She’d been alerted to the intrusion remotely and had wasted no time in returning from her training. It was obvious from the moment she arrived that the place had been compromised.
Using her new-found abilities she literally ghosted through the building, avoiding the myriad distractions left by their unwelcome guest. Although she had never faced the candy-themed supervillain herself, Geist was well aware of the Confectioner’s signature and she immediately recognised his work.
If Ampere really was in the clutches of that foul fiend, then they had no time to waste. In the past her mentor had defeated him through a mixture of fast thinking and luck. But Geist remembered her own ordeal at the hands of the Anaesthetist and his nefarious minions and, more importantly, how Ampere had raced to the rescue with no thought of her own safety.
She thought of her friend, clad in layers of nanite-enhanced plating, her knight in shining armour. The image was enough to make her shiver. But the memory didn’t end there. Geist replayed the events in the Anaesthetist’s lair. The glassy eyed expression on Ampere’s face, as the villain’s dart stole her will. The shock of seeing her friend so helpless and of being forced to take control. The young woman remembered how wrong it had felt and yet so exciting.
The other heroine had always been there for her. Protecting and advising her. Up until that moment Ampere had seemed invulnerable. But now, Geist couldn’t shift the feeling that this might prove to be a peril from which even her friend couldn’t escape unaided. The problem was there seemed no way to discover where the villain had taken her. Or was there?
Something had been nagging at the heroine while her mind wandered and, quite suddenly, she realised what it was. Ampere’s nanomolecular servants would follow wherever she went, drawing energy from the superheroine herself. All Geist had to do was track their unique signature straight back to the villain.
Geist may not have had her friend’s ‘way’ with computers, but she was more than capable of tracing the signal. Somewhat to her surprise, the trail led not to some abandoned sweet factory or chemical laboratory, but instead to a business park on the outskirts of the city.
Moments later, with the nanite’s location safely downloaded into her communicator, she climbed astride Dub and urged the semi-sentient motorbike up the steep ramp and out of the base. She hammered through the streets of Crescent City, squinting against the early morning sun and trying not to give up hope. Geist knew she had to believe that she would get there in time to rescue her friend. She simply had to.