Welcome to New Rack City, where superheroes, villains, and mad science battles rage every day. Leotards, lab coats and insane experiments. Comic book heroes, comic book style sex with oversized...everything. A world of giant tits, ridiculously large cocks and endlessly ready, constantly horny, men and women. This is a "just for the fun of it" world with wall to wall crazed sex of several types: MF/MFF/FF/FFF/MMMMF. It is full of silly characters and plenty of nonsense. It is partly comedy, party parody and largely fun-to-write over-the-top wall-to-wall sex scenes that have little basis in reality. Mirror
1. New Rack City: The Rise of the Were-Nympho
The Turning
Felicity watched Dr. von Vahn, Certified Mad Scientist (ACIDSP: Association of Clinically Insane Doctors, Scientists and Psychologist) stalk haughtily from the Evil LaBORatories lab. He was laughing maniacally and clutching a glowing glass beaker. "Fools! All of them! Laugh at me, will they? They shall rue the day!"
Going back to her cleaning, Felicity shrugged. Dr. von Vahn pretty much said that every day. In fact, she couldn't remember a single time he'd left for the day without making the declaration since she'd started working there. That'd been over two years ago when she'd lost her job as a barista. The hipster coffee and tea shop she'd been working at was destroyed in an epic superhero-super villain battle between The Blazing Bolt and Professor Sinuous' Electro-Destructor Mandroid.
She'd spent that battle hiding under the specially reinforced counter; the counter was required by ordinance in the supervillain - and some would say superhero - plagued New Rack City. When she emerged, the counter was the only thing left standing.
The owners of the coffee shop had elected not to rebuild; it was the third time in two years the place had been wrecked, so she figured that was understandable. They moved to Florida, opting to take their chances with hurricanes instead of mad scientists and overpowered caped do-gooders.
That had left Felicity unemployed. She did get two weeks of full pay from the League of Mostly Good Guys and Anti-Heroes, as their usual part of a deal with the city for the destruction caused. She'd already known how to apply, since her previous job as a cashier at a food stand on the wharf had been eliminated by one of the frequent battles between Waverunner and Mistress Squid. Rumor had it that the Navy was trying to have the lithe little blonde Waverunner arrested because she'd refused to kill Mistress Squid when she had the chance.
More useful to Felicity was the Evil Outreach Placement service - known as the EOP - that contacted her shortly after the coffee shop's demise.
Supervillains tended to run through henchmen and henchwomen at an alarming rate, so the EOP was more than a little aggressive about recruiting. All Felicity had had to do was take the EOP's simple placement exam to determine her abilities and interests, known widely as the "Skills and Thrills" test.
The test had simple questions like "Would you rather: A. Freeze B. Be Electrocuted C. Be Turned into a cyborg D. Orgasm for an entire day" and "Rate these Movies in order: The Terminator, The Exorcist, The Invasion of the Bodysnatchers, Vixen Dominatrixes from Venus Unchained Part Three."
While Felicity's scores in Thuggery, Explosives, and Ray Gun Maintenance were too low for her to be an actual leg-breaking mook, her Wenchery, General Yumminess, and Bimbo scores were pretty damned good, and she was offered two actual full henchwench positions. One of the henchwench positions was with Arctic Blast, Felicity considered it briefly, but asked herself what was the point of having a really nice bubble butt if it was covered with a parka all the time? The other position was with the Gelatinous Eunuch, and that was just, well...a
not-so-hard
no.
A girl had to have standards.
That had left the position as an Evil LaBORatories assistant laboratory tech, which came with the benefit of not directly facing the rampaging heroes who tended to leave a lot of henchmen and henchwomen ready for medical retirement. The facility was more or less off-limits to heroes, since there were at least twenty or thirty Mad Science projects underway there at all times; a mistake could unleash a torrent of monsters, robots, monster robots and robot monsters on the city, and that was without considering the various poisonous, hallucinogenic, mind-altering, body-altering chemicals that could get out.
She looked around to make sure all the cages were locked; all the robots were powered down and the windows closed. She'd learned her lesson when Dr. Vera Orgazma had accidentally left her giant Dildo-Bot of Doom on standby. After that experience, Felicity had learned to be more careful, although it had taken almost three months of accidentally triggering the dildo-bot's "attack" mode night after night. Felicity even came into the lab on most of her nights off to get accidentally attacked. Unfortunately, after three months, Dr. Orgazma had taken the silicone-coated and "ribbed for her pleasure" monster robot back to her own lair with her "for further testing," so the attacks had ended.
On the bright side, for a while Doctor Orgazma had become so relaxed she hardly ever tortured henchmen and minions at all anymore.
As usual, the Evil Lab lab was pretty much spotless. Mad Scientists didn't last very long if they didn't keep very, very clean workspaces. Felicity's main purpose was to walk around, neaten up things up and dodge the numerous panty-seeking tentacles snatching at her from the cages lining the walls. She actually had a hefty uniform stipend to cover ripped microskirts, torn low-cut blouses, and stolen panties. Curiously, there was specifically no money allocated for replacement bras, so Felicity had simply stopped wearing them, letting her perky little B-cups bounce around uncaged. Who would notice after all?
Other than the occasional curious tentacles and the many - 193 to be precise - video recording systems in the lab, that is. On a vague level, Felicity recognized that one of her primary reasons for being hired was as a decorative addition, to at least to partly break up the sheer monotony of the camera feeds.
Spare lab coats hung in a neat row by the exit just in case she got too close to the cages and had all her clothes ripped from her body. That happened on a pretty regular basis, probably three nights in five.
It wasn't even really annoying; more than a bit of an exhibitionist, she kind of liked riding home mostly naked and she also got to go clothes shopping all the time.
As she rounded a corner and looked back at the cages, she found a small vial of shattered glass on the floor; she wondered for a moment if her rather awesome bubble butt had brushed something off the counter.
She sighed, then smiled. She actually got to clean something. At least it looked like the glass container had been empty. She grabbed her whisk broom and pan and a short while later she dumped the broken glass into the trash and shrugged. It could have been worse.
Looking at the label that had been on the glass, she shrugged again. Mutagenic Nanite Swarm #9. Whatever that was. She stuffed the label in her lab coat pocket.
Her phone pinged and she checked it. The boss - whoever it was - tended to send her extra tasks via text message. She read it and smiled broadly. The text informed her that she'd been awarded the next eight nights off with pay as a bonus for her conscientious work.
Just as she was getting ready to leave, she felt something pop at her chest and she looked down. All the buttons on her low-cut blouse instantly popped loose and rained down on the floor. She got on all fours and picked up the buttons hurriedly, then froze and wiggled. Something was definitely different. She wiggled again, looking down at her boobs. She frantically pushed the unbuttoned her lab coat open and examined herself. She'd had cute and very perky little B-cup titties when she had left her apartment, she was absolutely sure of that. She hefted one newly massive breast in her hand, then hefted both at once. These weren't titties; they weren't just tits, or even jugs; they appeared to be at least juggs or maybe even gazongas. Possibly bazooms.
These were at least F-cups, maybe even G-cups.
One finger flipped over a hardening nipple and she nearly collapsed. REALLY sensitive G-cups. She flicked her other nipple, feeling an electric shock race right to her kitty.
Wow.
