This story is mine and was also published elsewhere.
***
Destinate was young, and had only been a hero for about two years, but already she was making waves in Omen City for her efficiency and power -- not to mention her beauty. She wore a skin-tight silver costume in the shape of a one-piece swimsuit, with a boob window on the chest to display her ample cleavage for the many photo shoots which she participated in. The suit had a blue trim along the end of the sleeves, neckline, belt, and edges of her boob window, and the costume was completed with a blue cape and a pair of blue boots. With long flowing hair, and an impressively sized rack, Destinate was a sight indeed.
But for heroes, this was not indicative of an absence of power -- the two often went hand in hand, and Destinate was no different. She possessed bulletproof skin, the ability to fly and hover, and she could lift roughly five times her own weight. Not flashy, but effective. She had other means of gaining popularity than flashy powers. Despite her encouragement of a certain type of eyes to be laid upon her (a set of eyes which she actively sought to maintain and grow), she would play the part of a starry-eyed innocent young girl in public appearances, and admittedly never acted in an outright sexual manner. Omen City ate the act up, and in her short two years of duty she was already one of the most beloved heroes of the city.
Despite all that she put on and all of her presence, she was still a 23 year old woman, and the news of Supremacy's humiliating defeat and death had shaken her. But finally, two days after the events unfolded and with the city falling into panic and chaos, she knew that she had to get back out there and give the people back some hope. Somebody else had to take over from Supremacy now, and Destinate decided that it would be her.
There was a bank robbery in progress near to her apartment, and she quickly suited up to put a stop to it. If the heroes only focused on the larger crimes and the superpowered criminals, petty crime would continue to rise and the city would not feel safe again for a long time more. This was to be the young pinup girl's message to the world -- that Omen City was under her protection!
Flying gently down through the bank's open skylight with her hands heroically on her hips, Destinate called down to the unpowered ski-mask-wearing criminals that were currently pointing their guns at the register and filling bags up with money.
"That looks like a big loan! How are you going to pay it back?"
"It's Destinate!" One of the thugs cried out as she touched down in the middle of the small circle that they formed and raised her hands into a battle-ready pose.
The criminals at the bank's counter froze and the teller jumped for joy, pumping his fist into the air. The remaining robbers, who had encircled Destinate, were doing some mental calculations -- this wasn't about getting the money anymore, this was about how they could get away. And how many they'd leave behind.
The surprised pause subsided, and as one the criminals surrounding her began running around wildly and firing off shots towards her. Some went to grab discarded bags of money, others went straight for the door, but all of them let loose shot after shot towards Destinate in a vain hope that she might stop being bulletproof for a moment. It had been a while since she'd been shot, mainly fighting against criminals who could punch like a train could drive or shoot fire from their palms recently, but a moment's readjustment was all that she needed before she righted herself and began flying towards the exit to take out the ones attempting an escape, tagged by constant fire all the while.
A throw into a wall and a backhanded fist took the runners out, but as she turned back to the remaining three criminals Destinate was sent reeling by a bullet which found its mark directly over her nipple -- no damage, but the amount of force applied to so little of such a sensitive area was enough to rock her.
The fire continued to land across her hunched, gasping body. She reached up and clutched the tormented boob through her costume's silver fabric, her fingers sinking into the soft and pillowy orb as the impacts slowly stopped.
"Hey, boys!" One of the criminals called, as his remaining two partners eyed the recovering superheroine with him. "Aim for the other one!"
No! Destinate just about managed to think as she stood back up straight, before a hailstorm of bullets fell across her chest, sending her several steps backwards and out of her position to leap back into action. As her back pressed up against the bank's glass door, she lost her footing and fell onto her ass propped up against it, mewling pathetically but too out of it to attempt to cover up her abused pair. This can't be happening... she barely managed to think. They're just ordinary people...
The peppering of fast-moving pellets ceased and there was silence as the entire bank, criminals and civilians alike, held their breath. The powerful icon Destinate, still lying back and propped against the door, breathed slow and heavy, her ample bosom and exposed cleavage rising and falling with each intake of breath. Her head rolled to one side, and a hand reached up slowly to gently massage at a breast through her silver costume before it fell limp at her side once more, but she did not get back up. The teller's wide grin faded, transferred to the masked robbers, as the civilians inside the bank shared in a simultaneous sharp intake of breath. Was she...?
"Hope we didn't put her in a coma, eh boys?" The same robber spoke at last, levity clear in his tone. "Grab the rest a' the cash. I'm gonna..." In lieu of finishing his sentence, he licked his lips and took steps towards the fallen idol before him, who was quietly babbling something incoherent to herself. The other criminals (with a jealous eye on their compatriot) returned their focus to the horrified teller as the man reached her body, loosely trying and failing to move from its position.
The man ran his eyes across her form in silent awe. Her legs, resting still and bent on the ground, her gently shaking and shuddering torso, and her limp arms with their twitching fingers, constantly attempting to rise from the ground. We really did a number on you, hey? The man thought to himself, poking the tip of his shoe into her soft breast flesh.
