I finally reached the Acriyit Corporation, my heart still pounding from the alley scene with City Man and Blazing Woman. The building was a monstrous skyscraper, the tallest in Metro City, its sleek black surface glinting under the neon haze, a towering symbol of power piercing the smog-choked sky. I swiped my ID card through the detector at the entrance, the scanner beeping as it registered Steve Philips, janitor and electrician. The lobby was a sterile expanse of polished chrome and holographic displays, buzzing with corporate drones and security bots. I shuffled to the elevator, my work boots squeaking on the pristine floor, and punched the button for the fifteenth floor—my office, according to Steve's memories.
The elevator hummed upward but jolted to a stop on the ninth floor. The doors slid open, and in stepped a woman who made my jaw drop. She was a blonde bombshell, about 47, with piercing brown eyes and a body that screamed seduction. Her massive tits strained against a tight black business suit, the jacket barely containing their heft, and her miniskirt was so short it rode up, flashing the lower curves of her enormous ass. A head pang hit me, and her identity clicked: Angela Walker, Jack's mother and City Man's wife. She was stunning, her face sharp and severe, exuding authority. She glanced at me, then at the sleek digital watch on her wrist, her lips curling into a scowl. "You're late, Philips," she snapped, her voice cold as steel.
I stammered, "Uh, the highways were on fire, ma'am. Blazing Woman—"
"Excuses!" she barked, cutting me off. "I don't care if the whole city's burning. You're doubling your shift today, got it?" Her eyes raked over me like I was garbage, and before I could respond, the elevator dinged at the fourteenth floor. She strutted out, her hips swaying, that miniskirt teasing a glimpse of her thick, juicy ass with every step. The doors closed, and I muttered under my breath, "What a bitch." But my mind was elsewhere—Goddamn, she's hot. I'd fuck her so hard, smear her with cream. My new, massive cock twitched in my jumpsuit at the thought, a stark contrast to the pathetic stub I'd seen on her husband earlier.
The elevator reached the fifteenth floor, and I stepped into my "office"—a cramped, dimly lit closet stuffed with cleaning supplies, tools, and a flickering terminal. The air smelled of bleach and burnt wiring. I grabbed my janitorial cart, loaded with mops, rags, and chemical sprays, and got to work, scrubbing floors and fixing flickering lights in the sprawling corporate halls.
______
It was the dead of night, around 5 a.m., and the Acriyit Corporation's temporary holding cells were eerily quiet. Deep in the bowels of the skyscraper, where captured villains awaited transfer to maximum-security prisons, Blazing Woman lay sprawled on a thin cot in a stark, reinforced cell. A single camera mounted in the corner watched her every move, its red light blinking like a predator's eye. The only guard on duty—a schlubby, overworked sap like Steve, stuck on double shift thanks to Angela's bitching—was holed up in the surveillance room. At this hour, he was the sole person monitoring the feeds, probably half-asleep, his eyes glued to the grainy screen showing Blazing Woman's cell.
She stirred, her movements slow and deliberate, like a cat toying with prey. With a wicked smirk, she peeled off her scorched red leotard, letting it fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Her dark, mocha skin gleamed under the cell's harsh fluorescent light, her massive tits bouncing free, crowned with wide, brown nipples already hard with anticipation. Her enormous, gelatinous ass jiggled as she shifted, every curve a weapon of seduction. She turned to the camera, locking eyes with the lens, and purred in a sultry voice that dripped with mockery. "This corporation's a fucking sweatshop, isn't it, big guy? Bet you're stressed out, stuck here all night. Wanna relieve some of that tension?"
She spun around, presenting her back to the camera, and bent slightly, her thick, juicy ass taking center stage. With a slow, teasing rhythm, she started bouncing, her massive cheeks clapping together with loud, rhythmic slaps that echoed in the cell.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
The guard in the surveillance room—some poor bastard named Carl—gaped at the giant monitor, his jaw slack. Blazing Woman's ass filled the screen, each bounce sending ripples through her flesh, hypnotic and obscene. His hand fumbled to his crotch, yanking out his cock, already rock-hard. He stroked himself furiously, his breath ragged, eyes locked on her jiggling curves as she twerked for his pleasure.
Clap! Clap! Clap! Clap!
Just as Carl's moans peaked, his hand a blur, Blazing Woman stopped dead. Her ass froze mid-bounce, and the sudden silence was deafening. Carl, panting, grabbed the microphone, his voice desperate. "Why'd you stop, you fucking tease? Keep going!"
She turned her head, flashing a devilish grin at the camera. Slowly, she spread her massive cheeks with both hands, revealing her glistening, wet pussy, the lips parted and dripping with arousal. "Can't help it, baby," she cooed, her voice thick with fake need. "This pussy's starving for cock. Come down here and give it to me."
Carl didn't think twice. Horniness obliterated his common sense. He bolted from the surveillance room, leaving the monitors unmanned, and sprinted to the cell block. The heavy door clanged open, and there she was, on all fours, her ass raised high, her pussy glistening under the lights like an invitation. Carl fumbled with his pants, dropping them to his ankles, his cock bobbing eagerly as he stepped forward, ready to plunge into her.
But Blazing Woman was no damsel. In a flash, she swung her cuffed wrists—still bound by the anti-power restraints but heavy enough to pack a punch—crashing them into Carl's temple. He crumpled to the floor, out cold before he hit the ground. She snatched the keys from his belt with a cackle, unlocking the cuffs with a deft twist. Her powers flared back to life, flames licking across her skin as she stood over the unconscious guard. With a sneer, she snapped her fingers, and a burst of fire engulfed Carl, his body charring in seconds. Her laugh was manic, a wild, unhinged sound that bounced off the cell walls as she grabbed her leotard, slipped it back on, and strode out, free and dangerous.