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SISSY SIDEKICK by Throne Super Alpha was relaxing in his superhero secret quarters, which was the luxurious penthouse of his alter ego, millionaire hip-hop mogul Ty Buck. He was tall and muscular, his snug costume showing off his physique and the impressively large bulge in his trunks. With him were three of his girlfriends. There was Sandy, a cute blond who favored white blouses, short plaid skirts, knee socks and saddle shoes. Then came Ming, an Asian beauty wearing a brief silk robe, belted at the waist and decorated with swirling dragons... and that was all she had on. Finally there was Kenya, a Black Amazon with angular features and an athletic body. She wore only a leopard print loincloth. Cowering in the corner was the hero's sidekick, Pansy. He was tiny, with a puny build, pale skin, and eyeglasses that kept sliding down his pointy nose. His hair was long enough to have been pulled into pony tails at either side of his head. Around his neck was a wide collar with spikes jutting out all around. His unimpressive body was left visible by a diaphanous nighty and his ridiculously tiny dick was shamefully exposed. He also had on stockings and ballet slippers. He fidgeted unhappily and looked at Super Alpha pleadingly. The big man noticed him and said, making sure that all the women heard, "What seems to be the problem, little buddy?" "Well," Pansy whined, "it's just that, before you got back from your meeting with Macro Man, the girls m... m... made me dress like this. They said it was my sidekick outfit." The dynamic Black man laughed. The sound was as macho as his appearance. He turned to the females and asked, pretending to be severe with them, "Did you naughty bitches do that to my chum?" They tittered and Sandy said, "Well, lover, you weren't here to take care of our... needs. So we had to do SOME-thing to amuse ourselves." "Yes," seconded Ming. "We get so lonely when you're not with us. And we knew the little twerp needed something to wear while on cases." "Damn right," echoed Kenya. "I mean, Alpha baby, we had to keep our minds off you and how good you treat us. What if we had gotten all hot thinking about you and done something about it? Just think how you would have felt if you came back and found the three of us naked, in bed together, getting busy with each other." "Well," he considered, "that could have been the start of something big." Poor Pansy was getting aroused against his wishes by that dirty talk. His miniature penis was standing up at its full two inch length. He listened as the Black man explained that he knew his helper needed a costume, and that he had gotten the female members of The League of Goodness to contribute their castoffs, along with some other odds and ends they had acquired on their missions. He pointed to a large suitcase that he had carried in and left by the door. "Pansy," he snapped. "Go and get that bag. Put it in the middle of the room." The nervous half-naked figure scurried to obey, taking small girly steps. He always tried to use a more manly walk but never succeeded. His undersized fingers gripped the handle of the case and tugged but he couldn't move it. He braced himself and tried again, lost his balance, and pulled it down on top of his legs. He was pinned by the heavy piece of luggage and struggled comically to wriggle free. When he couldn't get out from under it, Sandy suggested, "Why don't you take a drink from your baby bottle? That'll give you the strength of a normal guy, at least for a few minutes." "Yeah," added Ming. "We were helpful enough to fill it last night... with Alpha's thick potent spunk." "Go on," concluded Kenya. "Take a nice hard suck on that fat nipple. Get a big swallow of his rich salty cream." Utterly humiliated, Pansy didn't want to do it. He told himself that his partner was just trying to assist him by sharing his semen. But it was so mortifying to have to drink it, especially from that bottle. Even so, it was the only way for him to gain enough strength to free himself. So he felt around for the bottle, which he always carried on a pink shoulder strap, found it, and pulled it up to his quivering mouth. He got his lips around the rather phallic nipple and tried to get some of that thick man-seed through it. The girls all laughed. "Suck harder," Sandy encouraged. "Maybe sucking is your secret power." "I think it is," Ming agreed. "I'll bet he could stop lots of bad guys using his mouth like that." "For sure," Kenya enthused. "And I'd like to watch the fool do it." On the verge of tears, Pansy got a helping of the protein-laden goo down his throat and felt a rush of energy surge through his system. Suddenly he wasn't a total weakling anymore. He was now a normal weakling, almost as strong as a regular guy. He heaved against the suitcase and was able to keep it off himself while he squirmed out of its way. His skinny arms began to tremble and he had to let it fall again. Before the 'super sauce' had stopped working he struggled to his feet, gripped the handle again, and dragged it to the center of the room. The girls clapped but they meant it ironically. He stood there panting as Sandy came over, effortlessly picked up the suitcase and moved it to one side, and then unfastened its latch. She laid it down with the lid opened. Inside, to his dismay, Pansy saw lots of other options for his costume, all of them very feminine. He picked up a pair of thong panties and held them up in front of his crotch. Sandy told him, "You can't really tell how they'll look until you put them on... so get moving." He consoled himself that at least he'd have a bit of covering down there. The narrow strip in the back went right up between his buttocks. The inch wide piece in the front didn't provide much modesty. He whined, "What if my... man parts... slip out?" "You call those man parts? Ha!" Next he had to strip off everything else he was wearing so he could continue the impromptu fashion show. Pansy put on a sparkly tiara, a pink belly-shirt, and leggings with wide horizontal stripes in rainbow colors. The girls made him prance around and, as he had feared, his genitals kept popping free. Then he had to get naked again, losing even the inadequate thong. His new costume consisted of a tall posture collar, red and black corset (which Kenya tightened for him -- a lot), and fishnet stockings. He whimpered about how the corset was crushing his middle, so the Black woman had him do bending and stretching exercises, which she said would loosen it up, but all they accomplished was to increase his discomfort and leave him breathing hard. The final outfit he had to try on was the worst. There was a full-head mask but it was one of the kind they sell in sex shops, rubber with a sexy female face on the front. To that they added a coral-colored cape that was covered in ruffles. Instead of shorts or even panties, his private area was covered by a diaper, which Ming pinned onto him. His feet were covered with booties. His baby bottle went well with that look, so they had him crawl around with the nipple in his teeth and the bottle swaying. "What an idiot," Sandy said. "He's the complete opposite of Alpha Man," observed Kenya. "Maybe we should call him Beta Man." "Or something even lower than Beta," considered Ming. "Like Omega Man. Except that calling him 'Man' wouldn't be accurate. Maybe Omega Baby." Alpha Man had been watching them have their fun. He put in, "Or else Omega Imbecile." That provoked fresh laughter. Pansy, still on hands and knees, wanted to protest but couldn't, not with the bottle in his mouth. So he just made complaining sounds, which the onlookers took note of. The girls didn't like him being such a kvetch. "All right," Sandy told him. "Up on your feet, dopey." She walked toward him and got very close. The desirable blond took hold of his wrist, used her other hand to pull the front of his diaper away from his soft tummy, and shoved the hand she was holding down under the diaper so that it was on his immature penis. She leaned close and said, "Super Alpha told us you have another special ability from drinking his powerful sperm. You can cum quickly and often." She blew in his ear. "You can jerk yourself off super quick. Is that true?" She struck an innocent pose with the tip of a forefinger between her lips and the other raising the hem of her brief skirt. Pansy looked at her and moaned softly. His baby dick was getting hard. By instinct he grabbed it and started playing with it. Even though he tried to stop what he was doing, he didn't try very hard. His feet shifted around and he sniffled, trying not to finish himself in front of the Alpha's girlfriends. Ming came up and fussed with the belt of her abbreviated robe. She suddenly brought her hands up to the sides of her face and put on a faux shocked expression. "Oh my," she said as the ends of the belt fell and the halves of her robe separated. "My robe has fallen open." Pansy groaned and fondled his throbbing prick. He was getting so close to gaining relief. His eyes fastened on Ming's small breasts and flat belly. She wriggled her hips and made the triangle of hair between her legs move enticingly. The stupefied sidekick sank to his bony knees, let out a cry that mixed defeat and relief, and shot his meager load all over his pumping hand. The women snickered at how easy it had been to make him humiliate himself that way. "What a loser," Sandy declared. "A total failure," Ming agreed. "Hey, Pansy," Kenya urged. "Show us your hand." He sobbed as he took it out of his diaper and they all saw the sticky white stuff on it. Sandy told him he was being disgusting and insisted that he clean up the mess on his palm and fingers... with his lips and tongue. He actually started to weep as he licked and sucked up his own jazz. "Well," decided Sandy, "if you're not strong, and don't have any self- control, maybe what you're good for is being smart. Hey girls, let's ask him a few questions." She gave him a serious look. "So tell us, Pansy, what was the last book you read?" He tried to remember. There were the ones in his small room there in the penthouse, a space that had formerly been a walk-in closet. But they all had titles like HOW TO PICK UP GIRLS and YOU CAN BE A SEXUAL EXPERT. He opened and closed his mouth before finally saying, "Well, I kind of read some about... um... having good relationships with women. Not the kind about getting them into bed. I mean, sort of. But sort of... err... how to do stuff with them." The girls barely tried to stifle their laughter. Ming wanted to know, "Well what about movies? Any good documentaries?" All he watched on his old portable TV was porn. Pansy tried to think about at least one of his DVDs that wasn't completely shameful. There were the ones with Black men taking on college girls... who looked like Sandy. Or a couple with Black men enjoying willing Asian sweeties... who resembled Ming. And then he had a favorite that featured a short but well-hung white guy plowing a Black beauty... who could have been a sister to Kenya. Pansy stammered out, "I re... recently watched one about div... diversity. With a Black hottie... I mean a proud Black woman and this guy with a big sch... schlong and..." He got all tongue tied, trying to cover up the embarrassing details he had just revealed. Before he could recover, Kenya said with deep seriousness, "How about hobbies? Any hobbies? While you're watching those movies?" Caught off guard, he blurted out, "You mean jerking off? How did you know about...?" Too late, he realized that they hadn't known. Not that it would have been difficult to guess. And that was his only hobby. But even so, it was mortifying to have been tricked into confessing it like that. The girls pretended to be shocked. Alpha laughed soundlessly. Pansy blushed bright pink. He nervously stuck his thumb into his mouth before noticing that it still had some of his semen on it. "You know," Super Alpha said, sounding concerned, "after the way you fussed about the costumes you tried on, and how poorly you handled those questions, you have to be punished in some way. I think my girlfriends can find something in that suitcase for you to wear that will remind you to behave better after this." Pansy wanted to protest. It was all so unfair. But he knew better than to stand up to his partner in crime-fighting. Instead he just hung his head and mumbled his acceptance. The girls dug through the remaining contents of the case and found several items they approved of, along with parts of what he had been wearing before. When they were done dressing him he stood there cringing at how he looked. Pansy had a bow at the base of each ponytail. Around his neck was a collar made up of overlapping sections that got wider as the went down and ended in scalloped curves, alternately colored pink and white, like something a clown might wear. The cruelest part of his punishment was that the skirt they picked was transparent, so everyone could see his unbelievably little dick. There was a garter belt supporting a new pair of stockings, these ones with vertical strips, and his feet were encased in a fresh pair of girly slippers. His delicate hands were encased in pink gloves that went halfway up his lower arms and ended in white lace. The finishing touch was a small cape from the neck of which hung a large pendant-like disc with the letter 'P' on it, the letter in swirling script. It was all absolutely awful. He wanted to find some way to redeem himself and maybe earn the right to wear something like Super Alpha did, the dark skintight costume with its flowing billowing cape and thick- soled boots. So when the big Black man said that he wanted Pansy to wash his car, the fawning sidekick went to the closet where his cleaning supplies were kept, the ones he used when he regularly cleaned up the place. Along with the feather duster, toilet brush, bucket and mop, and all the other familiar items, he dug around in the back and found a big sponge and a smaller brush, along with a plastic bucket. Pansy had known the new car was coming and had become more and more eager to get his first ride in it. He couldn't wait. But there was a more immediate concern. The car was in the underground parking garage, where people came and went. How was he supposed to do his job, dressed the way he was? He thought about it but couldn't come up with a good solution. The best his limited mind could conceive was to simply work fast and hope no one spotted him. Someone else might have thought of asking Alpha to move the car to a secluded area on lowest level, but not Pansy. So he gathered his cleaning equipment and hurried off to where the car was. It was a beauty, long and sleek and black. There was a spigot on the wall from which Pansy filled his bucket. He added soap to the water and dunked his sponge. Soon he was busily washing the expensive car. So engrossed was he in his task that he didn't notice a young couple parking nearby. As they walked past where he was working the girl spotted him. She asked her boyfriend, "What is THAT? Look at the freak." Pansy froze. He tried to sidle into a less conspicuous spot but they were already coming closer. The guy said, "Must be some sort of pervert." "Yeah," agreed the girl. "Like a sissy weirdo." The sidekick pretended not to see them, focusing on his task. But they were right behind him now. The girl said, "And he doesn't have on any pants or anything." "No," the guy concurred. "That kind never does." Pansy got so upset that he forgot himself and turned toward them, imagining that he could think of something to convince them otherwise and make them leave. Instead, all he succeeded in doing was to display his mini-dick. The guy swore in surprise, then said, "That's the smallest cock I've ever seen. Looks like one of them little party wieners they serve on toothpicks... only smaller." He laughed at what he was seeing. The girl laughed too. "Yeah," she told him. "No girl would ever want to be with a short-dicked loser like that. Ever." As they strolled away, Pansy consoled himself that he might not be a ladies' man but even so he was the sidekick of the famous Super Alpha. And he would soon be riding with his partner in that handsome car. Zooming through the city streets with everyone looking on enviously. He took a scrub brush and began working on the tires, even though it made his undeveloped arms sore. It would all be worth it when he was sitting alongside his partner and racing through the mighty metropolis. Just as Pansy finished towel drying the car and buffing the chrome, Super Alpha appeared, his cape rippling behind him as he approached with long heroic strides. Pansy stood up straight and almost threw him a salute, he was so proud of himself and so eager to acknowledge the bond between them. The tall Black man examined his car briefly, shrugged, and said that it was okay. Then he opened the driver side door and slid behind the wheel. Pansy went to the passenger side and tugged on the door handle but it was locked. "Um. Err. Sir? I need to get in." Alpha gave him a stern look. "No. You're wet. Besides, it wouldn't look good for the help to be riding with the hero." He pointed to a darkened corner of the garage. "I got you your own transportation. Over there." Pansy went uncertainly into the shadows. What he found was a bike. A small one. Pink. With training wheels. Plus a little white basket on the handlebars. And colorful plastic flowers on the basket. And multi- colored streamers hanging from the hand grips. There was even a model name on the fender. It was called the PRINCESS SPECIAL. Worst of all, there was a fat black dildo mounted on the middle of the seat. When he objected to that last feature, Alpha explained that it was for safety, to make sure Pansy didn't slide off the seat. Sad-faced and speechless, Pansy reluctantly got on. As he lowered his bare bottom the artificial cock poked him between the buttocks and pressed against his rear tightness. He grimaced as he lowered his weight and felt it invade him. Inch after inch it added to his safety and insured that he would remain firmly affixed to the seat. Alpha started his car and pulled out, with his sidekick rolling along behind him. As the vehicle picked up speed, Pansy had to peddle hard to keep up, which made the penetrating dildo rape his wriggling ass. It was an ordeal for him to follow along the busy city streets, through a poor neighborhood where the locals jeered at him, all the way to the warehouse district, well known as a haven for criminals, a free-zone for illicit transactions, and surprisingly, a great place to have an intimate meal and a nice glass of wine. Go figure. The gleaming car pulled up behind an especially disreputable warehouse and stopped. Alpha stepped out and struck a heroic pose. When he observed that no one was there to see him, he relaxed. Pansy, perspiring and panting, raised himself off the butt-stuffing dildo, got off his bike. He walked on rubbery legs to his partner. "Okay," the sidekick said breathlessly. "When do we start busting up some crime?" "Well, actually, you have to infiltrate this den of thieves." He checked his fingernails to make sure his manicure was still looking good. "You can go in through one of the vents, crawl through the air ducts, and then report back to me. And don't take forever." "B... but I don't want to have to crawl through a dirty air duct. It's... unsanitary." "Nonsense. Besides, it's what sidekicks do. And you're certainly small enough for the job." He chuckled at his understatement. "So get to it, Pansy." Alpha pointed toward a grate that was loose on one side, probably from some bum who had removed a few screws so he could cram himself inside and be protected while he slept off a drunk. "My informants tell me that the infamous trio of super villainesses, The Fearsome Femmes, has their headquarters in there." Pansy's eyes went wide. "You mean Scorpianna? And Ms. Whip? And Devil Dyke? I can't go in if they might be there." He backed away, hands in the air, his face a mask of terror. Alpha sighed theatrically, grabbed him, and dragged him along to a low brick wall. The Black super-person sat down and hauled Pansy over his lap, then flipped up the sidekick's transparent skirt to bare his soft pale backside. "Guess I'm going to have to remind you who's the boss here, boy," he snarled as he raised his wide hand. The weakling looked back over his shoulder and wailed, "Noooooo." But it was too late. Alpha's powerful arm swung and his palm connected with Pansy's scrawny bum, producing a loud meaty smack. The slapping sound was repeated over and over as the Black powerhouse delivered a merciless spanking, turning those white cheeks rosy and then bright red. Pansy kicked his little feet, squealed and squirmed, and shed torrents of tears. At last, after his negligible will had been destroyed, Alpha stood up, dumping him onto the litter strewn ground. Pansy lay there, bleating and rubbing his blazing backside. It hadn't been bad enough to have his bung ravaged by that dildo, but now the surrounding area was on fire with pain. His nose ran and his lips quivered as he slowly regained a semblance of self-management. "Now get into that air vent," Alpha growled at him. "Unless you want more of the same." Knowing he couldn't endure further spanking, Pansy struggled to his feet, straightened his see-through skirt, and limped to the narrow opening. Alpha followed him, grasped the edge of the grate, and easily bent it out of the way. That wasn't necessary, but he loved to show off. His unhappy sidekick squeezed himself through the tight entrance and begin to inch forward through the unaccomodating passage, feeling dead bugs crunch beneath his knees and spider webs caress his face. He shuddered and kept going. After ten minutes of slow progress through the ductwork, he found himself atop an air vent. It was a grill and he could see through it. Below was a laundry room. On the floor alongside a washer was a heap of female clothing. It was the spare outfits of the Fearsome Femmes, along with plenty of their delicate underthings. In his mind he pictured them wearing those items, sweating in them, their precious bodily fluids perhaps dampening the underarms and crotches. Pansy hugged himself. His inadequate penis stiffened. In the dimness he saw a rotating lock that held the grill closed. He rotated the rotating lock, it unlocked, and the grill fell open, dumping him into a deep pile of laundry. Pansy was face down, his nose deep in someone's worn panties. The sidekick moaned loudly with rising passion. He inhaled deeply and his baby dick twitched spasmodically. He huffed the panties, unable to control himself. He found a bra and rubbed it over his face. He discovered a pair of shorts from one of the Femmes' costumes and put the over his head, heedless of how that made him appear. He was in pervert paradise, well beyond being able to reign in his runaway appetites. But his vocalizing had alerted the owners of those garments. As he rolled around in the unwashed items, buried his head in their fragrant depths, he was being observed by silent watchers. Cool intelligences that interpreted what they were seeing. Superior minds that drew complicated conclusions. "Jeez," said a female voice. "The skinny wimp is a super-freak." "Ugh. He's snorting the skid marks in my panties." "Now he's stuffing my filthy socks into his mouth. Phew!" "And he's starting to wank that thing between his legs. It's like a cock only smaller. Much, much smaller." "Let's get him, girls." All at once, three female furies burst into the room. There was Scorpianna, all in black. And Ms. Whip, predictably wielding a whip. Plus Devil Dyke, who wasn't bad looking but had really short hair and no make-up. It was the third one who rushed at Pansy. His head came up, he looked through the leg-hole of the shorts that were half covering his features, pulled them off and threw them aside. He stood up and struck his most heroic and manly stance, which was neither heroic nor manly but, hey, what did you expect? Devil Dyke seized him and tossed him to the side, beyond the edge of his beloved laundry pile. He faced her with his face a mask of determination. She executed a perfect roundhouse kick, pulling it so that the ends of her booted toes just brushed his nose, startling him more than hurting. He retreated two steps and grabbed for his trademark baby bottle. Of course, he didn't relish having to glug down another helping of Alpha's terrific testicle-juice, but it was the only way to fight back against his martial-arts-using foe. So he jammed the nipple between his lips and sucked mightily, making the women erupt with laughter. With new confidence he feinted at DD. She recognized the simple and obvious move, held her position, and countered with her stiffened fingers into his midsection. He sagged and went limp like a failed erection. She swept around him with perfect control of her movement. He straightened back up and the mannish woman gave him a vicious karate chop in one arm and followed with the same on the other side. He stood there feeling as helpless as he looked, arms disabled. She delivered a crippling kick to his right thigh and another to his left. He crumpled to the floor. Even after a drink from his baby bottle he was still a hopeless weakling. "I can't believe it," she said. "I've gotten more competition from a practice dummy. This worm is an absolute nothing." The other two stepped in, seized him under the arms, and held him upright between them. He was sore everywhere and couldn't stand on his own, or use his arms. The women examined him, touching wherever they pleased, and were displeased when his hard-on returned. "Good grief," Scorpianna remarked, ignoring the code of super-villain tough-talk. "If we don't want this squirt squirting all over the place, we need to put him into chastity." "For sure," seconded Ms. Whip. "If we can find a chastity tube small enough for that miniature man-part of his." Devil Dyke gruffly declared, "I can rig something up in my workshop. I like to do stuff like that." And indeed she did, being rather a clich?d dyke. "Than we can make him clean up this dump. There's still some costumes from your fantasy role playing with those coeds last weekend, DD." "Yeah, that was good times. And what those little college girls were wearing should be a good fit for this wussy. Let's dress him up pretty." So it is, skipping ahead and not worrying about every little detail, that we find Pansy an hour later, in an improvised maid's outfit with a half an apron and no covering for his fraction-of-a-penis, which is now encased in a metal cap the size of an acorn, and joined to a tight ring that is locked around the base of his modest scrotum. He has on a frilly cap and shiny stockings, no sleeves but cuffs with cufflinks on his wrists, and shoes with two inch heels on his feet. All that, along with his glasses and stupid expression, worked together to make him a laughable sight. After several hours of making him clean up they grew bored with that game. So they stripped him naked for the next round. A brush was shoved between his jaws and he was made to clean a large area of floor with it. Then he had to do lavatory duty. At first he was given a toothbrush to clean the commode but then Devil Dyke, being a classic man-hater type, made him discard it and use his tongue to clean the stained bowl. Ewwww. For sport, they attached him to a pair of beams that DD had fastened into an X. They had two dozen eggs that had gone past their expiration date a while back, as the girls usually got take-out. Someone wrote up a sign on a discarded sheet of poster paper. It said to throw eggs at the bound loser and to feel free to whip him. That last suggestion had been added by Ms. Whip, who was growing impatient to use the length of braided leather that had won her that name. So while the other two females had fun pelting Pansy with eggs that would have just had to be thrown out anyway, making a complete mess of him, aiming at his face and narrow chest and unspectacular genitals, Ms. Whip was warming up in the corner. When they ran out of ammo she stepped in. Her need was so urgent by then that she didn't even care if she got egg all over her whip. She went to work on Pansy, at first making sure that only the tip of the implement struck him, leaving impressive red marks and causing spots of burning pain, but not doing any real damage. Then she moved on to slightly more punishing strokes, which were aimed at his underarms, soft belly, and vulnerable inner thighs. The final round consisted of especially wicked blows, spread all over his body, that left angry red lines wherever they fell. By the time she was done he was hanging in his bonds, head lolling. (But his skin wasn't broken. No blood was shed. This isn't that kind of story.) Being the wicked kind of super-villainesses they were, the Fearsome Femmes now proceeded to make him wash some of their laundry. They started him at the sink, having him use warm water and mild detergent to hand clean some of their most dainty unmentionables. Naturally, this got him wildly excited but, because he was in such tight chastity, his tiny dick and itty bitty balls began to hurt. He stood there in a confusion of pain and pleasure while they snickered at his helplessness and planned what further mistreatments to inflict on him. But wait. Where was Super Alpha all this time? Well, he had figured that Pansy would need a long while to gather info and return through the duct system, so he went to one of those exclusive eateries that were nestled among the warehouses and occasional dive bar. What can I say? It was one of those oddball dining trends that young urban professionals and urban hipsters are attracted to. Anyway, not only did Super Alpha savor a leisurely meal, but as he was finishing he spotted one of his many ex-girlfriends coming in the door with her sensitive artistic boyfriend. Alpha called them over, accidently-on-purpose stamped on the guy's foot and broke it, and while the staff was taking the injured party toward the door to be picked up by the ambulance they had called, Alpha was putting his moves on the girl, who responded enthusiastically, preferring the Black giant over her metrosexual date anyway. So, after getting a quick BJ under the table from his willing companion, Super Alpha at last remembered his sidekick and went back to find him. Since Pansy wasn't at the exit from the ventilation system, Alpha went around to the front door to try the direct approach. He encountered the male guards (Devil Dyke had voted for cute female ones, but the other two prevailed), who were armed with guns and knives and those martial arts weapons that you see a lot of in action movies. Alpha used his superhuman strength and invulnerability to defeat them, basically beating them senseless and then kicking them while they were down for spite. He wasn't a particularly noble sort. He smashed through several reinforced doors and reached the Fearsome Femmes inner sanctum. By then they had Pansy naked in a tall birdcage and were stimulating him with vibrators, shocking him with electric prods, and getting is mind even more confused between pleasure and pain. The whole time they were also mocking his incompetence and low IQ, along with his inept fighting style and pathetic personality. Alpha strode in, saw how heartlessly they were treating his sidekick, and glared at them. Then he laughed out loud. "Wow. I've seen Pansy get himself into some messed up situations, but this is the best one yet. I hope somebody thought to take some pictures with their phone. I have to post something on my My Face page." It turned out that hadn't thought to get any photos. That led to a conversation between Alpha and two of the females, while Devil Dyke continued to arouse and hurt Pansy. But when Alpha freed his super-sized cock, it cast its super-spell over not only the two straight super villainesses, but even over DD, who was so affected that she turned straight, borrowed some cosmetics, and made up her face. She no longer looked like she wanted to pump you up the butt with a strap-on. So the four super ones came to a compromise about the crime-committing and law- enforcing and such, and decided they would all return to Alpha's penthouse, now that his three girlfriends had departed and he didn't want to be alone, and work out the details. Pansy, to everyone's amusement, had to get there on his bike. The women got heated up watching him impale himself on the dildo seat. Now they were in more of a rush to get to Alpha's residence. When Pansy arrived the others were already in a state of semi-undress and pre-orgy mode. Alpha said that there had to be at least a token punishment of the leader of the Fearsome Femmes, who was Scorpianna. He decreed that he would remove Pansy's chastity -- or maybe just loan some tools to DD so she could do it and he wouldn't have to put his hands near Pansy's junk -- and the sidekick would rape the head Femme. Scorpianna wasn't thrilled with the idea, but figured it would be worth it if afterwards she got filled up by the Black super-stud's massive cock. So she stripped down and knelt on the bed, her shapely ass in the air. Pansy got onto the foot of the bed, in an ecstasy of anticipation. His mini-member was hard, for what that was worth. He got behind her, ready to use his two slender inches. His hands went to her hips, his fingertips touched warm soft skin, and the power of all the Alpha spunk he had drunk was activated. It really did make it too easy for him to finish. Too easy to do it too soon. As he knelt there, his smile turning to a frown, his tiny organ jetted long strings of scum all over Scorpianna's desirable derriere. Me moaned and sat on his heels. She looked back at him and barked, "You are pitiful. And your repulsive scuzz is all over my precious ass. Now lick it up and swallow it. Go on. Get busy, bozo." As he submissively obeyed, his tongue lapping great big gobs of salty slimy sidekick spunk and then retracting to he could swallow it, the room erupted with wild laughter. There was even a generous portion of his output that had gotten into the valley between her delectable ovals, so he had to burrow his face in and orally retrieve that as well. After he was done it was unanimously agreed that Pansy was a stupid little sissy and should be demoted from sidekick to servant. The only carryover from his current role would be the baby bottle, from which he would drink large quantities of Super Alpha's semen. That way Pansy could still jerk off for the others' entertainment, and cum frequently and have to clean up his own messes. The suitcase was still around, so the girls came up with one more costume for the former sidekick. He was given a bowtie on an elastic strap, a pink vest that didn't fasten, bikini-cut panties with no crotch, so that his dinky dick was shown off, garter belt and stockings, plus ballet slippers. While Super Alpha stretched out on the bed with all three women caressing him with hands and mouths, Pansy had to polish and buff everybody's boots and, just his luck, the women who hadn't already had them on at their headquarters had changed into them before they left, being very super female villain style-conscious. Scorpianna mounted Super Alpha's tower of power and rode up and down on it happily. Ms. Whip laid alongside him and they kissed furiously. And the former Devil Dyke, now renamed Sexy Sinner (which wasn't too bad considering that she had to think it up on the spot), was on his other side, leaning over his broad muscular chest and licking his nipples. Pansy, meanwhile, knelt on the floor, watching longingly, mourning the loss of his status as Alpha's valued sidekick. Well, maybe not so valued. He stopped what he was doing for a moment to take a long suck off his baby bottle, a fresh one they had gotten him from the fridge when they got there and heated up in a pan of hot water. He could already feel the urge to masturbate, and the growing need to empty his immature but very productive balls. It wasn't going to be easy to redeem himself but he was determined, and he thought giving everyone a good laugh would be a start. After that, if he was a good enough servant, maybe soon, or in a year or two, Super Alpha would reconsider him as a sidekick, even if his new designation would be 'sissy sidekick'. ********* (This mini-epic was written from an outline and several pieces of Art by an on-line friend. To see his drawings go to sissynequissimus.tumblr.com)