Under an Amorous Spotlight

Ava arrived back at her apartment, having changed back into normal clothes—she could hardly show up in Spotlight’s—and with her heart still not having fully settled from what had happened between her and Paris. They’d separated on amiable enough terms, Ava giving a stuttering excuse about needing to get some sleep tonight. Paris saw through her, and Ava’s quick escape. She seemed a bit concerned, like she wanted to talk about it. But Ava had fled anyway.

She still felt Paris’s dried cum on her chest, behind her shirt. Why the hell did her powers work like that? Where did the fluid come from? She had so many questions. 

“How was patrol?” Brooke called from her room, like she always did. Ava might stay out late during her patrols, but Brooke went to bed after the sun set as part of her normal routine. She was always up to see Ava home. 

Ava stopped by Brooke’s doorway, peeking in. She was playing that game of hers, headphones pulled to the side so she could hear Ava’s response. Ava could read the concern in her voice.

“Oh, you know,” Ava said. “It went fine.” Brooke’s worry was from Ava having her first stream back after the embarrassing event they’d concocted. It was comical how unimportant that seemed in the moment. I just jerked Paris off. Or perhaps more astoundingly, I can give girls cocks. Real ones, for all that it matters.

She’d always told Brooke everything, but this?

Well.

Maybe not right now.

“That’s good,” Brooke said. “You wanna talk about it?”

“I think I’m going to get some sleep. Tomorrow?”

“Sure. G’night.”

“You too.”

Ava’s left Brooke’s room, shutting the door softly behind her, then doing the same for her own door. She placed her supplies backpack on her desk.

She sat on her bed.

A few long moments passed as Ava stirred in her thoughts.

She kicked off her shoes, tore her socks off, then shrugged down her pants, and underwear. I need to know. The golden dildo sprung to life, and Ava wasted no time before lining it up where it belonged. As she’d done twice before, she let the construct melt into her body and attach to her. 

Ava stared down at her translucent, golden cock. The bundle of senses that had appeared was overwhelming, and pricked into existence in an instant. She hadn’t even touched it yet, and it pulsed in pleasure.

Her hand wrapped around her shaft, and Ava sighed at the satisfaction the pressure provided. Fuck. That’s … nice. She watched in amazement as she stroked up and down her length.

Her eyes went to her bedroom door. She quietly got up, stalked over, and twisted the lock. Walking with something between her legs was weird. 

I’ll have to be quiet. Brooke was in the other room. 

She sat back down. Can I make it bigger? 

Ava focused on her cock. It was still part of her power, so she still had control over shaping it, just, for some reason, less than normal. It was less malleable, less controllable. 

But still, her request succeeded. Her cock engorged in size, growing slowly as Ava poured her attention into filling it out. From seven inches—her standard dildo size, and what she’d given Paris—to eight, ten, twelve. And further still. Ava’s eyes widened in amazement as she grew the largest member she’d ever set eyes on. Guess that’s what superpowers afford you. At a certain point, she simply stopped. She could make it as big as she wanted, and, pressing it flat against her body, it already reached above her nipples. Twenty inches? An absurd size—and girth.

If I leaned forward, I could suck on it. The thought thrilled through her, and Ava’s body was suddenly on fire. She wanted desperately to try it—to see what her own cock felt like in her mouth. But she couldn’t. Ava was about as vanilla as they came, and even fantasizing about that perverted idea had her face scorching in shame. She wanted to, but her neck refused to bend, her mouth refused to open.

Instead, she simply stroked her hands up and down the ridiculously sized member, pleasuring it the normal way. But even that, Ava could only do for long; it felt too degenerate, with how large it was. Her size experiment concluded, she shrank it back down to a reasonable length. Eight inches. Large, but not unwieldy. A fun ‘big’. Enough to wrap her two slim hands around and stroke away.

A whine escaped her lips, and Ava froze. Quiet, she scathingly reminded herself. Who cared how good it felt? Brooke was in the other room.

She looked back down to her cock. Her hands were nice, but what else could she do? The orgasm she’d pulled from Paris had gotten Ava considerably worked up; she needed her own explosive relief. Maybe I should have let Paris take care of me. 

Ava shook her head. That hadn’t been … a sexual encounter. That’d just been … experimentation. Figuring out the strange ability Ava had discovered.

The denial sounded like denial even in her own head. Oh my god, I jerked Paris off in an alleyway. Had her orgasm all over both of us. That was our first encounter? Talk about romance.

Ava’s eyes quested around her room. Her thoughts were growing foggy with need. The haze of pleasure supplied by the male parts between her legs wasn’t like the kind she was used to. There was a foreign urge to jerk, thrust, empty herself into something. This is so intense. She needed to relieve herself. Her cock pulsed angrily that Ava’s attention had been pulled away from it for even a second.

I could … I could always … 

There’d always been an extraordinarily useful tool for getting herself off—or at least, for the past four months, there had been.

Ava focused—as deeply as she could, with the needy, angry things between her legs—on bringing to life a new type of construct. Creating something for the first time could be tricky. She molded it in her mind like clay. The squishy, cylindrical object formed in the air in front of her. She ribbed the insides with bumps, and made sure to make a tight, squeezing interior. Ava would want pressure.

The first prototype of her newest sextoy created, Ava lowered it to her cocktip—before quickly realizing this wouldn’t work without lubricant. She had a lot of control, but she couldn’t make her constructs slippery.

Fortunately, Ava was prepared. She tiptoed over to her dresser and pulled a bottle from her lowest drawer. A regular dildo laid there—unused since Ava’s power awakening four months ago—no longer serving a purpose. She ought to throw it away.

She poured the cold liquid onto her cock, and some into the insides of the toy she’d made, then slowly lowered the rubbery pussy onto her cock.

Her length slid into the tight, squeezing pressure of the toy, and Ava had to bite down a whine. She shuffled fully onto her bed and collapsed back into her pillow, closing her eyes. The rubbery walls sliding against her cock, deeper and deeper, covering more of her cock by the second, was heavenly. Her whole body shivered with an alien form of pleasure. I can’t believe this is something I can do

The toy squelched as she penetrated all the way through. Her cock head pushed through the far end of the hollow toy, popping out. There was something indescribably lewd about the sight.  

She jerked up and down. The cylindrical toy clung to her cock, the motion rubbing its bumpy insides across her cock’s sensitive skin. I’m already close. She’d barely done anything, and she could feel something building.

She continued to jerk herself off, and her hips bucked, unable to help herself. She wanted to scold herself for the way her bed squeaked as her lower body impacted back down, because she was trying to be quiet, but Ava’s brain was melting. She couldn’t care. She wanted to thrust and fuck the toy until she burst. Her cock wanted to be pleasured. Needed to be.

Through whatever small self control she had left, she climbed off her bed and onto the floor, where at least the wooden frame of her bed wouldn’t creak and give her away. 

She gave in to her newfound instincts. Both hands gripped the rubbery toy as she thrusted in and out, jerking her hips as she found pleasure against the slippery, bumpy insides of her toy pussy. Her jaw clenched shut, but noises still escaped her —whines of pleasure from deep in her throat. Brooke couldn’t hear them. Probably. Maybe. Who knew? Ava didn’t care. She needed to come. Needed to relieve this building, hot sensation in her core, and her cock. Please. Fuck. I want to come. Let me.

Ava’s twisting wrists and jerking hips milked out a spasming, clenching orgasm. The feeling of sticky seed ejecting from her cock was indescribable; it seared her member as the fluid escaped, turning her mind into a sludge of magma. The only thing she could focus on was the twitching pleasure she extracted from herself. The cum erupted, covering her shirt, her lower half and legs, even her bedroom carpet. That’s going to be a nightmare to clean. Ava didn’t care. She clenched her jaw and moaned through closed lips, jerking herself off with all the strength she could muster.

Finally, she sagged into the ground, finished. She could feel the sticky material everywhere across her body. One eye was glued shut, having been caught by a strand. 

That was … way too intense … 

There was no way Brooke hadn’t heard.

She heaved in air for a while, catching her breath, before finally desummoning her constructs and coming back to reality.

Post-orgasm clarity hit hard. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands to her face. What did I just do? She had made an utter mess of her carpet. How would she clean it, while being subtle? What excuse would she give to Brooke for dragging cleaning supplies in? And not only that, but Brooke had definitely heard some strange noises. Maybe not extremely obvious, since her mouth had been closed, and Brooke hopefully had had her headphones on, at least until the noises had been repeating themselves enough to prompt curiosity, but without a doubt she’d caught on to something. 

With luck, she’d misinterpret it? Muffled noises could be hard to make out. 

But somehow, Ava still thought, it was worth it. The searing pleasure that had been coaxed from her cock had been amazing. The experience had been almost as intense as getting herself off to a live audience—though not quite, because the burning, squirming shame in her stomach when she’d done that had turned that event into something that’d melted her down into a hot plasma. Imagine if I’d been jerking myself off, during that. If she’d combined these two incredible sensations.

Ava could definitely get used to having a cock.

She could get used to Paris having a cock, and using it on her.

The possibilities really were endless, weren’t they?

Too bad she had a ruined carpet right now, and a suspicious roommate. She’d be much happier about things.

She looked down at sticky white strands covering her hands, tits, stomach, and pooling on her carpet. Why does it have to make such a mess?