e621.net · 6247761

[section=You Bet Your Cunt]
In the time loops of the Unspoken Accords, most people were generally aware that the Accords existed and relied on the Reality Warpers to enforce them, and that there was something about time involved, but few paid close enough attention to actually realize that time was looping around, allowing the Warpers to try out different scenarios - potentially millions of them, or more, if they wanted - in order to select the one acceptable timeline they would eventually make 'canon' and allow things to proceed from there. Very few indeed were the people who both knew about the time loops and could persist anything from one loop to another.

Dr. Setta Flamowitz, the Iron Dragon, sometimes was. Mad Science was chaotic even for Reality Warpers to deal with. She was almost always aware of the existence of the loops; less often she was able to retain memories from other loops. Sometimes she had access to her extradimensional lab, which was outside normal space and time and thus was unaffected by the time loops; other times she never reached it. But most heroes and villains were not Mad, and had no such access.

Pheromizer almost never had any awareness of the time loops at all. His own particular brand of madness was based on his own super-powered pheromones, which had left his mind permanently fixated on the overwhelming need to mate - and the furious insistence that he should be constantly presented with females ready for him to do so. It wasn't really his fault; his own super-biology meant that he was going to be wildly overwhelmed by constant urges to mount something. There were plenty of time loops where he hadn't had the mental fortitude to deal with it and had been imprisoned as a serial rapist without ever having had the mental capacity to build a villainous identity out of the urge.

There was also one loop, so far, where he managed to create a variant of his own super-pheromones that linked him to every other incarnation of himself thus far, along with all their memories, knowledge, and powers. It didn't make him a true Reality Warper, not quite. But it made him very, very powerful within that loop.

He could break out 'machine pheromones' that made electronics suddenly do whatever he wanted. He could use formulations from super-advanced timelines that could penetrate even the Iron Dragon's titano-ceramic power armor plating. He could release a city-wide cloud of pheromones to ensure that everyone would suddenly *understand* his viewpoint and agree with the idea that it only made sense for everyone to go around bottomless (barring legitimate need for protective gear, of course) and for females to promptly and unhesitatingly present themselves at the slightest whiff of arousal.

Setta had a touch of nymph in her ancestry. Just enough to ensure she had an elevated hormone level under normal circumstances anyway, and experience dealing with it. Even super-pheromones couldn't affect her unless they were the kind that directly influenced the brain at the physical level. But Pheromizer knew that, too, since it had come up in plenty of other timelines. He knew how to make a range of pheromones that would leave the good Doctor Flamowitz writhing on the ground frantically pawing herself trying to get her ass to the door to beg to get rutted. But he knew she could eventually think her way around even that. The Mad thoughts could eventually get around even having the physical part of her mind compromised.

And for the first time in his life, he could *think* straight. Anywhere he went, his own super-pheromones meant that the bottomless bevies of females would be struck by a surge of lust and promptly drop to their knees with their rears presented. Finally, the reality his hormones insisted was happening aligned with the world around him. He was constantly receiving signals of intense immediate need from females, and lo and behold there were females in intense immediate need all around him. He could plan a little more thoroughly while pumping pussy after pussy full of his potent skunk seed.

And there were still villains out there, and heroes. Just because everyone took fuck breaks didn't mean crime stopped. He was sympathetic to the villains, of course; he'd been one long enough, and in enough time loops, and they just wanted society to match *their* expectations. So he added a new twist to heroing. With a new addition to his city-blanketing pheromones, he ensured that any surge of heroic determination would come with an instant burst of intense arousal. Just enough to ensure that any heroine who wanted to engage a villain would be down on her knees waggling her ass in the air before actually making her first move against the criminal.

And the only way for a heroine to get an exemption from the effect was to win the right to continue her heroic career from him, personally. Not by bribery or coming in to suck or fuck her way to it from him; he didn't care about money and he had, for once, all the fucking he wanted free at hand. No, if they wanted to continue being a hero, they had to go onto his new wildly popular game show: You Bet Your Cunt.

The rules were simple. A contestant had to bet her cunt. She would wear a standard contestant costume and participate in a series of mental and physical challenges. If she reached the end of the show without a slave-collar on her neck and a skunk-tail mark permanently applied to her pussy, she was immunized to the effect of the pheromones and free to continue her heroic work - more effective than ever, given that she'd be able to ignore the urge for a quick fuck mid-battle. And if she lost every part of the costume, had the collar applied, and then missed one more? Well, then her cunt officially belonged to Pheromizer, and that black-and-white striping would announce that for all to see.

Just about every heroine in the city took the challenge, eventually. He set the difficulty level quite precisely, ensuring that every contestant had a fair chance of victory. About forty-five percent won; the rest were his pink-faced pets. There weren't many superheroines left who weren't either already his or already victors. But the Iron Dragon had refused. Dr. Flamowitz had taken to remotely driving her armor, allowing her to let her lab systems plow her through the patrols no matter how aroused she became, allowing the armor to keep battling for her.

So he adjusted the city formulation a little more, aiming very particular effects for fire-breathing dragonesses. Setta found that when the next burst of heroic excitement hit her, she just couldn't stop panting, couldn't resist the urge to call up Shep-Hard and roll onto her back with her legs spread and whine like a good puppy, couldn't keep herself from trotting out to get picked up and present her bottom for her puppy-tail plug and be *such* a squirmy pink-faced pup for him for a full week. And when she finally got back to her lab and tried patrolling again, she lasted five minutes before calling up the Equestrian to tell him that a non-equine slave had gotten loose and needed to be put in her place. And a week after that it was a call to Packmaster with her ass in the air and a bone in her mouth.

Pheromizer was growing concerned that he would run out of heroines before the stubborn dragoness would sign up... but after she spent a week whining into a gag while Technomancer gleefully tried out spells on her magically (and temporarily) cyber-infused cunt, she finally acknowledged that she couldn't fight crime like this, even indirectly. And so the series finale was set.

Setta had the standard contestant costume on. A jumpsuit with tear-away sleeves and legs, mostly. Arms, legs, belly, chest, crotch, collar, cunt. Seven 'strikes' to lose. Twelve 'events' in the show. The first 'event' was always a quiz show. And usually an undignified one. Three questions, answer all three correctly to win.

"Question one: of all the videos on Downfall.vil, which one have you pawed yourself to the most times?"

Her face burned red as four thoroughly pornographic videos played. All of herself, of course. "D. Puppy Scrubbies," she answered. And a loud buzz followed.

"Sorry, that's incorrect! You've jilled yourself to that one most, but you've *pawed* yourself to C, Paddled Plaything more! Pawing only counts when you've got your puppy-paws on!"

And just like that, the arms of her contestant jumpsuit were gone, just one question in.

The next event was Naughty Girl. She had to bend over the podium and grip a handle with her mouth, while holding two grips in her hands, squeezing down a trigger on each. If she let go of the handle or either trigger before time ran out, she lost. And an automated system pulled her pants down and began snapping a metal-studded belt across her bare ass. She clenched her teeth on the handle, face burning and she couldn't hide from the cameras how her rear squeezed and her pussy clenched inside, leaking down her legs. In that ten-minute timer, she came repeatedly. But she held onto the handles, not letting go even after the timer ran out, until the automated system pulled her pants back up and let the wetness soak the crotch and the buzzer sounded.

She breezed through the next event, too. A tile-sliding puzzle that revealed a picture of a grinning, erect Pheromizer as she completed it. Not even all that hard - but then, the show often put some easy events up front, to let the heroes get ahead and generate some extra excitement. Still, having nine events to go and six strikes left was a winning pace.

Edge Haze Maze was the next event. Dropped into a maze, having to find her way out, with a fog of Pheromizer's concoctions in the air urging her to play with herself. If she came before she got to the exit, she lost... and still had to find the exit anyway. She lost. Badly. She had finished herself before even reaching the exterior wall... and found she'd gone the wrong way entirely, but had reached the Break Room. It was about a one-in-four chance of going to right general direction to reach the exit, and normally a fifty-fifty chance of a heroine having the self-control to make it through one wrong decision and try another way before losing herself entirely. Only about one in ten reached the Break Room and were sufficiently overwhelmed as to accept its offer. There was no question for Setta. She flopped over the 'Relief Rack' without hesitation, her head spinning. The automated systems pulled her pants down again, and a magically-realistic copy of Pheromizer's own cock and balls enthusiastically pounded her dripping pussy, making her wail out until enough of the edge had come off that she could stand upright and move enough to get back to the center of the maze and try again.

She was the first contestant to get back to the center, make *another* wrong turn, stumble back to the center again, and accidentally go *back* to the Break Room and get another 'relief', before finally stumbling her way to the exit, over an hour after losing. The legs of her jumpsuit went away. Eight left, five strikes to go.

Next came A Star Is Born. With cuffs on her wrists and ankles attached to chains, laid on her back, she had to keep her arms and legs pulled in tight, not letting a weight at the end of each chain lower far enough to hit a button below before the time ran out. If a button was hit, that weight locked in place, preventing any ideas of letting one limb rest and then pull it back. After getting rubbery-legged from the last event, she didn't have a chance at this one. She didn't last two minutes, let alone the full twenty, and was spread-eagled with the 'penalty toy' (Pheromizer's cock again) merrily pumping her pussy for the remaining time plus ten minute failure penalty. Seven left, four strikes to go.

The next one was another intellectual challenge, thankfully. Devise The Prize was a single-question quiz, but a long answer. A whiteboard with Pheromizer's original Bitch Itch formula was presented. The contestant had fifteen minutes to figure out an adjustment that would double the duration, intensity, or chemical stability. Normally that one was an automatic loss for most heroines. Setta had it completed in five minutes. Six left, four strikes to go.

Take A Ride went poorly. Locked onto a vibrating bicycle seat having to pedal her way through a simulated gantlet of pheromone-blasting 'mooks' without creaming. She only made it four blocks before failing and being locked in place for the rest of the five-mile 'loser ride,' with her pants again being pulled down and a paddle cracking at her ass the whole way. The belly of the jumpsuit left. Five more events, three more strikes.

The Arena went better. Three unarmed fights in a row against regular mooks. Mostly it went better because 'unarmed' failed to account for firebreath. "Holy fuck, lady!" the first one shrieked when she let a blaze dance just in front of him, and he dove for the safety of the ring-out padding when she inhaled for the next. The other two didn't even try. She might not have her power armor, but she was still a dragon. It had its advantages. Four more events, three more strikes.

But then she flatly forfeited the next one, Tubby Time. Another quiz-answering challenge, while neck-deep and blindfolded in a sudsy bath getting scrubbed shiny from nose to tailtip. The show ground to a brief halt while she gritted her teeth and informed the MC that due to a near-drowning incident as a child, this particular event would be psychologically damaging. After a moment to consult, the forfeit was accepted without the planned penalty... but the top of her jumpsuit vanished, leaving her bare breasts in plain view. Three events, two more strikes.

Brick In The Wall was up next. Bent over at the waist, elbows on pads in front of her, a speech playing on a teleprompter in front of her, with her waist through a hole in a brick wall, rubber sealing around it tight, and her pants at her ankles on the other side. All she had to do was read the speech without squealing, squealing, moaning, or otherwise being interrupted. Her face heated as she started. "Everyone knows that knots are a particular favorite of mine," she read out, while simulated fingers began enthusiastically playing with her defenseless pussy and ass. "That dates back to my very first defeat, when Psychoswan made me into her pet bitch and trained me very thoroughly to associate being doggy-mounted with being a helpless, defeated pet. Feeling those big doggy dicks sliding into my pussy just makes my face burn to this day, and having that big knot spreading me just feels so magnificently humiliated. I rrrrr..." The hands had reached between her legs and started petting at her white patch of pubic hair. Her species was normally entirely hairless. That spot was a magical addition from... some time ago. A swap with a white kitsune. Her nerves didn't have built-in handling for the sensation of 'fur being petted.' The result was a mind-blanking haze of relaxed bliss. And purring.

The pants stayed off as they petted her to purr for the rest of the allotted fifteen minutes, relaxed and climaxing casually as fingers explored her nethers. Two more events, two more strikes. If she won either of the last two, she won the show.

It was her turn on The Catwalk. With her wrists cuffed to an overhead rail, she had to strut out along a fifty-foot catwalk, landing her feet on lighted spots and matching her position to a simulated image on a screen in front of her. Then at the end of the catwalk, perform a dance number by again putting her feet in the lighted spots and moving the rest of her body as indicated by the screen. Dancing was not actually her forte. Particularly an on-the-spot unrehearsed see-and-do affair like that. She failed quite badly. A slave-collar snapped around her neck - and took control over her body, making her perform the lewd, tail-raised dance flawlessly under its power. One event, one strike. If she lost, she lost everything.

The final round. The Interview. With Pheromizer himself sitting there, cock wafting his latest enhancements to his pheromones from his constantly-dripping pre, and her sitting her now-naked ass in a chair across from him. If she could make it through a fifteen-minute interview without getting out of her chair to suck him off, bounce in his lap, or present herself, and without climaxing in her own seat, she won.

Which wouldn't have been so much of a problem if she hadn't been fitted into the slave-collar. Which, it turned out, was a major penalty. The cameras lit up. And the control collar immediately made her spread her legs. The interview also didn't require her to actually give her own answers, it turned out, as her mouth refused to move and a simulation of her voice played from a speaker on the collar.

"So, Setta, you've made it to the final round," Pheromizer asked amusedly. "And how does that make you feel?"

The collar answered for her, "Excited, Pheromizer! All I have to do is make it through this little chat and I'll be able to get back to heroing as the Iron Dragon instead of being another of your pets. It makes me so eager I could just strum my pussy!" And she couldn't stop her hand from dropping down, openly stroking her fingers back and forth across her naked labia in front of the cameras, her face flushing red.

"Exciting indeed! And how do you rate your chances?"

"Oh, terrible, just terrible. Everyone's seen how easy it is to set me off, and I am just *so* wet right now being made to masturbate in front of you like this! There's just no way I'll hold out the whole time when I keep polishing my clit with my own juices like this."

"And does that mean you think this is... unfair?"

"Oh, no! If I had won just one more event before now, I wouldn't have the penalty of the slave-collar on me, and I could try to hold off all on my own without being made to play with myself."

"Good to know! We wouldn't want anyone to think the game wasn't fair, after all. And you still have a chance! If you've got enough heroic resolve to keep from creaming your chair despite everything your fingers are doing to yourself, you can still win."

"Very unlikely! I can smell your cock from here and it's got that cinnamonny note to it. You've got dragon-taming cum today, don't you?"

The skunk laughed. "That it does! Now, you can't leave your seat without losing, but I can if you ask nicely. Anything you want to ask?"

Setta's face burned hot as the speaker on her collar declared in her voice, "Please come over and rub your cock under my nose while I finger my naked cunt!"

Pheromizer laughed and stood, and rubbed his pre against Setta's nose. His cock smelled *maddeningly* erotic. Male, musky, dominant, powerful, *ready*. Heat surged in her crotch. "Looks like you like that!" he pointed out.

"Yes, I can't hold it back now!" the speaker agreed with her voice. "Four... three... twoooooo... ooooone.... oooh, there I go!" Her cheeks *seared* as she creamed her seat, cumming on her fingers as the slave-collar made her merrily masturbate for the cameras while sniffing skunkcock.

And Pheromizer personally shaved her fluffy muff into a neat little white P logo, making her cum again as shaving her pussy tended to cause. He applied some concoction of his own to the shaven areas to ensure they'd grow back a thick fluffy black skunk-fur patch to give that white P a highlight... and then rubbed his skunk-mark gel into her wet and naked pussy. She felt the *ownership* sinking in to her hips as he *claimed* her cunt for his own. Her face burned hot as she found herself getting out of the chair and strolling over to the podium for the traditional show-ending pose. She tried to stop herself, but the slave-collar easily overrode the nerve signals to her muscles, controlling her like a puppet.

She bent over in front of the podium, back to it, facing the cameras and the audience. Her tail pulled up high, pre