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purrfection
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I'm not quite sure what the name of this little team would be. Some acronym thing like the D.E.A.T.H. Squad? Something simpler? At any rate, I'm just calling them the "Squad" right now. Up for debate--as is pretty much everything I've listed below!
Regardless, the premise here is that sometimes good or bad superpowered individuals (Marvel, DC, anything else) go so wrong that a secret division of heroes is dispatched to bring them in line. They are wrangled together by a mysterious Employer, who has nefarious motives that the Squad doesn't necessarily care about, being rather nefarious themselves. The team outlined below is who I thought was a good fit in that sort of Squad.
Of course, this involves extremely dark stuff like rape and violence and mind control and breeding and, oh...just check my other posts if you really want to know. Or ask me.
It will not involve any sort of play with age, bestiality, or toilet stuff.
This is rather long, so here's a general outline—I'm going to give you the cast of characters; I'm going to talk a bit about them and what I'd like to do; I'm going to give you an example of what I'd like to do. There, I've announced my entire draft. My literature teachers would be crushed.
* * * * *
Father
Squad Leader
Immense. Strong. Invulnerable—even to telepathy and magic, which hold no effect on him. Possibly immortal; he remembers very little of his past before ten years ago when he entered into the Squad. Notoriously cruel. Vastly intelligent. What sets him apart from most other strong, invulnerable types (as there are so very many in this world) is that his cock is his ultimate guide, and his semen has an effect on women. For ninety-nine percent of them, what this means is that they turn into slobbering, bimbofied, lactating fuckdolls lethally loyal to him and him alone. Those who retain their minds after a first fuck are generally used until they expire from exhaustion.
The scarce few who are able to stand up to his heavy abuse—as he is fond of choking, slapping, beating, and otherwise debasing his lovers even outside of the enormity he so brutally pistons inside of their bodies—are taken as favorites. Thus far, the Squad are the only ones worthy of his attentions for any length of time. Though they need him—his cock, his brutal attentions, his sadistic pleasures—he needs them as well, for without their ability to stand up to what he can dish out, he would have no one. And so the Squad are his treasures as well as his partners.
The deal he has cut out with his mysterious Employer is that anyone he wants to kill, he can kill; and any woman he wants to take, he takes; without any repercussions from them (though a stern reprimand is given from time to time).
* * * * *
Terror
Second-in-Command
Terror is a tactile telepathic—meaning her power to read, influence, and alter minds is able only upon the touch of skin on skin. A fully fledged sadist. Her psychic ability appears in the form of a long, vibrating yellow butcher's hook gripping in one hand. She refers often to reading minds as “scraping them clean,” and she means it. Fully capable of a gentle touch, she won't do such a “pussy, chickenshit action” unless she has to. Her greatest joy is collecting the worst pains and fears of others and depositing them into a specially crafted psychic container, which looks something like a neon-filled pneumatic tube cylinder. She keeps the cylinder close, always, hanging off one side of her lusciously fertile body.
She peruses these memories and fingers herself during nights when Father chooses not to fuck her stupid, which are rare. One of her signatures is replacing the most joyful memories of someone she has violated with the absolute worst thoughts she can imagine—for example, a happy birthday with a happy family at Grandpa's interspliced skillfully with Grandpa's dying body melting into the cake while Daddy beats Mommy over the head with an iron.
Until Father happened upon Scalpel, Terror was the only woman Father had approached who gave herself up to his will on purpose. Due to her powerful mind powers, his own semen (which itself carries a form of telepathy, it could be argued) has only a mild effect on her. Her powers, conversely, hold absolutely zero effect on him.
He offered her the ability to make the most powerful people on earth feel pain and fear—and she accepted eagerly. Father, being completely immune to her psychic abilities, allows Alessandra to let her guard down around him and unleash her abilities on him totally. He says they tickle a little, but only to appease her ego. Normally, when Alessandra lets her thoughts go unrestrained, the people near her go mad in about forty-five seconds—which is quite fun for her, but is hard to build a relationship around.
* * * * *
Scalpel
Scalpel is a blind, mute telekinetic who senses her surroundings by use of her telekinesis, like a giant, soft hand groping in the dark. This is done subconsciously and without her direct control, though she has some ability to focus it. This allows her enough power left over to life small objects, about a dozen at once. She has, at Father's instruction, taken to using a series of unbreakable, razor-sharp blades to punish anyone Father says to hurt.
He was the first superhuman—first anyone—to find value in her abilities. When she applied for other superhero teams, she was laughed away because of her “disability.” A lifetime of being ignored and pushed aside by society has left her with an enormous, violent chip on her shoulder. As such, she worships Father for the worth he alone found in her, and would even without his chemical hold over her. When she hurts others, she considers it part of her religion—which centers entirely around Him.
* * * * *
Pheromone
Former genetic scientist. Pheremone's power to control her own pheromones means she can influence the moods and emotions of others, creating fear, lust, anger, lethargy, etc.
She was born with her power in latent form, and it came into fruition when she was a young woman, entering european society as a debutante (the daughter of some significant wealth). She had a successful run as a petty crook before being put away and then rehabilitating, earning her doctorate in genetic biology.
Because Father's ability to enslave women is a chemical response, she resisted his pull for many months of continuous rape. Her will impressed him greatly, as does the will of every woman who is able to evade his grasp for long. Finally she broke her own will and molded herself chemically to be obedient to him simply to end her humiliation and to find some pleasure again in life. While believing Father perfectly correct to do this to her, the situation also deeply affected her subconscious and made her a firm nihilist.
Now has a deep-seated kink for being raped, and requests Terror to strip her memory of consent from her mind during her sessions with Father, just so she can give in to him again.
Her outfit is a sort of dark mockery of a scientist's—the leather boots and tight cleavage baring spandex worn for Father's pleasure, with the tight white leather trench coat a small allegorical reference to her former life.
* * * * *
Current
Current is able to transform into a living form of electricity that allows her to travel directly through any electronic device—wireless or not—and transport herself into any other, allowing her access, essentially, anywhere in the world. Also a world-class hacker, though something of a savant; she actually knows nothing of how computers work, she only knows that she can manipulate them totally.
While she is obedient to Father, and finds enormous sexual pleasure from working with him, she actually doesn't *enjoy* it like the others seem to. She would never disobey him, but often their missions go awry due to her complete lack of moral greyness, and her willingness to help their targets if the letter of Father's law allows enough ambiguity for it.
(I'm the least convinced about this character right now. I'd love a different take on her, or perhaps a different sort of character altogether.)
* * * * *
Countdown
What makes Countdown dangerous are her “pocket bombs.” They contain enough explosive power to knock down entire buildings, contained in a fist-sized package, thus making their destructive power all the greater and focused. Supposedly invulnerable enemies have had holes blown in them with her most charged, destructive bombs.
Father, when he first took her, allowed her to give him her best shot. She put a fully charged bomb in his mouth. He chewed it up like gum.
Since Father raped her mind into absolute submission, Countdown has developed an obsessive need to count everything. She keeps a tally of the men and women she's killed in a small notebook kept in her belt. What was formerly a cute nickname has become something of an ironic moniker.
Formerly a high-profile heroine with the Justice Division, she is the most recognizable member of the Squad, with the most “heroine”-like uniform, sporting shiny bright blue tight shorts, tall-heeled boots, and her blue-and-yellow bra top just barely holding in her gorgeous cleavage.
* * * * *
If you recognize the girls I used for avatars for the characters above, please tell me so—especially if you find them attractive. If you feel you have better notions for models to use, please let me know. In any case, I'd rather like to use their names and appearances for our little play together.
What I would like is to explore these characters through little vignettes. An all-out play with a big cohesive storyline is not as compelling to me right now as is just the two of us putting on our writing hats and showing off to one another what we can do with the templates of these characters and setting. Maybe it's an origin story—Father first meeting these girls. Or maybe it's a particularly brutal rape. Maybe it's the first time one of them gets pregnant by his seed—how do the other girls celebrate? Are they jealous or happy? How do they get along with one another on missions? Do they cooperate willingly, or does Father have to beat them to keep them in line? What sort of heroines do they destroy together? Do the girls cheer him on while he rapes them (probably) or do some get jealous?
Here is the sort of thing that I mean that I would like to write—a little standalone piece that invites worldbuilding, but does not require an immediate response in the same narrative.
* * * * *
Scalpel has never seen how beautiful she is for herself. All the same, she knows it to be true. The deference in men's voices. The jealousy in women's tones. She knows it is because of her beauty. She knows that because of her beauty and her disability both, almost no one has bothered to look deeper than the surface. And so underneath, in her boiling insides, her internal life has become a vision of fire and hurt.
Her telekinesis acts as a sort of radar. It communicates to her the shape of whatever place she is in. Her power's touch is lighter than a whisper, pressing down on every surface, every person. As such, she only has enough left over to pick up small objects. She can do several at a time. Most people ignored her power. Team Justice laughed her out of her interview.
Father was the first one to show her how useful that was.
“Do you know what is small, darling?” His thumb had stroked her face. It was the size of her cheekbone. “A blade.”
He gave her three, then six, then twelve, testing how many she could move at once. Twelve was the most. That was plenty.
“And do you know what else is small, love?” With her telekinetic aura, she could *feel* him grin. He was so enormous. “Whomsoever you should set your efforts upon with these blades.”
The blades were made from some unbreakable material. Father said he had collected them just for her, and her heart swelled to be the subject of such attentions.
She could skin a man alive inside of twenty seconds, working her blades in tandem from head to toe. Often, she didn't do it that quickly. Her God desired men to scream and bleed for a long, long time. He always had information he was after. With her radar, Scalpel could puncture men and women in places they didn't even know they had—the most painful places imaginable, the places that would hurt the most and still let them live the longest.
Father had *believed* in her. She hadn't had to be raped to worship him. She didn't understand those that did. They could see him, after all. What the fuck was wrong with them? She knew he was handsome—that he was a massive, mountainous God. Why wouldn't they give up everything to taste his cock?
Scalpel cannot see anything, anyone. Most people appear to hear as dim shapes in her head, purple masses in the blackness of her lie.
But she can see Father. In her radar-sense, he is a burning cloud of fury. And she knows he is large. He is perfect. He is her everything. When he comes inside of her, she can *see all* that she was meant to see. Her place before him: worshiping, loving, stroking, sucking. She has never felt so complete in her life.
* * * * *
Please PM me if at all interested. I'm especially going to reply often and early to those who PM me with little vignettes of their own--I want to see where you take these characters!
Regardless, the premise here is that sometimes good or bad superpowered individuals (Marvel, DC, anything else) go so wrong that a secret division of heroes is dispatched to bring them in line. They are wrangled together by a mysterious Employer, who has nefarious motives that the Squad doesn't necessarily care about, being rather nefarious themselves. The team outlined below is who I thought was a good fit in that sort of Squad.
Of course, this involves extremely dark stuff like rape and violence and mind control and breeding and, oh...just check my other posts if you really want to know. Or ask me.
It will not involve any sort of play with age, bestiality, or toilet stuff.
This is rather long, so here's a general outline—I'm going to give you the cast of characters; I'm going to talk a bit about them and what I'd like to do; I'm going to give you an example of what I'd like to do. There, I've announced my entire draft. My literature teachers would be crushed.
* * * * *
Father
Squad Leader
Immense. Strong. Invulnerable—even to telepathy and magic, which hold no effect on him. Possibly immortal; he remembers very little of his past before ten years ago when he entered into the Squad. Notoriously cruel. Vastly intelligent. What sets him apart from most other strong, invulnerable types (as there are so very many in this world) is that his cock is his ultimate guide, and his semen has an effect on women. For ninety-nine percent of them, what this means is that they turn into slobbering, bimbofied, lactating fuckdolls lethally loyal to him and him alone. Those who retain their minds after a first fuck are generally used until they expire from exhaustion.
The scarce few who are able to stand up to his heavy abuse—as he is fond of choking, slapping, beating, and otherwise debasing his lovers even outside of the enormity he so brutally pistons inside of their bodies—are taken as favorites. Thus far, the Squad are the only ones worthy of his attentions for any length of time. Though they need him—his cock, his brutal attentions, his sadistic pleasures—he needs them as well, for without their ability to stand up to what he can dish out, he would have no one. And so the Squad are his treasures as well as his partners.
The deal he has cut out with his mysterious Employer is that anyone he wants to kill, he can kill; and any woman he wants to take, he takes; without any repercussions from them (though a stern reprimand is given from time to time).
* * * * *
Terror
Second-in-Command
Terror is a tactile telepathic—meaning her power to read, influence, and alter minds is able only upon the touch of skin on skin. A fully fledged sadist. Her psychic ability appears in the form of a long, vibrating yellow butcher's hook gripping in one hand. She refers often to reading minds as “scraping them clean,” and she means it. Fully capable of a gentle touch, she won't do such a “pussy, chickenshit action” unless she has to. Her greatest joy is collecting the worst pains and fears of others and depositing them into a specially crafted psychic container, which looks something like a neon-filled pneumatic tube cylinder. She keeps the cylinder close, always, hanging off one side of her lusciously fertile body.
She peruses these memories and fingers herself during nights when Father chooses not to fuck her stupid, which are rare. One of her signatures is replacing the most joyful memories of someone she has violated with the absolute worst thoughts she can imagine—for example, a happy birthday with a happy family at Grandpa's interspliced skillfully with Grandpa's dying body melting into the cake while Daddy beats Mommy over the head with an iron.
Until Father happened upon Scalpel, Terror was the only woman Father had approached who gave herself up to his will on purpose. Due to her powerful mind powers, his own semen (which itself carries a form of telepathy, it could be argued) has only a mild effect on her. Her powers, conversely, hold absolutely zero effect on him.
He offered her the ability to make the most powerful people on earth feel pain and fear—and she accepted eagerly. Father, being completely immune to her psychic abilities, allows Alessandra to let her guard down around him and unleash her abilities on him totally. He says they tickle a little, but only to appease her ego. Normally, when Alessandra lets her thoughts go unrestrained, the people near her go mad in about forty-five seconds—which is quite fun for her, but is hard to build a relationship around.
* * * * *
Scalpel
Scalpel is a blind, mute telekinetic who senses her surroundings by use of her telekinesis, like a giant, soft hand groping in the dark. This is done subconsciously and without her direct control, though she has some ability to focus it. This allows her enough power left over to life small objects, about a dozen at once. She has, at Father's instruction, taken to using a series of unbreakable, razor-sharp blades to punish anyone Father says to hurt.
He was the first superhuman—first anyone—to find value in her abilities. When she applied for other superhero teams, she was laughed away because of her “disability.” A lifetime of being ignored and pushed aside by society has left her with an enormous, violent chip on her shoulder. As such, she worships Father for the worth he alone found in her, and would even without his chemical hold over her. When she hurts others, she considers it part of her religion—which centers entirely around Him.
* * * * *
Pheromone
Former genetic scientist. Pheremone's power to control her own pheromones means she can influence the moods and emotions of others, creating fear, lust, anger, lethargy, etc.
She was born with her power in latent form, and it came into fruition when she was a young woman, entering european society as a debutante (the daughter of some significant wealth). She had a successful run as a petty crook before being put away and then rehabilitating, earning her doctorate in genetic biology.
Because Father's ability to enslave women is a chemical response, she resisted his pull for many months of continuous rape. Her will impressed him greatly, as does the will of every woman who is able to evade his grasp for long. Finally she broke her own will and molded herself chemically to be obedient to him simply to end her humiliation and to find some pleasure again in life. While believing Father perfectly correct to do this to her, the situation also deeply affected her subconscious and made her a firm nihilist.
Now has a deep-seated kink for being raped, and requests Terror to strip her memory of consent from her mind during her sessions with Father, just so she can give in to him again.
Her outfit is a sort of dark mockery of a scientist's—the leather boots and tight cleavage baring spandex worn for Father's pleasure, with the tight white leather trench coat a small allegorical reference to her former life.
* * * * *
Current
Current is able to transform into a living form of electricity that allows her to travel directly through any electronic device—wireless or not—and transport herself into any other, allowing her access, essentially, anywhere in the world. Also a world-class hacker, though something of a savant; she actually knows nothing of how computers work, she only knows that she can manipulate them totally.
While she is obedient to Father, and finds enormous sexual pleasure from working with him, she actually doesn't *enjoy* it like the others seem to. She would never disobey him, but often their missions go awry due to her complete lack of moral greyness, and her willingness to help their targets if the letter of Father's law allows enough ambiguity for it.
(I'm the least convinced about this character right now. I'd love a different take on her, or perhaps a different sort of character altogether.)
* * * * *
Countdown
What makes Countdown dangerous are her “pocket bombs.” They contain enough explosive power to knock down entire buildings, contained in a fist-sized package, thus making their destructive power all the greater and focused. Supposedly invulnerable enemies have had holes blown in them with her most charged, destructive bombs.
Father, when he first took her, allowed her to give him her best shot. She put a fully charged bomb in his mouth. He chewed it up like gum.
Since Father raped her mind into absolute submission, Countdown has developed an obsessive need to count everything. She keeps a tally of the men and women she's killed in a small notebook kept in her belt. What was formerly a cute nickname has become something of an ironic moniker.
Formerly a high-profile heroine with the Justice Division, she is the most recognizable member of the Squad, with the most “heroine”-like uniform, sporting shiny bright blue tight shorts, tall-heeled boots, and her blue-and-yellow bra top just barely holding in her gorgeous cleavage.
* * * * *
If you recognize the girls I used for avatars for the characters above, please tell me so—especially if you find them attractive. If you feel you have better notions for models to use, please let me know. In any case, I'd rather like to use their names and appearances for our little play together.
What I would like is to explore these characters through little vignettes. An all-out play with a big cohesive storyline is not as compelling to me right now as is just the two of us putting on our writing hats and showing off to one another what we can do with the templates of these characters and setting. Maybe it's an origin story—Father first meeting these girls. Or maybe it's a particularly brutal rape. Maybe it's the first time one of them gets pregnant by his seed—how do the other girls celebrate? Are they jealous or happy? How do they get along with one another on missions? Do they cooperate willingly, or does Father have to beat them to keep them in line? What sort of heroines do they destroy together? Do the girls cheer him on while he rapes them (probably) or do some get jealous?
Here is the sort of thing that I mean that I would like to write—a little standalone piece that invites worldbuilding, but does not require an immediate response in the same narrative.
* * * * *
Scalpel has never seen how beautiful she is for herself. All the same, she knows it to be true. The deference in men's voices. The jealousy in women's tones. She knows it is because of her beauty. She knows that because of her beauty and her disability both, almost no one has bothered to look deeper than the surface. And so underneath, in her boiling insides, her internal life has become a vision of fire and hurt.
Her telekinesis acts as a sort of radar. It communicates to her the shape of whatever place she is in. Her power's touch is lighter than a whisper, pressing down on every surface, every person. As such, she only has enough left over to pick up small objects. She can do several at a time. Most people ignored her power. Team Justice laughed her out of her interview.
Father was the first one to show her how useful that was.
“Do you know what is small, darling?” His thumb had stroked her face. It was the size of her cheekbone. “A blade.”
He gave her three, then six, then twelve, testing how many she could move at once. Twelve was the most. That was plenty.
“And do you know what else is small, love?” With her telekinetic aura, she could *feel* him grin. He was so enormous. “Whomsoever you should set your efforts upon with these blades.”
The blades were made from some unbreakable material. Father said he had collected them just for her, and her heart swelled to be the subject of such attentions.
She could skin a man alive inside of twenty seconds, working her blades in tandem from head to toe. Often, she didn't do it that quickly. Her God desired men to scream and bleed for a long, long time. He always had information he was after. With her radar, Scalpel could puncture men and women in places they didn't even know they had—the most painful places imaginable, the places that would hurt the most and still let them live the longest.
Father had *believed* in her. She hadn't had to be raped to worship him. She didn't understand those that did. They could see him, after all. What the fuck was wrong with them? She knew he was handsome—that he was a massive, mountainous God. Why wouldn't they give up everything to taste his cock?
Scalpel cannot see anything, anyone. Most people appear to hear as dim shapes in her head, purple masses in the blackness of her lie.
But she can see Father. In her radar-sense, he is a burning cloud of fury. And she knows he is large. He is perfect. He is her everything. When he comes inside of her, she can *see all* that she was meant to see. Her place before him: worshiping, loving, stroking, sucking. She has never felt so complete in her life.
* * * * *
Please PM me if at all interested. I'm especially going to reply often and early to those who PM me with little vignettes of their own--I want to see where you take these characters!