The Chattel Girl

BY : tooshoes
Category: DC Verse Television > SuperGirl
Dragon prints: 1806
Disclaimer: I do not own Supergirl, nor the characters or any story elements from TV show. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter image 1:

Day 14.

I think. Or maybe it’s day 15.

It’s 11 AM. Or PM. My Mickey Mouse watch can't tell me more than that.

I haven’t seen a glimmer of sunlight since I’ve been in this complex, and the DEO is the government agency that doesn’t sleep. Every hour of every day of the week is the same.

I hear people walk endlessly by my door, but the only people who visit me are Alex and an agent who delivers food.

A few days ago, I thought I figured out daytime from nighttime, based on when Alex comes and goes. But Alex keeps odd hours, and my sleep schedule is messed up, so I am never sure.

Yesterday, I summoned the courage to ask Alex what day it was, but she ignored me. She didn’t want me to know.

She doesn’t want me to know anything. That much is clear, even if nothing else is.

But I don’t mind, because now I’m getting it. Me knowing less lets her trust me more. The weaker I am, the stronger she is.

She doesn’t yell at me anymore. She doesn’t try to make me cry. I don’t question her, and that makes her happy. She gets what she wants, and occasionally she gives me what I want.

Well, not exactly; she tells me what I want, and then she gives it to me. I was always bad at knowing what I want, and she helps me with that.

I let her call the shots. She tells me to be innocent, and I become innocent. She tells me to be naughty, and I’m naughty. She tells me to cry, and I cry. She creates my world, and I become her muse, her toy, her faithful pet.

Now I’ve found a peace I’ve never felt before. Gone is all of the self-doubt, anxiety, guilt and frustration.

I finally embrace my destiny, and it is such a relief. I’m always happiest when I’m not in control.

Today I’m a child because that’s what Alex wants me to be.

She created a child’s world, and then she put me in it.  She designed my new prison cell to resemble a child’s bedroom. The walls have bright, floral wallpaper. The bed is bright pink. I have a small TV that shows nothing but Sesame Street and cartoons. Even the security camera on the door frame is disguised as a bird on a perch.

I found a box full of toys in the center of the room: Crayons, Barbie dolls, alphabet blocks, Play-Doh, and the watch that won’t tell me day from night. I found other toys on shelves: Teddy bears, arts-and-crafts, giant lollipops, and fruit-scented make-up.

These are traditionally girly toys in America. Neither Alex nor I grew up with these in our childhoods; I was raised as a chattel girl on Krypton, and I now know that Alex was raised as a boy on Earth until she was ten. But we both wish we had girly toys growing up, and now I finally get that chance.

Alex will come by tonight like she does every night. She keeps her distance and watches me play like a child deeply involved with a child’s toys, but I know it’s only foreplay.

It starts innocently enough, but soon Alex has creepy eyes while watching me put on my strawberry lipstick or licking the lollipop. Soon I’m discovering the holes in my body with the crayons and markers and Barbie dolls, and I watch her get hard.

She then takes me when she is ready, replacing the toys with her cock.

She comes quickly in my pussy or on my belly or my face, and then she pulls me in tight, embracing me.

I smile at her new kindness, and I’m happy that I please her.

But then she leaves, and I’m not satisfied. This kind of seduction doesn’t work for me.

She hasn’t satisfied me since those first days when she abused and humiliated me.

Maybe I just don’t know what innocence is supposed to feel like. It’s alien to me, but that’s okay. I need to learn to be happy with the things that I have. I try my best. I tell her I feel fine, but I’m always left wanting.


After taking a long bath, I lay down in bed and rest. I’m never fully asleep. I perk up at any sound at the door. I’m always ready to greet Alex like a puppy whose master was gone too long.

So when I hear the door click, I quickly sit up on my bed and button up my pajamas like an innocent child.

Then agent Jensen enters the room. He shows up almost every day, so it’s not surprising. But I still feel anxious, because he usually knocks first and brings me food. Today, he’s carrying a small box and has nervous eyes.

I try to ease his nerves with a smile and a greeting: “Hello, Mister Jensen.”

He relaxes and smiles back. “Hello, Kara,” he says.

That’s not the right thing to say. He should call me “honey” or “little girl,” like he usually does -- like Alex told him to.

Still, I don’t break my smile. “What do you want today?” I ask.

He bites his lip and replies. “Today, I want to know what you want.”

Now I frown. I’m not allowed to have wants, and certainly not allowed to express them.

“I want what Alex wants, of course,” I say sincerely.

He seems disappointed for an instant before he smiles generously. Then he holds the small box he is carrying out to me. “Are you sure you don’t want this?”

A gift? My eyes widen excitedly. “What is it?”

“Only one way to find out,” he replies mysteriously.

I look at the box and hesitate. I really shouldn’t.

But I don’t want to be rude.

I take the small box from his hands and open it slowly.

I gasp at the sight of a stunning, gold chain with a cute little chattel-symbol hanging at the end. Seeing my symbol in fine jewelry fills my heart with hope.

“Oh my! It’s beautiful. But will Alex let me wear it?” I ask doubtfully.

“Only one way to find out,” he repeats. “You’ll look so beautiful wearing this that she won’t be able to say no.”

“You really think so?”

“Only one way to find out.”

I smile and lift the necklace from the box.

“Here,” he says, taking the necklace from my hands. “Let me help you put it on.”

Now, I’m very excited, hopeful that Alex will approve. I walk over to a mirror that hangs on the wall. I unbutton the top two buttons of my pajama top, wanting to see the little “C” symbol against my skin. Then I lift my hair so agent Jensen can put the necklace around my neck.

He steps up behind me, and I watch him raise his hands to my shoulders in the mirror, but he’s not holding the necklace. I’m confused until I feel a sharp prick on my neck, and I see him empty a syringe inside of me.

I cry out, but his other hand muffles my mouth. I turn around and struggle, panic in my eyes.

“Shh,” he whispers. “Just go to sleep. I’m helping you. You’ll thank me later.”

I stop fighting him as my knees give, and I fall into his body.

My vision disintegrates into sparkles before going black.


I feel groggy and lost when I finally wake up. If you ask me my name, I won’t be able to tell you.

I don’t recognize the faces looking down at me, but I feel that I should.

I can’t see them clearly because the sun is in my eyes, but soon my eyes and my mind adjusts.

Everything comes back quickly, rolling over me like an avalanche.

“I think she’s awake now,” Winn says, torn between relief and excitement. He has tears in his eyes. He never has tears in his eyes.

Eve Tessmacher wants to see for herself, and she waves her fingers in front of my face while watching my eyes.

Then Cat suddenly appears and stands over me. “Finally! Kara, if you told me the truth in the first place, this would have all been much easier, but there was no way I’d let some second rate government agency take this away from me.”

I sit atop the chaise lounge and only then recognize that we are on the balcony in the back of Cat’s office, looking down at the city from 24 stories up.

“I don’t understand,” I confess. “Did you kidnap me?”

Cat is offended. “We freed you! What did they do to you in there? Have they brainwashed you, Supergirl?”

“Supergirl?” I echo, laughing. “You really have the wrong person.”

Cat stares at me with a stern expression that makes me wilt. “Don’t deny it! We have all the evidence we need. We have witnesses, too, like the DEO officer that arranged your escape. Your cover is blown. You are the hero that everyone in National City has been looking for.”

“I’m not a hero,” I insist. “If you knew what I am and what I’ve done, you would be so disappointed.”

Cat nods. “Listen, young lady, I’ve invested a lot in you, and you will damn well not disappoint me! Whatever else you are, you are a hero.  The way you introduced yourself to the world, descending from heaven to save a plane, for goodness sake, made you into a hero, and to many people, a whole lot more. Sure, you have your detractors, but that only makes your fans more fervent. With them, you will always get the benefit of the doubt. You could steal candy from all the children in National City and rob a bank, and people will look the other way. You are not a traditional hero, but I accept that as a challenge.”

I shake my head. “But didn’t you see Winn’s photos? How can people think I’m a hero after that? Don’t they know that the DEO captured me? Now you have done the same thing. What kind of hero does that make me?”

Cat sighs. “It makes you whatever kind of hero we say you are. Nobody cares. Hero is just a word. We don't need you to be heroic. We just need you to be yourself. You have the magic to win people over. People love you, and because of that, nobody cares about the facts."

Kara shakes her head in disbelief. "But...."

Cat cuts her off, "Sure, the Daily Planet has been characterizing you as some kind of Kryptonian slut. Clark Kent printed an editorial and hit the talk show circuit explaining everything about you and the history of chattel girls, trying to discredit you and women in general, like the macho ass he is. So everyone in National City now knows you are a chattel girl, and they even know what that means. But you know what? That works to our advantage. We can turn your shame to our pride. Having Metropolis and the Daily Planet look down on you will rally National City behind you. Those elites look down on National City, too, so we’ll adopt you as one of our own. You come with baggage. Everyone comes with baggage, but we can profit from that. We’ll set the narrative. Vice can be re-framed as virtue. But nothing has hurt you more than your absence. When people see you, they love you. You’ve been gone for two weeks, and time does more damage to your value than anything you might have done. If you lose the moment, you lose everything. We just need to get you back out in public.”

I barely understand a word she said, but I don't care. “The DEO will just kidnap me again.”

Cat laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, we can take care of them.”

My eyes flash disbelief. “But they have guns and fighters and stuff!”

“We have our own weapons,” Cat counters. “How do you think we got you out? And if they flex their muscles, we’ll yell from the rooftops. CatCo has a mighty voice. Don’t worry; we can protect you.”

I look at Cat in awe. Cat is as intimidating and as awesome as Alex, and I wonder who is more powerful: my sister or my boss. I feel inferior. “What kind of hero does it make me if I need you to save me?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Cat responds. “We will be saving each other. We are a team -- it's CatCo and Supergirl! With you on our side, we’ll be able to save the Tribune. Your image adds to our power. We will make you front-page news every day, and you will make CatCo the major news source, second to no one, not even the Daily Planet. But we need to get you out there now if we are to protect you. The public’s curiosity is at a peak. Word is already out that you are in this building. People are waiting outside of the front door for just a tidbit of news, and if we hold out for much longer, we’ll lose the initiative. Another news outlet might undercut us.  You know what a cut-throat business you work for.”

I stand up and look over the railing of the balcony. Indeed, I see crowd gathering below, and it makes me laugh. “Wow! Are they really here to see me? But they won’t want to see me looking like this!” I indicate my pajamas and unruly appearance.

Cat smiles, knowing that finally she’s got me hooked. “Miss Tessmacher is a master with hairstyles and makeup, and Mr. Schott has made a new costume for you to wear. We’ll gather our staff together while you get ready.”

Before I can think of a reply, Cat grabs my shoulders and nudges me from the balcony and into the building. The path opens before me, and I blindly follow it.

We enter the main office, and I’m stunned to find the people I’ve worked with for months standing at attention, cheering.

I put my hand to my chest, feeling overwhelmed.

But Cat will have none of that. “Yes, yes, Kara is back, and as I promised, she’s fine. She’s agreed to be our Supergirl, so let’s get moving. Time’s a-wasting. We have storytelling to do.”

My heart sinks a little when the cheering suddenly stops, and my friends disburse like dominos in a chain. They weren’t cheering for their friend. They were cheering for a news story and a celebrity, but not for me.

"You, too," Cat says while nudging Winn and me towards the dressing room, reminding us that we also have a job to do.

Winn holds my hand gently. A hundred feelings overwhelm him, and when he talks, he barely makes any sense. “Kara … I have so much to say. I’m sorry I told Cat about you, but when they kidnapped you, I didn’t know who else to turn to. I feel really bad about it. I had a really good time with you, and I screwed up, and I hope you forgive me, and … and … I’m sorry, I guess this isn’t what you need to hear right now.”

“It’s fine, Winn! You did good!” I say, laughing nervously while kissing him on the cheek. “But don’t you have a costume for me?”

“Oh yeah,” he says with a blush, and he puts a gift box in my hand. “It’s more Cat's idea than mine.”

“Put it on,” Cat interrupts and almost shoves me into the dressing room.

I wave at Winn, wanting to stay with him, but Cat closes the door behind me.

Now it’s quiet, and suddenly I’m alone with Winn’s costume in my hand.

I hesitate and remember how things turned out the last time I wore one of Winn’s creations. But if the costume was Cat's idea, it couldn't be too bad, right?

I place the box on the counter in front of a mirror and remove the box top.

Inside I find a cape folded into a perfect square. Under that is a pair of blood-red stiletto sandals. The yellow satin belt closes with a chattel-symbol for a buckle.  But my fear and excitement are reserved for the dark blue mini-dress rolled up into the shape and size of a burrito. I unroll it and hold it up in front of my body.

My jaw drops. I thought Winn’s last costume crossed the line. He designed that costume to tease, but this costume barely exists at all! If I wore only body paint, it would be less provocative!

I step out of the dressing room, having second thoughts, but Cat is standing right there as if to keep me from escaping.

“Well?” Cat asks.

“I … uh, well, the costume doesn’t come with any underwear,” I awkwardly hint at the problem.

Cat sneers. “That didn’t stop you before.”

“Uh, yes, but … the costume is … uh …” I falter.

Cat sighs. “Listen, you don’t have to be shy anymore. Everyone has seen the photos, and they like what they see. You don’t believe me? Have you seen what other heroes wear? Skintight shirts and hot pants that show off their junk. Nobody thinks you are the squeaky clean girl next door, and they would be disappointed if that's who you turned out to be. The costume only needs to be decent enough to put on the cover of our newspaper.”

“Uh, I know this is your idea, but … have you seen the costume?” I ask doubtfully. 

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” she responds confidently. “What we can’t show on TV or in the Tribune we’ll give to our adult affiliates.”

“Oh,” I say dejectedly, now wise to Cat’s plans for me. “I thought … well, I thought you were a feminist.”

She glares at me and points her finger like a weapon. “What do you think feminism is? Feminism is women empowering themselves. Feminism is beating down the rules that limit us and then taking control of our destiny. Feminism is believing in yourself and embracing your assets. Feminists kiss babies and suck dicks with the same mouth. Feminists aren't afraid of their bodies or their feelings. The meek, square girl you pretended to be is the opposite of feminism. We need the girl who saved the plane or the girl who flashed a crowded street. We need the girl who was so dangerous that the government tried to shut her down. Don't tell me they've gotten to you! You have already blazed a trail in the public’s eyes, so if you go out there now and act like a Disney princess or a paragon of society, just because it’s expected, well, that’s not feminism. It makes you untrustworthy. But if you embrace who you are, own it all, they will know you are truthful. If you follow your destiny, you will be much greater than a hero.”

“Oh, okay,” I say, and I return to the dressing room, embarrassed and confused.

I don’t know what people want from me anymore.

Nobody ever told me to believe in myself before or to embrace the slut in me. It feels wrong. Alex tells me all the time to accept that I’m a chattel girl, but Cat wants me to embrace it!

But why not? I never even considered that as an option. If that is who I am, why can’t I embrace being a chattel girl? I’m the last of my kind; why can’t I be proud of it? This is America, and it’s every American’s right to be proud of who they are. If Cat wants to give me a parade, I’ll take it.

I’m such a pushover.

I take a deep breath and strip out of my pajamas.

I hold up the blue tube dress with both hands. I find the hem, and then I stretch the mesh fabric over my head and down my body.  The design is different from what I first expected. It has no straps and no shoulders. The dress is tight from my pecs to my crotch, and I find that I have no spare real estate. If I lift the top above my pecs, the skirt rises above my crotch. If I push the hem below my crotch, the top collapses, falling below my breasts. Damn it, Winn, do you want a wardrobe malfunction?

I give up and let the costume do what it will, and I turn my attention to the cape, which attaches around my neck like a choke collar.  The costume has no place to attach the golden colored belt, so I let it hang loose around my waist. Finally, I slip my feet into the stiletto sandals and dare to look in the mirror.

The costume is a marvel. That’s one way to put it.

The mesh material stretches into fishnets, leaving little to the imagination. My nipples are barely obscured by the crisscross pattern, and the tips pop through the holes.

Looking further down in the mirror, my navel looks like a dark spot above my belt, and below that my pussy fades into shadow between my legs. I relax, thinking at least my pussy is not visible, but then I realize that the only light source in the dressing room is above my head. When I step away from the counter, the light shines down my body, and my pussy is no longer in shadow. If people look closely, they'll see the shape of my vulva through the mesh.

Does Cat really know what this looks like?

I put my fists on my hips and separate my legs in a classic hero pose and then laugh nervously at what I see. My boobs bounce precariously, and the fishnet holes stretch to perfect, square windows over my crotch.

I turn around to see the backside of my costume. My cape falls almost to my thighs, but the material is thin as tissue paper, so when I take a step forward, the cape billows, fully revealing my ass where the fishnet is stretched to the max.

I take another step, and I feel the skirt climbing up my hips, making me feel dizzy with the implications. I will need to constantly adjust the hem to keep it down. Maybe I shouldn’t bother, since my skirt isn’t hiding much, anyway.

I’m terrified people will see the only thing the fishnet actually does hide -- something even more shameful than my nudity!

To say I have reservations is an understatement. The costume is outrageous and barely deserves to be called such. Just imagining how people will see me makes my pussy ache, and if I think about it too much, I'll be paralyzed. So I stop thinking. I do as I'm told.  I toss my pajamas in the trash and leave the dressing room before I can consider the consequences.

Cat and Eve are waiting outside and stare at me when I exit.

By the look on Cat’s face, she clearly had no idea how revealing this costume would be.

“You can’t possibly expect me to fight crime wearing this!” I say emphatically. I turn around, ready to fish my pajamas from the trash, already feeling the relief of failure wash over me.

But then Cat grabs my shoulder, stopping me.

She spins me around, looks me over, and then nods.

Cat is delighted!

“Okay,” she begins, ”we might need to blur this a bit in the Tribune photos, but the bigger the news story, the less the censors care, and this story is HUGE! You’ll be trending so hard the meters will break!” She turns her head and yells at the crew. “Okay, it’s time to change the narrative in a big way! Let’s start the revolution! Let's make America sexy again! This cat doesn’t pussyfoot around!” 

Suddenly, everything is moving at light speed. Eve is brushing my hair and applying makeup at a breakneck pace, like mechanics servicing a car at a race track.

“We need supporting stories," Cat shouts, and then she points at several editors and writers. "You, go with 'Free the nipple!'  And you, go with 'The goddess returns!'  I want both headlining the website tonight, and we need the biggest story to follow Supergirl's rescue on page one of the Tribune.  Everyone needs to identify with their new hero. Lets go with,  'We are all chattel in Superman's world!' We want all of the teen girls wishing they were Supergirl. We need to frame this as both fashion and a movement.  By tomorrow, National City will be worshipping Supergirl.”

I’m speechless. I can’t even think.

Cat waves James Olsen to her side, saying, “Take some shots we can give the scavengers outside.”

I would prefer Winn to be my photographer, but Cat is not taking requests.  James is supposed to be the expert, anyway.

He is ready with his camera in five seconds. He motions for me to pose in front of the CatCo sign, and his camera clicks like he’s making a movie. He motions for me to turn and raise my arms like I’m flying. He tells me to smile and then to look serious. I can barely keep up. 

“We need her on all of our media, James. Make sure you get a money shot from the ground looking up at her,” Cat instructs without skipping a beat.

What did she say?

I swallow and can barely breathe when James lies supine at my feet and aims his camera up my skirt, getting the clearest shot possible.

“Keep pretending you are flying,” James instructs professionally.

I keep my arms and eyes pointing to the white ceiling, sure that this won’t fool anyone, but I know that Cat doesn’t care about that. She wants a clean pussy shot for our other website. I thought she kept her hands clean of that part of the business.

Well, she might get more than she’s hoping for because now my pussy is so wet that it’s dripping like honey from a bottle. I can feel it.

It’s the only thing I really don’t want anyone to see, but James will immortalize my nectar on the website forever.

That won’t discourage Cat. She’ll have every girl wishing they were as wet as Supergirl. I’m sure of that.

My god, Cat is powerful!

She steps closer. I tremble in anticipation, making me even wetter.

A fantasy flashes before my eyes, where Cat rips off her clothes, exposes a foot-long cock, and shoves me down to the floor.

In the real world, Cat puts her arm over my shoulders and leads me across the office towards the elevators.

“Can you fly?” Cat asks.

“What?" I ask, flustered. My mind is in the gutter, not in the sky. "You want me to fly now?”

 “Yes,” She replies hopefully. “Do you have your powers back?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not even sure I can do a push-up,” I reply, feeling like this whole show we are putting on is a scam.

Cat looks disappointed for just a second. “Hmm, no matter. I have a better idea! We’ll introduce you in two stages. First, a live interview. Then our staff will bombard every manner of media with content, whetting their appetite. In the meantime, you will sunbath and power-up,. Work on a tan, if that’s even possible. Then we need a flying entrance, and we’ll make a big event of it tomorrow. I can see it now. We’ll book you at the football Stadium – no, Mooney Park, before the baseball game. Not as big, but it’s public and free. A favor to the city. The mayor will be onboard, and we'll draw a much bigger crowd than our last place minor league team could dream of getting! The city will fill the stands and anyplace they can squeeze their bodies into.  Nobody will be able to ignore you. It will be magical!”

“Okay,” I say, still feeling dizzy. How can she think this fast? I hope I can get my powers back by tomorrow. I would hate to disappoint her with a walking entrance.

“Are you ready to meet the press?” she says cheerfully.

“No,” I reply, laughing, as one fear replaces another. “Do I need to talk to them?”

She laughs at my stage fright, too, and nudges me into her private elevator.

The trip to the first floor takes about thirty seconds, but it feels like much longer.

I never talked to a crowd before. Once, when I was required to make a speech to my class of fifteen people in school, I stood like a rock at the front of the classroom for two minutes, totally silent, until the teacher sent me back to my seat. Now, I’m about to make a fool of myself in front of the world.

The elevator opens on the first floor, and I’m surprised to find nobody outside. Then, I look across the lobby and see people staring through the glass front door.

Cat leads me and several of her crew towards that door. The sun is blazing outside, so the crowd can’t see me clearly through the glass as I approach from the other side.

I feel my throat tightening up and my heart racing. Once again, I ask Cat, “Do I really need to talk to them?”

“Of course,” she replies cheerfully. "It's only a few people."

“I, uh, don’t think I can do that,” I warn.

She waves her hand dismissively. “Listen, it’s no big deal. Everyone gets stage fright – except me, of course. But if you feel nervous, I hear it helps to imagine your audience is naked.”

I stop walking as the door opens, bending over in laughter.

Then the reporters and photographers outside notice my arrival, so I stand up and adjust my costume, for what it’s worth.

Cat stops me before we go outside and she whispers, “Listen, just remember a few things, and you’ll be fine out there. First, never answer a question with ‘no.’ Always be positive. And most important, have fun. Be yourself, and we can't lose. But if you feel too nervous to answer a question, just look my way, and I’ll jump in and change the conversation.”

“Okay,” I say, taking a deep breath.

Finally, Cat leads me outside.

The patio of the CatCo building is raised about two feet above the walkway beyond, so I feel like I’m standing on a stage. Everyone is pointing a cell phone or a camera at me.

Thankfully, Cat steps in front and demands attention.

“Hello, everyone, please give me your attention. It’s the worst kept secret that we rescued our beloved heroine from the clutches of the government earlier today. She was unconscious at first, but she awoke a short time ago, and, as you can see, she is fine,” Cat reassures. “We want to reassure you all that we have not been keeping her here against her will. Now, we’d like to introduce you to the girl who has taken on almost a mythical status these past few weeks – Supergirl! We will ask her a few questions, and then we will open the stage to the rest of you. But she is still weary from her ordeal, so we’ll limit this to ten minutes, okay? Supergirl has agreed to a proper introduction tomorrow, venue still to be determined, but we don’t want you to leave empty-handed, so here she is.”

I hear rumblings of excitement, but Cat does not wait for the small but growing crowd to settle down.

Cat draws me towards the front of the patio with her.

Cameras are all focused on me from inches away. They are not always pointing at my face, and that is a relief. I’d rather have them capture my boobs or even my pussy than the fear in my eyes.

Cat grabs a microphone and clears her throat to test the loudspeakers.

Finally, she puts an arm across my back and shoulders, as if to embrace me, and she begins to speak. “As you are all aware by now, Supergirl is, in fact, CatCo’s own daughter Kara Danvers. She’s been slaving away shyly for the past several months under my tutelage, making our workplace a lot brighter in the process. She was always important to us, but we never dreamed how important she would end up being for National City or, indeed, for the world.”

Cat has been speaking for less than a minute, and already the crowd size has doubled in the walkway. They spontaneously start clapping, catching me by surprise and making me blush.

Cat waits for the applause, and then she continues, “But then our dear Kara was kidnapped by our government at the behest of an overly privileged Kryptonian and his misogynistic allies. They abused her just like they have abused our city and our nation for decades. But no more. Today marks a new beginning, and I’m proud that my organization is playing a small part in this revolution. We have saved National City’s savior, and now I present her to you and herald in a new era where neither our lovely Supergirl nor our city will ever be overlooked again!”

Now, the cheers are surprisingly loud.

Cat pulls me closer. “But now I’m sure you’d all like to hear Supergirl speak for herself. That includes those of us at CatCo, who have only known her as a shy receptionist before now.  I have seen her at her desk eating donuts and sugary drinks while staying as thin as a model the whole time, so my first question for you, Supergirl, is: how can you eat so much and still look like this?”

I’ve been holding my breath this whole time, terrified to speak, but the onlookers laughs at the question, so I laugh, too. “I don’t know,” I answer. “The truth is I eat a lot more when people aren’t looking.”

Again laughter, and after that, cheers, as National City hears my voice for the first time.

Cat smiles brightly, but then she nudges me and gives me a hard look. I’ve seen that look many times as her assistant; it tells me to pay attention.

“That’s a very revealing costume you are wearing,” she says as if I had chosen it for myself. “Is it the traditional clothing of a chattel girl on Krypton?”

I stare at her, bewildered. Why is she asking this? The costume is Winn’s creation, and she knows it.

I hesitate before answering, unsure of what she wants me to say. Finally, I say, “Well, not the shoes.”

Suggesting that the rest of the costume was authentic chattel girl attire.

The crowd laughs and cheers, accepting my obscene costume as some kind of cultural relic. Culture has an almost magical effect on Americans, undercutting their usual sensibilities and opening up their minds to almost anything. With a simple suggestion, Cat has removed my scandal and put me in high esteem.

I’m embarrassed, but I’m also heartened. I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not, and they are still showering me with approval and admiration. I never thought it was possible for people to look at me this way.

“So Kara,” Cat interrupts the cheers. “Sorry, I need to get used to calling you Supergirl. We’ve known each other for a while now, and I’ve watched you suffer, hiding your true self. You weren’t hiding from us all of this time because you wanted to, were you?”

I tense up, knowing I shouldn’t answer. But I shake my head firmly and suddenly feel overwhelmed with shame. “Oh, no, I hated lying to you all, but I was afraid.”

Cat nods, and her face turns severe. “And who made you feel afraid? Isn’t it true that Metropolis’s hero Superman forced you to hide? He trapped you in a family of scientists and government agents to keep your alien culture suppressed, while Superman capitalized on his powers and his connections.”

I stare at Cat, stunned. I want to contradict her. I want to say that Superman has been kind to me, and my family on Earth has shown me nothing but love. That’s what they trained me to believe.

But it’s not true, not even remotely. My life has been one lie set against another. That was how I grew up, even on Krypton. It was the only life I've ever known.

I don’t know how to answer Cat, but the crowd falls silent as tears run down my face, and I finally nod twice.

The reporters put their hands over their hearts, and some look outraged on my behalf.

I can’t bear their sympathy. I want to run away, but Cat embraces me, letting me hide in her arms while the reporters and random onlookers applaud gently, as if joining our embrace.

They give me strength, and then Cat releases her embrace, and the crowd’s applause grows in volume.

“Do you feel up for some questions from these good people here who want to get to know you?” Cat asks.

I nod and smile weakly.

Cat points to a young woman with a preteen daughter in tow who had just wandered up to the stage.

Oh, no, not her! She surely won’t approve of me!

“Thank you,” the young woman says to Cat, then she looks at me. “And Supergirl... My husband was on that plane to Geneva.  I don’t know how to thank you for saving my family. My daughter won’t stop talking about you! You are truly a goddess to us both!”

“I …” I begin, speechless. “I hope I don’t disappoint either of you.”

The young woman and her daughter smile kindly, and several other people nod.

Cat next points to a well-dressed man with a fancy camera.

He steps forward and says, “I applaud Kryptonian fashion sense. So unrestrained and minimalist and freaking hot! I’m inspired to do a cultural fashion show celebrating Kryptonian fashions. I would love to learn more.”

I laugh like he's joking, but he seems serious. I look around for Winn. “You’ll have to talk to my friend. He’s the real expert on Kryptonian fashion.”

Cat whispers in my ear, “Don’t answer this next person’s questions.”

“Okay,” I say, but I don’t understand the caution in her voice. The first two questions have been wonderful.

Cat points at a familiar woman in the crowd, saying, “Go ahead.”

The tall brunette had maneuvered to the front. She carries herself just like Cat, with similar clothes and even the same hairstyle. She came with a microphone and a photographer in tow.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she introduces herself and then glares at me. “Isn’t it true, young lady, that you are a member of a disreputable faction of Kryptonian society that was engaged in human trafficking, prostitution, and all manner of lascivious behavior?”

I just stand there, stunned. I didn’t expect all of the questions to be easy, but the reporter’s accusations are full of half-truths. I’m not used to being attacked with lies; the truth is usually damaging enough.

The crowd grumbles.

I wait for Cat to defend me, but she doesn’t, letting the accusation go unchallenged.

Even Ms. Lane seems surprised by Cat’s silence, but she continues to push the knife in. “Superman is a true American who represents Krypton’s best. He shares our ideals. You, on the other hand, are an illegal alien and are the worst Krypton had to offer. The country doesn’t want your outrageous antics influencing our children and our fashions. National City is a cesspool and can’t afford more cultural infestations invading its borders.”

A few angry people shout in support of the Metropolis reporter’s invective, but they are quickly drowned out by boos. At first, I think they are booing me, but then the boos turn into chants of “Supergirl!”

Finally, Cat speaks again, “Go back to Metropolis, Ms. Lane! As you can see, we are proud of our city and our young heroine. We are a sanctuary city. Give us your tired and poor and wretched refuse, because we see them with better eyes. They will become of the best of us.”

The crowd erupts in cheers, and I clap and cheer with them, wondering why Cat let Ms. Lane gain momentum before shutting her down.

Several people rush to me, eager to show support and undo the damage of the reporter’s assault. The young girl whose father I had saved clings tight and buries her face in my breast, saying, “You will always be a hero to me.” A few men wait behind her, eager to show their appreciation as well.

Cat pulls me firmly towards the building.

“That’s all for today, folks,” Cat says as security guards step between the people and me. “But you’ll see much more of your new hero tomorrow. Check the CatCo blog or the news program tomorrow morning for details.”

The door closes behind us, and Cat hurries me back towards the elevators.

I can feel the crowd’s eyes on me as we walk away.

“Why did you stop?” I complain like a child being pulled away from her playmates. “I was just starting to have fun.”

Cat laughs at my recklessness. “I love your attitude, but one thing I’ve learned in all of my years is not to give too much too quickly. This is a journey, not a destination. Tomorrow is the big day, not today.”

Her words sink in. I don’t want to hear them, but she sounds so wise and sure of herself that I nod and follow her into the elevator without further protest.

“If you want more than fifteen minutes of fame, you need to keep them hanging, Kara,” Cat continues. “You have been an emotional girl since I first met you, and that is part of your charm. But let me strategize for you. Your supporters need you as their leader. They are hungry. They are following the bait. But they aren't on the hook, yet, so they can still be lured away.”

“Okay,” I say impatiently. “I just want them to like me.”

“Then be yourself! That is the most important thing. You have it in you. Most of them will love you, and they always will. You don't know how special you are," Cat replies mysteriously, but then she sets me straight. "For the rest, there is nothing you can do. People rarely change sides. What one group loves, the other hates. If you plan it right, you’ll have power over both, even those that hate you. Learn how to play both sides.”

The elevator slows to a stop, and two editors pounce on Cat before the door is completely open.

Cat blocks them out and speaks directly into my ear. “I’ve got a hundred preparations to do, but leave this all to me. All you need to do is go back onto my balcony and recharge and get some rest. We need you fresh and flying for our big event tomorrow.”

And then Cat disappears with the editors and planners, heading towards the media department.

Suddenly, I’m alone near the elevator, like I’ve been a hundred times before as Cat’s assistant. But this situation couldn’t feel more different. Everyone is looking at me from their desks, whispering among themselves. They have all known me as this shy, meek girl who never made waves, but now I’m standing among them, clothed only with fame. I was friendly with all of them, but they are not looking at me like I’m their friend. Nor are they looking at me like I’m a hero or a pariah, but somewhere betwixt and between. I feel more naked standing among them than I had felt standing among the people outside.

Then Winn hurries to save me from the ambivalent stares. He looks at me the same as he ever did.

“You look stressed,” he says too loudly. “Were they mean to you down there?”

I feel the people around me hush, waiting to hear my answer. “No, no, they were … fine.”

“Just fine?” he says, picking me apart. “Was there something wrong? Did they hate the costume?”

“No, I think they loved it,” I say and then laugh nervously because the costume is the most in-your-face clothing I’ve ever seen. “But I don't know what to do, now. Cat told me to go out onto the balcony.”

“Oh,” Winn says and instantly steps in that direction, leading me as if I need an escort.

Once back on the balcony, I look over the railing, I take a deep breath, kick off my shoes, and wait for my heart to settle. I soak in the sunlight and fresh air.

Winn stands behind me, and he pulls me back against his body and massages my shoulders.

I like that he's taking charge.

I rub my ass against his crotch and smile when I feel how hard he is.

I stretch out my arms, and both of my nipples slip completely through the fishnet. I laugh. "Where did you get this fishnet from? My nipples are escaping!"

Winn laughs, too. "Cat asked for a sexy, mesh costume. I guess I got carried away."

"You think?" I laugh again and pinch both of my nipples.

I hope he's watching. He likes to watch, and I want to show him.

And I want for him to touch me, not just rub my shoulders, but he won't. I don't know why not.

Doesn't he know that I want him?

He’s the only, constantly good thing in my life, ever since my first day at CatCo when he gave me a bouquet of purple roses to welcome me aboard. I thought at the time that he gave flowers to every new employee, but he only gave them to me. He chased me like dog chases a porcupine.

I know I played hard-to-get when we first met. I didn't want for him to get hurt. But now I want to be as easy for him as possible, and I don't want to leave any doubt in his mind.

I step away from him and turn around. I give him an inviting smile while I lift the fishnet costume over my head and toss it at his feet. Then I recline on the chaise lounge. I leave plenty of room for him to lay down beside me.

Instead, Winn steps around me and takes a look over the railing. “Woah,” he gasps. He looks unsteady on his feet, so he sits on a patio rocking chair inches from my feet. “The view from here is … amazing...”

I smile, wondering which view he was talking about.

He holds his breath when I close my eyes and fan out my body to maximize the sunlight. “Ah, this feels much better!” I say.

I stretch as far as I can, placing one foot on the railing and the other on the floor.

My pussy parts like it wants to kiss him, and it aches when I see his cock pressing against his pants.

Winn wipes sweat from his brow, and I laugh and bat my eyes at him. I’m not sure why I’m pushing him so hard.

“I just want to make sure you are being careful,” he says, heroically ignoring my distractions

I smile, but I feel frustrated. “Does it look like I’m being careful?”

“Seriously, Kara,” he says, forcing me to pay attention. “You need to be careful with Cat. I know she seems different to you now, but she hasn’t changed.”

"Cat? Why are you talking about Cat?" I ask, frustrated, but he got my attention. “We had our problems, but she is helping me, now.”

Winn nods. “I know, but she’s not building a personal relationship with you. With her, it’s always business.”

“Oh,” I say, relaxing a bit. "Is that all? Don’t worry about her. What’s good for me is good for her business. Besides, I owe her for saving me from the big, bad government.”

“Well, we started that rescue, Eve, myself and a few others, but Cat had the power to get the operation going,” he says.

“Really?” I say, surprised and appreciative. “Then I guess I owe all of you guys.”

Winn looks down, embarrassed for tooting his own horn. “Knowing you are okay is reward enough,” he assures me.

“I know, but I want to show you how grateful I am,” I say, reaching out to touch his knee with my foot. Come fuck me already!

He doesn’t move.

Is my invitation not clear enough?

I reach around my thighs and open up my flower with my fingers. I know he wants to attack me like a bee and taste my nectar as it gushes like squeezed fruit. He looks up and sees my welcoming smile and my body, flushed with passion.

Take me! My eyes tell him. It will be amazing! You are the only lover I want! The only lover I’ve ever wanted! I just didn’t know it before!

Winn is hard as a rock, but he still hesitates.

Finally, he stands up and moves towards the door. He looks at me with a full erection but with sadness in his eyes. “I love you, Kara,” he says.

Then he walks out the door.

Fuck! What was that?

I'm too frustrated to process what he said.

He loves me too much to make love to me? I grapple with the contradiction. Does he need to hear me confess my love as well? Come back, and I’ll say it! I think it’s true. I love him, but am I in love with him? If he loves me so much, why doesn’t he fight for me? Why does he make costumes that make me horny, and then walk away? Is he testing me? Does he think less of me now? What gives??

I love you, Winn, but right now, I’m feeling a little angry. You promise me everything, but you don’t accept any of my gifts. You make me into your fantasy, but you disappear when I play along. You give me a nibble, get me on your hook, and then throw me back into the ocean. Why won’t you take what you clearly want?

The sun is powering up my body, only adding to my frustration.

I guess I'll have to do this myself.

My fingers find my clit and try to summon the genie in the bottle. The spout gushes, and I feel a rumbling.

I try to imagine Winn fucking me, but it doesn’t work. Even in my fantasies, he frustrates me. I can’t put myself in his shoes when I feel this way.

My heart wanders deep into the darkness, seeking relief, and Alex appears out of the haze. My violent genie. My other savior.

I close my eyes thankfully.

She is on me like a storm, granting no wishes. She takes what she pleases.

It is shamefully refreshing.

She stares me down. She drives me to my knees.

I feel the humiliation. I feel as small as my pussy.

I cum quickly, crying out when I arrive, but she won’t let me stop. I cum and cry out again and again until Alex explodes in my mouth. The taste is vivid in my memory. She invades my body from the past, claiming me for herself.

Dear Rao, I need her! I'm so fucked up.

Soon, my engine winds down, and I go for a soft landing, letting my senses slowly restore.

When I open my eyes, I see Cat watching me from the entrance to her back office.

I’m surprised, but not very.

She is pointing her phone at me, recording everything. She doesn’t even try to hide what she is doing.

I close my eyes and keep doing what I was doing, draining my super-cunt on the cushion of her chaise lounge. She doesn’t seem to care.

Cat steps closer, not saying a word and not putting her phone down, recording everything.

Does she want to fuck me now?

She saved me so she can do what she wants.

I let her know with an inviting smile. I let her know that nothing is off the table.

Chapter image 2:

But she likes to watch and record.

I sigh. Maybe she'll change her mind. I roll over on the chaise lounge, giving the sun a chance to kiss my backside.

I close my eyes and wait. The warm sun and gentle breeze makes me sleepy.

Cat stands over me for a moment. She straightens my hair and arranges the pillows around me. She takes pictures, or makes video, or whatever she’s doing.

Then, after a minute, she leaves, too.

Did she get everything she wants from me?

She reeled me in. Everyone does. Sometimes they throw me back. I’m not good at this crazy game, but I don’t care anymore. They all got what they wanted from me. I wanted more, but at least I've gotten what I need.

I can’t even remember the things that seemed so important a few minutes ago. I was all worked up over nothing.

I relax and soak in the hot summer sun, and I fall asleep when the red sun kisses the horizon, not caring what comes next in this crazy life.

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