Smallville: Ill-met by Porn Film

"You're angsting again," Chloe said. Years—decades now—spent as Clark Kent's best friend had given her a sixth sense for angst. She could look at her fiancé, just lying in bed with his hands behind his head, maybe thinking about his fantasy football league or the lyrics to a Kylie Minogue song or how silly putty picked up newspaper comics—and nope, she knew he was thinking about Doomsday.

"Why'd you ever put my ring on your finger?" Davis asked her. Ding-ding-ding! "I was a monster, Chlo. A literal monster."

"Because you were literally programmed to be. You had no choice, any more than I had a choice to be blonde. And you're better now. Focus on that."

He turned on his side, facing her as she took off her earrings at her vanity table. "I was a serial killer. I know what it's like to kill someone with my bare hands, to wash the blood out from under my fingernails, to—"

Blah, blah, blah. It wasn't enough for her to get this at work from the reformed villains like Huntress and whatshisface, she had to come home to it too. It came and went, and she did her best to comfort him, but sometimes it felt like he was milking it.

She pulled her nightgown off.

He stopped talking about some drunk driver whose head he twisted off. "Chloe?"

"Even back then, the only thing that made you feel better was me." She drew back the covers. Under them, he was dressed. She could fix that. "Time for a double dose."

"Chloe, I—" Just like that, she was under the covers, pressed up against him, kissing him and rubbing at his clothed crotch. He grew half-hard, but that was all, and barely reciprocated her interest. "Chloe, I'm serious. What do you even see in me?"

Chloe reached down for the laptop she kept under the bed, booted it up and sat it on her legs before herself and Davis. "Alright. You're not in the mood. I get it. Let's just see if we can find something to fix that."

If asked, that was the reason she had Redtube bookmarked. It wasn't.

Davis was turning sympathetic, the way he always did. "If you want sex, I could always eat you out. It's no big deal."

"I don't want sex, Bloom. I want to get fucked. I want you to stop thinking about shit that happened years ago and start thinking about how tight my pussy is." She popped the computer on his belly, video loading. Then her hand slipped under his boxers' waistband. "Here. Watch this. Tell me what you think."

Chloe laid her head on his chest as the porn started. She wanted to watch too.

It only took a few moments for Davis's brow to furrow. "Is that--?"

It damn sure looked like it. Chloe made a mental note to look into that later.

She stopped moving her hand around. As much as she admired and looked up to Clark—he wasn't her man of steel.

She'd look into it much later.

***

Chloe tried not to be too smug about being in a stable relationship, given everyone's unromantic involvement with vigilantism. Even Clark and Lois, as meant to be as anyone could ask, were still having a trouble setting a date for their wedding's take-two. Tess Mercer, her fellow tech guru and the moneybags of the Watchtower operation, didn't have a steady boyfriend, and Kara Kent was quite possibly asexual. It wouldn't do to lord over them that she'd slapped a ring on some washboard abs and had gotten far more beef from buying that particular cow than either of her (according to the comment section of the Daily Planet, which she hardly ever visited) more attractive colleagues were getting for free.

Still, she was pretty sure that they were pretty sure that she'd had sex.

"What's the news?" Tess asked, resplendent in her usual subdued business suit, the skirt showing off just enough of her long legs to be respectable as she lolled against one of the Watchtower's railings.

"Well, it's a bit sensitive. And it involves Kara."

Kara had been fiddling with her own red skirt, as if comparing it to Tess's. Now she floated up a few inches into the air. "Me? What'd I do?"

"Nothing, it's just—here. Better if I show you."

Chloe tapped at her keyboard with a comforting racket, putting up a certain video on the Watchtower's largest screen. Kara watched as time stamp 13:42 was cued up and played. Suddenly, her face filled the monitor: contorted in agonized ecstasy, rocking so fast she blurred as she was hit with staccato force from behind. Her bare shoulders and wobbling breasts—all that was visible from the present angle—proved the image's subtext was no accident. She was being taken from behind. Hard.

"Fuck me! Yes! Fuck me harder! Ye—"

Chloe paused the video on this other Supergirl's lustfully pained face, then swallowed as she once more took in what was under discussion. "So, uh, I'm guessing that's not how you really tip the pizza guy."

"Rao, no!"

Tess quirked an eyebrow. "Shame. They make so little—"

Chloe pointed a finger at her, effectively communicating her unhelpfulness. "So I'm thinking shapeshifter. Someone assuming celebrities' bodies to make smut. Which we should check out. And shut down, hopefully."

Tess folded her arms, smiling 'helpfully'. "I'll get Luthorcorp's legal department on it. God knows I doubt there's any precedent for this kind of case—maybe we can nail them for copyright infringement. If I can't put Wayne Gretsky in a hockey videogame without signing fifty contracts, there's no way these clowns can make some porno with anyone's faces but their own."

"And I'll call in Black Canary to track down the IP address." Chloe gave Kara a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, K. We'll take care of it."

"Hmm?" Kara was looking at her own face once more, bigger than life, a funhouse reflection. Showing more pleasure than she'd ever known. She refocused on Chloe. "Yes. Yes, thank you."

"Everything alright?" Tess asked solicitously, leaning in toward Kara. Kara could feel her warmth percolating the air between them—or was that just her own body heat rising? "This must come as an awful shock to you..."

"No, no, I understand. It's all just—an Earth thing. No big deal. I should go. I think there's a tidal wave in Arizona."

Chloe's eyes narrowed. "Arizona is a landlocked state."

"Better check, just to be sure."

***

Kara didn't own a computer. She lived in the Fortress of Solitude, finding its Kryptonian design comforting. As far as the world was concerned, 'Kara Kent' was crashing at her cousin Clark's place, when she wasn't out. It was a good arrangement all around.

But when Kara really did need to use a computer—absolutely had to—she knew the code to the door on Luthorcorp's roof, and had a guest account on its computer system. She thought about it all day, but with Kryptonian pride, did not act on her urge until nighttime in Metropolis, when the building was next to deserted. Then she flew in.

Not bothering to change out of her famous costume, she hurried down the stairs to a deserted office space. A labyrinth of cubicles, each showing a different screensaver like the varied dreams of sleeping computers. Kara quickly checked for cameras—there were none—for security guards—not for ten floors—and for alarms. Nothing.

Still, she went to a cubicle in the corner, far from prying eyes. Or the windows, for that matter. She jostled the mouse, and when the log-in screen came up, she typed in the guest account's name and password. Just like that, she was online.

Working so fast her fingers almost destroyed the keyboard, she typed in the URL she had seen on the video that morning. Her superpowered memory recalled it ably, every number and symbol. Just like that, it was up and loading. Tess hadn't succeeded in blocking it yet. Kara licked her lips. She shouldn't have been glad, but—she would've been disappointed otherwise.

She watched as the other her appeared on screen. Identical to her but so unlike her. The way she moved, talked, fucked. Sensual. Decadent. Wild. A fantasy of the Maiden of Might instead of the boring reality.

It was like, to borrow a human expression, watching a train wreck. Kara, of course, saw a train derail and would instantly work to stop it, scoop passengers out, limit damage, help. But for a human, when there was nothing to be done—perhaps there came a kind of beauty to the destruction? That was what it felt like to Kara. There was a beauty in watching herself be slapped, spanked, kissed, fondled, thrown down. Fucked. Hard.

It wasn't her in the train, after all.

Kara began to squirm on the cubicle's office chair. Her skirt had fallen between her legs, but it might as well have been a sheet of lead. She felt a heaviness there she hadn't felt before, a warmth that she could barely keep from reaching her eyes. Which were fixated on the flatscreen monitor as this wanton Supergirl was fucked from behind. Moaning. Enjoying it.

Kara wished she could relieve the pressure between her legs, but she didn't know how. There was nothing like this on Krypton.

Maybe if she did what the other Supergirl was doing, with her hands, as she was fucked. Maybe if she used her fingers to stimulate her vaginal nerves...

Kara wondered if there would be any useful information on the internet if she searched for that. But once she'd touched herself, she decided she could figure it out for herself. Especially once she moved her panties out of the way.

***

The next day, Kara felt refreshed. She'd slept deep and dreamlessly, woken like a switch had been flipped, and the entire world seemed to conspire with her to be pleasant. No earthquakes, no volcanos, no tidal waves. Just cats out of trees and signatures into autograph books. When Tess called her, on that special frequency only Kryptonians could hear, Supergirl hummed a melody on the way to her office.

Once she was through the open window, Tess shut it and clicked a remote that darkened the glass to the cool obsidian of a one-way mirror. It cut the sunlight to such a degree that they might've been under a vast shadow, or having a candlelight dinner.

"What's up, Mercer?" Kara asked, strolling around the many curiosities of the well-furnished office. "Need me to type up a memo at the speed of sound?"

Tess leaned at her desk, legs long, hair styled, the two buttons undone on her blouse hinting at her cleavage. She wore a similar suit to the one she'd had on the other day, though her silk blouse was now a striking white that shone in the pale light. "Just a small internal matter that needs to be cleared up. Human resources, you might say."

Her hand skated out across her desktop, finding the keyboard and typing automatically. Her gaze lingered on Kara for several seconds before she finally turned to make sure she was inputting her commands correctly. Kara found herself 'gazing' as well, eyes tracing Tess's crisp profile with the blocked sun behind her.

"Luthorcorp doesn't have any content-control program on our servers, but we do have one that notes what sites our employees are visiting and how much time they spend there. A certain amount of 'goofing off' is a net increase to productivity, but we do hope our workers don't get up to anything too... unwholesome on company time."

Kara's ears burned as she realized where this was going, but she forced herself to be stoic. It came easily to her, the Kryptonian way. Tess couldn't know it was her. There was no way.

Tess smiled winningly at her, as if sensing the thoughts right inside her head. "All our computers are also equipped with webcams."

She spun her monitor to face Kara and for the second time in as many days, Kara saw herself, face flushed in pleasure. As the sound of yet another her's sexual debasement played, a tinny secondhand recording, Kara watched herself move a hand from a thigh (she remembered seeing the flush of her fingermarks there later, she'd spent the longest time just sitting there, just watching, squeezing her thighs like that was all she wanted to do). The hand slid over her exposed midriff, up under her famous blue shirt, and distorted the sigil of the House of El as it closed over the jut of her breasts, to tease her nipple just like what was being done before her starkly wide eyes.

Kara remembered her other hand leaving her thigh. It wasn't on camera, but she remembered it running under her skirt, almost without her knowledge, possessed by an alien consciousness. She and the recording hissed in unison, but only the recording shuddered against probing fingers.

They were both wet though. Even as Kara's eyes darted to Tess, looking on almost in approval, the shame and indignity of being caught making her body flush. The heat lowering, lowering, deeper and deeper.

"Fuck me," the recording whimpered. Almost like she'd wanted someone to see her. Like she'd made it happen by wishing for it so hard.

Tess got up from her desk, arms still crossed as she walked her heels over her office's rich carpet, the only light that glare from the monitor as it continued playing Kara's masturbation. Like she was reliving it, Kara saw the blood rushing to the recording's neck and cheeks, felt it moving in her own body, making her mons painfully sensitive and her engorged clit beg to be touched.

Tess circled her, standing off to the side, staring as Kara's breasts rose and fell, her thighs clenched, her eyes unblinkingly stared at the spectacle of her own pleasure. Kara could've begged her to speak.

Instead Tess took her by the hair, hand lost in the blonde waves of her mane, and forced her head away from the screen. It almost would've been merciful, if Tess weren't forcing her into a kiss so hard it could've been a punishment.

Even as she was kissed—a good kiss, a needed kiss—Kara remembered what had prompted the sounds now spilling from the computer's speakers. Her fingers sticky and wet, her breath fast. Tess spun her as her lips moved down to Kara's neck, leaving nothing to keep Kara from looking behind Tess and seeing the video continue. The recording's chin dropping to her chest to look down, as if in surprise, at the movement of her hand under her skirt.

Tess's hand slapped against the inside of Kara's thigh, moved slowly upward. Kara didn't do a thing to stop her, unless you counted the moan she loosed. Tess's fingers brushed against her cotton underwear and her eyes met Kara's as if in surprise. Then, just as Kara remembered from the recording, Tess stroked two fingers over Kara's clit, right through the cotton, at the same time as the video showed Kara finding the sensitive bud between her thighs.

Kara realized that Tess had watched the video. Timed it. Planned this. She didn't care.

She could see both Tess's inquisitive stare looking up at her and the ecstatic frenzy of the recording, like a mirror now as both sets of fingers sped up. Kara's hips rocked against Tess's hand like they belonged to her, and Tess swiped over Kara's clit just as the recording did, touching it without underwear in the way for the first time. Kara let loose an echo of the brisk cries from the recording; they were like musical instruments being played concerto.

Once, twice, then though it was impossible for Tess to know, she sunk two fingers inside Kara just as she herself had done the night before, finding that ridged spot inside her, fingers curling and calling to her body so her hips rolled forward, Kara meeting this alien demand of pleasure and it was like the recording was what Tess was seeing, a vision of the hour's events where she was invisible, a ghost.

Kara came sweetly, subconsciously holding back her powers to keep from crushing Tess's fingers, though they would still be sore for hours. That was okay. Tess kind of liked the pain.

She took her hand away and Kara's red skirt dropped to cover her soaked panties. The superhero trembled like a lamb, weakly sinking into the other woman's embrace, swaying with her like they were dancing. The webcam recording finished, dumping the monitor into the blank black screen of the media player, and the room was as dark as the stroke of midnight.

"Poor Kara." Tess spoke for the first time, stroking Kara's golden hair with the hand that had been pleasuring her. Kara felt her locks grow wet and fall against her face, bearing the scent of her passion. "She wants to be kissed, she wants to be touched, but there's no one to do it to her. How thoughtless of us not to see it. Clark has Lois. Chloe has Davis. Ollie has just about every woman he wants. But who does Kara have? Who kisses her? Who touches her?"

"Tess," Kara said needfully, and didn't know if it was an answer. "I... I'm Kryptonian. We're not supposed to... we're meant to have children in breeding matrixes, choose mates by genetic lottery. We don't—"

"I felt your clit, Kara. I found your G-spot. Those are meant for nothing but pleasure. This isn't Krypton you're on, it's Earth. And whatever virtues Krypton has, Earth has its own pleasures to offer." Tess bent her head, gently kissing either of Kara's breasts through her tight shirt before kissing the S-shield directly, looking up slowly.

Kara met her gaze. Barely. "My strength—I'm not like Clark. I could've snapped your fingers off just then."

"I like danger. Why do you think I hang out with you people?"

"But what happened in the movie—with the man? I could never have that. I could never—really—lose my virginity." The fact that she wanted to remained unsaid, but clearly heard.

Tess smiled at her, reassuringly, not smug—maybe a little smug—then kissed her shield again. "There are ways."

Five minutes later, Tess had stripped down to a set of lingerie she either wore all the time or had put on planning to seduce Kara. It was a pearly white, bodice and gartered stockings, all running over her like a liter of creamy milk had been poured over her body and now it dripped off her skin, about to leave entirely. The only bit of black was the dildo she wore around her waist.

The large phallus seemed like an extension of the room's darkness, except for the small bits of Kryptonite that studded its length. Tess had assured her it was just enough to weaken her flesh, not enough to do any harm even with prolonged exposure. Kara still felt tipsy, like Chloe looked when she'd done a few shots.

Kara sat on the desk, the keyboard and monitor having sunk into it through extravagantly mechanical means. She still wore her Supergirl costume. Tess had insisted she keep it on. All but her white panties, which Tess had taken with her when she went to get the strap-on. They were still unaccounted for.

Kara looked down at what jutted from Tess's crotch. It was a lot to take in. "You sure whipped that out—up in a hurry."

Tess shrugged, which was close to bashfulness from her. "I had it built for Clark."

"But Clark's... with Lois," Kara broke off.

Tess inclined her head to one side. "Hope springs eternal. But I'd through with crushes. Why would I want some blur..." she enunciated the word wickedly, "when I can have a Supergirl instead?"

Kara blushed. Tess got closer, as if to eye the roses in her cheeks, but then took hold of her knees and pulled them out of their ladylike togetherness. She stepped into the void of Kara's open legs.

"Think they'll have to start calling you Superwoman after this?" Tess asked, lifting the hem of Kara's skirt with her strap-on.

"Please, Tess, I can't wait. I've waited long enough."

"Then don't wait," Tess said, and smiled so brightly Kara just had to kiss her.

They kept kissing as Tess circled a hand on Kara's waist, wrapped the other around her cock. Their bodies naturally pressed together—lips connecting more fully, breasts meeting. Then Kara felt her at her entrance, the tip of the dildo a subtle intrusion like her own fingers had been. But more weighty now. Ominous.

And Tess left it there, still distractedly kissing Kara as she reached down, pulled open a desk drawer. Kara's eyes widened when she saw the gun inside, but Tess reached beside it, to a bottle of lube. She brought it up and uncapped it. "Hand."