Under an Amorous Spotlight

“Christ,” Paris said. “Three hundred and eighty.”

The red number blinking at the bottom of the chat display baffled Ava, too. Brooke had suspected a spike in viewers for Ava’s first stream back, but this exceeded expectation; they’d thought Ava would be in the mid to high one-hundreds, about three or four times what she normally got. Then again, Brooke had probably been playing conservative; she tended to be that way: slow and deliberate, cautious, and moderating Ava’s expectations.

“I wonder why I have so many new fans,” Ava said dryly into the camera. The chat passed by, not in ticks, but in a veritable stream. “Where did all of you come from? And why?”

She and Paris—along with talking and simply enjoying each other’s company—had discussed strategy for how they’d handle tonight. Ava had mostly given Brooke's suggestions, which Paris had agreed with. 

They’d be ignoring the debacle, more or less, but making playful references to it; it would both keep her audience’s attention, but also douse the flame if Ava was seen comfortable enough to make jokes about it, even if she wasn’t willing to outright discuss it. Because Ava had emphasized that to Paris: that all things considered, she saw the silver-lining in her mortifying event. 

She’d done that for a reason. Ava’s stream wouldn’t always be so chaste; this was one step along a long road. Since Paris had inadvertently been roped in as a duo partner with Ava, she needed to see the direction Ava’s stream would be taking. Fortunately, she didn’t seem to mind; she encouraged Ava to play off the horny new audience. Which didn’t come as a surprise. She hadn’t been bothered by the raunchy comments to start with. She shoved the camera into my chest and ass our very first meeting. 

Ava watched the chat stream along, then shook her head in exasperation—silently replying to no specific message, but playing it up for theatrics, for entertainment—then leaned away and floated the setup away. The number of messages were actually becoming unwieldy; there wasn’t a chance she could respond to each, unlike that first stream, where there’d been one a minute, or less, during downtime.

“At least you’ll stop forgetting to turn your stream off,” Paris said.

“I definitely learned my lesson the hard way,” Ava sighed. 

For all her projected nonchalance, she needed to fight a flush. All three hundred of these viewers heard me fucking myself. A few of them had even been there live, listening to Ava make a pleasurable mess of herself. Even prepared, how couldn’t Ava be embarrassed at that?

How couldn’t Ava be excited at that? The flush wasn’t all shame.

Or … shame and excitement seemed to go hand in hand, recently. Ava recognized that aspect of herself, now, but she hadn’t fully come to terms with it.

Focus on the stream. 

It was surprisingly easy to push aside everything. She fell into her old, usual routine with Paris, chatting idly and patrolling the streets of Capital City. 

Clash, she mentally corrected herself. Better not to slip-up and accidentally reveal her newest friend’s identity. She needed to build up the stalwart habit of only referring to Clash by her superheroine name whenever they were in a professional context. Even if Paris is such a pretty name. 

Ava was a bit worried, truthfully, about Clash giving her away. She’d brought it up, and Clash had assured her, which Ava would need to take at face value. But Ava knew Clash could speak without thinking—act without thinking. Still. No getting away from the possibility. 

At least Ava was a common enough name it would still only narrow her down to hundreds, possibly thousands, of girls in a metropolis as large as Capital City. Though the drip-fed information about her personal life added to the danger; a first-name thrown into the mix could tip the scales.

She trusted Clash—she just didn’t trust her capability to not speak recklessly. 

The surge in viewers whittled down as the night passed by. Even once it averaged out, though, Ava was sitting comfortably around the high one hundreds, which had been what Brooke had predicted the ‘burst’ would be. Their plan continued to work with flying colors.

As Ava grew more and more comfortable with the reality of her situation, her time on stream being more of a salve than the three days hiding in her apartment had been, she also became less and less hesitant to talk. Clash picked up on it. And ever the instigator, conversation topics had slowly trended salacious. That was the ultimate goal, after all. Not for the stream to be pornographic—but raunchy, yeah. 

“What were you doing, anyway?” Clash asked. “By the sounds of it, I need some tips. My sessions are never that fun.”

Ava’s face colored at the question, and Clash briefly hesitated, wondering if she’d stepped over the line. Even if topics had been getting slowly more lewd, she had promised to help Ava through this.

Ava said, “Well. I’m not sure if it’s fair. A powerset like mine helps a lot.”

The confidence returned in Clash’s grin, Ava’s playing along with the topic wiping away her hesitance. “I bet. Any toy you want, any size, whenever. Can you like, make them vibrate?”

Ava coughed. “I, um, have pretty fine control over my constructs. So without saying yes …”

“I’m so jealous. Can I see?”

Ava blinked. “See?”

“It’s an adult website, isn’t it? Don’t think a dildo’s against the terms of service.”

Ava glanced at the chat streaming by—which had picked up, as it always did with these kinds of topics—and the heat on her face amplified. 

I shouldn’t. Or should she? It would titillate her audience, wouldn’t it? 

She looked around at her surroundings, before veering off into an alleyway. They were out in public, and whatever the streaming sites terms of service might be, summoning a dildo out into the open was hardly appropriate by social standards.

A rod of golden light appeared in her hand, quickly taking shape. With Ava’s newly empowered abilities, her constructs came to life with a speed even she hadn’t fully accustomed herself to. 

Clash delightedly stepped forward and grabbed the dildo from Ava’s hands. She wiggled it back and forth. “Wait, you can make them soft?” She hadn’t expected Ave to be able to make it flexible; she was used to Ava’s constructs being solid. “This is awesome.”

“I can do a lot with them,” Ava said, eyes flickering back and forth between Clash—so plainly amused at playing with Ava’s dildo—and the streaming setup.

It’s hardly the one I used. But Ava’s brain couldn’t help but make the comparison. She’s playing with the toy I use to fuck myself with.

“A lot? Like what? Vibrate it—show me.”

Ava coughed. “It took a while to get that down.” Back when her powers had been weaker she’d had less fine control, and it had taken too much focus to be worth it.

She demonstrated for Clash; the toy started vibrating in her hands.

“Fuck me,” Clash laughed. “If I had your powers, I’d never get anything done.” She paused. “Besides myself,” she corrected with a grin.

“Clash.”

“I’m serious.” She looked down at the toy. Ava had stopped vibrating it. “And it’s so accurate, you naughty girl. Did you have a model?”

“No!”

“Not even a fake one? Do some internet research? C’mon, blondie, no way you got it so realistic without some help.”

“I—I don’t want to talk about it.” Clash had, of course, come to the correct conclusion.

“You know what this would be amazing for?” Clash asked.

“What?”

Clash gripped the dildo and stuck it at the base of her pelvis, where a cock would normally go. “Seems like it’d make a good strap. Adjustable, vibrates, and can’t you like, stick your constructs to things? Attach them to objects or people? Stick it to me.”

“Clash!” Ava’s face was blazing, now; she was taking things too far. 

The flush wasn’t just embarrassment. The image of Clash clutching a realistic, golden cock to where one would naturally go had Ava’s cheeks searing. Her mind flashed to those perverted books Ava had found in Brooke’s room, two weeks ago. The girls with, erm, unnaturally large, detailed men’s equipment. 

“Do it. It’ll be funny.”

After a long hesitation, Ava did so. She didn’t look at her chat to see what they were saying; she didn’t think she had the capability to. And better to face away, not show how red her cheeks were, right now. Let Clash—the plainly at-ease one—be the focus of the show.

Things had gone so off the rails. They were supposed to be patrolling. Not playing with Ava’s abilities to make realistic dildos.

Clash removed her hands, and the fake cock stayed attached. She wiggled her hips side to side, laughing at the way it flopped around like a normal cock. “It’s so realistic!”

Ava imagined what it would be like if it was real. If the attachment behind Clash’s legs wasn’t just a construct made from hardlight, but if it had sensation—if the toy was indistinguishable from reality. A girl with a cock. A real one. Or if not real, something close. That … could be fun, a part of Ava’s brain that didn’t go wholly acknowledged said. I see why Brooke’s into it. Her heart rate was picking up.

Ava wasn’t sure what happened next. Briefly fixated with the thing attached between Clash’s leg, her attention quested out, grabbing the construct, and she shifted something. It happened half by accident.

And half … not by accident. Curiosity. Following an instinct she hadn’t known she’d possessed.

Clash’s laughter cut off, abruptly. Her eyes shot open and her hips stopped wiggling, the hardlight cock no longer bouncing around. She sucked in a breath of air, hand going to the cock.

“Uh,” Clash said. “What?”

After a moment of being frozen, Clash stroked up and down. Ava watched as the skin of her cock carried along with her hand; not like a dildo, as Ava had made it, but like actual skin, bunching up as her firm grip went up and down.

The wince, and intake of air, Clash produced didn’t seem like acting.

Ava’s mind blanked out. 

What? 

Her instincts forced her into action more than intent did. She deattached the cock (dildo, Ava scoldingly corrected herself) from Clash’s pelvis and floated it back to her. Clash’s eyes were wide, and she stared at Ava as if she wanted to ask what the fuck was that, but knew better. They were on camera.

She felt it. It was obvious. That wince, that exhalation of pleasure. That hadn’t been acting. I gave her a cock, and she could feel through it.

What?

“Anyways,” Ava laughed loudly, awkwardly. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she had an audience of over a hundred. Some of them, at least, had to have noticed Clash’s reaction. The two of them had to play it off. “It’s pretty useful. Sometimes I get carried away.”

“Right,” Clash said, also forcing herself back to a semblance of normalcy. But there was something curious in her eyes, even as her playful grin returned. She wanted to ask. She would be asking, once Ava’s stream went off. “Who can blame you?”

“We should get back to patrol.”

“Yeah,” Clash said. “Guess we should.”

###

“Is it off?”

“Yeah,” Ava said, watching the stream shut off—which she double checked, even if she’d never actually forgotten by accident.

“What the hell was that?”

Clash didn’t need to clarify. “I, uh, don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Powers hardly come with a handbook.” Ava had guided them to a private location, knowing this conversation was due. Nobody was nearby, so they could talk at ease. Occasionally, a passerby’s figure appeared at the mouth of the alleyway, then disappeared. “I, I—it looked like you felt something?”

“More than something,” Clash said incredulously. “It felt like I had a cock. A real one. You can do that?”

“No. Or, I didn’t think I could. Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?”

“I just mean, how? Why? It doesn’t make sense.”

Clash shook her head. “This is news to you?”

“Completely. As if I would—would do that to you, on stream. Without telling you.”

Clash hesitated; she knew Ava well enough to know those words were true. “Do it again.”

“What?”

“You can’t tease me like that. I barely got to play with it. I’m curious now.”

Ava froze, wide-eyed.

Clash hesitated. “Or, uh, don’t. I guess I could see how that’s weird?”

“Um. If you’re fine with it?” It was just a construct, after all. Not the real thing, however authentic it had seemed in the moment. And Ava wanted to know how it worked, too. If it was repeatable, or a fluke.

“Like I said, I’m curious.”

Hesitantly, Ava summoned the dildo back and floated it over to Clash. Like before, Clash gripped the toy and attached it to where a cock would normally go. Ava, with a shift of her powers, glued it onto her.

Then, following that same strange urge she’d felt before, she adjusted the construct in a different way.

Ava could see the way it melded into Clash, this time, paying closer attention. It even changed size and shape, in small ways; sculpted itself, growing slightly larger, and veins appearing that hadn’t been there.

By the way Clash sucked in a breath of air, Ava could tell it had happened exactly how it had the first. 

Clash had a cock. One she could feel through.

What the hell, Ava thought. What is going on?

“Holy shit,” Clash said, supporting the member with her hand, not gripping it tightly, but just letting it rest. It was hard, long, thick—and Ava could swear she saw it pulse. “I can feel it. This is crazy.”

“How—how—”

“You really didn’t know you could do this?”

“I knew my constructs were malleable … and I can feel through them …”

The thought struck lightning through Ava. If I can do it for Clash, I can do it for myself. She felt dizzy with the realization. She soldiered on. 

“ … but did I know I could grow something on another person? A body part, they could feel through? Of course not.”

“Well,” Clash said. “Guess you can.” Her grip finally closed around her cock, and she gave it a probing stroke, a breathless exhalation of pleasure escaping her lips.

Ava glanced away by instinct. “Clash!”

“What? I’m experimenting. Isn’t that what this is?”

Ava forced her eyes back. Clash continued to stroke up and down her length, staring down at the addition between her legs in fascination.

“It’s warm,” Clash said. “Shit, it feels like the real thing. I think. Wouldn’t, uh, know.” She laughed.

“It does?”

“Sure. Come feel it.”

Ava’s face burned.

“It’s yours, Ava,” Clash said. Ava hadn’t a clue how she was so nonchalant about this. Sure, Clash was nonchalant about most things—but seriously. This was weird. She’s stroking it right in front of me. She’s masturbating, isn’t she? And I’m watching? Why am I watching?

Why aren’t I protesting? 

What is that look in her eyes?

Lust. Clash was enjoying herself. Her slightly parted lips, the way she was starting to pant as she played with her cock. And she was holding eye contact. She seemed amused. At Ava’s awkwardness? The way she couldn’t look away? 

This was—Clash was—

Were they doing this?

Ava stepped forward. Clash released her cock, and Ava’s hand replaced it.

Paris exhaled at Ava’s cool fingers wrapping her warm, pulsing member. Her cock. I have my hand around a girl’s cock. Ava stroked up and down, mesmerized at the way Paris’s hips bucked forward at the relief her hands provided. Ava squeaked in surprise, but she didn’t let go. She just thrusted into my hand. 

I’m making her feel good. 

“What’s it, um, like?” Ava asked. Her hand moved up and down, gently coaxing Paris’s lower half. We’re just experimenting. Figuring out what’s going on. That’s all this is. Power testing between two supers.

“Like I’m getting jerked off,” Paris said, the amusement plain in her voice—and something else plain in her voice, too. A huskiness.

I’m jerking her off. A girl. Paris.

Ava’s face colored, but she didn’t stop stroking.

“It feels good?” Ava asked. Her own voice was becoming thick.

“Yeah. You’re a natural.”

“I can’t believe this is … a thing.” She couldn’t put it more eloquently.

“Your powers are pretty perverted,” Paris agreed. “Never—mmm—heard of something like this.”

“It’s weird.”

“But hot,” Paris said.

Definitely that, too. Even if Ava didn’t respond.

Ava’s hand picked up speed. There was something intoxicating about the noises coming from Paris’s mouth. They were hardly something alien—Ava wasn’t some virgin. But the idea that she was coaxing these noises out from her friend, and that it was a girl’s cock—one Ava had provided—that was making Paris squirm had draped a haze of lust over Ava.

Hot. That’s understating it. Ava’s thoughts were going wild, and it was just a handjob. What would it feel like inside of me? She banished the thought, even if it made her insides squirm.

“Someone might see,” Paris said, glancing at the alleyway.

They both stared down the alleyway, toward the mouth. Almost as if to emphasize the point, a shadowed figure passed forward. They—he or she, Ava couldn’t tell—didn’t pause and peer down. Why would they?

“Guess someone might,” Ava said. “Here, I’ll block you.” Ava pressed Paris into the wall, pressing their bodies closer. She could feel Paris’s hot breath on her face, now. Ava’s hand continued to stroke, jerking her friend’s cock off. It was hot and twitching, and by Paris’s quickening breaths, it was building to something. Her hot member, and Ava’s hand, pressed between their stomachs, rubbing against latex costumes as she picked up speed. 

Her moans were becoming loud in the silent alleyway. “S-Shit, Aves, I think—I think—”

“Are you going to come for me?” Ava murmured, their faces only inches from each other. She held eye contact, noting how Paris’s eyes widened at the lewd words that had escaped, unbidden, from Ava’s mouth. She wasn’t sure where they’d come from, either. “Are you going to spray yourself all over me? Between us? That’d be messy, don’t you think?”

Paris’s eyes glazed over. Ava jumped as Paris’s hands appeared on her waist, pulling their bodies closer. They slid down, bit by bit, giving her a chance to protest, until Paris had Ava’s ass cupped in them. Ava’s own breath was escaping in heaves. Her face had to be crimson, the same color as Paris’s hair. 

“Well,” Paris mumbled. “Here, mmm, it comes. If that’s how it works. Ready?”

Did it? Work like that? Ava wouldn’t have thought so, but none of this made sense. That she was building to orgasm with a fake cock was strange enough; maybe she could cum, too. With all the associated messiness. 

She hoped she could.

The wiggling in Paris’s hips was picking up. Almost there.

Paris buried her face in Ava’s shoulder as her lower body finally gave in to Ava’s dedicated efforts. Pressed together, Ava felt Paris’s body tense, then start to shake. Ava felt the girlcock in her tight grip spasm. 

The first spurt of liquid burst up between their bodies, coating Ava’s costume, and even onto Ava’s exposed chest, across the generous boob gap. Ava’s eyes widened, but her hand kept pumping as Paris whined in pleasure. She can actually come? Even acknowledging it was possible, she was surprised. It was the same murky white that would be expected, too, not a golden color appropriate to Ava’s abilities.

She didn’t particularly care about the how. All she knew was she was milking out pulsing, hot loads of Paris’s girlcum, and Ava wanted nothing more than to squeeze out every drop. To have her friend’s shaking body pressed into her for as long as possible, and for these pitiful noises to continue. She’s really having a good time. And Ava was causing it. Her hand had grown slick and lubricated, drenched in Paris’s cum. How is there still more?

Finally, Paris’s wracking enjoyment sufficiently drawn from her, Ava stepped back and admired her handiwork. Both their costumes were drenched with it. Paris’s cock was softening—it really was such a realistic attachment—and Paris was leaned against the alley wall, exhausted, breathing hard, eyes fluttering from the experience she’d just been subjected to.

“Christ,” she said, finally. “I knew you’d be a devil in bed. What the hell did you just do to me?”

Ava took pride in the question. 

Then, a second later, she realized the state the two of them were in. The mess they’d created all over themselves. 

And what she’d just done.

“Oh my god,” Ava said.