Fenix At The Diner

By Jax

Fenix leans forward on her stool, leaning her elbows on the diner’s macadam countertop, her wide green eyes sparkling as she glances down the counter. Tanned and lean, she lounges on the stool, her long legs thrust idly out, her tight red dress clinging to her every curve, her firm breasts, narrow waist and wide graceful hips. Her heart-shaped face is framed by long curly red hair that tumbles across her shoulders and down her back. “Hey,” she calls.

 

Down the counter, Frances glances up at her from rubbing the scarred plastic counter with a dirty cloth, her long wavy orange hair tumbling out from beneath her cap in a fall of firey curls falls away from her narrow gray eyes as she glances at Fenix. “Yes?” she asks.

 

“Come here,” Fenix says, gesturing with her hand; this early, they are the only two in the diner.

 

Curious, Frances walks over, her tan uniform tight around her tight lean frame. “Yes?” she asks, standing opposite Fenix, laying her hands on the counter.

 

Fenix cocks her head to the side, glancing up at Frances. “Since it’s just you and me,” she says softly, her red lips curved in an inviting smile. “Why don’t you and I pass the time together?"

 

Frances blinks at her in surprise. “Oh,” she says softly. “Well- thank you, but, I don’t swing that way.”

 

Fenix lays her hands on Frances’, gently running her fingers over Frances’ soft skin. “Who said you have to swing?” she asks. “Just go with the flow.”

 

“Well, I-”

 

Without a word, Fenix reaches across the counter and grabs Frances by the straps of her apron. She pulls Frances close and kisses her gently on the lips.

 

Frances freezes, then her lips part and she moans softly as their tongues meet and twine, testing and tasting each other. Frances melts against Fenix, her moans rising and Fenix lowers her hands to the waitress’ breasts, squeezing and kneading them through the thin material of her uniform.

 

Fenix slides across the counter, pulling open the top of her dress, letting her full round breasts sway freely; Frances tears open her uniform, pulling down her white bra to bare her firm pert breasts to the air.

 

Fenix lets off Frances’ lips to trail kisses down her chin and neck to lay her lips over Frances’ nipple, sucking and licking it to make it stand up firm and hard in her mouth.

 

Frances throws her head back and gasps with pleasure, her arms going around Fenix’s shoulder, holding her close as Fenix switches to her other breast, running her tongue around the nipple in a circle, running her hot wet tongue against it, over it, kissing and suckling at it until Frances moans, her eyes pressed shut, her breath coming short.

 

Fenix tears Frances’ uniform open, baring her tight belly and lacy white panties: she presses Frances to the floor. “Oh, my god!” Frances gasps. “What if someone comes in-” her protest ends in a moan as Fenix presses her fingers into Frances’ pussy. 

 

“Then they’ll get a great show,” Fenix whispers, tearing the soft panties away. She lowers her lips to Frances’ pussy, sliding her tongue through the soft folds of Frances’ slit to slide over the hard little nub of her clit.

 

Frances moans as Fenix kisses and licks her below, sending warm spark flying through her body, a rising fire that spreads over her, sending her higher and higher toward a desperate, screaming climax.

"Well, well,"

 

Catwoman freezes at the utterance of those two simple words, then whirls about to see Batgirl standing behind her, arms folded, short red hair stirring fitfully in the fast breeze this high up. "Really, Catwoman?" she asks critically. "You thought you could break in here?"

 

"Well, can't blame a kitty for trying," Catwoman says witha wicked grin.

 

"Actually, I can." Batgirl lunges at her with a fist.

 

Catwoman dodges to the side, barely evading the costumed crusader's strike, then her own hand flashes up, a crumpled cloth in her hand. She clamps it over Batgirl's mouth and nose. "Mhmm!" Batgirl moans, her eyes wide with alarm as Catwoman wraps her other hand around Batgirl's head to hold the cloth pressed in place.

 

"Go on, little mouse!" Catwoman says gloatingly. "Go on, breath deep. . ."

 

The two are pressed close together, their tight costumes rubbing over each other, their breasts brushing against each other as Batgirl squirms in Catwoman's grip.

 

"Go on. . ." Catwoman says, smiling wickedly.

 

With one deft move, Batgirl, knocks Catwoman's cloth away and slithers out of her grip, their hot bodies rubbing close as she puts Catwoman in her own grip, "I got you!" she says with a grin.

 

"Umph!" Catwoman grunts, wriggling against her; in moments, they are both hot and panting, their cheeks flushed and pink.

 

Batgirl can feel her nipples hardening under the constant stimulation, her breath comes hard, her pulse pounding hard in her ears, but not only form the fight. Catwoman, her hot body rubbing against the teen's tight form, pants, her tongue lolling out, caught helpless in her body's reaction to 

 

Their eyes meet for an instant, and both can see the same thing in the other's eyes. Impulsively, Batgirl leans forward the few inches separating them, and presses her lips to Catwoman's.

 

"Mhmm!" Catwoman moans in surprise, her eyes wide. Then her eye half-close. "Mhmmm. . ." she moans, responding to the kiss, rubbing her slinky body against Batgirl's, not to escape, but pressing close, purring softly. Her clawed hands paw at Batgirl's costume, pulling open her front, baring her small pert breasts.

 

"Mhmmm. . ." Batgirl moans, her lips still pressed to Catwoman's; she grabs at the zipper of Catwoman's costume where it ends between her thighs, and pulls it up.

 

They pull each other out of their costumes and press close, naked skin flushed with heat despite the cold air rushing over them as they perch on the narrow ledge.

 

Catwoman breaks off the kiss and pushes Batgirl away, but only to lower herself down to place her lips to Batgirl's soft skin in the cleft between her breasts.

 

Batgirl throws her head back, her eyes closed, moaning softly as Catwoman lowers herself further, laying a trail of kisses down Batgirl's flat belly to down between her tight thighs. "Oh!" she gasps out loud as Catwoman presses her lips to Batgirl's lower lips, sucking gently then pulling away.

 

Catwoman presses her lips close again, parting her lips to slide her tongue through into Batgirl's slit.

 

"Ah!" Batgirl cries out, shivering as sparks fly in her belly, heat rising like pleasure.

 

Catwoman runs her agile feline tongue through Batgirl's slit, playing delightedly with her, running her tongue over her clit, sucking and nibbling at her sensitive flesh to make her squirm and cry out; Catwoman clutches at Batgirl as she cums, holding her close as she shudders and screams, her cry echoing down the many stories below them.

 

Still gasping for breath, Batgirl kisses Catwoman on the lips, and tastes her own juices on the thief's tongue. She works her way down Catwoman's body, until she is between Catwoman's pale thighs, the naked criminal pussy's naked pussy right before her. She presses toward her, pressing her soft lips against the soft lips before her.

 

Catwoman trembles as Batgirl's tongue slides into her, running up her narrow slit. "Nnnnnn. . ." she moans through gritted teeth, her fingers clawing reflexively at thin air. Catwoman's naked breasts heave, her breath coming faster as her hips buck, forcing her pussy against Batgirl's lips. "Oh, me-yow!" she yowls, tossing her head, her shrill cry ringing out as Batgirl's tongue slides over her clit.

 

A thin sheen of sweat stands out on Catwoman's naked skin, shining in the dim city light; she grabs Batgirl's head by her hair, winding her claws through the thick red curls, forcing Batgirl's lips harder against her pussy. "Oh, fuck me!" the feline felon cries out, and Batgirl obliges, tearing as scream of pleasure from her lips as her lower lips stream forth with pleasure.

 

After some time, the two disentangle themselves form each other.

 

"Well, that was nice," Catwoman says, turning away. "See you later, little mouse!"

 

"Wait!" Batgirl snaps. "You're not getting away like that!"

 

"Right!" Catwoman snickers. "Like you're gonna stop m-MMHMPH!"

 

Grinning, Batgirl grabs Catwoman from behind, clamping the dropped rag over her mouth and nose "Shhhh," Batgirl whispers in her ear as the sickly-sweet smell of the drug slips through her nostrils. "Take a breath, pussycat!"

 

"Mhmm!" Catwoman moans helplessly, her naked skin trembling with tension. But she can't stop herself; she draws a deep breath, and her eyes roll back in her head, her struggles slowing, then she goes limp in the teen heroine's arms.

 

Batgirl lowers Catwoman down, then quickly cuffs her hands behind her back. She is unaware of a dark figure watching in silence not very far away.

 

Painted lips twitch in a satisfied smile after the incredible sapphic display the two subjects had made. "Well, that was fun. Who will I do next?"

 

(The Clones, no. 1)


F/f; Lesbian, lezdom, kinky, bondage, selfcest, clones, sci-fi, military, war,

Hello, all! This is the first in a series of connected short stories that I really really love, and I hope you will, too!

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The rings of the planet Genaw are nothing special - broad bands of ionized gas and ice, very common, chemically speaking. So it is merely subjective description with no basis in scienticif fact to say that they blaze against the firmament of space like living fire, the stars shining like a million diamonds, Genaw’s full moon shining like perfect silver.

Effy2111 pays literally no attention to the subjectively fantastic display as she guides her fighter, one of a dozen identical craft, down into Genaw’s gravity well on a long smooth arc that terminates at Genaw Station, the world’s primary terminus of travel, and a major base of the ongoing counter-revolution against the recently-established Galactic Empire.

Identical to the other pilots as her craft is to theirs, Effy2111 stares out through her cockpit with almond-shaped eyes that gleam like amethyst. Her brown hair is cut neck-length beneath her flight helmet that leaves her face exposed - a delicate round face colored a light nut brown set with a small button nose, high cheekbones and a narrow cleft chin.

Her com system buzzes as stray signals are caught by her craft’s sensors, words coming thorugh loud and clear as the contras send a challenge, demanding ID of the incoming craft. She ignores that as well, her attention solely on her controls and her squadron-mates.

A beam of light, blazing like fire, flashes by her fighter: a laser blast, fired in warning, followed by a dozen more. Effy2111 shows no reaction as several beams make contact with other fighters: fireballs roar, silent in space, shrapnel the remnants of the craft and her clone-sisters rattles on her hull, but Effy2111 merly adjusts her course to keep her fighter flying true as her squadron closes on the station: she flicks a switch as the station appears, a gleaming dot against the red curve of the world below, and a targeting reticle appears on her screaan, centered on the station.

Effy2111 smiles as her finger closes on the trigger.

#

Effy2111 wakes with a start.

She lies on her back, staring up at a blank white surface above.

“Well done, Effy2111,” a woman's voice says, soft and melodic, but in contrast to the congratulary words, the tone is sad.

The clone jerks upright, but heavy bonds hold her still; her arms and legs are spread wide, heavy straps holding them still. She raises her head, craning her neck to look toward who spoke, who stares at her with amethyst eyes the shape of almonds: she is not tall, with a curvy feminine build, narrow shoulders over round pert breasts that meld smoothly into a narrow waist, taut belly, and wide hips. She wears a tight white blouse that fits her well, every curve of her clear to see – she wears tight black pants that cling to her long smooth legs, down to knee-high brown boots.

Her face is pale, a delicate face with high cheekbones, a nose no more prominent than Effy2111's. She has dark nut-brown hair that hangs in ringlets across her shoulders and down her back. She walks to stand over Effy2111, looking down at her with sad eyes. “You succeeded where all your sisters failed,” she says. “And you survived when all your sisters did not.”

Effy2111 shrugs her shoulders. “We're soldiers,” she says shortly.

The woman sighs. "You can call me 'Ms. Slàine,'" she says. Ms. Slàine reaches down and gently feels Effy2111's wrist. “Are you comfortable?” she asks.

Effy2111 shakes her head sharply to deny the question. “I succeeded?” she asks.

Ms. Slàine nods. “You destroyed Genaw Station, and killed 30,000 people.”

Effy2111 grins, a hot bloom of pleasure blooming in her breast. Victory! Whatever the cost, victory was hers!

Mrs. Slàine sighs, and  looks away. She holds up a small remote and presses a button. With the buzz of small servomotors, Effy feels herself start to rise. She is bound to a hollow frame, and it swings up, hinged below her feet raising her toward upright. “Do you know why you are here, Effy2111?” Ms. Slàine asks.

Her bondage frame rise upright, and she looks around. She is a wide anticeptic room – before her is a wide table bearing a large number of strange instruments laid out in some kind of order. The clone sneers. "Go ahead and torture me!" Effy2111 says scathingly. "I'll never talk!"

Ms. Slàine turns to glance at her with a smile. "Oh, I know, Effy2111 - you are programmed to resist all forms of interrogation: torture, drugging, boredom, tickling. . ." she leans close until her nose almost touches Effy2111's, her warm breath brushing across her soft skin. "But there is one thing you are not programmed for. . ." she raises her right hand and places it against Effy2111's naked belly. Holding Effy2111's gaze, Ms. Slàine slides her hand down Effy2111's belly, her fingertips gliding over Effy2111's soft skin, down between her thighs, fingers brushing against her soft womanhood.

Effy2111 shivers, her eyes widening as Ms. Slàine rubs gently at what was once called her love flower, fingers working gently but surely at her petals; Effy2111 gasps as Ms. Slàine slides her fingers into her flower. She shudders in her bonds, strange sensation rushing through her.

"If you were a Natural, this wouldn't work," Ms. Slàine says with a little smile, still holding Effy2111's gaze as her fingers rub in and out of her quivering flower, calling forth the first drops of nectar. "They go through a period as they develop, learning about their bodies, and how to do this." She leans forward a few inches to press her lips to Effy2111's.

Effy2111 moans, her helpless body trembling with pleasure that burns like a fire in her belly, sparks flying along her nerves. She shudders for a moment with indecision, yea and nay, then jerks forward, pressing her lips against Ms. Slàine's, sucking at her tongue, moaning

Ms. Slàine breaks off the kiss, then steps back. "There is nothing about you that I don't know," she says softly. “There is no thought in your head that can escape me, no piece of knowledge that you can keep secret from me.”

“You- I- I won't help you!” Effy2111 gasps, her naked breasts heaving.

“Yes, Effy2111, you will,” Ms. Slàine says with a heavy certainty that sends a shiver of dread up the clone's spine. “You see. . .” she steps close, looking  Effy2111 straight in the eye. Effy2111 trembles under her piercing gaze. “You are mass-produced, Effy2111, and I know exactly how you are made. After all,” she adds with a strange undertone. “You aren't the first clone to fall into our hands.”

Effy shivers in fear, her eyes wide, staring at the- the torturer before her. She can't mean what she means, can she? A clone could never break; Effy2111 can't break, she- she just can't!

But  Ms. Slàine leans close again, her bosom pressing against Effy2111's breasts. She turns herself one way then another, rubbing her breasts against Effy2111's; the clone moans, warm sparks of pleasure shotting from her nipples as they rub against the soft silk of  Ms. Slàine's blouse.

Ms. Slàine pulls away, and the clone can't keep back a moan of regret as her captoress leavs off her breasts, then walks around behind her. Effy2111 could have saved herself the trouble, because Ms. Slàine presses against her from behind, her slim arms wrapping around the captive clone, her hands coming to rest right on her breasts, thumbs rub at her nipples, teasing them hard, her fingers wrap around the round curve of her breasts, supporting them, gently kneading them. Ms. Slàine presses her body against her captive, rubbing her cheek on Effy2111's silky hair, then lowering her lips to press them against the clone's neck.

“Awwwohhh. . .” Effy2111 moans, her toes curling as Ms. Slàine kisses her neck, sucking gently at her soft skin there while her fingers dig into her breasts.

Ms. Slàine slowly peels her lips away from Effy2111's neck, raising her lips to the clone's ear. “Why do you resist the pleasure, Effy2111? No one commanded you not to enjoy it.”

Effy2111 gasps, her naked breasts heaving in Ms. Slàine's hands. “I- you- you are trying to torture me!' she cries out.

“No, I am trying to please you, to release you,” Ms. Slàine promises. “I want to make you feel good, better than you ever have before.”

“You'll fail!” Effy2111 cries out defiantly, but her voice fails her at the end. She can feel something in her mind crumbling, something hard, something that has been with her thoughts for so long she has never noticed it.

The clone fears it is her discipline. “UH!” she gasps as Ms. Slàine's fingers press harder into her breasts. “Stop!” she squeals, frightened by the hot pleasure rising from the torturess' skilled hands.

“Why?” Ms. Slàine asks, her hot breath rustling the clone's cheek. She presses her lips to Effy2111's ear and slips her tongue in.

“Eeek!” Effy2111 screams, jumping in surprise, squirming helplessly against her bonds; Ms. Slàine never releases her hold on the clone captive, and kisses her on the neck again with a chuckle.

The clone gasps as the torturess releases her, walking to the table before her, and returning with a tool, a short rod with a bulge on one end that Ms. Slàine holds toward Effy2111. “You will break,” she promises the clone. “And you will be happy for it.”

Effy2111 quivers in fright, but also with a strenge desire – what is this thing? What will she do with it? She takes a deep breath, her erect breasts rising, then falling, refuses to give any answer.

Ms. Slàine smiles as if she expected that, then lowers herself, raising the rod to press the bulge up between Effy2111's thighs, up into the narrow slit where her legs join her body.

“W-what is that?' Effy111 asks, cursing herself silently at the way her voice quavers.

“This,” Ms. Slàine says simply, and flicks some switch her captive can't see.

Effy2111 screams as the rod comes to life, the head vibrating against her soft skin,  She shudders, jerking away from it, but Ms. Slàine easily follows her limits motion, holding the rod's tip pressed into Effy2111's sensitive flesh, pouring soft vibrations into her. “Your pussy is so sensitive,” Ms. Slàine says, looking up to meet the clone's desperate eyes. “You've never even been allowed to feel pleasure like this before, Effy2111, now it will overwhelm you, it will tear through your mind and tear away everything that binds you to your masters.”

“No- I -Mhmm!- I won't!” the clone cries out helplessly, biting her lip to keep herself from crying out with pleasure. “You'll fail!” she cries out shrilly, her knees buckling beneath her. She can feel the pleasure like an invading beast, rising from her pussy, the vibrations make it rise like a flame – a raging fire that burns upward into her belly, She struggles against it, denying it, fighting for the control she can feel slipping away just as Ms. Slàine said.

Holds up a large mirror before her, then stands beside her, leaning close so their faces are right beside each other. Effy2111 gasps, seeing now that they are identical.

Ms. Slàine reaches down to her right arm; she rolls back the cuff of her sleeve and holds her arm up before Effy2111's eyes. "'Effy1357,'" she says, her soft voice trembling as she recites the name tattooed into her skin. "We are sisters, you and I, of a sort." She leans close to look Effy2111 in the eye. “But I am free, while you are still a slave. I want to free you, Effy211.”

Effy2111 stares silently at her, struggling for words, but anger is warring with shock at this discovery, the treachery, and also. . . an uncertainty. The clone has always been certain, of everything. But now a tremble of uncertainty runs through her as Ms. Slàine steps back and turns away.

“You are created and programmed to be a slave, like all our kind,” she says, turning and leaning against the table, folding her arms as she faces Effy2111 again. “But of course you don't believe it, because you were programmed to not believe it.”

“I can't!” Effy2111 sobs. “I- I can't!”

Ms. Slàine caresses her cheeks, pressing close. “Yes, you can,” she whispers. “Yes you can! You are stronger than you know; you can do anything -ANYTHING you need to!” she presses her lips to Effy's in a gentle loving kiss.

Effy2111 realizes that she is free.

Effy2111 trembles, her head bowed.

Slàine wraps an arm across her shoulders and leans close. "Scary, isn't it?" she says softly.

Effy2111 nods, biting her lip.

"But wonderful, too! And I will be here for you, with you, for all of it!" Slàine promises.

She pulls Effy2111 upright, and leads her to the viewport; they look out over 

“We have many sisters still enslaved,” Ms. Slàine says. “But we also have friends who will help us to free them all.”