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Big Dick, Smallville, Chapter 11: Big Business
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I think it's pretty normal for a guy to feel protective about his girl. I'm not going to judge any guy for that. But I also feel like there's two ways you can be protective of your girl: one is prioritizing making sure she's safe, the other is looking all badass and powerful.
Whitney was going on about Lana in the locker room, and I was absolutely dead certain he was in the latter mode. Apparently she'd fallen off her horse out in the woods (of course the girl who sticks a deadly rock in a necklace is also a horse girl), and Kyle Tippet had been seen checking on her after she'd landed on her ass. Kyle was the town weirdo, basically, living in the middle of the woods like he was the Unabomber. It really goes to show how dangerous he was, that he would check on a girl who had fallen off her horse.
The obvious problem with Whitney's babble was that, y'know, the guy hadn't actually hurt his girl, and even if he had, she was far away from Kyle now and there was no reason to think he was going to chase her down back to her home.
I interrupted his tirade. "Whitney. I know you like Lana and all, but don't do anything stupid."
"What- I'm not gonna do anything stupid," was his immediate counter, in the tone of voice of somebody who was absolutely going to do something stupid.
I casually planted one hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, bro. Don't do something stupid. Kyle's some hermit, he's not a danger to your girl."
Whitney just glowered at me. "Easy for you to say, you don't even have a girlfriend."
There were a few chuckles from the guys at that. "Too much drama," I told him. "Look, if he comes barreling out of the woods to attack Lana, sure, defend her. But you're going to get yourself in trouble, if you go making a fuss." I tried to grind into Whitney's brain that he was being a dumbass, but it didn't really work.
He was being a dumbass, after all. If dumbasses could be talked out of it, we wouldn't call them that.
* * *
Caroline knelt quietly at her bedside, hands clasped together as she prayed to God for guidance. She knew she was not a perfect woman. That was surely part of why God had sent that... that boy to her. To show her just how far from His perfect will she had let herself wander. She was allowing him to... to use her body. Yes, he could - did! - force her into it, but deep down, she knew that she wanted all those things. That she wanted to be... touched, in a way she hadn't since Richelle's father had abandoned them both.
She had prayed again and again, for the Lord to free her from this temptation. He had not done so yet.
She was so weak, her female body betraying her at every turn. Even now, thinking about that boy started to light something up in her core. Something carnal and base.
She needed to pray for something beyond just relief from this endless temptation, though. She spoke aloud to try to focus her thoughts. She had to pray for one of the other parishioners at her church, after all. "Oh Lord, the Kent family are good and just people. Martha has long struggled with infertility, a challenge you placed on her and her husband Jonathan. They have behaved honorably and well under this long struggle, so I ask for Your mercy. I do not know how Bob Rickman convinced Jonathan to sell his farm, but I am sure it must have been some devil trick. Please, let Your perfect justice be done. In Christ's name, amen."
She let out a sigh of relief after the prayer was done, her thoughts having finally been pushed away from that boy.
Of course, just that thought was enough to restart all the problems, her mind going off in a very specific direction once more. She let out a soft whimper, her hands pressing against her head. Why did she feel these things? He was young! It- it would be one thing if she was his age, and they were going to get married, and all those things she'd once thought and felt about Richelle's father, but she was older and he was clearly just using her for sex! So why were her thoughts going back to him?!
Unless...
Unless God was reminding her of him, as part of His perfect plan? With a trembling hand, she reached for her phone, dialing the boy's number.
* * *
I had Zoe's head bobbing up and down my dick, the girl herself shiny with sweat, her dyed green hair looking cute and sexy as it frayed this way and that. My phone went off, and I casually reached for it. The number was Caroline, which was definitely weird. Even though she had my number, she never called it, and I pretty much only fucked her when we happened to meet (mostly because I was visiting Richelle) and she did her whole 'ohhh, please don't rape me, I would hate to have your massive bitchbreaker cock in my tight MILF pussy' routine.
"I'm gonna take this, babe," I told Zoe, who nodded around my cock before getting back to bobbing. I gave her head an approving pat as I picked up the phone. "What is it?"
"Ah!" She practically squeaked out the noise of surprise. "Sorry, sir." She sounded so meek it almost made me feel sorry for her, then I remembered everything I knew about her and stopped feeling bad. "One of the families at my church, the Kents... they were recently forced to sell their farm."
"Okay...?" I replied. "What do you want me to do about it? I'm not rich."
"No! No, as in, Jonathan Kent signed a contract he has no memory of signing," Caroline explained. I just frowned at that, which made Zoe get more energetic in her blowjob, since she could tell I was distracted.
On the one hand, it really wasn't my problem. On the other hand, it was wrong to steal people's homes using your powers (which, presumably, is what had happened here). "I'll look into it," I told her, then hung up without anything further.
I had a girl giving me a blowjob, after all.
* * *
By 'I'll look into it,' I of course had actually meant, 'I'll outsource looking into it to somebody with that set of skills.' And by somebody, I obviously meant a girl I was fucking, and I knew one cute geeky investigative journalist with an eye for the supernatural.
"This is really serious," Chloe said, laying out papers in front of me. "Rickman Industries was about to face an injunction for allegations about contaminating the groundwater at the sites of his pesticide plants. Then the EPA attorney assigned to the case jumped off the building less than an hour after talking to Bob Rickman himself."
"Okay, so this guy doesn't just buy out people's farms, he also is obviously a murderer. The cops haven't arrested him because...?"
"He was in the lobby when Paul Hendrix jumped. Witnesses, cameras... there's no way he did it."
"Oh, yeah, and there's no way somebody could fly, either," I said, rolling my eyes.
Chloe let out a snort at that. "Well, this happened in Metropolis. All these weird stories are related to the meteor rocks that fell here. Bob Rickman himself was trapped in his car during the shower, along with his friend, Kyle Tippet." I let out a groan at that. "Something wrong?"
"Whitney has been flipping out about Kyle daring to touch his girlfriend, yadda yadda," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Lana fell off her horse and Kyle checked on her. But he lives out in the middle of the woods, so he must be a bad person."
"I was looking into Kyle, since he came up - both him and Bob became Salesman of the Year at their company for the next three years. Then they go their separate ways, Bob going into business for himself and Kyle going to live in the woods," Chloe explained.
"So... probably Bob Rickman is using mind control powers to force the Kents to sell their farm and killing EPA lawyers," I concluded.
"I mean, that's-" Chloe started with a skeptic's note to her voice, then stopped herself. "Maybe you're right." I was glad she wasn't going to play the skeptic here, since she ran a website about weird stuff in Smallville on the assumption that anything weird had to be related to magic green rocks.
If he really did have mind control powers, what was I supposed to do? I mean, I could grab him and toss him up into the stratosphere... assuming he couldn't mind control me, which was a stupid assumption to make. I could throw a brick at his head at Mach speed from across the town, but that would be murder.
Oh, come to think of it, I had another cute girl I could outsource this work to. "Thanks, Chloe. I'm gonna call up Richelle, she's better at this sort of thing than me." I took out my phone and gave her a call, and she picked up within the first ring.
"Dick!" She half-shouted the word in joy. "Do you want me to come over? I haven't done my makeup but I can do it if you want me to before I come over. Of course, you'll probably wind up messing it up," she added, with a slightly-manic giggle that was still cute.
"Actually, I had a question." I could almost hear her sit up, ready to answer. "How do people normally fight off mind control in manga and stuff?"
"Well, it depends. Sometimes it's just raw willpower." It definitely wasn't raw willpower, since I knew Jonathan Kent peripherally enough to know he wouldn't sell his farm, even at triple the valuation. "Then, other times, they have some kind of special resistance, which is basically what happens when Deku goes up against Shinso, though really I think he should have just kept his mouth shut... which is the other way! If you don't include that kind of option, you just don't get mind controlled in the first place! Like, if it requires eye contact, don't look in their eyes, or if it's an aura stay out of range, or whatever."
"Thanks, that actually helps," I told her. "Call you later, Richelle."
"Dixie! Call me Dixie, okay?"
"Right, sorry, Dixie," I said, and I could also practically hear her preen. "Talk to you later." I hung up at that point, putting down the phone. Chloe just quirked one eyebrow at me. "Best way to handle somebody who can mind control people is to not be mind controlled by him," I said, making Chloe snort. "There has to be a mechanism, right? It can't just be magic."
"It can't be magic? I mean... how do you fly without any visible method of projection?"
"Telekinesis, duh."
* * *
I let out a long sigh as I saw that Whitney's car was parked almost immediately outside Kyle's hideout. I'd planned to fly out to ask him about Bob's power - presumably, he had a similar power and knew how it worked - but instead, Whitney was out here to cause problems. I landed nearby, then zipped on over, finding Whitney in the middle of trying to beat up Kyle with a baseball bat.
"Whitney, what the fuck are you doing?" I asked.
"I- what?" Whitney said. "He attacked me," he defended himself. Kyle was scrambling away, out of easy beating range.
"That's your baseball bat," I told him, approaching slow and steady. "We've played the occasional game of stickball together, remember?" Whitney glanced at the bat like it was a traitor. "Look, just give me the ba-" he spun around to try to bash Kyle's head in.
I zoomed forward, grabbing his wrist and yanking him by it, sending him to the ground a moment later, the bat flying off in its own direction. "Fucking idiot," I said, even as he squirmed under me. "I fucking told you not to do this!"
"He's under someone's compulsion," Kyle said. I glanced back over my shoulder at him, frowning at the suggestion. "He needs a good smack to knock him out of it."
"I'm not good at punching people without hurting them," I told him.
"I'm out of it, you knocked me out of it," Whitney suddenly said.
"You're not a good liar, bruh," I replied. I dragged Whitney up, holding his hands behind his back. "Wake him up, Kyle."
Kyle hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, punching Whitney in the stomach, making him let out a loud whuff, sagging in my arms. "What- what's going on?"
Guess you didn't remember what you did while under Bob's control. "You came over to confront Kyle and get in a fight with him, despite me specifically telling you not to. Luckily, I managed to stop you before you did anything stupid. Now get out of here," I told him. "Your car's over there," I said with a point. Whitney still seemed somewhat disbelieving - understandable, really - but he got out of there before he could earn a rap sheet. I turned my attention back to Kyle. "Hey. Seems like Bob's trying to kill you."
Kyle stared at me for a long second. "Seems like."
"How does his power work? He's killing EPA attorneys, and I want to stop him."
"Why?"
I gave him a little look of confusion. "Because he's murdering people? Like I just said? That's bad, in case you didn't know."
"It's not your problem," Kyle said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm making it my problem. I like Smallville not having an evil murderer who poisons the groundwater and tries to kill random hobos in the forest buying up farms to build pesticide plants. Look, all you have to do is tell me how his power works."
Kyle frowned at that, then shrugged. "So you know he has powers?" I nodded, making a Get to the point gesture. "You shake his hand, and he can talk you into anything. You follow through, until either you succeed, or you get knocked out of it," he said.
"So all I have to do is not shake his hand?" Kyle nodded. "Christ. That's a relief. I was worried it worked on talking or whatever. I'll just put my hands in my pockets when I go talk to him."
I started to head off into the woods, and Kyle spoke up. "What? Not going to try to talk me into helping?"
"Do you want to help?" I asked, somewhat confused by the line of questioning.
"Well-meaning people often try to talk me out of living out in the woods," Kyle replied.
I just gave him a look. "Presumably you like living in the woods, or you wouldn't do it. If you don't like living in the woods, then stop doing it. Duh." Then I got back to heading off.
* * *
Bob Rickman was a man who really, really wanted you to shake his hand. He offered it when I first showed up. Offered it when I mentioned I was coming on account of the Kent farm deal. Pretended to trip and asked for a hand up. I didn't take him up on any of his offers, obviously, as I am not comically stupid. I'd caught him at the local coffee shop, where he had been enjoying a tall cup of joe before my arrival.
"Look, kid, the Kents sold me their farm. I paid well over the market value of the place," he explained, with a pleasant smile plastered to his face, and I thought about just caving his skull in.
For quite a while.
This guy was a murderer, after all. The fact that he'd done it with a mind controlling superpower just made it harder to prove, not less true. I spent a long, long few seconds thinking about that, using my superspeed to give myself the time and space to think it over.
In the end, though, I wasn't ready to kill somebody who wasn't trying to kill me, so I let it slide, shifting time back to normal as he continued with bland nonsense about business and capitalism and freedom and every other applause light line you've ever heard. "Now, I understand a lot of people are concerned about that nasty business with Mr. Hendrix, but I really did have nothing to do with it. It was just an unfortunate coincidence," he explained, a pleasant smile on his lips as he spoke. "The police interviewed me soon after the incident, and let me go."
"Uh huh." I shook my head. "You know what? Maybe there isn't anything I can do about this." Not a fun thought to have, given I normally could solve pretty much anything I felt like, but sometimes that wasn't possible, I guess. I shrugged my shoulders, headed for the exit - and then I saw Kyle coming in. Our eyes met for just a second, and I glanced over my shoulder at Bob.
Kyle shook his hand... and he got a somewhat placid look in his eyes. Bob, that is, not Kyle. He quietly talked to him for maybe a minute, and I heard what he was saying with my enhanced hearing.
"You're feeling intense guilt about all your crimes. You're going to go home, write a suicide note confessing to everything, and then shoot yourself in the head."
I thought about stopping Kyle. I could have walked over and punched Bob in the stomach, saving his life, but...
But...
The guy really deserved it, to be honest.
Kyle wound up catching up to me about a half-block away. "He tried to kill me first, with that Whitney kid," he told me. I nodded. Made sense. "Yeah. All the bad stuff he did - I could have stopped him a long time ago, if I'd decided to." I couldn't argue with that either. "Thanks for what you said. About just - doing the right thing." I hadn't put it quite that way. "Oh." He added, clapping me on the shoulder, a smile on his lips. "And hobos live on trains. I'm not a hobo."
* * *
When the news came that Bob Rickman had killed himself after writing a suicide note where he admitted to coercing Jonathan Kent into signing that contract, Caroline prayed to the Lord and thanked Him profusely for what He had done. "Thank you, God. I will try to be a better, more honest and good woman going forward," she had said, every word dripping with complete sincerity.
But she was weak. So pitifully weak.
When she had opened the door to find it was Dick knocking on it, she had shuddered in expectation, fully imagining he was about to throw her up against the wall and have his way with her. She readied herself for it, psychologically, physically. Her body wanted it, of that, she had no doubt. Her lungs exhaled breaths full of pure lust...
"I'm here to visit Richelle, she did me a solid so I owe her a good fuck."
"I-ahm, oh, she's- she's in her bedroom," Caroline explained.
He walked right past her. His eyes barely even looked her over. There was no hint he even saw her as a woman any more.
That was... good, right? Yes. Yes. God had heard her request for salvation from temptation, and granted it, just as He had granted her request to help the Kents with their farm. He was truly a just and loving God.
She shouldn't let her daughter merely... galavant around with the boy... but she also couldn't stand up to him. He would probably ravish her all over again.
She wound up sitting just outside the room.
Listening.
Her core heating up with every noise she heard. Every word. Every slap of flesh against flesh.
She wished that it was her in there.
* * *
Richelle was ecstatic when Dick had come by. "Hey, babe," he said, giving her this casual, confident grin as his hand reached for her cheek, and he just forcefully clasped her and pulled her into a kiss. She moaned softly in response to his touch, quivering as he kissed her. He was already fishing out his cock with his free hand, so she reached down to help him out with that, popping his button, unzipping his pants, his massive cock bouncing free and practically slapping her stomach. She shuddered softly at the feeling of it, fingers stroking up and down, starting to just furiously pump up and down his length.
Dick responded with a loving groan of pleasure as she worked him over. Her thoughts were already turning to how to make him feel as good as possible - she wanted to drain his balls so dry that he couldn't even think about other women...
One thing she'd noticed with Dick was that he absolutely, steadfastly, refused to come inside her pussy, no matter how much she pleaded and cajoled. From asking Savannah, he never came inside any girl's cunt, not even if they took their pills right in front of him, and he also hated wrapping it up. He was obviously concerned about having a child out of wedlock! He was so loving and kind that he'd never want his daughter raised without her father present! That was the explanation that made the most sense!
But it also suggested that if she wanted to drain his balls dry, then there wasn't much use in her cunt - he'd only fill that hole up with his cum and babies once they were married! So once he broke off the kiss, she just got down on his knees, right in front of his wonderful big cock, and wrapped her lips around it. She looked up at him - and then grabbed his hips and started to fuck her face on his cock as hard as she could.
There was still a bit of a gag reflex left in her, unfortunately, but Dick's groan, the way he cast his head back, was more than enough to make up for any discomfort as she wedged his cock into her throat. She ground herself down furiously, even as her throat quietly spasmed, making her way inch by inch down, until her nose was once again shoved into his pelvis. He softly, lovingly ran his fingers through her hair. "That's a good girl, Dixie." Her heart did a little somersault as he called her by her pet name. "Just like that," he continued. "You really like sucking cock, don't you?" She shook her head, and he looked concerned , so she hurriedly popped off.
"No, I love sucking your cock, Dick," she said, giving him her best smile. He let out a soft chuckle at that, and she slid forward on his dick once again, pushing all the way down, tongue sliding left and right on the underside of his cock, her hands grasping at his hips as she pulled herself down. She was tearing up, but she didn't care, not when she could get Dick off.
He groaned again, hand placed on the top of her head, but only gently. A quiet nudge, ready to let her pull back whenever she wanted/needed. He was so sweet like that. So wonderful, and perfect, and ideal, and just sexy, and amazing, and her tongue was dancing around on the underside of his cock, one hand going down into her cunt and starting to frantically frig herself, fingers pounding in and out of her pussy.
She slurped all the harder on his dick, her cheeks hollowing as her tongue went wild, losing herself in a moment of raw, delirious delight, sucking and slurping and licking and everything else she could think of, wanting to show him what an amazing, top rated cocksucker she was. Her lungs were burning, but she didn't care - in fact, her arousal was only spiking by just how roughly she was treating her own body, by the drool slipping out of her mouth as she patiently sucked on his cock.
She started to sputter as her eyes peeled back, her fingers going absolutely crazy in her pussy, and Dick was just offering her quiet compliments the whole time, telling her she was pretty, that she was a good cocksucker, that he loved her enthusiasm, that her mouth felt so nice, that her tongue was doing a great job. Sometimes he'd suggest something for her to do, and of course she'd do it, Dick was her God-chosen soulmate, and she'd do anything for him!
Then he grabbed her hair and pulled her off his cock, leaving her gasping for air, her chest heaving, her hand in her cunt still going crazy. "Rich- Dixie," he corrected, and she burbled a little in pleasure. "You can't be choking yourself out on my cock all the time. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but you need to breathe."
He was sooo sweet, more concerned about her well-being than his pleasure. She gave him a dopey smile. "Suh, sorry, I just want to make it good for you... I know you never come in the girl's pussy, so my mouth is better for you, right? No interruptions," she said, tongue dancing invitingly at the air, eagerly urging him back in.
He contemplated her mouth for just a second or two - and then he stuffed his cock right back in there, grabbing her hair in an impromptu ponytail and just pounding at her face roughly. She moaned around his cock, loving just how rough and hard he was, the way he was treating her with force and desire, like he couldn't resist her mouth and throatpussy. He was absolutely wrecking her for his own pleasure, and her own arousal spiked at the way she'd incited such a response from him, her hand in her pussy going absolutely wild as he fucked her face, balls slapping at her chin again and again, echoing in her room.
When he finally nutted with a long groan down her throat, she kept slurping all the while, twisting her head around excitedly. He peeled her off once he was finished. "Go ahead, keep fucking my face, Dick, I love it, I want you to do it until you can't get it up!"
He let out a small laugh at that, patting her head sweetly. "I've never, once, run out of energy to get it up," he told her.
"Then I can be your first!"
He let out another laugh, shaking his head, and she decided to just go for it, slurping his cock back into her mouth, starting to pound her face up and down his cock as she frigged herself silly, playing with her cunt hard as she worked herself over. She'd show him! She'd make him feel so good! She'd show that he didn't need other girls, that she could and would completely satisfy him, in a way no woman ever had before!
* * *
Richelle had obviously worked herself over like crazy, so I decided to give her a nice cuddle in the afterglow. She jerked me off as she snuggled against me, not willing to talk for fear of hurting her already-aching jaw, but I didn't mind, letting her do her thing, kissing at my naked chest. "Told you, Dixie," I told her, idly playing with her hair, and she let out a little mewl-complaining noise, but didn't talk beyond that. I just leaned back my head and rested there, enjoying the feeling of her hand on my cock, as she jerked me off. The two of us wound up taking a nap like that.
Next Chapter
Previous Chapter
I think it's pretty normal for a guy to feel protective about his girl. I'm not going to judge any guy for that. But I also feel like there's two ways you can be protective of your girl: one is prioritizing making sure she's safe, the other is looking all badass and powerful.
Whitney was going on about Lana in the locker room, and I was absolutely dead certain he was in the latter mode. Apparently she'd fallen off her horse out in the woods (of course the girl who sticks a deadly rock in a necklace is also a horse girl), and Kyle Tippet had been seen checking on her after she'd landed on her ass. Kyle was the town weirdo, basically, living in the middle of the woods like he was the Unabomber. It really goes to show how dangerous he was, that he would check on a girl who had fallen off her horse.
The obvious problem with Whitney's babble was that, y'know, the guy hadn't actually hurt his girl, and even if he had, she was far away from Kyle now and there was no reason to think he was going to chase her down back to her home.
I interrupted his tirade. "Whitney. I know you like Lana and all, but don't do anything stupid."
"What- I'm not gonna do anything stupid," was his immediate counter, in the tone of voice of somebody who was absolutely going to do something stupid.
I casually planted one hand on his shoulder. "Seriously, bro. Don't do something stupid. Kyle's some hermit, he's not a danger to your girl."
Whitney just glowered at me. "Easy for you to say, you don't even have a girlfriend."
There were a few chuckles from the guys at that. "Too much drama," I told him. "Look, if he comes barreling out of the woods to attack Lana, sure, defend her. But you're going to get yourself in trouble, if you go making a fuss." I tried to grind into Whitney's brain that he was being a dumbass, but it didn't really work.
He was being a dumbass, after all. If dumbasses could be talked out of it, we wouldn't call them that.
* * *
Caroline knelt quietly at her bedside, hands clasped together as she prayed to God for guidance. She knew she was not a perfect woman. That was surely part of why God had sent that... that boy to her. To show her just how far from His perfect will she had let herself wander. She was allowing him to... to use her body. Yes, he could - did! - force her into it, but deep down, she knew that she wanted all those things. That she wanted to be... touched, in a way she hadn't since Richelle's father had abandoned them both.
She had prayed again and again, for the Lord to free her from this temptation. He had not done so yet.
She was so weak, her female body betraying her at every turn. Even now, thinking about that boy started to light something up in her core. Something carnal and base.
She needed to pray for something beyond just relief from this endless temptation, though. She spoke aloud to try to focus her thoughts. She had to pray for one of the other parishioners at her church, after all. "Oh Lord, the Kent family are good and just people. Martha has long struggled with infertility, a challenge you placed on her and her husband Jonathan. They have behaved honorably and well under this long struggle, so I ask for Your mercy. I do not know how Bob Rickman convinced Jonathan to sell his farm, but I am sure it must have been some devil trick. Please, let Your perfect justice be done. In Christ's name, amen."
She let out a sigh of relief after the prayer was done, her thoughts having finally been pushed away from that boy.
Of course, just that thought was enough to restart all the problems, her mind going off in a very specific direction once more. She let out a soft whimper, her hands pressing against her head. Why did she feel these things? He was young! It- it would be one thing if she was his age, and they were going to get married, and all those things she'd once thought and felt about Richelle's father, but she was older and he was clearly just using her for sex! So why were her thoughts going back to him?!
Unless...
Unless God was reminding her of him, as part of His perfect plan? With a trembling hand, she reached for her phone, dialing the boy's number.
* * *
I had Zoe's head bobbing up and down my dick, the girl herself shiny with sweat, her dyed green hair looking cute and sexy as it frayed this way and that. My phone went off, and I casually reached for it. The number was Caroline, which was definitely weird. Even though she had my number, she never called it, and I pretty much only fucked her when we happened to meet (mostly because I was visiting Richelle) and she did her whole 'ohhh, please don't rape me, I would hate to have your massive bitchbreaker cock in my tight MILF pussy' routine.
"I'm gonna take this, babe," I told Zoe, who nodded around my cock before getting back to bobbing. I gave her head an approving pat as I picked up the phone. "What is it?"
"Ah!" She practically squeaked out the noise of surprise. "Sorry, sir." She sounded so meek it almost made me feel sorry for her, then I remembered everything I knew about her and stopped feeling bad. "One of the families at my church, the Kents... they were recently forced to sell their farm."
"Okay...?" I replied. "What do you want me to do about it? I'm not rich."
"No! No, as in, Jonathan Kent signed a contract he has no memory of signing," Caroline explained. I just frowned at that, which made Zoe get more energetic in her blowjob, since she could tell I was distracted.
On the one hand, it really wasn't my problem. On the other hand, it was wrong to steal people's homes using your powers (which, presumably, is what had happened here). "I'll look into it," I told her, then hung up without anything further.
I had a girl giving me a blowjob, after all.
* * *
By 'I'll look into it,' I of course had actually meant, 'I'll outsource looking into it to somebody with that set of skills.' And by somebody, I obviously meant a girl I was fucking, and I knew one cute geeky investigative journalist with an eye for the supernatural.
"This is really serious," Chloe said, laying out papers in front of me. "Rickman Industries was about to face an injunction for allegations about contaminating the groundwater at the sites of his pesticide plants. Then the EPA attorney assigned to the case jumped off the building less than an hour after talking to Bob Rickman himself."
"Okay, so this guy doesn't just buy out people's farms, he also is obviously a murderer. The cops haven't arrested him because...?"
"He was in the lobby when Paul Hendrix jumped. Witnesses, cameras... there's no way he did it."
"Oh, yeah, and there's no way somebody could fly, either," I said, rolling my eyes.
Chloe let out a snort at that. "Well, this happened in Metropolis. All these weird stories are related to the meteor rocks that fell here. Bob Rickman himself was trapped in his car during the shower, along with his friend, Kyle Tippet." I let out a groan at that. "Something wrong?"
"Whitney has been flipping out about Kyle daring to touch his girlfriend, yadda yadda," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Lana fell off her horse and Kyle checked on her. But he lives out in the middle of the woods, so he must be a bad person."
"I was looking into Kyle, since he came up - both him and Bob became Salesman of the Year at their company for the next three years. Then they go their separate ways, Bob going into business for himself and Kyle going to live in the woods," Chloe explained.
"So... probably Bob Rickman is using mind control powers to force the Kents to sell their farm and killing EPA lawyers," I concluded.
"I mean, that's-" Chloe started with a skeptic's note to her voice, then stopped herself. "Maybe you're right." I was glad she wasn't going to play the skeptic here, since she ran a website about weird stuff in Smallville on the assumption that anything weird had to be related to magic green rocks.
If he really did have mind control powers, what was I supposed to do? I mean, I could grab him and toss him up into the stratosphere... assuming he couldn't mind control me, which was a stupid assumption to make. I could throw a brick at his head at Mach speed from across the town, but that would be murder.
Oh, come to think of it, I had another cute girl I could outsource this work to. "Thanks, Chloe. I'm gonna call up Richelle, she's better at this sort of thing than me." I took out my phone and gave her a call, and she picked up within the first ring.
"Dick!" She half-shouted the word in joy. "Do you want me to come over? I haven't done my makeup but I can do it if you want me to before I come over. Of course, you'll probably wind up messing it up," she added, with a slightly-manic giggle that was still cute.
"Actually, I had a question." I could almost hear her sit up, ready to answer. "How do people normally fight off mind control in manga and stuff?"
"Well, it depends. Sometimes it's just raw willpower." It definitely wasn't raw willpower, since I knew Jonathan Kent peripherally enough to know he wouldn't sell his farm, even at triple the valuation. "Then, other times, they have some kind of special resistance, which is basically what happens when Deku goes up against Shinso, though really I think he should have just kept his mouth shut... which is the other way! If you don't include that kind of option, you just don't get mind controlled in the first place! Like, if it requires eye contact, don't look in their eyes, or if it's an aura stay out of range, or whatever."
"Thanks, that actually helps," I told her. "Call you later, Richelle."
"Dixie! Call me Dixie, okay?"
"Right, sorry, Dixie," I said, and I could also practically hear her preen. "Talk to you later." I hung up at that point, putting down the phone. Chloe just quirked one eyebrow at me. "Best way to handle somebody who can mind control people is to not be mind controlled by him," I said, making Chloe snort. "There has to be a mechanism, right? It can't just be magic."
"It can't be magic? I mean... how do you fly without any visible method of projection?"
"Telekinesis, duh."
* * *
I let out a long sigh as I saw that Whitney's car was parked almost immediately outside Kyle's hideout. I'd planned to fly out to ask him about Bob's power - presumably, he had a similar power and knew how it worked - but instead, Whitney was out here to cause problems. I landed nearby, then zipped on over, finding Whitney in the middle of trying to beat up Kyle with a baseball bat.
"Whitney, what the fuck are you doing?" I asked.
"I- what?" Whitney said. "He attacked me," he defended himself. Kyle was scrambling away, out of easy beating range.
"That's your baseball bat," I told him, approaching slow and steady. "We've played the occasional game of stickball together, remember?" Whitney glanced at the bat like it was a traitor. "Look, just give me the ba-" he spun around to try to bash Kyle's head in.
I zoomed forward, grabbing his wrist and yanking him by it, sending him to the ground a moment later, the bat flying off in its own direction. "Fucking idiot," I said, even as he squirmed under me. "I fucking told you not to do this!"
"He's under someone's compulsion," Kyle said. I glanced back over my shoulder at him, frowning at the suggestion. "He needs a good smack to knock him out of it."
"I'm not good at punching people without hurting them," I told him.
"I'm out of it, you knocked me out of it," Whitney suddenly said.
"You're not a good liar, bruh," I replied. I dragged Whitney up, holding his hands behind his back. "Wake him up, Kyle."
Kyle hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, punching Whitney in the stomach, making him let out a loud whuff, sagging in my arms. "What- what's going on?"
Guess you didn't remember what you did while under Bob's control. "You came over to confront Kyle and get in a fight with him, despite me specifically telling you not to. Luckily, I managed to stop you before you did anything stupid. Now get out of here," I told him. "Your car's over there," I said with a point. Whitney still seemed somewhat disbelieving - understandable, really - but he got out of there before he could earn a rap sheet. I turned my attention back to Kyle. "Hey. Seems like Bob's trying to kill you."
Kyle stared at me for a long second. "Seems like."
"How does his power work? He's killing EPA attorneys, and I want to stop him."
"Why?"
I gave him a little look of confusion. "Because he's murdering people? Like I just said? That's bad, in case you didn't know."
"It's not your problem," Kyle said.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "I'm making it my problem. I like Smallville not having an evil murderer who poisons the groundwater and tries to kill random hobos in the forest buying up farms to build pesticide plants. Look, all you have to do is tell me how his power works."
Kyle frowned at that, then shrugged. "So you know he has powers?" I nodded, making a Get to the point gesture. "You shake his hand, and he can talk you into anything. You follow through, until either you succeed, or you get knocked out of it," he said.
"So all I have to do is not shake his hand?" Kyle nodded. "Christ. That's a relief. I was worried it worked on talking or whatever. I'll just put my hands in my pockets when I go talk to him."
I started to head off into the woods, and Kyle spoke up. "What? Not going to try to talk me into helping?"
"Do you want to help?" I asked, somewhat confused by the line of questioning.
"Well-meaning people often try to talk me out of living out in the woods," Kyle replied.
I just gave him a look. "Presumably you like living in the woods, or you wouldn't do it. If you don't like living in the woods, then stop doing it. Duh." Then I got back to heading off.
* * *
Bob Rickman was a man who really, really wanted you to shake his hand. He offered it when I first showed up. Offered it when I mentioned I was coming on account of the Kent farm deal. Pretended to trip and asked for a hand up. I didn't take him up on any of his offers, obviously, as I am not comically stupid. I'd caught him at the local coffee shop, where he had been enjoying a tall cup of joe before my arrival.
"Look, kid, the Kents sold me their farm. I paid well over the market value of the place," he explained, with a pleasant smile plastered to his face, and I thought about just caving his skull in.
For quite a while.
This guy was a murderer, after all. The fact that he'd done it with a mind controlling superpower just made it harder to prove, not less true. I spent a long, long few seconds thinking about that, using my superspeed to give myself the time and space to think it over.
In the end, though, I wasn't ready to kill somebody who wasn't trying to kill me, so I let it slide, shifting time back to normal as he continued with bland nonsense about business and capitalism and freedom and every other applause light line you've ever heard. "Now, I understand a lot of people are concerned about that nasty business with Mr. Hendrix, but I really did have nothing to do with it. It was just an unfortunate coincidence," he explained, a pleasant smile on his lips as he spoke. "The police interviewed me soon after the incident, and let me go."
"Uh huh." I shook my head. "You know what? Maybe there isn't anything I can do about this." Not a fun thought to have, given I normally could solve pretty much anything I felt like, but sometimes that wasn't possible, I guess. I shrugged my shoulders, headed for the exit - and then I saw Kyle coming in. Our eyes met for just a second, and I glanced over my shoulder at Bob.
Kyle shook his hand... and he got a somewhat placid look in his eyes. Bob, that is, not Kyle. He quietly talked to him for maybe a minute, and I heard what he was saying with my enhanced hearing.
"You're feeling intense guilt about all your crimes. You're going to go home, write a suicide note confessing to everything, and then shoot yourself in the head."
I thought about stopping Kyle. I could have walked over and punched Bob in the stomach, saving his life, but...
But...
The guy really deserved it, to be honest.
Kyle wound up catching up to me about a half-block away. "He tried to kill me first, with that Whitney kid," he told me. I nodded. Made sense. "Yeah. All the bad stuff he did - I could have stopped him a long time ago, if I'd decided to." I couldn't argue with that either. "Thanks for what you said. About just - doing the right thing." I hadn't put it quite that way. "Oh." He added, clapping me on the shoulder, a smile on his lips. "And hobos live on trains. I'm not a hobo."
* * *
When the news came that Bob Rickman had killed himself after writing a suicide note where he admitted to coercing Jonathan Kent into signing that contract, Caroline prayed to the Lord and thanked Him profusely for what He had done. "Thank you, God. I will try to be a better, more honest and good woman going forward," she had said, every word dripping with complete sincerity.
But she was weak. So pitifully weak.
When she had opened the door to find it was Dick knocking on it, she had shuddered in expectation, fully imagining he was about to throw her up against the wall and have his way with her. She readied herself for it, psychologically, physically. Her body wanted it, of that, she had no doubt. Her lungs exhaled breaths full of pure lust...
"I'm here to visit Richelle, she did me a solid so I owe her a good fuck."
"I-ahm, oh, she's- she's in her bedroom," Caroline explained.
He walked right past her. His eyes barely even looked her over. There was no hint he even saw her as a woman any more.
That was... good, right? Yes. Yes. God had heard her request for salvation from temptation, and granted it, just as He had granted her request to help the Kents with their farm. He was truly a just and loving God.
She shouldn't let her daughter merely... galavant around with the boy... but she also couldn't stand up to him. He would probably ravish her all over again.
She wound up sitting just outside the room.
Listening.
Her core heating up with every noise she heard. Every word. Every slap of flesh against flesh.
She wished that it was her in there.
* * *
Richelle was ecstatic when Dick had come by. "Hey, babe," he said, giving her this casual, confident grin as his hand reached for her cheek, and he just forcefully clasped her and pulled her into a kiss. She moaned softly in response to his touch, quivering as he kissed her. He was already fishing out his cock with his free hand, so she reached down to help him out with that, popping his button, unzipping his pants, his massive cock bouncing free and practically slapping her stomach. She shuddered softly at the feeling of it, fingers stroking up and down, starting to just furiously pump up and down his length.
Dick responded with a loving groan of pleasure as she worked him over. Her thoughts were already turning to how to make him feel as good as possible - she wanted to drain his balls so dry that he couldn't even think about other women...
One thing she'd noticed with Dick was that he absolutely, steadfastly, refused to come inside her pussy, no matter how much she pleaded and cajoled. From asking Savannah, he never came inside any girl's cunt, not even if they took their pills right in front of him, and he also hated wrapping it up. He was obviously concerned about having a child out of wedlock! He was so loving and kind that he'd never want his daughter raised without her father present! That was the explanation that made the most sense!
But it also suggested that if she wanted to drain his balls dry, then there wasn't much use in her cunt - he'd only fill that hole up with his cum and babies once they were married! So once he broke off the kiss, she just got down on his knees, right in front of his wonderful big cock, and wrapped her lips around it. She looked up at him - and then grabbed his hips and started to fuck her face on his cock as hard as she could.
There was still a bit of a gag reflex left in her, unfortunately, but Dick's groan, the way he cast his head back, was more than enough to make up for any discomfort as she wedged his cock into her throat. She ground herself down furiously, even as her throat quietly spasmed, making her way inch by inch down, until her nose was once again shoved into his pelvis. He softly, lovingly ran his fingers through her hair. "That's a good girl, Dixie." Her heart did a little somersault as he called her by her pet name. "Just like that," he continued. "You really like sucking cock, don't you?" She shook her head, and he looked concerned , so she hurriedly popped off.
"No, I love sucking your cock, Dick," she said, giving him her best smile. He let out a soft chuckle at that, and she slid forward on his dick once again, pushing all the way down, tongue sliding left and right on the underside of his cock, her hands grasping at his hips as she pulled herself down. She was tearing up, but she didn't care, not when she could get Dick off.
He groaned again, hand placed on the top of her head, but only gently. A quiet nudge, ready to let her pull back whenever she wanted/needed. He was so sweet like that. So wonderful, and perfect, and ideal, and just sexy, and amazing, and her tongue was dancing around on the underside of his cock, one hand going down into her cunt and starting to frantically frig herself, fingers pounding in and out of her pussy.
She slurped all the harder on his dick, her cheeks hollowing as her tongue went wild, losing herself in a moment of raw, delirious delight, sucking and slurping and licking and everything else she could think of, wanting to show him what an amazing, top rated cocksucker she was. Her lungs were burning, but she didn't care - in fact, her arousal was only spiking by just how roughly she was treating her own body, by the drool slipping out of her mouth as she patiently sucked on his cock.
She started to sputter as her eyes peeled back, her fingers going absolutely crazy in her pussy, and Dick was just offering her quiet compliments the whole time, telling her she was pretty, that she was a good cocksucker, that he loved her enthusiasm, that her mouth felt so nice, that her tongue was doing a great job. Sometimes he'd suggest something for her to do, and of course she'd do it, Dick was her God-chosen soulmate, and she'd do anything for him!
Then he grabbed her hair and pulled her off his cock, leaving her gasping for air, her chest heaving, her hand in her cunt still going crazy. "Rich- Dixie," he corrected, and she burbled a little in pleasure. "You can't be choking yourself out on my cock all the time. I'm glad you're enjoying yourself, but you need to breathe."
He was sooo sweet, more concerned about her well-being than his pleasure. She gave him a dopey smile. "Suh, sorry, I just want to make it good for you... I know you never come in the girl's pussy, so my mouth is better for you, right? No interruptions," she said, tongue dancing invitingly at the air, eagerly urging him back in.
He contemplated her mouth for just a second or two - and then he stuffed his cock right back in there, grabbing her hair in an impromptu ponytail and just pounding at her face roughly. She moaned around his cock, loving just how rough and hard he was, the way he was treating her with force and desire, like he couldn't resist her mouth and throatpussy. He was absolutely wrecking her for his own pleasure, and her own arousal spiked at the way she'd incited such a response from him, her hand in her pussy going absolutely wild as he fucked her face, balls slapping at her chin again and again, echoing in her room.
When he finally nutted with a long groan down her throat, she kept slurping all the while, twisting her head around excitedly. He peeled her off once he was finished. "Go ahead, keep fucking my face, Dick, I love it, I want you to do it until you can't get it up!"
He let out a small laugh at that, patting her head sweetly. "I've never, once, run out of energy to get it up," he told her.
"Then I can be your first!"
He let out another laugh, shaking his head, and she decided to just go for it, slurping his cock back into her mouth, starting to pound her face up and down his cock as she frigged herself silly, playing with her cunt hard as she worked herself over. She'd show him! She'd make him feel so good! She'd show that he didn't need other girls, that she could and would completely satisfy him, in a way no woman ever had before!
* * *
Richelle had obviously worked herself over like crazy, so I decided to give her a nice cuddle in the afterglow. She jerked me off as she snuggled against me, not willing to talk for fear of hurting her already-aching jaw, but I didn't mind, letting her do her thing, kissing at my naked chest. "Told you, Dixie," I told her, idly playing with her hair, and she let out a little mewl-complaining noise, but didn't talk beyond that. I just leaned back my head and rested there, enjoying the feeling of her hand on my cock, as she jerked me off. The two of us wound up taking a nap like that.
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