The Coming Doomsday 15

Kon didn't know a lot about piloting spaceships. More than the average teen, but he still wouldn't trust himself to jet off to Tamaran, even if it was guaranteed to have babes as hot as Starfire.

And he knew the schmucks piloting the ship were barely any better than he would be at it. The second officer was a dope and the captain was on something. And he'd probably be a dope if he was sober. The ship was ten degrees off-course when he went on duty and despite his orders, no one seemed to know how to fix that.

“We're following the starlane,” the helmsman said. “We'll get there sooner or later. What's the big deal?”

“The big deal is what’s gonna happen if we run into one of the other ships in this lane.”

“What do you care?” the helmsman shrugged.

“I'm on the ship!” Kon reiterated. “If something crashes into it, I get crashed into!”

He managed to get the ship back on course, no thanks to the bridge crew, and four hours later he was relieved by the third mate, a Thanagarian who at least seemed able to keep the ship on course. Kon left for the Captain's quarters.

“Go away,” the man barked at his knocking. “Don't you know a man needs his rest?”

“Captain! This is the first officer, I need to talk.”

“Come back tomorrow. If you're the first officer, you shouldn't need to be babysat.”

“Yeah, yeah, it's just the vacuum of space,” Kon muttered, heading to his own cabin.

It wasn't like being sucked out into space would kill him. He'd just wake up and be a little more Doomsday. And why not? Maybe that was his true self. Maybe he was kidding himself, thinking he could be Superboy forever. He'd once thought his destiny was to grow up to be Superman. Maybe he was really fated to become Doomsday.

Kon dropped onto his bunk wearily. When he woke up the next day, it was afternoon and he had three hours before he was back on watch.

He had a big lunch and headed for the bridge to check on the star charts. Before he'd gone ten steps, that Khund asshole was coming up to him.

“Blackfire wants to see you, ‘Superboy’.”

Kon chuckled at the brutal look on his face. “Doesn't she care enough to send a singing telegram? I thought we were really bonding.”

“I'll put up with you as long as Blackfire wants you onboard,” he scowled. “But not a moment more.”

Kon sneered right back at him. After being on teams like Young Justice and the Titans, working with this cretin was a definite Fat Elvis moment in his superhero career. He wondered what Komand’r saw in him. She was evil, but Kon had thought she was the evil genius kind of evil. You'd imagine the good taste Blackfire showed in recruiting him would extend to her dark minions.

“I'll give her a ring,” Kon quipped. “Tell her what a good job you're doing.”

“I'd enjoy however much time you have with her,” the Khund said, polite, but with his piggish eyes gleaming.

Shortly thereafter, Kon was knocking at Blackfire’s suite. She invited him in and he entered.

He had to suck in his breath at the sight of her. She was wearing all white and the effect was staggering, even in him. The pristine cloth held tight to her full breasts and creamy thighs like whipped cream on chocolate. Her auburn hair hung over her scalp and shoulders like an oil fire. Her flashing eyes told Kon she saw the effect she had on him.

“You wanted to see me?” Kon asked flatly.

“What's the matter? Aren't you used to girls wanting to look at you by now?” Blackfire smiled, showing the gleaming crimson of her lipstick.

Kon tried to keep his face blank and force down the pangs of lust he felt at Blackfire’s seductive manner and stupefying beauty. He tried to make himself remember how awful she had been to sweet Ayala.

“I'm used to not getting what I want. You should try it sometime.”

Blackfire’s eyes darkened threateningly. “I have. And I've decided I much prefer getting everything I want.” She reached out and dug her fingernails into his wrist until she touched blood. “Right now, I want you to take care of some friends of mine. Some very rich friends who are willing to pay a lot of money for your company. And you're going to be good, good company to them. Or I'll have a lot of frustration to work out on Aayla.”

***

Kon’s breath came away when he saw the women who had hired him. You’d think his clients would be women who couldn’t get laid. These two could have any man they wanted. One was a Vulcan, the other some sort of cyborg, but they both had absolutely astounding bodies, sheathed in skintight catsuits that showed they didn’t have an ounce of fat—just curves where it did the absolute best good.

Somehow, their faces lived up to those stunning bodies. The Vulcan was dark and severe, an unflatteringly short haircut the only possible flaw in her appearance, but that Vulcan seriousness gave her a bit of a dominatrix vibe to Kon. Plump lips dominated a cool expression with chiseled features—God, he’d like to shatter that Vulcan calm with a few orgasms.

The cyborg was almost better. Blonde, Teutonic, her catsuit a rich burgundy color that slightly outperformed the drab gray that the Vulcan had on. There was a slight sarcasm in her neutral expression. Her delicate features were set in almost the same poised calm as the Vulcan, but in her eyes was a light, encouraging interest, like she was curious what he could do and eager to pronounce a somewhat bitchy judgment, like a mean girl at high school. Pretty enough to get away with it. He could just about imagine those judging eyes flashing wide open when she came, those lush lips curving as she became thankful as hell that he was inside her…

The Vulcan took a calming breath, her tits flying up like balloons before she exhaled and they came back down. With Kon present, she got up and began to pace. Her face was reddening and he saw her jaw muscles work under her pale skin, her lips parting and pressing together as though she were seeking some tiny word to whisper, but couldn’t think of it.

“Is she okay?” Kon asked.

The Vulcan glanced at him, then quickly looked away. She focused on stepping out of her boots and caressing the carpet with her bare toes. Something that seemed as distracting for her as getting a massage.

The cyborg spoke, grabbing Kon’s attention with her clear, commanding tone. “Subcommander T’Pol is… natural.”

Kon watched T’Pol play with her hands, worry at her clothing. He wanted to volunteer to do that for her. “That’s a Vulcan acting naturally?”

“It is a rare occasion, but still…” The cyborg cleared her throat and gathered herself. “My name is Seven. I am working with Subcommander T’Pol at the moment. I am here to look after her well-being while she is… indisposed.”

T’Pol turned another corner in her pacing. Now Kon got a good look at her and saw that her nipples were hard as spikes, threatening to tear right through her catsuit. There was no denying it. She was as turned on as he’d ever seen a woman, Vulcan or no.

“She looks horny,” Kon observed.

Seven’s face flickered with annoyance. “She is undergoing Pon Farr. It is a Vulcan biological process. The sex drive increases every seven years to the point of being unmanageable. She must mate or she will die.”

T’Pol’s face was as flushed as if she’d had an entire bottle of wine. She breathed raggedly, her chest expanding to awe-inspiring fullness. All the rising and falling of her breasts drew Kon’s eyes from one swollen nipple to the other.

“That is… an oversimplification,” T’Pol said, her voice breathless, her sharp eyes glazing over. “And it lends itself to… facile interpretations of… biological reality…”

“But your condition would be more manageable if you experienced coitus,” Seven retorted.

T’Pol rocked back and forth. At the word ‘coitus’ she started tapping her foot. “Yes. Oh yes. I must have coitus.” Then she interlaced her fingers, gripping her hands together so hard that her knuckles turned white. “That is… my medical care should include… for therapeutic reasons… the… the… fulfillment of my present urges.”

“Okay,” Kon said, “so you need me to fuck her?”

T’Pol’s eyes flew around the room before fixing on Kon. It was the damnedest thing he’d ever seen. One eye had her usual Vulcan reserve, while the other was hooded, burning with unspeakable lust. Sweat milled on her hairline, giving away her rising emotions.

“You are stating matters… in a most… crude manner!”

Kon got that a lot. He looked at Seven. “And what’s your role in all this? You’re going to make sure I wear a condom?”

“No!” T’Pol gasped, her face almost completely red, her breasts in constant motion, the erect nipples pointing at Kon like they wanted to drag T’Pol in his direction.