Powerless!

Powerless!

POWERLESS!

By Joe

A KRYPTONITE ATTACK STRIPS SUPERGIRL OF HER POWERS AND LEAVES HER AT THE MERCY OF THE SKEPTICAL AUTHORITIES.  HER DOCTOR SUGGESTS A NEW UNIFORM: A SCANTY HOSPITAL GOWN AND A STRAITJACKET.

OF COURSE, SHE'LL HAVE TO SURRENDER HER OLD UNIFORM FIRST....

Part 1

"I notice that you're rubbing your shoulder," the doctor said,

gently.  "Are you alright?"

"I resisted when they brought me through the front gates, and two

of your orderlies were pretty rough," Supergirl replied.

Dr. James Phony smiled.  The thought of SUPERGIRL being manhandled

by two orderlies at his asylum was almost too good to be true.  He

still couldn't believe that the famous super-heroine was now an

inmate.

Supergirl had been briefly exposed to gold kryptonite during her

last battle with Lex Luthor and had barely escaped with her life. 

Naturally, when the police found the powerless and dazed heroine

in the wreckage of the building with a tiny cut on her hand, they

knew what to do.  After all, the Metropolis County Asylum processed

at least three or four "super-hero" wanna-bes a week.

Dr. Phony smiled as the heroine stood awkwardly in front of his

desk nursing her shoulder.  Physical pain was a new concept for

Supergirl, but a delighted Dr. Phony was determined that it would

be the first of many lessons she would learn today.

"I have good news and bad news, Supergirl," he said.  "The good

news is that I know that you really are Supergirl."

"Thank goodness!" she said.  "I keep telling people, but without

my super powers, they think I'm just some crazy woman in a cape. 

Thank goodness you believe me!" 

"I remember you vividly, Supergirl," the doctor said.  "I'll never

forget the way you picked me up over your head and threw me into

that brick wall.  My shattered legs kept me in the prison hospital

for nearly a year -- which is what gave me the idea of posing as a

doctor when I got out." 

Supergirl looked at the man in stunned silence.  Her doctor was a

criminal...a criminal SHE had arrested!

"If you tell them who I am, I promise I'll talk to the judge about

reducing your sentence," she said, earnestly.

"I have a better idea, Miss Goody-Two-Shoes," he replied.  "Rather

than let you OUT, and go back to jail, I'm going to keep you IN,

and have some fun."

"You'll never get away with it!" she threatened.

"Won't I?" he asked, rhetorically.  "There are two "Supermen" in

Ward 3, and a "Wonder Woman" in Ward 4.  You'll fit right in.  And

if you start ranting about how I'm a criminal you once arrested,

that will convince everyone you've found your new home. 

"I don't treat patients with actual mental or medical disorders,"

he went on.  "Even for me, that would be unethical.  I specialize

in helping rich men dispose of beautiful, unwanted women who are

making a nuisance of themselves.  It's easy enough to toss a

beautiful heiress into an asylum on her 21st birthday, and it's

less expensive to commit a trophy wife than divorce her!"

Dr. Phony smiled and toyed with the pen on his desk.  "Tell me,

since you're without your super powers, how many people believe

you're actually Supergirl?"

The girl ground her teeth in frustration.  She hadn't been able to

convince the police, the ambulance drivers, the nurses, or the

orderlies at the asylum. 

Ordinarily, the police treated Supergirl with dignity and

respect.  But, as soon as the cops realized she was powerless,

the deferential treatment ended.  Supergirl had been ashamed

and humiliated when the horny policeman had commanded her to

"place your hands on the roof of the car and SPREAD 'EM."  He

took his time with the search, groping her breasts and even

reaching under her short skirt to fondle her through her famous

red panties.

She blushed as she recalled the way the fat cop had playfully

swatted her bottom as he turned the handcuffed heroine over to

the asylum's ambulance drivers.  "Here's another one for the

Magic Kingdom, boys," he sneered.  "Don't do anything with her

I wouldn't do."

Supergirl recognized the police officer from previous encounters,

and she was surprised that he didn't recognize her.  Was it

possible that the lecherous cop was taking advantage her

powerless state to grope and abuse her? 

She grimaced at the thought, but she suspected she was right.  The

patriarchal male police force resented her powers and abilities,

and many openly protested their reliance on "a woman's help."  And

the press continued to call her "Supergirl," even though she had

been pleading with them to refer to her as "Superwoman" since her

18th birthday.

Even Supergirl had to confront the ugly face of sexism in

America....

Dr. Phony's voice returned her to her present predicament.  "If you

cooperate, Supergirl, then things will be easier on you," he said,

in a patronizing voice.  "Of course, if you resist me in ANY way,

then you will have a lot more to worry about than that little

boo-boo on your shoulder!"

Supergirl rubbed her shoulder as she weighed her options.  She knew

he was right...that she'd have to play along with him for now. 

But the effects would not last long, and she could already feel

her x-ray vision starting to return.  When her super-strength

came back, she would toss her "doctor" through the ceiling like

a rag doll.  Even now, she was relishing the image of him flying

through the air....

"Now tell me, Supergirl, what was your name on Krypton?  I think

'Supergirl' is far to grand a name for a twenty-year-old of such

obviously limited abilities."

"Kara," she said, softly.

"Very good.  You see, that wasn't so hard, was it?  We're making

progress already."

He quickly filled out an admissions form for Kara Doe.  Then he

copied her name and inmate number onto a sticker and taped the

sticker to a cardboard box sitting on his desk. 

"The next part of the process is even easier," he said, his voice

oozing reassurance.  "I want you to take off your all your clothes

and put them in the box." 

She looked at him in stunned disbelief.  "S-surrender my...my

uniform?" she stammered.  "In front of YOU?"

"Yes, dear, take off your clothes.  Don't be shy.  Remember, I'm

your doctor now."  

She shook her head.  This couldn't be happening!

"Of course, if you'd rather, I can call in the orderlies who

bruised your shoulder.  I'm sure they'd be happy to give you

a hand."

"NO!" she shouted.  "I'll do it!  Just keep those goons away

from me!"

"It's not like you to be afraid of some muscle-bound apes," he

teased.  "I see you're learning how to be docile, afraid, and

submissive...just like a woman should be." 

"Now, take off your cape," he said, with a cruel smile.  "A cape

is far too grand an accessory for a helpless little nut case like

you."

Biting her tongue at the insult, Supergirl unfastened her cape,

folded it neatly, and put it in the box. 

"Now, take off those cute little booties."

Awkwardly standing on one foot, she pulled off first one shiny red

boot and then the other, laying them in the box.

"There's something submissive about a barefoot woman, don't you

think, Kara?  I mean, here I am, sitting comfortably at my desk,

fully clothed and relaxed.  And you're standing there with your

delicate, dainty feet on that hard, cold linoleum floor.  I love

watching you scrunch up your toes to try and keep your little

tootsies warm."

She immediately stopped moving from foot to foot, but she was only

able to maintain her resolve for a few seconds.  Discomfort from

cold was a new sensation to her, and the floor was freezing.

"I think women should be kept barefoot and pregnant," he said. 

"And the barefoot part is taken care of."  He smiled and eyed

the helpless heroine lasciviously.  "Knocking you up will be

easy now that those tiny little fists of yours are so girly and

useless."

She perceived that her super-hearing was returning, and she could

hear the male orderlies who had manhandled her lounging outside

the room, joking about that "cute piece of blonde ass in the

trick-or-treat outfit." 

She resolved to teach the brutal orderlies how to treat a lady once

her super-strength returned.

"Now take off your yellow belt, but don't put it in the box." the

doctor directed.  "Hand it to me."

She took off her belt and obediently handed it to the grinning

doctor.

"Now slip off that darling little red skirt," he ordered.  "I want

to take a nice long look at those cute red underpants you love to

flash."

She felt warm as the blood rushed to her face.  Was she actually

blushing?  Like the pain in her shoulder, blushing was a new

sensation for her, and the unfamiliar emotions made her feel

all the more disoriented.  She had seen men look at her with

lust before, but she had always been the one in control, the

definitive "woman in charge."

But now, as she meekly folded her skirt and put it in the box, she

felt utterly helpless.  The doctor was using Supergirl's strip

search as an excuse to teach her a lesson in sexual submission. 

She was beginning to understand what the women of Earth had been

complaining about for years.  As much as she wanted to, she

couldn't pick this creep up and throw him through a wall.  Instead

she had to meekly submit and surrender her uniform, the emblem of

her power.  Now she wore nothing but her blue top with the famous

logo and her trademark red panties. 

"Now things are getting interesting!" Doctor Phony grinned.  "What

do you say, Kara?  What's next?  Tops or bottoms?"

"Tops, I think," she said, nervously, trying to forestall the

unveiling of her most private areas to the lascivious pervert

who was now in charge of her life.

"That's tops, SIR," he said, correcting her.  "You have to remember

that I'm an important and respected DOCTOR.  You, on the other

hand, are just another scatterbrained female."

"Tops, SIR," she repeated.  Reluctantly she turned her back and

reached down to grasp the hem of her blue top.  Swallowing hard,

she slowly began to peel her shirt off in front of her amused

captor.

He let out a long wolf whistle as her beautiful bare back came into

view.  "I see you're not wearing a bra," he observed.  "I guess

'the woman of steel' wouldn't really need one, now would she?  Of

course I imagine that now that your super powers are gone, your

titties will be all soft and bouncy, won't they?" 

He let the suspense build for a moment before he spoke.  "Why don't

you turn around and show me, Kara?"

Reluctantly, she turned and faced her adversary, using her arms to

cover her bare breasts.  Her cheeks were red with shame, and she

was too embarrassed to make eye contact.  Instead, she just stared

at her feet, which were still twitching and squirming on the cold

floor.

"A lot of you crazies try to smuggle things in," he said, with mock

concern.  "I'm going to have to ask you to put your arms at your

sides, so I can make sure you're not concealing anything."

She said nothing, but reluctantly put her arms down. 

"Very nice, indeed!" he said.

After taking a moment to admire her figure, he began his lecture. 

"The insane asylum has traditionally been a place where men could

strip difficult or recalcitrant women butt-naked and use the tools

of medicine to teach them their proper place.  Why do you think

they call it the 'booby hatch?'

"Now, I want you to lift up each breast by the nipple, so I can

see that you don't have anything taped underneath," he directed.

She stared at him with undisguised hatred.  He grinned back at her

in triumph.  After a long pause, she reluctantly followed his

humiliating command and lifted her breasts.

He whistled once again.  "Those sure are cute little honkers you

have, Kara.  The asylum does occasionally allow me to release

patients under guard for short periods, as part of their

occupational therapy.  I can arrange for you to get you get

a job at Hooters.  Would you like that?  Would you like to fetch

beer and pretzels while all those horny guys ogled you?"

Kara squirmed as she held her breasts aloft by the nipples.  He

ignored her plight and continued to describe her new life in vivid

detail.

"They will even give you a uniform, although it won't be as grand

as the one you're used to.  But I think you'll look just darling,

prancing around in your little orange short-shorts with those cute

tits of yours jiggling under your tight t-shirt. 

"But that's enough about your future career, Kara.  You can let go

of your titties now." 

His smile broadened.  "It's time to hand over your cute red

underpants, so we can get on with the rest of your processing. 

I have a lot of pretty little ears of corn to husk today, and

I can't waste all day shucking you down!"

She bit her lip, turned her back, and slowly slid her red underwear

down her long legs.  He whistled yet again as her upturned bottom

came into view. 

Damn him!  She was going to bust him up good!

"Now turn around, and show Doctor whether or not you're a natural

blonde, Kara."

She turned around and revealed her sparsely-haired blonde sex.

He ordered the blushing heroine to place her hands on top of her

head and turn slowly in circles.  As she complied, he made

humiliating compliments about her "tight little ass" and "cute

yellow fuzz." 

For the first time in her life, Supergirl felt like a piece of

meat.  The experience was unspeakably degrading, but somehow she

also found it strangely...exciting. 

Over the years, she had occasionally fantasized about being

stripped of her powers.  What would it be like to be forced

to submit to the indignities that average women had to endure

everyday?  She could play-act in her secret identity, of course,

but she had to be careful not to get herself into any truly

dangerous situations that might force her to use her powers

and blow her cover.  The fact that there was never any real

danger always made the experience strangely flat. 

But her humiliation now was sharp, painful, and anything but flat. 

Her enemy was appraising her like a slave girl on the auction

block....

She twirled helplessly in front of his desk, desperately wishing

she could use her hands to cover her privates.  Her beloved

uniform, long the symbol of her power, lay casually discarded

in the cheap cardboard box. 

She wondered how many other Supergirl costumes were in the

storeroom right now.  She knew that professional costume shops

made uniforms identical to hers, and no doubt some of the other

mental patients had used them.  The precious box that held key

to her freedom would quickly be lost among the countless other

"costumes." 

Her priceless, precious uniform was now the inconsequential

byproduct of just another routine strip search.

Dr. Phony made a big show of slowly taping up the cardboard box

while Supergirl looked on, too mortified to speak.  He took his

time.  He knew that her uniform was the emblem of her identity,

and taking it away from her was as traumatic as the loss of her

powers.

With her uniform on, she was Supergirl!  She was invincible, and

every man in the world from the President on down hung on her

every word. 

Without her uniform, she was just another crazy, helpless

scatterbrained female in the insane asylum, forced to bow

and tremble before minimum wage orderlies, sadistic nurses,

and phony physicians.

"I'll put this away somewhere safe," he said, patting the box. 

"Once this is dispensed with, we won't have to worry about

anyone mistaking you for Supergirl, will we?  If someone came

into the office right now, they wouldn't see a super-hero. 

They'd see just another naked bimbo, twirling around in the

loony bin," he snickered.

He patted his knee.  "Now, stop spinning and climb over the

doctor's knee.  It's time for you to take your medicine!"

                        ******************************

Part 2

Awkwardly, Supergirl shuffled over and obediently draped herself

over the doctor's lap.  She flinched when she felt his hand

adjusting her shapely bottom so that her backside was positioned

perfectly over his knee.

He reached into a drawer and took out a rubber glove and a jar of

lubricant.  Handing her the jar, he teased, "Could you could use

your super-strength to open this?"

She strained to open the jar, but, dangling over his knee, it was

difficult to get any leverage.  It didn't help any that the jar

top was practically cemented on.  "I...CAN'T...do it!" she finally

gasped, straining with all of her diminished might.  

Why was it that her super-strength was always the last power to

return, when it was the power she wanted the most?

"You women can be so HELPLESS sometimes," he chided, running his

hand over her shapely bottom.  "Beautiful to look at, fun to play

with, but totally helpless without a big, strong man.  That's what

happens when you send a GIRL to do a MAN'S job!"

Kara ground her teeth in frustration as she handed the chauvinist

pig his stupid jar back. 

When her powers returned, she would show him who was helpless.

She winced as he ground the jar down against her left bottom cheek

and unscrewed the lid.  "See, that wasn't so hard," he said in a

patronizing voice.

He smiled as he slowly ran his hand over the trembling heroine's

bare backside.  She was in a perfect position for a lesson in

humility.

"Have you ever had an enema, Kara?" he asked.

Of course not!" she replied, horrified at the thought.

"There is something special about a girl's first enema," he said,

wistfully.  "I take my time and let the patient watch as I lay out

the bag, the hook for the bag, the tubing, the lubricant, and

finally the nozzle.  The color always drains from her face when

she sees that pointy nozzle and realizes where it's going to go,"

he chuckled.

"I stand to one side at the sink so she can watch the bag slowly

getting bigger...and bigger...and bigger.  I love watching her

fidget and squirm as she wonders how she's ever going to hold it

all.

"And I take my time greasing up the nozzle.  Sometimes I even ask

the patient to grease it for me, so she can run her fingers over

the cold, hard plastic and imagine it sliding up her tiny rear

port hole.  It's amazing how much lubricant some women manage to

stick on the nozzle.

"Then I move her into position, with her knees drawn up to her

chest and her cute little fanny poking up in the air, all pink

and helpless."  He was obviously relishing the image.  "She's

usually fairly panicked by this point, so I take my time separating

her cheeks and slowly working my greasy, gloved finger past her

defenses.  I work it in leisurely and wiggle it around slowly and

deliberately, so that she knows her ass belongs to me."

"After she's been lubed, I usually take a minute to let her catch

her breath before we begin," he said, quietly.  "I take her hand,

or stroke her hair, and comfort her the best I can.  When she feels

relaxed and safe, I smile, run my fingers gently through her hair,

and then return to the table.  The look on her face when I turn

around and she sees me holding the nozzle in one hand and the

bulging bag in the other is simply priceless."

"She always looks over her shoulder as I hang the bag and toy with

the release clamp," he said, savoring the look of anguished

suspense on Kara's face as she imagined HER first enema.  "Then

I pick up the nozzle, wink at her, and order her to reach back and

spread her cheeks.

"I use a lot of lube, so there is never any pain," he explained. 

"It is the sense of helpless violation that make an enema special.

I treat the enema like it's a routine, trifling procedure, and

always make a point of telling the patient that I've done this

hundreds of times."  He smiled benignly.  "I want the patient to

know she's no different from the rest." 

"After the nozzle is inserted nice and deep, I pretend I'm being

paged," he continued.  "This allows me to make an imaginary call

on my cell phone.  I leave the poor girl kneeling on the table

with her butt in the air, watching anxiously as I toy with the

release clamp.  "She perspires, and bites her lips, and wiggles

her buns as I hypnotize her with that shiny metal clamp. 

Occasionally I'll give her a playful little slap on the butt

and chide her to 'hold still' while I chat casually on the phone

about my golf plans for the weekend.

"When the woman is close to fainting, I hang up the phone.  'I'm

sorry for the interruption, but that was important,' I'll say,

once again emphasizing how insignificant her upcoming ordeal is

to me.  Then I'll smile and take a moment to look deeply into her

frightened eyes.  Finally, I release the clamp."

"I set up the stand so that the water trickles in slowly, and there

is plenty of time for the water to expand her bladder as well as

her bowels.  I'll pretend not to watch her wiggling and fidgeting

as I chatter on the phone about my many exciting social activities.

My patients squirm while I lovingly describe my ski trips or the

elegant restaurants I dine in, since it reminds them that THEIR

pathetic lives are limited to the degrading 'treatments' I

prescribe.

"I hope that hearing about my tricks doesn't spoil the experience

for you, dear," he said as he gently stroked her bare bottom. 

"I'm betting your first enema will STILL be memorable!"

She swallowed hard as she imagined the cold plastic tube

relentlessly trickling water into her bowels.  Listening

to his enema procedural with her bare bottom sticking

helplessly in the air was agonizing. 

He snapped on the rubber glove and began to worm his finger in

between her tightly clenched thighs.  "Little pigs, little pigs,

please let me in," he teased.

"No!" she shrieked.  "Don't touch me there."

"Now, Kara, don't be difficult," he said, in an exasperated voice. 

"Remember, you're just a mental patient now, and I have to make

sure that you're not smuggling any narcotics into my fine

institution.  I don't like this any better than you do, but

I need to give that cute blonde pussy of yours a THOROUGH and

COMPLETE probing!"

"No, I won't let you!" she said, wedging her thighs together even

more tightly.  "I'm not some helpless little slut you can strip

down and probe.  I'm Supergirl!  You can't do this to ME!"

He shook his head sadly and then reached across his desk and picked

up her golden belt.  He folded it in half and then playfully

stroked it across her tender, defenseless bottom cheeks.

"I do hate to do this, but someone really needs to do something

about your ATTITUDE!  You're not in charge anymore.  Indeed,

everyone you meet from now on will have total authority over you. 

That's a lesson you're going to have to learn, young lady, and

you're going to have to learn it good!"

She looked anxiously over her shoulder, and he continued to

playfully measure out the strokes across her backside with

the belt.  He was pleased to see the helpless heroine was

actually biting her lower lip in fear as he ran the belt over

her trembling, twitching bottom cheeks.  He decided to draw out

her humiliation a bit further. 

"Belts are funny things," he said.  "Men use them hold up their

pants up.  Supergirl used it as a stylish fashion accessory.  As

part of her uniform, it symbolized her power and control.

"Of course, now that you're totally helpless, we'll have to find

a more appropriate use for your belt.  In fact, I think this belt

is the perfect tool for teaching a sassy, smart-mouthed brat

respect for her betters!"

He whipped the belt over her bare bottom cheeks and chuckled as she

let out a gasp.  He waited a few seconds for the pain to sink in.

"Stop!" she cried.  "IT HURTS!  Don't spank me!  Please!  I'll do

what you say!"

"I know you will, Kara," he replied, gently.  "You'll do

everything I say, and then beg for more.  But first, I need

to teach you some manners."

He laid another stroke across her bottom.  He didn't hit her hard,

because he knew that he didn't have to.  As a novice to pain, she

would find even a mild spanking unbearable.

"When naughty little girls get too big for their britches, I think

a good fanny-tanning is the best way of bringing them back to

earth!" he teased, bringing the belt down again.  "Don't you

agree?"

"No!  It hurts!  It's...so HUMILIATING!" 

He gave her a slightly harder stroke where her thighs and buttocks

met.  He wanted to make sure she would have something to think

about the next time she sat down. 

"It's supposed to be humiliating.  Humiliation and obedience are

what you are here to learn.  So don't argue with me, Kara," he

said, in a sad voice.  "All that does is convince me that you

haven't learned your lesson yet. 

"Now let me ask you something," he said.  "Are you really

Supergirl?"  He rubbed the belt playfully against her bare

backside.

"Yes, of course I...."

He SLASHED! the belt against her bare bottom cheeks and shouted,

"WRONG!"  

In a pleasanter tone, he said, "Let's try again."  Once again he

teased her bottom with the belt.  Are you Supergirl?"

"No," she replied, softly.

"That's right," he chuckled.  "Tell me who you REALLY are."

"I'm just...an empty headed, scatterbrained blonde with delusions

of grandeur," she said, reluctantly.  

"What else are you, Kara?" he asked, rubbing the belt against her

twitching bottom.

"I'm a disrespectful, naughty girl who needs to learn respect for

her betters...."

"That's right," he said, putting the belt back on his desk. 

"That wasn't so hard, was it?  See how much easier it is when you

cooperate?"

She flinched as she once again felt his gloved fingers poking at

the tops of her tightly clenched thighs.  "Now spread those creamy

thighs like an obedient, docile little slut, or I'll tan your

fanny some more."

Grinding her teeth in helpless frustration, she obeyed the

humiliating command.

"My, aren't we wet?" he said.  "Strip away all that bluster, and

you are one hot little babe."

He worked his finger in and out of her wet sex as he continued his

humiliating commentary.  "Are you sure that "S" on your chest

didn't stand for 'SLUT'?" he joked.  "But don't worry; I'll put

a note in your file to have you shaved and diapered, so you won't

get too messy down there."

"You can't diaper me!" she cried.  "I don't need a DIAPER!" 

"Now, Kara, Doctor knows what's best!"  He gave her bottom a

playful slap.

Slowly working his fingers in and out of her sex, he continued to

tease and torment the helpless woman wiggling over his knee.  "What

does it feel like to be helpless?" he asked.  "Most women spend

their whole lives in fear.  They have to make sure they don't walk

home alone at night, for example.  "It is really very unfair. 

Women in our society are almost like prisoners, afraid to go out

alone, afraid to be at home alone, or to walk down the street

without a male escort.  It's simply disgraceful."

Supergirl ground her teeth as she struggled against the growing

excitement between her legs.  Despite her humiliation, she had

never been so excited in her life.

"Of course, you've never had to face that fear, Kara," he said,

massaging her closer to orgasm.  "You were always the one in

charge, the one in control.  What does it feel like to be stripped

of all your powers?  What does it feel like to be totally at my

mercy?

"Matter of fact, now you're even more helpless than most women,"

he said, working his thumb around her love button.  "Now you're

just a lowly mental patient.  You have no clothing, no identity,

and no legal rights.  I've stripped you of everything.  No one

will believe anything you say.  The janitors, the orderlies, and

even the other patients can use you as they see fit, and no one

will care.  No one will help you, and no one will believe you.

"Did you know that 70% of the shock treatment victims are women? 

He once again adopted a clinical tone.  "Feminists say that

misogynist male doctors don't value female intelligence and use

'treatment' to punish women who refuse to conform.  It's really

quite unfair, isn't it?"

"Once word gets out among the orderlies about how wet your little

honey pot is, your dance card is going to be filled every night. 

Have you ever been gang banged while wearing a straitjacket, Kara?

My female patients tell me that it's an unforgettable experience."

Supergirl threw her head back and cried out as she experienced the

most earth-shaking orgasm of her life.   

The doctor laughed as he wiped his greasy glove on her long blonde

hair.  "You ARE a little whore, aren't you?  Before you get too

hot, remember that you CAN get pregnant.  I'm not going to give

you any birth control, no matter how many men you have to service. 

I imagine that, when you regain your powers, it will be difficult

for you to abort an invulnerable fetus.  I'm sure your doctor will

advise you to carry the little bastard to term."

"Now, Kara, it's time for you to take your medicine."  He eased

the naked blonde off his knee and dumped her onto the floor.  "Why

don't you kneel in front of me and show me what a good, submissive

little slut you can be.  I want a FULL Lewinsky, on the double!"

Supergirl was glad to be off his lap, but she hated the idea of

degrading herself by giving the lecherous pervert a blowjob.  Her

super-hearing and her x-ray vision had returned fully, and, for a

moment, she toyed with the idea of running out into the hallway

and trying to prove that she WAS Supergirl. 

But, as she imagined herself standing in the hallway stark naked

telling the horny orderlies what color underwear they were wearing,

she had second thoughts.  She had to stall for more time.

Supergirl, the most powerful female crime fighter the world had

ever seen, reluctantly knelt down in front of the two-bit con

artist and obediently unzipped his pants.  Fighting back her

feelings of disgust, she took his hardness in her mouth.

As she ran her tongue over the bulbous head, Dr. Phony continued

to taunt her.  "It's such a waste to use a mouth like yours for

barking orders....  Ooh, that's good", he gasped.  "Flutter that

little tongue of yours right under the head and get ready to

swallow.  I'm going to give you a really good treat...."

She sputtered as he shot his copious load into her mouth. 

"'ATTA GIRL!" he said.  "You'll swallow all your MEDICINE if you

know what's good for you."

She obeyed and drank the noxious stuff while he stared down at her

with an amused expression. 

"What does female submission taste like, Kara?" he asked.  "Does

it taste bitter for you?  It's sweet for me.  I think that 'S' on

your uniform must stand for 'SUCK'!"

"Now get back over here," he said, patting his knee.  "It's time

for more medicine."

She hated the idea of going back over his lap, especially since her

belt was still lying ominously on the desk.  But she knew better

than to resist, and she obediently scampered over his knee.

He reached into his drawer and took out the special suppository he

had prepared when he had seen her in the admittance area.  He had

acquired some "gold" Kryptonite shortly after getting out of

prison.  It was poor stuff, apparently synthetic, and much less

powerful than the real stuff (or even the normal synthetic).  But

the memory of what she had done to him was still fresh in his mind.

He hadn't known how he was going to use it, of course, and he

didn't have much, but, now that she was his patient, he had the

perfect opportunity.  Based on what he had read, he had enough

to keep her powerless for about a week if he could expose her

system to the dreadful poison on a regular basis. 

And what better way to do that than by administering it through a

24-hour suppository?

She tensed as he dipped two of his fingers back into the lubricant

and held them up before her horror stricken face.  "Now, just relax

your cute little bottom while Doctor gives you your medicine."

She winced as he slowly spread her bottom cheeks and insistently

pushed his greasy fingers past her agonizingly tight sphincter. 

He took almost a full two minutes to work them all the way up her

chute as she twisted helplessly on his lap, grunting from the shame

and pain of her predicament.  She let out a sigh of relief when he

finally pulled his fingers out with a large POP!

But her relief was short-lived as she saw him re-grease the tips of

his fingers and pick up the suppository.  She tried to twist away

as she felt the evil medicine push against her tight bottom hole,

but the powerful doctor easily held her in place.  He took his time

and used the slow insertion of the suppository as a way of letting

his new patient know that HE was in charge....

As Kara got off of his lap, he handed her a neatly folded smock.

"This is your new uniform," he said, playfully.  "It's not as grand

as your last one, of course, but then you're not so grand anymore

either, are you?" 

Supergirl was grateful for any covering, and she quickly put on the

garment.  To her dismay, it was so short it barely covered her

crotch in front, and the back strings had been cut off at the

bottom, so her shapely bare butt would hang out. 

"I think your new crime fighting uniform is just cute as button,

Super Sucker.  Just don't go chasing after villains on windy days!"

Supergirl's hands formed helpless little fists of frustration as

the grinning con man laughed at her in her short hospital gown. 

If only she could get her old uniform back....

But, as she clenched her fists, she felt an unmistakable power

surge.  It wasn't at full strength yet, but her super-strength

WAS returning.

She smiled, reached down, and picked up the grinning doctor by the

crotch.

"Upsy-daisy, doctor," she said, her self-confidence and power

returning.  "It's time for you to take YOUR medicine!

Dr. Phony winced as she felt her tighten her grip around his sack

and lift him off his feet.  He hadn't got the suppository into her

bottom in time.

He was screwed.

She turned him upside down and dropped him head first onto the

floor.  "Now, as I remember, I broke your legs when I tossed you

across the room.  Are they still tender and sensitive?" she said,

her voice oozing with mock sympathy. 

The enraged Supergirl quickly x-rayed his legs to locate the

fracture point and put her foot right on it.  "Since you think

my helpless, dainty bare feet are such a turn on, you should

enjoy this." 

The doctor cried out in pain as she dug her toes into thigh.  "Who

is helpless now, doctor?  Is pain a new sensation for you?  What's

it like to live in fear?" 

Supergirl had never purposely hurt anyone before, but his conduct

had pushed her over the edge.  "Did you know that 100% of the

female super-heroes beat the CRAP out of males that force them

to swallow?  Should I use my dainty yellow belt to 'teach you a

lesson,' DOCTOR?  Or are you going to be obedient and submissive,

just like criminal scum should be?"

She picked the doctor up by hair and began dragging him towards

the door.  "Have you ever had an enema, Doctor?" she asked,

sarcastically.  "If I can find a garden hose, you will.  And,

since you like playing with people's butt holes so much, I'll

have a talk with the warden.  I'm sure he can arrange some

cellmates that will enjoy using your tight little bottom as

much as you enjoyed using mine!"

As she dragged the doctor towards the door, she felt herself

starting to weaken.  Her activity caused the suppository in

her bottom to melt, and, even now, the "gold" kryptonite was

seeping into her veins.  The doctor quickly became too heavy

to drag, and she reluctantly released his hair.

Kara looked down at her feet.  "This floor feels strange," she

said, nervously.  "Why is it so cold again?"

The two titans who had injured her shoulder burst into the room,

along with the craggy nurse.  "We heard you screaming, doctor,"

the nurse said.  "Are you alright?"

"She attacked me!" the doctor said, scrambling up.  "This little

bitch waited until my back was turned, and then she attacked me.  

I want her restrained immediately!"

The nurse instantly produced a straitjacket.

"He's lying!" Supergirl cried, as the orderlies effortlessly forced

her to the ground and began fitting her with the horrible jacket. 

"I'm really Supergirl.  You've got to believe me!"

"Take her down the hall to an examination room," Doctor Phony said.

"I want her shaved and diapered."  He rubbed his sore leg.  "You

boys take your time with the job.  She's very...sensitive...down

there, if you know what I mean.  We're going to keep her in a

straitjacket and a padded cell...and she won't be given toilet

privileges.  We'll begin electroshock therapy in the morning."

"SHOCK TREATMENTS?" Supergirl screamed.  "Please, you HAVE to

believe me!  I know I look like a mental patient!  But you can't

do that to me -- I'm SUPERGIRL!"

The doctor intended to give her the mildest shock possible: barely

a jolt.  He wanted her mind sharp and clear, but he knew he would

enjoy the wild, frenzied look in her desperate eyes as the

orderlies greased up the sides of her lovely head and used the

gauze tape to tie her mouth restraint into place....

From the terrified look on her face, he knew that she wouldn't be

sleeping tonight.  She'd be too busy thinking about her upcoming

"treatment."

The two orderlies dragged the straitjacketed girl out the door

and into the crowded hallway.  Her struggles during her jacketing

had caused her short gown to ride up in front and back, leaving

her totally exposed.  In addition to the humiliation of being

restrained, she had to endure the lustful stares and lewd

comments of the patients, interns, and hospital workers as

she was dragged down the long corridor.

The doctor looked on in satisfaction as she was dragged towards

the public diapering table.  He planned to flee the hospital

before the Kryptonite ran out, but there was always the risk

that she would find him some day.

He was, however, determined to ensure that the next seven days

were worth it.

Edited by C. Lakewood