The sterile hum of the Cadmus Facility’s containment cell buzzed like a persistent mosquito in Brandon Wells’ ears as he stirred awake. The cold, unyielding floor beneath him bit into his chiseled frame, a stark reminder of the experimental scars crisscrossing his back—souvenirs of a past he’d rather forget. At eighteen, he was a virgin in more ways than one: untouched by love, and now, by freedom. His eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the formidable women surrounding him, each a legend in her own right. Power Girl, Wonder Woman, Supergirl, Batgirl, Black Canary, Catwoman, Artemis, Hippolyta, and Zatanna—all caged like exotic birds in this high-security hellhole.
“Rise and shine, pretty boy,” Power Girl’s voice cut through the morning haze, sharp as a blade. She stood over him, arms crossed, her iconic white costume hugging every curve. Her blonde hair framed a smirk that could melt steel. “Didn’t think you’d sleep through the apocalypse, did you?”
Brandon pushed himself up, his muscles flexing instinctively under her gaze. “Just… adjusting to the five-star accommodations,” he quipped, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Didn’t realize I booked the deluxe suite with a view of nine badass women.”
“Flattery won’t get you out of here, kid,” Catwoman purred from her corner, her leather suit glinting in the dim light as she sharpened her claws on the wall. “But it might get you a scratch or two if you’re not careful.”
Before he could respond, the grating sound of metal on metal echoed through the cell. A Cadmus security guard, clad in tactical gear, slid breakfast trays under the door with all the warmth of a prison warden. Stale bread, watery oatmeal—gourmet dining at its finest.
Power Girl’s eyes narrowed, and in a flash, she lunged at the door, her fists hammering against the reinforced steel. “You think you can keep us like animals, you piece of—”
Her words cut off as the cell walls shimmered, a sickly green glow emanating from hidden panels. Kryptonite. Her strength faltered, and she dropped to one knee, gritting her teeth. The guard outside sneered, raising an electric baton menacingly through the barred window.
“Back off, blondie, or I’ll fry you like a holiday turkey,” he barked, his voice dripping with malice.
Brandon’s instincts kicked in. He stepped forward, placing himself between Power Girl and the guard, his broad shoulders squared. “Leave her alone. You’ve got no right to—”
A crackling voice interrupted over the speaker system, cold and detached. “Ah, the hero emerges. Brandon Wells, such chivalry. As a reward, you’ll administer a punishment to Supergirl later. Consider it… team-building.”
The women exchanged wary glances, but Supergirl, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, just rolled her eyes. “Great. I get the rookie as my disciplinarian. Try not to blush too hard, kid.”
Brandon’s face flushed, but he managed a shaky grin. “I’ll… uh, keep it professional.”
The guard returned moments later, unlocking the gate with a grunt. “Shower time, freaks. Move it. And change those sheets while you’re at it. Smells like a damn brothel in there.”
Wonder Woman’s piercing gaze met Brandon’s, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. Last night, under the cover of darkness, they’d shared a moment—her hands guiding his trembling ones, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered reassurances. Now, she raised an eyebrow, her tone commanding yet teasing. “Care to explain the mess, Brandon? Or shall I?”
He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes. “Uh, let’s just say I’m… learning the ropes.”
“Literally, it seems,” Black Canary chimed in, her voice laced with dry humor as she adjusted her fishnets. “Keep up, kid. We’ve got enough drama without your teenage hormones adding to it.”
The group shuffled into the communal shower area, a cavernous space of cracked tiles and rusted pipes. The water was lukewarm at best, but Brandon couldn’t help the way his senses overloaded under the spray. The sight of these powerful women, unapologetically bare and bantering as if this were a spa day, was too much for his inexperienced mind. His breath hitched, and before he could stop himself, he braced against the wall, succumbing to a desperate release. Shame burned through him as he muttered a clumsy apology, water dripping from his hair.
“Sorry, I—damn it, I didn’t mean to—”
Power Girl turned, her smirk wider than ever as she rinsed shampoo from her hair. “Relax, rookie. It’s not the first time a guy’s lost it around us. Won’t be the last. Just don’t make it a habit, ‘kay?”
“Unless you’re offering private lessons,” Catwoman added with a wink, flicking water at him. “Then we might negotiate.”
The speaker crackled again, the voice icy. “Brandon, it’s time. Power Girl’s punishment. Choose now, or I’ll choose for you.”
Brandon swallowed hard, his mind racing. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but defiance wasn’t an option. “Uh… a spanking? Just… light. Playful, even?”
Power Girl laughed, a throaty sound that echoed off the tiles. “Oh, you’ve got balls, kid. Fine. Let’s see if you’ve got the follow-through. Make it quick—I’ve got better things to do than play sub for you.”
She sauntered over, leaning against the wall with a challenging glint in her eye. Brandon’s hands shook as he delivered a tentative smack, but the heat of the moment—her proximity, the water, the tension—sent his control spiraling. Before he knew it, he’d pinned her against the wall, his breath ragged, his body pressed too close.
“Easy, tiger,” Power Girl growled, her voice low and dangerous, though her smirk hadn’t faded. “You’re playing with fire, and I burn hot.”
Wonder Woman stepped in, her presence a calming storm. She pulled Brandon back with a firm grip, her lips brushing his in a grounding kiss before she spoke, her tone unyielding. “Consent, Brandon. Always. I know the experiments mess with your head, your urges. But you control them, not the other way around. Understood?”
He nodded, breathless, his heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just… got carried away.”
Power Girl shrugged, adjusting her stance. “No harm, no foul. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time, rookie.”
The group finished showering in relative silence, dressing in the provided gray jumpsuits before returning to the cell. Brandon, still reeling, hesitated before speaking up. “Hey, uh, guard? Any chance we could get something to pass the time? Games, maybe?”
The guard grumbled but eventually tossed in a box of board games and a deck of cards. “Don’t say I never did nothing for ya.”
As they settled around the games, the tension eased into something like camaraderie. Batgirl, shuffling the deck with practiced ease, shot Brandon a sly grin. “So, hotshot, you gonna apologize again for the shower show, or are we past that?”
He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “I’m past it if you are. But I owe you all a round of… whatever this game is. Deal me in.”
“Only if you can handle losing to a bunch of women who’ve taken down gods,” Supergirl teased, her blue eyes glinting with mischief.
“Oh, I can handle it,” Brandon shot back, a spark of confidence returning. “Question is, can you handle me when I win?”
The laughter that followed was sharp, genuine, a brief escape from the cage that held them. For now, in the flicker of a card game, they were more than prisoners—they were a team, bound by banter and the unspoken promise of rebellion.
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