Jennifer stepped out of the motel room into the humid Los Angeles night, the door clicking shut behind her like a reluctant goodbye.
It was her first full day in this new world, and the stolen cash burned a hole in her pocket—metaphorically, at least. She'd spent the afternoon scouting the city, piecing together a plan.
Stark Industries was the key; Tony's kidnapping was imminent, and the stock would plummet before skyrocketing. If she could get her hands on some investments, play the market right, she could ride the wave.
But that required a broker, or at least a fake ID to open an account. For now, she needed to lay low, maybe find a pawn shop to flip something for quick cash.
The streets were alive with the hum of early evening traffic, neon signs flickering like distant stars. She cut through a narrow alley behind a strip of dive bars, a shortcut she'd mapped out earlier.
It smelled of garbage and urine, the kind of place where shadows clung to the walls like bad habits. Her hand brushed the bulge of the silenced 9mm in her jacket pocket, a comforting weight. She wasn't naive; this body might be new, but the instincts were old. Eyes forward, steps quick.
She didn't hear him until it was too late. A rustle from behind a dumpster, then a blur of motion. A thick arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her backward into the deeper darkness. Her breath caught as a hand clamped over her mouth, rough and calloused.
The thug was massive—easily six-four, built like a linebacker gone to seed, with a shaved head and a tattoo snaking up his neck. His breath reeked of cheap whiskey and cigarettes.
"Easy now, sweetheart," he growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
Jennifer twisted, her elbow jabbing back toward his ribs, but he was faster. He slammed her against the brick wall, the impact jarring her teeth.
Her hand went for the gun, but he anticipated it—his free hand snatched her wrist, twisting until she yelped. The pistol clattered to the ground, skidding a few feet away into the grime. He kicked it further, out of immediate reach, but not too far. Close enough to taunt.
"Feisty one, huh?" He chuckled, a wet, ugly sound. His eyes raked over her, hungry. With one meaty hand pinning her arms above her head, he used the other to pat her down, rough and invasive. He found the wad of cash in her jeans pocket first—$4,900 in crisp bills. "Well, look at this. Christmas came early."
He stuffed the money into his own pocket, not even counting it. Then his fingers hooked into the collar of her red V-neck tee, yanking hard.
Fabric tore with a sharp rip, exposing her bra and the pale skin beneath. She struggled, knee aiming for his groin, but he shifted, pressing his thigh between her legs to pin her in place.
"Stop! You don't—" she started, but he backhanded her lightly, just enough to stun.
"Shut it." His hands moved faster now, ripping at her jacket, buttons popping like gunfire in the quiet alley.
He peeled it off her shoulders, tossing it aside. Then the tee, shredded beyond repair. Her bra followed, snapped off with a flick of his wrist. Cool night air hit her bare chest, nipples hardening involuntarily against the chill.
He paused for a second, admiring, before grabbing her jeans. The button flew off as he wrenched them open, dragging them down her legs along with her underwear. She kicked, but he was too strong—boots stomping on her ankles to hold her still while he stripped her completely.
Naked now, exposed to the alley's indifferent gaze, Jennifer felt a surge of rage mixed with fear. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. No powers, no backup. Just her, vulnerable in a way she'd never been in her old life.
The thug stepped back, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. His pants dropped, revealing his erection—massive, at least twelve inches, veined and throbbing. He grinned, stroking it once. "You're gonna enjoy this, bitch. And if you don't, well... I will."
He lunged, slamming her back against the wall again. One hand gripped her throat, not choking, just controlling. The other guided himself between her legs. She felt the tip press against her entrance, hot and insistent. No preamble, no mercy—he thrust in hard, burying half his length in one go.
Jennifer gasped, a moan escaping despite herself as he penetrated deep, stretching her to her limits. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pain and unwelcome fullness. He pulled back slightly, then drove in deeper, inch by inch, until he was hilted, his tip nudging against her cervix, threatening to breach her womb.
"Fuck, you're tight," he muttered, his free hand moving to her exposed stomach. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh just below her navel, pressing hard every second like a rhythmic pulse. Squeeze. Release. Squeeze. Each compression sent a jolt through her core, amplifying the penetration.
She moaned again, involuntary, as his dick pushed deeper with each thrust, the head now pressing insistently against the entrance to her womb.
Squeeze—his hand clamped down, making her abdomen contract around him. The pressure built, a twisted pleasure-pain that made her body betray her.
He started moving in earnest, pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in, each thrust aimed at that deepest point. His infinite energy—some freak anomaly in this world, maybe—kept him going without fatigue.
Hours blurred as he fucked her relentlessly, his hips pistoning like a machine. Squeeze every second: one, two, three... his fingers kneading her stomach, bruising the skin, forcing her muscles to clench around his invading shaft.
Jennifer's moans came unbidden now, each penetration into her womb eliciting a sharp cry. The head of his dick breached further with every push, as if determined to impregnate her right there.
Squeeze—her stomach tensed under his grip, the sensation radiating inward, making her feel every inch of him. Two hours, he promised in grunts, and he delivered. The alley faded; time stretched into an eternity of thrusting and squeezing.
His rhythm was unyielding. Thrust deep, penetrate her womb—moan. Squeeze her stomach—moan. Release for a breath, then repeat. The friction built heat, her body slickening against her will. He laughed, low and triumphant, as he felt her responses. "That's it, take it all. Gonna fill you up good."
Deeper he went, the bulbous head of his twelve-inch cock stretching her inner walls, bumping against the back of her womb with each invasion.
Squeeze—his palm flattened against her belly, fingers splaying wide to press down hard, as if trying to feel himself through her skin. The pressure made her gasp, a moan tearing from her throat as her body arched involuntarily.
Again and again: thrust, penetrate, moan. Squeeze, compress, moan. His energy never flagged; sweat beaded on his brow but he didn't slow. One hour bled into two. Her legs trembled, held apart by his bulk.
Her moans grew hoarse, but still they came, triggered by each deep plunge and rhythmic squeeze.
He shifted her position, hoisting her legs over his shoulders for better access. Deeper penetration now, his dick spearing straight into her womb.
Squeeze—every second, his hand on her stomach, pushing down as he pushed in, creating a vice of sensation. She moaned louder, the sound echoing off the alley walls.
Exhaustion set in for her, but not him. Thrust after thrust, each one claiming more of her. Squeeze—fingers digging in, bruising her abdomen, the pain blending with the fullness. Moan after moan, her voice breaking.
He flipped her around, pressing her face against the wall. From behind, his entries were even more forceful, the angle allowing deeper access to her womb.
Squeeze—his hand reached around, clamping on her stomach from the front now, pulling her back onto him. Penetrate deep—moan. Squeeze hard—moan.
2nd hour: the night deepened, stars wheeling overhead unseen. His pace quickened, hips slamming against her ass. Each thrust sent his tip burrowing into her womb, the sensation of impending impregnation growing.
Squeeze every second: one-Mississippi, squeeze; two-Mississippi, squeeze. Her stomach ached from the constant pressure, but each compression forced a moan from her lips.
Her body was a canvas of bruises and sweat. He growled praises, filthy words about breeding her. Deep penetration—moan as he hit that spot. Stomach squeeze—moan as her core tightened around him.
Delirium set in. Thrust, penetrate womb—sharp moan. Squeeze belly—guttural moan. Infinite loop, his energy a curse.
He laid her on the ground, the cold concrete biting her back. Missionary now, eye to eye. His hand never left her stomach, squeezing rhythmically as he drove in deep. Moan on penetration, moan on squeeze. The head of his dick swelled, promising release, but he held back, drawing it out.
Her moans were whispers now, but persistent. Each deep thrust into her womb felt like fate sealing. Squeeze—his fingers left red marks, pressing as if to imprint himself.
The end neared. He thrust harder, faster, the twelve-inch length pistoning with fury. Penetrate deep into her womb, her loudest moan yet. Squeeze her stomach one last time, hard and prolonged.
In that moment, Jennifer's hand, numb but desperate, scrabbled across the ground.
Her fingers brushed the gun—still nearby, forgotten in his arrogance. She grabbed it, swung it up, and fired. The silenced shot cracked softly, the bullet entering his temple.
At the exact same instant, he climaxed, his body convulsing as he finished deep inside her womb, flooding her with his seed. His hand squeezed her stomach one final time, the pressure intense as he emptied himself.
He slumped forward, dead weight, blood pooling. Jennifer shoved him off, gasping, the gun trembling in her hand. Naked, violated, but alive. The cash was gone, her clothes in tatters, but the nightmare was over.
Or just beginning. In this world, consequences lingered.