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The Latex Flood

Part 2

Sponsored by Sanmer

By Draconicon

While it wasn't the same as owning some of the targets she'd had when she was still a GenEnji employee, having the stallion dance for her for hours made her feel good. As long as the bills flowed and as long as she kept saying that she'd consider hitting up the hero guys tomorrow, the stallion kept dancing for her. Never got a name for the twink-y guy, but considering what he was swinging in her face, she didn't really need one. It was better to keep it nameless.

Of course, that meant that she woke up as a puddle in the corner of the club the next morning, her body dissolved down after copious amounts of not-quite-processed alcohol, and the half-liquid hippo wasn't feeling too good as she gradually put herself back together. The bubbling way of reforming her body limb by limb after she had the eyes to see it was a time-waster, and there were several employees that stumbled on her in the process and ran away screaming.

Fuck them, too, she thought, nursing her headache as she made herself a pair of feet and got onto them. She wobbled back and forth, leaning against the wall for a few seconds before she realized why she couldn't move forward. Right. Proportions. Proper...proper proportions...

Slapping the wall and leaving behind a blurry mirror of latex, she looked at herself and started sliding her body parts up and down. Stick thighs needed to be wider, and she needed to take the shoulders in a bit. Not too much, but a bit. Other little modifications had to happen, too, but they weren't as bad as the first time that this had happened.

At least this time she remembered to do a head first. The first time, she did the stupid thing of trying to just hop out of the pool fully formed. That had left her with her hands sticking out of her neck, her head in her ass - literally - and a few other different features that she hadn't really enjoyed.

Finally, her body was back to normal, or at least, it didn't have any big differences that she could pick out. Her memories would fix anything that she'd missed so far over the course of the day.

She was, however, still both hungover and drunk, the retained alcohol still not quite processed and leaving her tipsy, with just enough having been processed to leave her with a headache. Margaret groaned.

Here comes the fun part...

The hippo focused on the non-latex bits inside of her. There were some little chunks of food that she'd keep in there to finish being broken down, but there were also the nasty bits of her drinks from the night before. She pushed her attention on those, and then pushed them up and out of -

"Ow, ow, ow, ow..."

It burned as it was forced out through pores that formed just for the purpose of letting them out, but at least it got rid of the stuff that was keeping her from thinking clearly. She shook her head, wincing as some of it flowed out of her thighs, some from her stomach, and some from her throat.

How'd that even get stuck there?

She didn't know, and she didn't want to know. At least she was herself again. No glasses, but she must have done something with the last transformation to make it so that her eyes didn't need them for now. They'd start getting blurry again later as she started reverting back to the base form, but...fuck it. She'd find a pair later.

Margaret was just starting to pull herself towards the door when the bull from yesterday approached. The asshole manager, she remembered, and she turned to face him with her arms crossed over her chest. He stopped in mid-step, and she saw that he still had some of her latex on him from the day before. Most of it would have disintegrated, going more liquid and rolling off after that long without focusing on it, but some of it - mostly around the mouth and throat - was still there. She chuckled.

"Come to ask me to take it off?"

He didn't say anything. Instead, he slowly nodded.

"You learn a lesson?"

He nodded again.

"Good." She twisted her hand in a snapping, flicking gesture, and the latex still on him came flying off, summoned back to her with that simple movement. He gasped for breath, covering his mouth. "Now, you can do me a favor."

"Nnngh...ah...ah...why...would I do that?" he asked, panting for breath. "You -"

"Taught you a lesson. And reminded you not to get in over your head. Imagine if that had been fire instead of latex. Or acid."

"..."

"You normals aren't alone anymore. Most people like me aren't going to be nice. And I'm a walking warning about what I am," she said, gesturing at her latex skin, at the way that she gave and stretched, rippled and bounced as she moved. "Most of them are going to look more normal. Do you want to risk your hand every time that you get pissed off with someone? Or worse?"

"...What do you want?"

"Where's the nearest Hero Union?"

"...What?"

"I told that stallion of yours that I'd give it a shot. And I need a job. So, where's the nearest one?"

"What makes you think I know?"

"You have a phone, don't you?"

"Don't you?"

"Do I look like I have a place to carry one?"

"I...you...oh..."

"Yeah. Oh." She rested her hands on her hips, shaking her head as he finally seemed to clock to her nudity. "Now, the address?"

"...One second."

It turned out to be just a few blocks down the street, and when she got there, she was somehow unsurprised that it looked like some kind of clubhouse had been mixed with a police station. It was three stories tall, there was smoke coming out of the windows on the top floor, and the parking lot was jammed to the gills with cars that were bigger, harder, and better armed than they had any right to be.

As she walked up to the metal-walled, camera-laden building, she had to dodge the different sharp fins and blades that adorned most of the cars that blocked the way. Her latex flex could take a lot of damage, but cutting stuff tended to still do damage. She could take blunt hits all day long, but if someone started cutting her with sharp stuff, it tended to last longer. It wasn't particularly fun, either.

Eventually, she reached the front door. No less than three cameras pointed down at her, scanning her from head to toe. A hologram - flickering, badly projected by some gadgeteer's first attempt, probably - of an eagle popped up by the door. He turned his head, deliberately looking down at his camera on the other end.

"You don't look like one of us. What, did Pete call a whore again?"

"You obviously don't have color picture in there, do you?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just look through a color picture lens and try that line again."

The eagle snorted at her, but looked off-camera. He flicked through something, his feather-hands coming into frame for a few seconds before dropping again. Then his eyes went wide.

"See?" she asked.

"You're not normal?"

"You really think I'd be here if I was?"

"Hey, some of us have fan clubs."

I'll just bet, she thought, shaking her head. This was not the way that she had imagined her life going. She'd had an accounting job, and when that had been ruined, she had another company job, one that would have seen her through to retirement if she'd kept up with her duties and never questioned them. However, once they started on active disappearing of people, there was no more space for her there.

"Look. You got space for someone or not?"

"Uh...um...this is highly irregular."

"You were all set to let me in if I was a whore, but the minute I want a real job, there's not space?"

"Well, uh, whores leave. You, uh..."

"Look. Either tell me to go or let me in so I can fill out an application or...whatever it is you do."

"Interviews, usually."

"Fine. Then let's do that. Or you can tell me where the next little clubhouse you guys have is, and I'll go there, instead."

"Uh, um -"

The eagle's hologram image suddenly disappeared, and she heard a crash-bang-thump that implied that he'd been shoved out of the way. In his place, a bulldog appeared, one that wore a mechanical patch over one eye and looked down at her with actual authority rather than the stumbling, arrogant stuff that the eagle had been trying to get away with. The bulldog nodded.

"Come in, and we'll talk."

"Finally, someone that knows what they're doing."

She pressed a hand against the building, and the door opened. She stepped inside, and almost immediately, she found herself surrounded by explosions, flying lasers, electricity zapping through the air, and more energy beams than one could shake a stick at. The air smelled like booze and 'herb' smoke, and it felt like she'd walked into a frat house rather than anything else.

Margaret rubbed her forehead, taking a deep breath before letting it out. It might not be as bad as it seemed, but when it came to making a first impression, this was a hell of an impression.

As she shook her head, some of them - in this case, two foxes - turned their attention to her. One elbowed the other, pointing at her and muttering to the other. She caught what they were saying over the din, something about her being naked, and wondering if she was as pervy as she looked.

She could have done something about that right then and there, but she decided to hold back. Just for now. Just until the end of the interview. If it happened again, she'd call attention to it, but for now, she'd hold back.

She looked up at the balcony of the second floor and saw the same bulldog from the hologram leaning over the side. The hippo looked up at him, gesturing wordlessly in a circle around her. He didn't say anything, just nodded at the stairs that led to the second floor, then stepped away.

Great. Fight your way up or don't get in at all. Some business practice these guys have...

Well, she could make it work. Margaret shoved herself into the fray, her body going from dry-smooth to wet-smooth, allowing her a little less friction to work with as she slid among the other men and women that were part of this party-house. The foxes tried to approach her, but she disappeared into the swell before they could catch up with her. All the better, considering how handsy they'd looked.

She noticed that some of the powers that were being thrown around hit different individuals, but they didn't actually make an impact. They just hit the super in question and disappeared. Odd; the lightning bolts, at the very least, should have been enough to knock someone on their ass, and some of those energy bolts looked like they were at least at the level of radiation burns.

Then she noticed that all of them had specific chips built into their clothes. Usually it was right at the back of the neck, where those with capes wore their long cloaks, but it could be just about anywhere. At a guess, they were energy dissipators, matched to whatever powers were part of the group so they could just toss those out at a whim.

Explains the lack of casualties to the heroes...

And how they would be completely stupid with everyone else. After all, if they weren't affected, why should they worry about everyone else?

She gritted her teeth, fighting down the sudden swell of rage that came with that thought. The memories of three months ago, when that hero's car had almost bisected her when it came screaming down the street, came rushing back. She remembered the pain that came before the transformation took it away, and she remembered that the hero went right back to his job the minute that she was finished with him.

No punishment. No lessons. Just right back to the job. She'd seen the papers, saw that two more civilians were hit, and unlike her, they'd died. Super-stuff wasn't guaranteed in a life or death situation, after all.

She was seething inside by the time that she reached the stairs, but she kept it from showing on her face. Latex features were good for keeping a poker face, and she needed that right now. Margaret was just about to reach the top step when -

BOOM!

A chunk of stone and railing wood burst from the wall just as she was about to walk by it, and even with her near-immunity to damage, that would have at least knocked her head around her body if she was ready for it. As it was, it might have taken her off the stairwell and into the ground, even ripped through her body. Margaret stared at the hole, felt the itch-tingle in the air that came from the atomic destabilization and explosion that had happened on such a tiny level, and slowly turned her head back to the supers down on the floor below.

One of them, a poodle with lenses over his eyes so thick that they extended half a foot in front of his face, waved back at her, grinning.

"Welcome to the club! Nice to see someone with decent reaction time!"

"..." She slowly raised her middle finger, then walked by. The urge to put up a shield of her own material was almost overpowering, but she was not going to let that fucker see that he'd gotten to her. Inside, her heart was running a mile a minute at the reminder of just how stupid so many supers were.

That had been a goddamn mini-nuclear reaction, one that had blown out part of the building and was still leaving her feeling like her skin was going to bubble off. If it wasn't for the fact that she was made of a material that she could slough off and replace at night...fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

What else were they going to throw at her? How much more bullshit were they going to make her face before -

Shut up. Shut up. It's this or the villains. Do you want to be one of them?

The idea was getting rather tempting after that last kaboom, but not quite tempting enough. She took a deep breath and finished climbing the stairs. It wasn't hard to find the bulldog's office, and she slid inside. Literally, she slid inside, deforming and moving around the edges of the doorframe before reappearing inside.

When she formed eyes again, she found the bulldog staring at her. He managed to keep from gawping, which was better than she expected, and gestured for her to take a seat. She did, folding one leg over the other.

"Name?" he asked.

"Margaret."

"...You don't have a super name yet?"

"Three months. Kept another job."

"That's pretty fucking impressive," he muttered, turning to the computer on the desk. "Margaret. Spelled like it sounds?"

"Yes."

"Right. Just running a background check..."

She managed to slow her heart down, but that didn't mean much. The anger that she had bubbling through her was a mask for the anxiety that was just below it, a reminder that the hero that had done this to her had never gotten punished, and the most recent reminder that the one that could have blown her head off just a moment ago had not gotten anything but a laugh from his colleagues. Oh, this was a mistake. This was a goddamn mistake. A death trap.

Just...wait...

The bulldog looked at the screen for a moment after he stopped typing, then leaned in, tapping the mechanical patch over his eye. She didn't quite grit her teeth, but she could feel her blackened ivories stretching, melding, merging together in a hundred little micro-fingers gripping each other nervously. It was a dental nightmare and she made it stop before the mental image could get any worse.

Finally, he looked back at her.

"...Why the hell did you come here?"

"...Pardon?"

"You've got an arrest warrant out for you."

"The hell I do."

"Look."

He turned the monitor around, and there it was. Her old face - one that she barely recognized anymore, so much more...living than her current one - and then the new one that was blackened with latex. It was almost more like a mug shot than an ID shot, and underneath it was a list of many crimes. Kidnapping. Coercion. Blackmail. Rape.

That last one was the only viable one, the only one that had happened before she started taking orders from GenEnji. That had been something done with the wolf that had run her over, something that she'd made him do when she wanted him to understand how it felt when all control was taken from him. She had put him through that, and she goddamn admitted it, but the rest were not her fault.

"Are you stupid?" he asked her. "Because if you think we're going to accept criminals, you're wrong."

"Oh, is that a fact?"

"We're heroes, not criminals."

"Ha!"

She shook her head. That list of crimes...

GenEnji.

She should have expected this. She'd gotten out before they could take her away, before they could try and make more of her, and that meant that they had to neutralize her before someone else could make use of her talents. Maybe it was something to try and bring her back into the fold, make her life so bad that she didn't want to stay away from them, or maybe it was just damage control. Either way, she was in trouble.

She started to get up, only for the bulldog to slam his hand down on a button at his desk. The chair suddenly buzzed, clamps of metal slamming down on all sides, seizing her from ankle to knee, around her waist, and over her arms. A final strap tried to catch her head, but she swung her head forward at the last second to avoid that one.

"What the fuck? I came here to -"

"You're a criminal. Whatever else you are, you're a goddamn criminal, and we're taking you in."

"Oh, you...you..."

"I don't know what the fuck you were thinking. Maybe you thought you could fuck your way into this -"

"As if!"

"But even if you weren't a criminal, you're not my type."

"That's what you're concerned about?!"

"Rapist. It's right there. Clearly, you're used to...using others..."

There was clearly no point in saying anything else. Thanks to GenEnji, they had already decided against her. Whatever hopes, whatever practicality she'd been keeping things down with was gone.

"I don't know what you've dealt with before, woman, but you're in the Hero's Union now. It's time you learn -"

"Fuck. That."

He slapped her. She barely felt it, but she knew what he'd done. She slowly lifted her head to face him. Breathing? No more need to breathe. Anger was a costume now, a layer on top of fear, and fear was ready to break free. He'd already tried to trap her. Already tried to hurt her. Whatever came next would be worse.

So, it couldn't happen.

A surge of latex swelled her limbs. At first, it just made her bulge disproportionately around the restraints, but prolonged pressure snapped the metal. She stood up from the chair as the bulldog pulled back. His patch glowed red, only for her to reach out. Her hand turned to liquid, bubbled, frothed, turned to a bubble that she wrapped around his head. He couldn't see, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything.

Heat burned against her hand, some sort of laser. The pain was less than the fear, and as she bubbled it with more and more of the latex inside of her, filling that little helmet that she'd created, she numbed it.

Teach me a lesson...teach me...

She swung him over her head, slamming him into the ground. The impact shattered several floorboards, revealing the concrete beneath. She let go of his mouth, and he breathed in, gasping. She kept the latex around his eyes, keeping him blind, keeping him from shooting whatever eye-beam he'd been making.

"Fuck...that."

"You - you're a criminal. We deal with -"

"FUCK YOU!"

She threw him against the door, and then out of it. Glass shards and wood splinters filled the air, and the bulldog went tumbling down the stairs. The party that was going on down there stopped instantly.

Hyper-ventilating, Margaret knew she was losing control. She shouldn't be here. She knew this was a bad idea, knew this was a horrible idea. This was where things went bad. This was where people could hurt others and nobody would care. This where everything went wrong.

She had to get out.

She had to get out.

The window nearest her was the only other casualty that afternoon as she shattered it and leaped through. All the heroes that ran up to the bulldog's office found were glass shards, a crater from the impact, and a dark stain that disappeared down the alley outside the building.

Margaret emerged at a hotel, having gone through the water system to make her way into the pipes of the building. She reformed after flowing out of the sink, still shaking from head to toe but gradually calming herself down. Was there some denial there? Probably. Was there something that she needed to deal with eventually, some bit of anger and fear that needed to be sorted out before she could function normally? Goddamn yes.

Did she care? Not really.

The hippo threw herself into the hotel bed, shaking her head into the pillows. She was...where? Somewhere further from the Union building than they probably expected for someone of her powers. So long in the pipes, though. So long, so very...very long...

Her body hurt. It felt stressed, strained, pushed to its limits. Even now, able to reform back to her hippo shape, she didn't feel right. Everything just ached. She rolled slowly onto her side, gritting her teeth before finishing the roll onto her back. Forcing herself to breathe normally even though it hurt, she clenched her hands into tight fists and thumped them against the bed.

Fucking...fuck. What the hell else were they going to do? she thought. GenEnji's not stupid, you knew the heroes were fucking hypocrites, and you still - FUCK.

Not wanting to wreck the room and potentially cause even more problems for herself, she threw a pillow against the wall and slammed her head back down against the bed. It took everything she had not to cry.

As a super, almost every regular job was off-limits to her. The city had passed that law when they started to appear, basically ensuring that the normal people still had a chance to get a job. Supers either joined the Hero Unions, if they had good records, or, failing that, they became villains. There were 'rumors' of an unofficial Villain's Guild, and there were definite ways to find it if you wanted to try.

She'd avoided that so far, just because she still felt bad about what she'd done after she'd become a super, and because she was already doing horrible things and she didn't want to get worse with GenEnji, but...

I still need a place to stay...I still need to pay for things...I still need...

The world had fucked her. Hard. A hero turned her into a super by almost killing her. Her job turned her into a villain and lied to her, all while keeping her onboard with a way to make a living 'normally'. The minute she left, they fucked her over so she couldn't get a job anywhere, and then outed her to the heroes, which meant that she'd have a manhunt after her, her name, her description posted to all the different Unions.

This...isn't...fair...

It wasn't, but that wasn't going to stop anything from getting worse, was it? She had to figure out a way forward. She had to look at the numbers, at the math, and see what her options actually were.

Margaret forced herself to sit up, her hands at the side of her head. Glued to it, as a matter of fact, her fingers melting through her skull and into her head. It was a weak way of trying to soothe herself, literally massaging her brain, but it was better than nothing. She stared straight ahead, breathing slowly.

Option one. Surrender and hope for light sentence.

Not going to happen. The bondage chair, the way that they'd looked at her at the Union, and the way that they were willing to blow up part of the building just to haze her? She'd be left a battered shell of her former self if she ever went back, and that was if she didn't do her own version of going nuclear once she hit her breaking point. And she would eventually hit it, she had no doubt. There was nobody there that was going to be nice about that.

Option two. Go back to GenEnji and beg for a job.

Also not going to happen. She needed to live, but that would be just as bad as going back to the heroes. They wouldn't let her leave, and they'd find some way of making sure that she couldn't deny their commands next time. The fact that she had this much freedom now was a telling thing; they'd made a mistake, and they were trying to cover it up. If she went back, they won.

Option three. The villains.

Much as she hated it, it was clear that the world had effectively knocked her down to the option of running away or taking up crime. Running away from the city would be difficult, if not impossible. She would have to break the cordon that the heroes had set up around the city, keeping the 'super problem' isolated here. Next to impossible, that.

Her other option was to go criminal. Considering the dangers of going freelance, that meant taking up with the Villain's Guild. There'd be some cooperation there, and...

And she didn't know how bad they were. Considering that she knew exactly how bad the heroes were, and how bad GenEnji was willing to be, that meant that she had a chance for it to be better there. Not much of a chance, but a chance. Even if they weren't, would they care if she started taking some of her own back on those groups?

They're villains. They'd probably be happy about it.

She curled her hands into tight fists, taking a deep breath. She didn't want this, but what choice did she have? She -

Knock, knock.

"Room service," someone said from the door.

Margaret blinked. She hadn't touched the phone, there were no suitcases. Nobody was here. Was this some sort of blip? Some error? As she decided to stay silent, the knocking started again.

"Room service. Delivery on the order of one V. G.?"

...You're kidding...

The hippo slowly pulled herself from the bed, making her way to the door. She looked through the peephole and saw a dolphin in a tight suit and a tighter hat, holding out a tray with a silver dome on top of it. She looked closer, and she saw that his eyes were spiraling, a little bump sticking out from the side of his head that looked almost like a little control device.

Someone sent him...

Opening the door slowly, she held out her hand. The dolphin passed her the domed plate, and then his eyes flickered. He stopped in the middle of holding his hand out for a tip and robotically walked away.

Margaret closed the door, making her way back to the bed. She put the tray down on it, then stepped back, stretching her hand out while she stood behind the corner. Gripping the top of the dome, she dragged it up and out of the way, revealing -

A phone. Just a phone. That was all.

As soon as it was exposed, it started ringing. An unknown number, too, for that matter. That confirmed to her that it was a burn phone, something that wasn't meant to be used more than once, and if it was going through this much secrecy, then she knew that it wasn't from GenEnji, nor from some hero.

Well, this speeds things up a little, doesn't it?

She picked up the phone, retracting her arm and holding it to her head. She took a deep breath, pressed the button to answer, and muttered.

"V. G., huh?"

"Glad you aren't as stupid as you looked."

"Less stupid, more scared," she admitted, sitting down on the bed. "Then again, I'm sure half your recruits have done something worse."

"You're not wrong. But they get weeded out in short order. The question is, what's going to happen to you?"

"I'm pretty sure that you have a suggestion, if you're calling me."

"Consider it more of an investment, heh. You're thinking things over right now. This phone has a pay-app loaded onto it with $2,000 already invested to an anonymous account. That should cover your expenses for the next week. At that point, we'll ask for an answer. Take that time to think."

"And if I eventually refuse? Just so the consequences are up-front?"

"We tell the other supers how to find you."

"Rough."

"Yes. But you've seen what happens when people don't take care of things. You've got a week. Think it over."

"One question."

"Ask."

"That dolphin. Can you send him back?"

"He'll do whatever he's told. Why?"

"That bump's really noticeable. And...I could use a little company."

"Heh. He'll be back in five minutes. Use him as you like. Talk to you in a week."

The phone clicked off, and she put it at her side. She didn't know what she was going to do, but a week's time would be enough to figure it out. $2,000 were good, too, but that meant that they could track her. That needed to be converted to cash as fast as possible.

And she had a pretty good idea of how to do that. She'd make a trip back to that club later. For now -

She looked at herself. It wasn't much, but she needed something to take some of the sting and the fear and the hate out of her. She needed something to remind herself that she was worth it, and for now, a cute guy adoring her would do.

The End

Summary: Margaret tries to make her life better, but finds out that things are fucked up hard. Real hard.

Tags: implied sex, female nudity, hippo, bulldog, poodle, eagle, dolphin, bull, supers, superpowers, latexia, series, latex, bubbling, transformation, fighting, fight,