Masked
Passions Special
Oktobriana,
Wonderman
and
Wonderdog
Copyright
2014 By Arcadia Berger
The World of
Masked Passions
They have always been among us, or
so they say. They were only shadowy
figures, though, until a few years ago, when they began to appear more openly.
Not too openly: they still keep
their secrets, covering their faces and using names and costumes out of history
and legend (if there is any difference).
Some of them claim to actually be the people whose names they use,
having stepped out of the mists no older than they were decades or centuries
before. Nobody knows quite what to make
of claims like those, and the masked ones will only speak in contradictory
hints and riddles.
So now we must try to share our
world with people like the Black Terror, the Blue Beetle, Phantom Lady, Iron
Jaw, Hercules, the Claw, Sir Parsifal, Sheena, Dracula and Captain Nemo.
Even Nature itself seems to have
been affected: the forests are yielding
up their Sasquatch, the seas are
revealing their monsters, and planets which had appeared barren now radiate
signals, and perhaps even spacecraft.
The world is a more colorful place
than it was a few years ago. More
colorful, more dangerous, perhaps literally more mythic, with the masked ones
moving among us. Some people would like
to find a way to go back to the old days, while others find more beauty and
more hope in the new state of affairs.
But whether we like it or not, we
ordinary mortals must acknowledge that in many ways the world belongs to the
masked ones, and we are only living in it.
They set the agenda with their masked faces, their masked powers and
their masked passions.
Prologue
Brad Spencer, known to the world as
Wonderman, lay on a large circular bed, his wrists and ankles bound with
manacles and chains of the strongest alloys known -- alloys he had devised
himself, as he had so many things.
His iconic green and red costume was
draped over a nearby chair, as though to mock him.
A woman climbed onto the bed, after making
sure the restraints were properly in place.
“Okay, stud,” she whispered, “let’s see
what you’ve got.”
She rubbed her vulva across his chest
and abdomen. His steel-hard flesh was
covered with smooth, unblemished, bulletproof skin. When she had aroused herself sufficiently,
she raised herself up and slowly lowered herself onto his erect penis.
“Mmmmm, that feels good, Brad. How does it feel to you?”
“Exquisite, darling. My tactile nerves process sensation sixty
times faster than a normal person’s, so when I put my entire attention on my
penis, it’s --“
“Don’t put your entire attention on your
penis, darling,” she said, running her hands over his belly and chest, smiling
as she felt his nipples stiffen.
It wasn’t a totally satisfactory
solution to the problem of how they could make love without him hurting her,
but it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.
Carol Paige was straightening the living room when Oktobriana arrived
unannounced. The Wonderlab’s voice came
from a speaker, informing her that the Vacuum Spiral was warming up, and a
visitor from Earth was imminent. Since
Wonderman was on Ceres, she knew it wasn’t her husband. But it had to be someone who had permission
to enter one of Wonderman’s laboratories or business offices on Earth’s surface,
and therefore was presumably a friend -- at least, a friend of Wonderman’s.
Carol looked down at her embroidered silk lounging pajamas and decided
they would do for company. She crossed
the large open space at the center of the Wonderlab, walking around the various
workbenches and experimental devices her husband was always working on, to
reach the location of the Vacuum Spiral. When she had first moved into the Wonderlab
full time, Carol had thought it was going to be her ideal home: all cleaning
and cooking handled automatically, no need for her to ever take on the role of
“housewife”, which she had been dreading since before puberty. She was not pleased with Brad’s careless
attitude towards creating a liveable environment, though. He had installed a large double bed to supplement
the cots which were scattered here and there about the Wonderlab, but Carol had
informed him that one bed and a chamber scarcely big enough to hold it would
not suffice. He had grumbled at the
inconvenience but had added an entire apartment to the Wonderlab. She’d made it a space she was comfortable in,
one where she would feel capable of raising their children, which she hoped to
persuade him they should have sooner rather than later.
The Vacuum Spiral’s target platform filled with a dazzling white
spindle-shaped electrical discharge which dissipated to reveal a very tall,
very muscular woman in a snakeskin-print halter top and red stretchpants so
tight it was obvious she wore nothing under them. By the woman’s immense head of blonde hair
and the red star on her forehead, Carol knew her for Oktobriana, a Russian
superhuman Brad had worked alongside in the past. Carol was surprised, but glad of the
opportunity. There were things she
needed very much to discuss with Oktobriana.
.”Ah, hello, Carol,” the woman said in heavily accented English. “So good to see you. And, is Bradley here?”
“Not by a couple of AUs.
Is there something I can help with?”
“I, er, doubt it,” the Russian said with a quirky smile.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re here anyway, because we need to
talk.”
She laughed.
“Is that like in the story where the man has a dream,
that he lives in a palace? You know, and
in every room is a different beautiful woman, and every one of them is saying,
‘We need to talk’, ‘We need to talk’, ‘We need to talk’ . . . ?”
“Rather a lot like, as it happens. So, how about if we sit down and have some
coffee and discuss a few things?”
They went into the apartment, into the kitchen unit. Carol spoke to the Wonderstove. She had programmed it to only respond to commands
in Esperanto, to avoid accidental orders if it overheard a conversation in
English.
“Mirigas
forno, komando!”
“Kio estas via celo, sinjorino?”
“Duobla
- kafeino Mocha.”
She started to ask Oktobriana what she wanted, but the
Russian just rattled off “Teo, Samovar-stilo.” Apparently, she was quite familiar with how
Brad’s food synthesizer worked.
They sat down at the kitchen table as though they were
old friends, but the tension in the air was palpable.
“So, Carol, I suppose you are going to ask me if Bradley
and I are lovers.”
Carol didn’t respond visibly.
“No, because I already know you’re sleeping with my
husband.”
Oktobriana reached out to touch Carol’s hand. Carol withdrew hers, avoiding her touch.
“Carol, I hope you understand why this is necessary.”
“Necessary?”
“Yes. Bradley is a
being more than human. An ordinary
mortal cannot be his lover in full.”
“You mean, because he has to restrain himself to avoid
hurting me?”
Sometimes literally, Carol though, remembering Brad’s
installing of chains and cuffs in their bed.
“Exactly. And it
is not merely his strength which separates you from him. There are his senses, and his reflexes.”
Oktobriana’s hand suddenly darted into the air above the
table. She held out her hand, showing
that she had caught a fly, alive and unharmed, out of the air. She folded the fly into her napkin and
crushed it.
The Russian looked around the kitchen, maintained by automated
systems in a condition which was not merely spotless, but as sterile as an
operating theater.
“I suppose the fly wandered into the Vacuum Spiral while
I was using it. My apologies. A good thing I was not merged with it, like
in the movies, eh?”
She laughed. Carol
did not.
Damn, did she actually carry a live fly with her and
release it, just to show off to me? Carol thought. I think she did.
“So you see, although I know Bradley loves you, he also
needs a woman like me to feel truly satisfied.
You do see that, don’t you Carol?”
There was a deep thudding from the next room. In the rest of the Wonderlab, it would have
been a clattering like hobnailed boots, but the living area was carpeted
throughout. Oktobriana must have thought
it was Brad, because her face lit up and she spun around. It was gratifying to Carol to see how her jaw
dropped when she saw the hundred-kilogram beast.
The dog looked like he must have German Shepherd in his
ancestry, and Husky, and probably a good deal of wolf. He was twice the size of a normal dog,
weighing as much as a large man. His
eyes were yellow and suggested an intelligence which was at least human.
His teeth were bared in a way that suggested he was
grinning, and perhaps he was -- it was clear that this was no ordinary
animal. Last of all, Oktobriana noticed
his green collar, from which dangled a tag in the form of a yellow oval with a
broad red “W” on it. Wonderman’s own
emblem.
Brad Spencer still insisted in public that the treatment
which had given him the powers which inspired him to call himself Wonderman had
occurred by accident, when a “sizzling voltage of a secret current” had gone
through his body. The truth was, he
hadn’t wanted to admit he had been experimenting recklessly on himself, after only
one successful animal test.
“What is that thing?” Oktobriana said, bracing herself as
though she thought the immense dog might attack her.
“Brad always calls him ‘Wonderdog’. You may have noticed that he’s fond of names
like that. I call him Rexie, and he
seems to prefer it.”
The dog moved closer, sniffing. He didn’t seem to be hostile, merely very
curious.
“Well, I . . . do not prefer him. Please send him away, Carol.”
Oktobriana was backed up in her chair, doing everything
but hide behind it, while the dog continued to sniff at her, ignoring her
efforts to push him away.
Carol watched, amused by how the dog seemed to overawe
the arrogant superwoman.
“I’m afraid I can’t control him very well. You can see how strong he is, and he doesn’t
really mind me, only Brad.”
That was a lie, but there was no need to tell Oktobriana
that she could dismiss him with a word or two.
The Russian had abandoned her chair and actually was cowering behind it,
for all the good it did her. The dog
lunged around the chair and got the waistband of her stretchpants in his teeth.
“Carol, radi Boga,
get him away from me!”
Before Carol could answer, Oktobriana’s waistband
tore. That was pretty impressive, given
that they were Ultralon, which was supposed to be knifeproof and almost
bulletproof. Her pants tangled around
her knees, causing her to fall to all fours.
Now Rexie had full access to the thing that smelled so
good, and he took full advantage.
Oktobriana yipped when she felt his cold nose, then screeched when she
felt his tongue.
Interesting, Carol thought, watching the
proceedings. Rexie has never shown that
kind of interest in my pussy, only the occasional sniff any dog might
take. He seems to have found something
downright fascinating between Oktobriana’s legs, though. I guess she really does have something
special to offer.
She backed over to the Wonderstove, not wanting to miss a
moment of the scene, and said, “Mirigas
forno, grandan glason da ruĝa vino.”
Rexie was lapping eagerly at Oktobriana’s crotch, showing
no sign of slowing. The Russian didn’t
seem to be trying very hard to rise to her feet any longer, being seemingly
mesmerized by the Wonderdog’s tongue.
“Mirigas laboratorio, komando!” Carol shouted. The Wonderlab’s main computer responded to
the Esperanto codephrase, saying in a soft genderless voice, “Kion vi volas, sinjorino?”
She commanded the computer to transfer all security video
since the last activation of the Vacuum Spiral to her personal files, under the
name ‘Oktobriana 01”, to remove said security video from the security video log,
and to continue transferring and deleting said video until further notice.
“Mi
obeas, sinjorino.”
Carol sipped her wine, watching how Oktobriana was slowly
beginning to respond to Rexie’s lapping.
Her knees were gradually moving apart, her back arching. Her cries and complaints had turned to low
moans.
Rexie’s penis was not-so-slowly responding, growing
longer and thicker as he went on. The
drip from its bevel-pointed tip and the way his knot swelled showed that his
interest was definitely sexual.
Carol sat back down in her chair, watching with
fascination. He’s really getting into
it, she thought. And so is she. Just how far am I going to allow this to go
on? Am I really going to allow my family
dog to rape this woman? What would that
make me?
Rexie suddenly jumped up onto Oktobriana’s back, wrapping
his forelegs around her ribcage. Her
head rose from the floor and her eyes opened wide with alarm.
“Carol, please,” the Russian whined, making one last
effort to return to sanity. “Please, I
can’t....”
Can’t what? Carol wondered. Can’t make him stop? Can’t resist the urge any longer? Well, no matter, because I’m doing you no
favors today, girl.
Rexie began to work his hips eagerly, his swaying cock
trying to find entrance.
God, Carol thought, her hand straying to the crotch of
her lounging outfit. There he goes. Any second now....
The tip of the dog’s penis found its mark at last. The woman’s mouth formed into a perfect
circle, as though it were imitating her vaginal opening. And then Rexie was thrusting away savagely,
in a bestial mating that Oktobriana was not ready for, but had no choice but to
submit to.
Carol watched, delighted, as her rival writhed helplessly
under her dog. The arrogant woman was
now a bitch indeed -- at least, Wonderdog seemed to have no objection to using
her as his bitch, and if he found her satisfactory, why should Carol object?
Evidently Wonderdog was fucking to Oktobriana’s satisfaction,
too, even though she seemed to be trying to avoid it. Grunting and biting her lip, the Russian
tried to restrain herself, but finally her mouth opened in an orgasmic
wail. It was one more humiliation, when
she had thought she could sink no lower, to climax while being raped by a dog,
in front of a woman who despised her.
Carol’s hand slid inside her pants. She began masturbating in earnest as
Oktobriana’s moans grew louder, and sounded less and less human.
God, what a show.
No wonder my old editor paid three hundred dollars to watch one like
this, that time in Tijuana. Boy, did he
get in trouble for putting it on his expense account, though . . . .
Sliding her fingers along her labia, brushing her clit
only occasionally because she couldn’t stand too much direct stimulation whens
he was this aroused, Carol imagined that her old editor was kneeling between
her legs, giving her head while she watched the Rexie and Oktobriana Show.
Oktobriana’s head was still on the floor, a stain formed
by her sweat and drool visible on the carpet.
Her eyes were closed, and she was clearly in a world of her own.
“Hey, Tovarishinja,”
Carol called.
The Russian’s blue eyes snapped open and focussed on
Carol.
“How are you doing?
Is your new boyfriend treating you right?”
Oktobriana squeezed her eyes shut again, tears flowing
freely, and suddenly she began to moan in orgasm again.
Carol laughed at the woman’s misery, and suddenly had her
own climax.
Rexie had been humping away for an unusually long time,
but then he was an unusual dog. He
appeared to have finally finished ejaculating, though, as his hind leg stepped
over Oktobriana’s torso, leaving them butt to butt, connected by the bulge in
his penis. Carol shuddered at the
thought of how big that knot must be.
She knew that a woman’s vagina being larger and more
flexible than a dog’s, many women could disengage from a canine mate at this
point. Evidently, though, Rexie’s
equipment was too big for this, as when he moved away from the spot where he
had claimed Oktobriana, she was obliged to either be dragged or hastily crawl
backwards. That was her least dignified
position yet, and Carol laughed aloud to see it.
Rexie climbed onto a couch and lay down to rest, so
Oktobriana did as well, although the dog didn’t leave her much room, and she
didn’t look as comfortable as he did. He
lifted his leg and began calmly licking his belly. When his tongue passed over Oktobriana’s red
and swollen vulva, she winced and moaned.
Carol watched in silence for the fifteen minutes it took
for Rexie’s bulge to shrink far enough that Oktobriana could pull herself off
his prick. Even reduced in size, it was
big enough to make Carol flinch at the sight.
Oktobriana got up off the couch, tried to sit on a chair but found she
was too sore, and wound up curling up on the carpet very much as a dog would.
Too bad she can’t lick herself, Carol thought as she saw
dog semen leaking from her vagina.
Carol went into the utility room and recited an order in
Esperanto to her Wondermaker. There were
several models of the molecular compiler her husband had invented around the
Wonderlab, and Carol had gotten pretty good at having it run off clothing and
knickknacks. She left it to manufacture
her order and returned to the living room.
She took a fistful of Oktobriana’s blonde hair and raised
her head, forcing her to look at her.
“I don’t think Brad is going to be seeing any more of
you. Not after he’s seen the video of
you giving it up to his dog.”
“Carol, no!”
“You don’t want me to show it to him? Okay, I won’t, provided you never spend any
time alone with my husband, ever again.”
“I...yes, yes, I won’t!”
“Now, I can understand your love of Wondercock -- I’ve
had it myself, after all -- so I’m willing to be generous.”
A light awoke in Oktobriana’s eyes.
“You...you’re willing to...?”
Carol reached down and tousled Oktobriana’s hair -- much
the way she had Wonderdog’s.
“If you want to, you can come by and spend some more
quality time with Rexie.”
The Russian’s eyes widened.
“You can’t be....”
“You liked it. You
can’t deny that.”
“I....”
Carol took Oktobriana’s chin in her hand and brought her
face close enough to smell the 5 Gum on her breath.
“You. Liked. It.
Deny it if you can.”
The blonde put her face in her hands and burst into
tears.
“And I’ll tell you this: I enjoyed watching. I’m going to get a kick out of watching the
recording over and over in years to come.
But I’d love to see an encore performance sometime. So just let me know, pigeon, and I’ll be
happy to arrange it.”
The Wondermaker called out, “Via ordono estas preta,
Sinjorino” and Carol went to retrieve what she had ordered. There it was: red Ultralon tights to replace
Oktobriana’s ruined pair, and another item Carol thought the woman needed.
“In fact, thinking about it, I’m going to insist: any
time I feel like watching a show like we just had here, I’ll let you know, and
you damn well better show up, or your little video is going to be in everybody’s
inbox.”
She opened the Wondermaker and tossed the new
stretchpants to Oktobriana. While she
was putting them on, Carol held up the other item she had requested.
It was a collar, a replica of the one Wonderdog wore,
with a tag dangling from it. Oktobriana
took the collar in her hands and read the words stamped into the tag.
ОКТОБРИАНА
СОБСТВЕННОСТЬ
СОБАКИ
УДИВЛЕНИЯ
She turned the tag around and read the same words in
English:
OKTOBRIANA
PROPERTY
OF
WONDERDOG
Tears ran freely down the Russian’s face but she remained
silent as she handed the collar back to Carol and bent her head to allow her
Mistress to collar her.
Wearing the collar, tears running down her face, the
Russian vigilante went silently to the Vacuum Spiral and set it to deliver her
to the Vacuum Spiral in the Wonderoffice in Berlin.
After she had vanished, Carol looked at the vacant Vacuum
Spiral, smiling with satisfaction. She
had really had no idea how much she would enjoy having a woman under her
thumb. She was looking forward to
learning more about herself, with Oktobriana’s generous help.
She looked up at the ceiling and called, “Finu!”, notifying the Wonderlab to return
to normal security recording.
About Wonderman
Exposed to "the sizzling voltage of a secret current" Brad
Spencer finds that he can make himself as hard as steel and super strong, so
calling himself Wonder Man he battles crime and/or evil, and eventually starts
to take on monsters from space while engaged in adventures in space.
About Oktobriana
Allegedly created in Russia in the
late 1960s, Octobriana is one of very few non-Golden Age Public Domain comic
characters. Her actual creation is highly-contested. Petr Sadecky, in his book
Octobriana in the Russian Underground, claimed her to be the creation of a
group of dissident creators of samizdat comics called the PPP (the Peoples'
Pornography Party) who, in accordance with the ideals of Communism, made the
character freely available to everyone. In fact, this was all a hoax and
Octobriana was based on a previous character called Amazona with no political
overtones (No relation). However, it appears that Octobriana was indeed created
almost exclusively for the Public Domain and to allow anyone to tell stories
featuring the character.
The combination of sex appeal and vague revolutionary politics made
Octobriana something of a minor pop culture icon in 70's and 80's Britain. Billy Idol tattooed Octobriana on his arm.
Bryan Talbot gave her a major role to play in The Adventures of Luther
Arkwright, and she has appeared in a number of other British comics since. The
concept of Octobriana was part of the inspiration for Jenny Everywhere.
About Wonderdog
I made him up, but I hereby declare that he is a public domain
character, and others may feel free to use him.
About this story
This story is being offered free of copyright because it is shorter
than other Masked Passions stories, somewhat different in tone, and because it was
inspired by “A Dog’s Life” by C. Lakewood, which was inspired by “The Breeding
Bitch” by J. Shawn Stephens. It’s not in
any sense a plagiarized story, but I feel it is more appropriate not to charge
for it, since it is part of such a distinguished line of succession of free
stories.
About the Author
Arcadia Berger got out of bed this morning, sat down with a cup of
coffee and took her small brown pill, her big pink pill, her tiny yellow pill,
her three yellow capsules, her big tan vitamin, her small transparent vitamin
and her large translucent vitamin. She
grumped to herself about how old it made her feel to be taking so many pills
first thing in the morning. Then she
remembered that, having watched Apollo 8 orbit the Moon, she must be old.
Also by Arcadia Berger
