Batteries
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 11
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The hotel room still smelled faintly of fried circuits and their earlier electric orgasms, but the sisters were buzzing again—literally. Glitz stood tall, silver hair gleaming like molten metal under the shitty fluorescent light, daphne-blue skin practically glowing with fresh charge. Glam lounged against the wall, one long leg bent, crop top riding up to expose those razor-sharp abs, looking every inch the smug, predatory goddess who’d just remembered she was allowed to be dangerous.
Glitz closed the distance in two hip-swaying steps, grabbed Glam by the waist and yanked her close. Their mouths crashed together—wet, greedy, no-holds-barred. Tongues tangled like they were fighting for dominance, black lips smearing, electric-blue saliva stretching in thick, glowing strands every time they parted for a breath. Glitz’s hands roamed shamelessly: one palming Glam’s heavy breast through the overstretched fabric, thumb flicking a stiff nipple, the other sliding down to grip a handful of thick, muscular ass and squeeze hard enough to make Glam hiss into her mouth.
“Mmmph—fuck, you taste like lightning and bad decisions,” Glitz purred against her sister’s lips, voice dripping sarcasm and lust.
Glam bit Glitz’s lower lip just hard enough to sting. “And you taste like desperation and cheap batteries, darling. Keep groping like that and I might actually forgive you for almost frying the entire floor.”
Glitz laughed—low, filthy—then reached behind her, snagged another AA from the pile they’d drained earlier. She held it up between two electric-blue talons like it was a baby bottle, cooing in the most mocking baby-talk imaginable.
“Awww, does my big, strong, sexy widdle sister need her num-nums? Open wide for mama Glitz, come onnnn~”
Glam rolled her eyes so hard it was audible, but her black lips parted anyway. Glitz pressed the battery to her mouth like she was feeding an infant. Glam latched on immediately—lips sealing around the terminals, cheeks hollowing as she sucked.
A sharp crackle. The battery crumpled inward with a pathetic metallic whine, shrinking like a crushed soda can. Glam’s eyes fluttered half-shut, a low, throaty moan vibrating around the metal as fresh current flooded her veins. Her silver ponytail lifted slightly, static lifting the strands.
Glitz tossed the dead husk to the carpet with a clatter. “All gone, baby girl. You full yet, or do I need to burp you?”
Glam licked a glowing blue-green droplet from her lower lip, smirking. “Not even close. I look good, though. Admit it.”
“You look fucking edible,” Glitz agreed, eyes raking over her sister’s body like she was pricing a new toy. “But edible doesn’t pay rent.”
Glam pushed off the wall and sauntered to the heart-shaped double bed shoved against the window. She bent at the waist—deliberately showing off the way her too-tight skirt rode up over powerful thighs—and gripped the frame. She heaved.
Nothing. The bed didn’t budge.
“Ugh. Still hungry,” she muttered, straightening with an annoyed flick of her ponytail. “I need more juice. Like, yesterday.”
Glitz sauntered over, hips rolling like she owned the laws of physics. “Step aside, princess.” She wrapped one hand around the metal frame and lifted.
The entire bed came off the floor one-handed—mattress, frame, cheap polyester comforter and all—like it weighed less than a feather. Glam’s eyebrows shot up.
“Show-off,” Glam drawled, though her nipples visibly stiffened under the crop top.
Glitz winked. “You love it. Now go suck on that TV cable like a good little addict. There’s gotta be live current in there.”
Glam glanced at the dangling wire, then back at her sister with exaggerated patience. “And short the whole floor again? Brilliant plan, genius. Rolando will have maintenance up here with a fire extinguisher and questions we don’t want to answer.”
Glitz pouted dramatically, still holding the bed aloft. “Fine, Miss Responsible. We’re out of batteries anyway.”
“Exactly.” Glam plucked the dead AA husks off the floor and dropped them into her side bag like trash. “We go shopping. Convenience store. Batteries. In. Out. No drama.”
Glitz set the bed down—gently, for once—and grinned. “I do love when you get bossy. Makes me wanna bend you over this ugly heart bed.”
“Later,” Glam promised, voice low and filthy. “After we’re not running on fumes.”
They slipped out of the room, heels clicking softly, moving like shadows despite the skin-tight outfits screaming for attention. The hallway was mercifully empty. Down the stairs, through the lobby—Rolando was busy yelling at someone on the phone and didn’t notice them ghost past.
Two blocks later they ducked into a 24-hour QuickMart. One bored teenage clerk behind the counter, scrolling his phone, zero customers. Perfect.
Glitz sashayed straight up to him, leaning over the counter so her gravity-defying breasts practically spilled onto the scratched plastic surface. The poor kid’s eyes went wide and glassy.
“Hey cutie,” she purred, voice dripping honey and venom. “You look like you could use some excitement. Got any… special batteries back there? The really powerful ones?”
While the clerk stammered and blushed, Glam ghosted down the aisle like a blue-skinned predator. She swept every pack of AA, AAA, C, D, and 9-volt off the shelf into her bag in one smooth motion—no sound, no fuss. The kid never even looked away from Glitz’s cleavage.
They were out the door before he remembered how to blink.
Public restroom two streets over—single-stall, lockable, gloriously disgusting. They crammed inside the handicapped cubicle, bags thudding to the tile.
Glitz ripped open a multipack of AAs like it was Christmas wrapping. “Bottoms up, sis.”
They sat hip-to-hip on the closed toilet lid, legs tangled, passing batteries back and forth like shared cigarettes. Glam pressed one to her lips first—sucked hard. The battery crumpled with a tinny crunch. She moaned, low and shameless, silver hair lifting as current raced through her.
Glitz followed, draining two at once, one in each hand. Her back arched, breasts straining the crop top, a soft “fuuuuck yes” escaping between clenched teeth.
Battery after battery died in their mouths. Skin brightened, muscles tightened, the electric hunger easing—but not enough. The stolen stash was running dry.
Glitz tossed the last flattened husk into the corner. “Still not full. I can feel the buzz, but it’s like sipping wine when you need a fucking keg.”
Glam licked glowing saliva from her lips, eyes narrowing. “We need more. A lot more.”
What do the Glam Sisters do next?
1. They go steal more batteries—hit a hardware store, electronics shop, anywhere with bulk packs. Quick in-and-out, no mercy.
2. They decide car batteries are the answer—bigger, juicier, way more electricity per hit. Time to find a quiet parking lot and start popping hoods.
Glitz closed the distance in two hip-swaying steps, grabbed Glam by the waist and yanked her close. Their mouths crashed together—wet, greedy, no-holds-barred. Tongues tangled like they were fighting for dominance, black lips smearing, electric-blue saliva stretching in thick, glowing strands every time they parted for a breath. Glitz’s hands roamed shamelessly: one palming Glam’s heavy breast through the overstretched fabric, thumb flicking a stiff nipple, the other sliding down to grip a handful of thick, muscular ass and squeeze hard enough to make Glam hiss into her mouth.
“Mmmph—fuck, you taste like lightning and bad decisions,” Glitz purred against her sister’s lips, voice dripping sarcasm and lust.
Glam bit Glitz’s lower lip just hard enough to sting. “And you taste like desperation and cheap batteries, darling. Keep groping like that and I might actually forgive you for almost frying the entire floor.”
Glitz laughed—low, filthy—then reached behind her, snagged another AA from the pile they’d drained earlier. She held it up between two electric-blue talons like it was a baby bottle, cooing in the most mocking baby-talk imaginable.
“Awww, does my big, strong, sexy widdle sister need her num-nums? Open wide for mama Glitz, come onnnn~”
Glam rolled her eyes so hard it was audible, but her black lips parted anyway. Glitz pressed the battery to her mouth like she was feeding an infant. Glam latched on immediately—lips sealing around the terminals, cheeks hollowing as she sucked.
A sharp crackle. The battery crumpled inward with a pathetic metallic whine, shrinking like a crushed soda can. Glam’s eyes fluttered half-shut, a low, throaty moan vibrating around the metal as fresh current flooded her veins. Her silver ponytail lifted slightly, static lifting the strands.
Glitz tossed the dead husk to the carpet with a clatter. “All gone, baby girl. You full yet, or do I need to burp you?”
Glam licked a glowing blue-green droplet from her lower lip, smirking. “Not even close. I look good, though. Admit it.”
“You look fucking edible,” Glitz agreed, eyes raking over her sister’s body like she was pricing a new toy. “But edible doesn’t pay rent.”
Glam pushed off the wall and sauntered to the heart-shaped double bed shoved against the window. She bent at the waist—deliberately showing off the way her too-tight skirt rode up over powerful thighs—and gripped the frame. She heaved.
Nothing. The bed didn’t budge.
“Ugh. Still hungry,” she muttered, straightening with an annoyed flick of her ponytail. “I need more juice. Like, yesterday.”
Glitz sauntered over, hips rolling like she owned the laws of physics. “Step aside, princess.” She wrapped one hand around the metal frame and lifted.
The entire bed came off the floor one-handed—mattress, frame, cheap polyester comforter and all—like it weighed less than a feather. Glam’s eyebrows shot up.
“Show-off,” Glam drawled, though her nipples visibly stiffened under the crop top.
Glitz winked. “You love it. Now go suck on that TV cable like a good little addict. There’s gotta be live current in there.”
Glam glanced at the dangling wire, then back at her sister with exaggerated patience. “And short the whole floor again? Brilliant plan, genius. Rolando will have maintenance up here with a fire extinguisher and questions we don’t want to answer.”
Glitz pouted dramatically, still holding the bed aloft. “Fine, Miss Responsible. We’re out of batteries anyway.”
“Exactly.” Glam plucked the dead AA husks off the floor and dropped them into her side bag like trash. “We go shopping. Convenience store. Batteries. In. Out. No drama.”
Glitz set the bed down—gently, for once—and grinned. “I do love when you get bossy. Makes me wanna bend you over this ugly heart bed.”
“Later,” Glam promised, voice low and filthy. “After we’re not running on fumes.”
They slipped out of the room, heels clicking softly, moving like shadows despite the skin-tight outfits screaming for attention. The hallway was mercifully empty. Down the stairs, through the lobby—Rolando was busy yelling at someone on the phone and didn’t notice them ghost past.
Two blocks later they ducked into a 24-hour QuickMart. One bored teenage clerk behind the counter, scrolling his phone, zero customers. Perfect.
Glitz sashayed straight up to him, leaning over the counter so her gravity-defying breasts practically spilled onto the scratched plastic surface. The poor kid’s eyes went wide and glassy.
“Hey cutie,” she purred, voice dripping honey and venom. “You look like you could use some excitement. Got any… special batteries back there? The really powerful ones?”
While the clerk stammered and blushed, Glam ghosted down the aisle like a blue-skinned predator. She swept every pack of AA, AAA, C, D, and 9-volt off the shelf into her bag in one smooth motion—no sound, no fuss. The kid never even looked away from Glitz’s cleavage.
They were out the door before he remembered how to blink.
Public restroom two streets over—single-stall, lockable, gloriously disgusting. They crammed inside the handicapped cubicle, bags thudding to the tile.
Glitz ripped open a multipack of AAs like it was Christmas wrapping. “Bottoms up, sis.”
They sat hip-to-hip on the closed toilet lid, legs tangled, passing batteries back and forth like shared cigarettes. Glam pressed one to her lips first—sucked hard. The battery crumpled with a tinny crunch. She moaned, low and shameless, silver hair lifting as current raced through her.
Glitz followed, draining two at once, one in each hand. Her back arched, breasts straining the crop top, a soft “fuuuuck yes” escaping between clenched teeth.
Battery after battery died in their mouths. Skin brightened, muscles tightened, the electric hunger easing—but not enough. The stolen stash was running dry.
Glitz tossed the last flattened husk into the corner. “Still not full. I can feel the buzz, but it’s like sipping wine when you need a fucking keg.”
Glam licked glowing saliva from her lips, eyes narrowing. “We need more. A lot more.”
What do the Glam Sisters do next?
1. They go steal more batteries—hit a hardware store, electronics shop, anywhere with bulk packs. Quick in-and-out, no mercy.
2. They decide car batteries are the answer—bigger, juicier, way more electricity per hit. Time to find a quiet parking lot and start popping hoods.
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June 13
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