Car batteries
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 12
by
copier
· original author:
an188
The fluorescent buzz of the public restroom felt almost mocking now, like the universe was laughing at how low two literal goddesses had sunk—sucking AA batteries in a graffiti-scarred stall like junkies behind a dumpster. Glitz leaned back against the cool tile wall, silver ponytail draped over one shoulder, daphne-blue fingers tracing lazy circles over her own ripped eight-pack abs. She dragged her black tongue slowly across glossy lips, exaggerating the motion like she was tasting the finest vintage.
“Mmmph… fuck me, electricity tastes better than any five-star meal,” she purred, voice thick with sarcasm and filthy delight. “Who needs caviar when you can mainline lightning? I swear my pussy’s tingling just thinking about the next hit.”
Glam, still perched on the edge of the toilet lid like a queen on a cracked porcelain throne, released a slow, crackling spark from her fingertip—tiny blue-white arc dancing between her electric-blue talons before she brought it to her own lips and licked it clean. The spark fizzled out with a wet pop. She smirked, slow and wicked.
“Careful, darling. Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you’re flirting with the grid instead of me.”
Glitz giggled—high, bratty, unapologetic—then pushed off the wall, hips rolling like she was walking a catwalk made of sin. “We need more batteries. Like, yesterday. These baby ones are barely foreplay.”
Glam caught her wrist mid-stride, yanking her close until their breasts brushed. “I’ve got a better idea.” Her voice dropped to that dangerous, velvet purr she saved for truly evil plans. “Car batteries. Bigger casing, way more juice. One of those puppies should fill us up like a proper meal instead of these sad little appetizers.”
Glitz’s eyes lit up like twin neon signs. “Ooh, yes. Problem is, most of them are locked in engine bays or those stupid plastic closets in parking lots. Not exactly grab-and-go.”
Glam’s black lips curled into a predatory grin. She slid her palm up Glitz’s arm, fingers kneading the thick, vascular swell of her bicep like she was appraising a priceless sculpture. “That’s why you’re going to be the muscle, baby girl. I’m not as charged as you right now, so I’ll put on a little street show—distract the normies with my fabulous blue ass and gravity-defying tits. You sneak around back, pop some hoods, and bring mama her dinner.”
Glitz practically vibrated with excitement. “You evil bitch. I love it.” She lunged forward, crashing their mouths together in a deep, sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss—wet smacks echoing off the tiles, electric saliva stretching in glowing blue-green ropes when they finally parted.
They slipped out of the restroom like twin shadows in too-tight fetish gear.
Half a block down, near a busy waterfront promenade, Glam found her stage: a wide patch of boardwalk under string lights, tourists milling, phones already half-raised. She stepped into the open space, struck a dramatic pose—hands on hips, chest thrust forward, silver ponytail whipping like a battle flag—and launched.
No powers. Not yet. Just pure acrobatic filth.
She dropped into a perfect split, skirt riding scandalously high, then rolled into a backbend so deep her breasts nearly spilled out of the crop top. A slow, sensual handstand followed—legs scissoring open in a wide V, abs flexing hard enough to make grown men choke on their beers. She walked on her hands for ten paces, ass swaying hypnotically, before flipping upright and blowing a mocking kiss to the gathering crowd.
People cheered. Phones flashed. No one noticed the identical blue-skinned goddess who’d peeled off into the nearest alley like smoke.
Glitz moved like a predator in stilettos. First car—an older sedan, hood latch stiff. She gripped the edge and lifted. Metal groaned but didn’t scream. She popped the hood silently, found the battery, tore the cables free with delicate precision (for her), and pressed both terminals to her palms.
Current slammed into her.
She bit her lip to stifle the moan—eyes fluttering, thighs clenching—as juice flooded her veins. The battery didn’t shrink like the AAs; it just dimmed, exhausted but intact. She yanked it free, tucked it under one arm, and moved to the next car.
Four batteries later—two sedans, a pickup, a hybrid—she was humming with barely-contained power, silver hair crackling faintly at the ends. She ghosted back toward the promenade just as Glam spun out of a final triple backflip, landing in a dramatic crouch that made half the crowd gasp and the other half adjust their pants.
Glam caught her sister’s eye, winked, then bowed with exaggerated flourish. “Thank you, darlings! Tip your performers—or don’t, we’re rich bitches anyway!”
The crowd laughed, clapped, tossed a few bills. Glam scooped them up without breaking stride and vanished into the alley after Glitz.
Back in the same grimy restroom stall, door locked, they knelt facing each other on the filthy tile like it was an altar.
Glitz set the four heavy car batteries between them. Thick drool—glowing electric blue-green—already dripped from both their black lips in anticipation.
“Age before beauty,” Glitz teased, nudging the first one toward Glam.
Glam didn’t hesitate. She wrapped glossy lips around both terminals and sucked.
A deep, rumbling hum filled the stall. Glam’s back arched, breasts heaving against the too-tight crop top, silver ponytail lifting as current roared through her. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling, thick ropes of glowing saliva splattering the battery casing.
Glitz went next—same greedy pull, same filthy moan vibrating in her throat as power surged into every muscle and nerve.
They passed the batteries back and forth, drinking deep, bodies lighting up brighter with each hit. Skin shimmered brighter daphne-blue. Veins pulsed electric under the surface. Nipples strained visibly against fabric. The stall smelled of ozone, sex, and molten metal.
When the last battery died with a sad little pop, they sat back on their heels, chests heaving, lips smeared with glowing drool, eyes blazing like twin arc lamps.
Glitz licked her lips slowly. “Fuck. I feel like I could bench-press a bus and then fuck it.”
Glam dragged a talon across her own abs, collecting a bead of electric saliva. “Same. Question is… what now?”
What do the Glam Sisters discover next?
1. The car batteries didn’t just recharge them—they supercharged them. Their existing powers feel stronger, sharper, faster… and brand-new abilities are flickering at the edges of their awareness, begging to be tested.
2. The car batteries charged them fully and that’s it—no extra bells or whistles. They’re back to peak goddess mode: strong, electric, horny, and ready to plan the next score without any surprise upgrades.
“Mmmph… fuck me, electricity tastes better than any five-star meal,” she purred, voice thick with sarcasm and filthy delight. “Who needs caviar when you can mainline lightning? I swear my pussy’s tingling just thinking about the next hit.”
Glam, still perched on the edge of the toilet lid like a queen on a cracked porcelain throne, released a slow, crackling spark from her fingertip—tiny blue-white arc dancing between her electric-blue talons before she brought it to her own lips and licked it clean. The spark fizzled out with a wet pop. She smirked, slow and wicked.
“Careful, darling. Keep talking like that and I’ll start thinking you’re flirting with the grid instead of me.”
Glitz giggled—high, bratty, unapologetic—then pushed off the wall, hips rolling like she was walking a catwalk made of sin. “We need more batteries. Like, yesterday. These baby ones are barely foreplay.”
Glam caught her wrist mid-stride, yanking her close until their breasts brushed. “I’ve got a better idea.” Her voice dropped to that dangerous, velvet purr she saved for truly evil plans. “Car batteries. Bigger casing, way more juice. One of those puppies should fill us up like a proper meal instead of these sad little appetizers.”
Glitz’s eyes lit up like twin neon signs. “Ooh, yes. Problem is, most of them are locked in engine bays or those stupid plastic closets in parking lots. Not exactly grab-and-go.”
Glam’s black lips curled into a predatory grin. She slid her palm up Glitz’s arm, fingers kneading the thick, vascular swell of her bicep like she was appraising a priceless sculpture. “That’s why you’re going to be the muscle, baby girl. I’m not as charged as you right now, so I’ll put on a little street show—distract the normies with my fabulous blue ass and gravity-defying tits. You sneak around back, pop some hoods, and bring mama her dinner.”
Glitz practically vibrated with excitement. “You evil bitch. I love it.” She lunged forward, crashing their mouths together in a deep, sloppy, tongue-heavy kiss—wet smacks echoing off the tiles, electric saliva stretching in glowing blue-green ropes when they finally parted.
They slipped out of the restroom like twin shadows in too-tight fetish gear.
Half a block down, near a busy waterfront promenade, Glam found her stage: a wide patch of boardwalk under string lights, tourists milling, phones already half-raised. She stepped into the open space, struck a dramatic pose—hands on hips, chest thrust forward, silver ponytail whipping like a battle flag—and launched.
No powers. Not yet. Just pure acrobatic filth.
She dropped into a perfect split, skirt riding scandalously high, then rolled into a backbend so deep her breasts nearly spilled out of the crop top. A slow, sensual handstand followed—legs scissoring open in a wide V, abs flexing hard enough to make grown men choke on their beers. She walked on her hands for ten paces, ass swaying hypnotically, before flipping upright and blowing a mocking kiss to the gathering crowd.
People cheered. Phones flashed. No one noticed the identical blue-skinned goddess who’d peeled off into the nearest alley like smoke.
Glitz moved like a predator in stilettos. First car—an older sedan, hood latch stiff. She gripped the edge and lifted. Metal groaned but didn’t scream. She popped the hood silently, found the battery, tore the cables free with delicate precision (for her), and pressed both terminals to her palms.
Current slammed into her.
She bit her lip to stifle the moan—eyes fluttering, thighs clenching—as juice flooded her veins. The battery didn’t shrink like the AAs; it just dimmed, exhausted but intact. She yanked it free, tucked it under one arm, and moved to the next car.
Four batteries later—two sedans, a pickup, a hybrid—she was humming with barely-contained power, silver hair crackling faintly at the ends. She ghosted back toward the promenade just as Glam spun out of a final triple backflip, landing in a dramatic crouch that made half the crowd gasp and the other half adjust their pants.
Glam caught her sister’s eye, winked, then bowed with exaggerated flourish. “Thank you, darlings! Tip your performers—or don’t, we’re rich bitches anyway!”
The crowd laughed, clapped, tossed a few bills. Glam scooped them up without breaking stride and vanished into the alley after Glitz.
Back in the same grimy restroom stall, door locked, they knelt facing each other on the filthy tile like it was an altar.
Glitz set the four heavy car batteries between them. Thick drool—glowing electric blue-green—already dripped from both their black lips in anticipation.
“Age before beauty,” Glitz teased, nudging the first one toward Glam.
Glam didn’t hesitate. She wrapped glossy lips around both terminals and sucked.
A deep, rumbling hum filled the stall. Glam’s back arched, breasts heaving against the too-tight crop top, silver ponytail lifting as current roared through her. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling, thick ropes of glowing saliva splattering the battery casing.
Glitz went next—same greedy pull, same filthy moan vibrating in her throat as power surged into every muscle and nerve.
They passed the batteries back and forth, drinking deep, bodies lighting up brighter with each hit. Skin shimmered brighter daphne-blue. Veins pulsed electric under the surface. Nipples strained visibly against fabric. The stall smelled of ozone, sex, and molten metal.
When the last battery died with a sad little pop, they sat back on their heels, chests heaving, lips smeared with glowing drool, eyes blazing like twin arc lamps.
Glitz licked her lips slowly. “Fuck. I feel like I could bench-press a bus and then fuck it.”
Glam dragged a talon across her own abs, collecting a bead of electric saliva. “Same. Question is… what now?”
What do the Glam Sisters discover next?
1. The car batteries didn’t just recharge them—they supercharged them. Their existing powers feel stronger, sharper, faster… and brand-new abilities are flickering at the edges of their awareness, begging to be tested.
2. The car batteries charged them fully and that’s it—no extra bells or whistles. They’re back to peak goddess mode: strong, electric, horny, and ready to plan the next score without any surprise upgrades.
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June 13
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