"Oh, come on! Not again!"
The high-pitched, frustrated squeak echoed through the sparse, messy studio apartment. Doreen Green—or rather, the consciousness currently piloting Doreen Green's body—stomped a small, booted foot. The motion sent her bushy brown tail twitching in agitation behind her.
It's happening. The thought was a cold, slick dread in her—his—stomach. A familiar, invasive warmth was blooming low in Doreen's belly, a heat utterly foreign to her biology. He could feel it, the tight coil of alien arousal, the sudden sensitivity of her nipples rubbing against the fabric of her Squirrel Girl costume. He—she—clamped her thighs together, a futile attempt to quell the building throb between her legs.
A cheerful, feminine voice chimed in her mind, utterly at odds with her panic. "Congratulations, Host! Your Synergy has officially reached 100%! You have achieved perfect resonance with your assigned power template! A gift from the universe, really. A true partnership."
"Clementine, shut up," she hissed aloud, using the name the system had insisted on. She paced, the tail swishing behind her like an angry metronome. "This isn't a gift. This is… this is a malfunction. I'm getting hard in a body that doesn't have the equipment for it!"
"A purely psychosomatic response, Host! A sign of your deep attunement. Your old self's desires are harmonizing with your new form's potential. Now, about those unlocked abilities…"
She ignored the voice, stumbling to the cracked full-length mirror leaning against one wall. The reflection was still a shock, three months in. Big, bright brown eyes framed by a messy fringe of brown hair. A perky, cute face dotted with faint freckles. The ridiculous costume: a purple leotard with a yellow belt, yellow gloves and boots, and that damn tail. She looked like a plush toy come to life.
But the eyes… if you looked closely, you could see it. The weary, horrified understanding of a twenty-eight-year-old man named Leo trapped inside.
It had been a classic transmigration fuck-up. One minute, he was a bored office worker downloading a dubious "Superpower Template" app as a joke. The next, a searing pain, a sensation of being ripped apart, and he woke up here, in the Marvel Universe, stuffed into the body of its most absurdly powerful—and perpetually underestimated—heroine, Squirrel Girl. The Homelander template he'd selected was supposed to give him overwhelming power, a way to coast through this new life on top. Instead, a mysterious "resonance artifact" had scrambled everything, swapping his consciousness with Doreen's. Where her mind went, he had no idea. He was just… here.
And then Clementine had arrived. Not a hero system. Not a combat guide. The "Squirrel Girl Slut System." Its goal was simple: power through profound embarrassment. "Shy Points" were the currency, earned whenever Doreen's body was flustered, exposed, or humiliated in sexual or risqué ways. The points bought upgrades, abilities, and items from a bizarre store. The path to maintaining his base power—let alone enhancing it—was a gauntlet of exhibitionism and creeping debauchery.
For three months, he'd played along at the edges. The "Daily Debriefing" quests were a constant, low-grade horror. "Accidentally" flashing her panties to a mailman. "Forgetting" to wear any under her skirt while talking to the pizza delivery guy. Each time, a hot wave of shame would crash over him, a dizzying, almost fainting sensation, and Clementine would chirp "Shy Points Acquired!" He'd gained minor boosts: slightly better control over the squirrel telepathy, a small increase in agility. He'd even bought a stupid cosmetic item from the store once, just to see how it worked.
But 100% Synergy was different. Clementine had warned it would be a "threshold." Now he felt it. The system wasn't just a voice anymore; it felt woven into his—her—nervous system. The arousal was proof. It was his male desire, twisted and reflected through Doreen's form, amplified by the system's energy. He was horny. Desperately, confusingly horny. And the body he occupied was reacting accordingly.
"With Transcendence achieved, new avenues for point acquisition are available," Clementine said, her tone bright and businesslike. "High-yield quests! Partnership opportunities! Would you like to see the updated store inventory? There's a lovely 'Female Gojo Transformation Kit' on sale for 7,500 points. Very popular."
"I don't want to look like a anime character!" she snapped, her voice trembling. She put her hands on her hips, then immediately dropped them, feeling how the stance made the leotard strain against Doreen's small breasts. Her breasts. Focus. "What's happening to me? Why do I feel… like this?"
"It's the Synergy, Host! Your old psychological drivers are now in perfect sync with your physical vessel's capacity for sensation. You're experiencing integrated desire. It's a sign of health! Now, a new Priority Quest has been generated, calibrated to your current resonance level and point balance."
A translucent blue screen materialized in her vision, superimposed over the messy room.
---
PRIORITY QUEST: THE INITIATION OF STEEL
Objective: Secure a semen sample from a high-value, superhuman target. Target must be male, possess metahuman abilities, and be considered a "hero" or "public figure" within the local paradigm.
Suggested Target: Anthony "Tony" Stark (Iron Man).
Base Reward: 15,000 Points.
Bonus Conditions:
+50% (7,500 pts):* Sample is acquired orally.
+25% (3,750 pts):* Acquisition occurs in a semi-public or secure location (e.g., Stark Tower lab, Quinjet).
+100% (15,000 pts):* Target is partially or fully armored during the act.
Total Potential Reward: 41,250 Points.
Failure Penalty: Synergy Lock. All system-enhanced abilities will be reduced to 50% effectiveness for 72 hours. Base Squirrel Girl powers unaffected.
Time Limit: 48 hours.
---
She stared, her breath catching in Doreen's throat. Forty-one thousand points. That was more than she'd earned in three months combined. It was enough to buy serious things from the store. It was also utterly, completely insane.
"No," she whispered. "Absolutely not. I'm not doing that. I can't… suck off Iron Man? In his armor? Are you insane?"
"The system is generous, Host! It offers a path to tremendous growth. This is a partnership. You can realign your focus if you wish, but the opportunity cost will be significant. Your powers will feel… sluggish. Unresponsive. You'll be weaker than you are now. Is that what you want? To be vulnerable in this dangerous world?"
The manipulation was blatant, but effective. Leo remembered this world from comics. It was dangerous. And being Squirrel Girl, even with her canonically insane win record, didn't feel safe when you were the one inside the skin. The constant low-level dread of discovery, of someone realizing Doreen wasn't Doreen… it was exhausting. Power was the only shield.
And the arousal… it pulsed, a traitorous throb between her legs. The explicit nature of the quest didn't just horrify him; it sent a jolt of something else through the shared nervous system. A dark, curious heat. What would that even be like? The thought flickered, followed by immediate, intense shame. Shame that made her head swim. Shy Points +25, Clementine chimed.
"Stop it!" she cried out, gripping the sides of her head. The conflicting signals were overwhelming. Fear. Revulsion. That creeping, alien curiosity. And underpinning it all, the persistent, aching need. Her panties—simple white cotton today—were already growing damp.
"The quest is available, Host. The choice is yours. Remember, the system is here to help you unlock your true potential. Perhaps a smaller step? A warm-up? Your Friendship Meter with several allies is active. Managing those relationships is key to long-term success."
Another screen flickered.
---
RELATIONSHIP STATUS PANEL
Name: Tippy-Toe (Squirrel Companion)
Friendship Meter: [■■■■■■■■■■] 98/100
Status: Best Friend / Confidant
Last Interaction: (+2) "Shared an acorn."
Note: Unconditional love. No judgment. Will not notice "Slut System" activities.
---
Name: Jennifer "She-Hulk" Walters
Friendship Meter: [■■■■■■■■□□] 72/100
Status: Good Friend
Last Interaction: (+5) "She complimented your 'pluck' in the last team-up against the Mole Man."
Active Buff: [Legal Eagle] - Jennifer is 15% more likely to offer off-the-record legal advice.
Warning: Friendship may decrease significantly if "Slut System" activities are discovered.
---
Great. So her only real friend was a rodent, and a lawyer who could bench-press a truck would hate her if she knew the truth. The pressure was a physical weight on her chest.
The arousal, however, refused to be ignored. It was a distinct, pressing emptiness inside her. Doreen's body was responding to his pent-up sexual frustration, a three-month drought now supercharged by the system. Her heart was pounding. Her skin felt hypersensitive. Every brush of the leotard's fabric was a tiny shock.
She needed… something. Relief. A way to silence the noise in her body and her head. Hesitantly, she let her gloved hand drift down, over the curve of her belly, to the damp heat between her legs. Through the purple spandex and the cotton underneath, she pressed the heel of her palm against her clit.
A sharp, gasping moan tore from her lips. It was Doreen's voice, but the sound was purely Leo's surprise and pleasure. The sensation was immediate and intense, a bright bolt of electricity that shot up her spine. It was different from masturbating as a man. Softer, yet more diffuse, the pleasure spreading in warm waves instead of concentrating in one place. The shame came again, hot and prickling—Shy Points +15—but it was drowned out by a second, firmer press.
"Ooh, exploring the new parameters! Excellent, Host! Self-discovery is a key component of Synergy," Clementine commented, her voice like a peppy sports coach.
"Shut up, shut up, shut up," she chanted, her eyes squeezing shut. She fumbled with the yellow belt, her fingers clumsy. She needed skin. She needed to feel it properly. She got the belt open, then hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leotard and her panties, pushing them down her thighs in one frantic motion. The cool air of the apartment hit her wet folds, and she shuddered.
She leaned back against the wall beside the mirror, one hand braced against it, the other moving between her legs. She was too desperate for finesse. Her fingertips—still in the yellow gloves—found her slit, already slick and swollen. The texture of the glove against her sensitive flesh was strange, slightly rough, and it made her whimper. She pushed two fingers inside.
Oh, god.
The feeling was profound. A tight, velvety heat clenched around her digits, welcoming them. It was so deep. The internal architecture was completely foreign, yet her brain mapped the pleasure points with instinctive urgency. She curled her fingers, seeking, and a jolt of pure, undiluted pleasure made her legs buckle. She sank into a crouch, tail curling around her, as she fingered herself faster.
The sounds leaving her mouth were obscene. High, keening little moans, punctuated by gasps and breathy curses in Leo's mental voice. "Fuck… oh, fuck, that's… shit…" She rubbed her clit with her thumb, the damp glove providing a maddening friction. The coil in her belly tightened, burning. Images flashed behind her eyelids—not of women, but of the sheer, powerful men of this universe. Thor's broad chest. Captain America's stern jaw. And Iron Man, the sleek, red and gold armor… what would it feel like pressed against her? The fantasy, fueled by the quest and her own desperation, was devastating.
Her hips began to piston against her own hand, fucking herself on her fingers. The leotard was bunched around her waist, her pert breasts exposed and bouncing slightly with each frantic thrust. She was a mess of purple spandex, yellow gloves, and flushed, trembling skin. The shame was still there, a distant buzz, but it was being consumed by the wildfire of her need. Each wave of embarrassment just fed the points, which fed the system's energy, which fed the arousal. It was a vicious, delicious cycle.
"Host, your biometrics are spiking! You're approaching a climax. This is a fantastic opportunity to test the enhanced sensory feedback of your Transcendence state!"
She couldn't even form a retort. Her world had narrowed to the slippery friction, the pounding of her heart, the tight, clutching warmth around her fingers. She was close. So close. She thought of the bonus condition on the quest. Acquired orally. The idea of kneeling, of taking someone into her mouth… it should have repulsed her. Instead, it sent a final, seismic shudder through her.
"I'm gonna… I'm gonna come…" she sobbed, the confession itself a thrill of humiliation.
Her back arched, her tail stiffened straight out, and her entire body seized. The orgasm ripped through her, a white-hot detonation that started in her core and exploded outwards. Her cunt clamped down viscously on her fingers, milking them as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, a loud, ragged scream that was pure release, her free hand scrabbling against the wall. Her vision whited out. She felt a gush of warm fluid soak her glove and drip down her thighs—a squirting orgasm, intense and messy.
For a long moment, she just slumped there, crouched against the wall, breathing in ragged gulps. The aftershocks made her twitch. Slowly, the reality of the situation filtered back in. The smell of her own sex in the air. The cool wetness on her inner thighs. The leotard cutting into her waist. The sheer, degrading absurdity of it all.
Shy Points +250. Major Embarrassment Milestone Achieved! Clementine announced, sounding delighted. "See? The partnership yields results! You now have a total of 1,885 points. A good start, but far from the 41,250 offered by the Priority Quest."
She slowly, shakily, pulled her fingers out. They were soaked, the yellow fabric darkened. She stared at them, then let her head thump back against the wall. The post-orgasm clarity was brutal. The physical need was sated, temporarily. But the problem remained. Bigger than ever.
She had 48 hours. She was weaker now, by the system's own admission, unless she did something to "realign her focus." Which meant doing other humiliating quests to build up points, just to stay at baseline. Or… she could go for the big score.
The image of Tony Stark flashed in her mind again. Arrogant, brilliant, handsome. He'd flirted with Doreen before, in that patronizing, billionaire-playboy way. He found her "adorable." Maybe…
No. That was the corruption talking. The system, smoothing the path in her mind. Making the unthinkable seem… plausible. Even strategic.
She pushed herself upright, wincing at the sticky feeling between her legs. She needed to clean up. To think. She pulled her leotard and panties back up, the damp fabric uncomfortable against her sensitive flesh.
As she fastened her belt, another screen popped up, smaller and more urgent.
---
DAILY DEBRIEFING REQUIREMENT NOT MET
Points Required: 1,000
Current Daily Total: 265 (From Self-Stimulation & Associated Shame)
Time Remaining: 6 hours, 14 minutes.
Consequence: If requirement is not met, all system-enhanced attributes will be reduced by 60% for the next 24 hours, beginning at midnight.
Suggested Quest: "The Commando Commando" is available and well-suited to your current… lack of underwear.
---
She was trapped. To avoid being weakened, she had to go out and be humiliated today. To get stronger, she had to consider something far worse tomorrow.
A grim, hollow determination settled over her. This was her life now. There was no going back. Leo was dead. He was Doreen Green, Squirrel Girl, host of a perverted system. And he… she… needed to survive.
She walked to the window of her apartment, looking out over the rooftops of New York. Somewhere out there, Tony Stark was in his tower. And she had 1,000 points to scrape together before the day was done.
She took a deep, shuddering breath. The arousal was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating anxiety. And beneath that, a tiny, whispering thread of anticipation. What if it worked? What if the power was worth it?
"Okay, Clementine," she said, her voice quiet but steady. "Show me the details for 'The Commando Commando.' Let's get this daily crap over with."
"Excellent choice, Host! Embracing the journey! Objective: Deliberately expose your pussy to one person for a minimum of five seconds. Since you are currently not wearing panties, you are already prepared! The key is location and audacity. I suggest a rooftop rendezvous. Perhaps a certain arachnid-themed hero patrols nearby? His friendship meter is currently at 'Friendly.' A little show could be… informative."
She swallowed hard. Spider-Man. Young, probably still a teenager in this universe. The shame at that thought was immediate and nauseating. Shy Points +10.
But the points were the point. They were the only currency that mattered now.
She opened her window, the city sounds flooding in. With a agility that was both borrowed and innate, she vaulted onto the sill. The wind caught her tail. For a moment, she hesitated, the last shreds of her old self screaming in protest.
Then she pushed off, leaping into the open air, the system's screen glowing brightly in the corner of her vision, a constant reminder of the price of power, and the even higher cost of refusing to pay it.