Celebrant
A hidden Health-Tech development center near the vibrant city of Los Salvos
Investigative reporter Michelle Min was kneeling very uncomfortably on a corrugated metal walkway, metal pressing through her jeans. At this angle, said jeans were biting very tightly into her upper thighs and fupa, a reminder that if she lived through this, she should either diet or accept she wasn’t a size six anymore. Survival seemed unlikely though, her wrists were taped tightly together behind her back, a brutish mercenary’s fist squeezing each shoulder with a matching pair of pistols pointed at pulled back black hair. Either would have been twice the size of the reporter, but there were at least a dozen of the armed guards surrounding her, here in this top secret subterranean laboratory, suspended over an enormous pile of viscous green goop that bubbled and hissed a hundred feet below her.
“Well well, Miss Min. I wish I could say I was surprised to see you here,” a snide, falsely deep voice sneered, “but your commitment to malicious slander is so steep, I was certain you’d try to break into secret, proprietary areas after our interview. I am making the future of health with this substance and I won’t have a journalist getting in my way!”
Min’s eyes cut to a commanding blonde woman. Tall and painfully thin, wearing a tight black sweater and slacks. Sophie Sands, a fanatical fraudster and tech guru pushing false cure alls based on dangerous AI machinery!
“Its not malicious slander to say your drugs are killing people. Especially when they’re based on…whatever it is beneath us!” Michelle hissed down at the bubbling ooze, “I saw your test footage, it dissolves everyone who takes it!”
“Just a hiccup!” Sophie lied, “Eventually the ooze will filter out the worst part of humanity. In fact, I think its where you belong…”
A nod of her head saw the two goons hauling MIchelle up. The skinny reporter kicked and bit, but she was too weak to fully fight back as the edge of the railing approached.
“Help!” Michelle called, knowing no one could surely hear her…
….
Mansion in Los Santos Hills
“Initiate Celebrant. Initiate Celebrant. Initiate Celebrant, there is a human in need,” a mechanical voice purred inside the ear of earth’s greatest heroine, speaking the honored tongue of distant Zelenia.
“Fuck me fuck me fuck me
Fuck you fuck you fuck you
Fuck me fuck you fuck me fuck you!’
Obscene hyper pop screamed much louder into that heroine’s ears via expensive head phones.
The celebrated heroine known as Celebrant was more than half passed out behind her mansion, sprawled on a pool chair in that state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, sobriety and alcoholism. Her short red hair was askew to the degree that multiple people had to have been pulling on it during sex, while her make up was smeared with sweat, spilled alcohol, orgasm tears and drool. A right red high heel was half on her left foot, its twin vanished in a night of endless partying. Large amounts of drool poured over her slack jaw to pool across her freckled breasts. A sequined red dress was worn backwards, both plump tits bulging out of the undone zipper.
“Initiate Celebrant,” the mechanical voice sighed again, hovering over nanites embedded in Celebrant’s inner ear, “someone will die if you don’t help…”
“Ughhhh…shut…shudup…shut up Synapse. Command override…fuck you…I need uhh..u’m uhhhh,” the alien groaned, picking up a bottle of champagne.
The slightest flex of her hand caused the cork to pop off, the foam splashing across her chest before the red headed heroine sucked down the entire bottle. When the expensive wine ran out, she shook the bottle vigorously up and down, squeezing hard enough that the glass breaking into fragments that rained harmlessly onto her heart shaped face.
“BRAAAAPPPP,” Celebrant belched, laying back down, pressing her headphones to her ears hard enough the plastic shattered and sparked, “I need more sleep and more booze. I’m annoyingly sober. And fucking horny. What time is it? Are the clubs open? I need to get fucked.”
Savior of billions through fighting disasters, wars, invasions and plots, voted the #1 most inspirational heroine two years running, the tan alien spread her powerfully hard thighs and began trying to finger herself. If she’d begun the night before wearing underwear, they’d vanished at some point.
Synapse, the alien super computer on the other end of her nanite radio would have sighed if that had been in his programming. Unfortunately the Zelenite AI, housed in an orbiting space ship, was a slave to its programming, which meant obeying the degenerate, sinful reprobate who had its command codes! Every minute of every day spent working with the sinful, decadent hedonist made the AI want to fling his vessel into the sun!
But his programming made the AI keep trying, while the unfortunate experience he’d had with the academy failure who’d hijacked him years earlier let him motivate her via sinful urges…
“Great God Zehey, forgive me. Celebrant, the person in danger is…an aesthetically pleasing woman in her mid twenties,” the AI sighed, reading through social media feeds and flashing them onto Celebrant’s retinas.
Pictures of Michelle Min’s social media flashed onto the ginger’s brain. Seeing a rail thin young asian woman in a college cheerleader’s costume from four years earlier was more than enough. In the time it took for a human heart to beat twice, Celebrant was applying make up in front of her bathroom mirror. Her red hair was done up in curls and her curvacious, muscular body was squeezed inside her costume, a sight that made her orbiting computer wish for a palm and a face to use said palm on.
“Fuck Synapse, why didn’t you tell me she was a hotty with a body?” the ginger groaned, applying lip stick, “I could have had those legs around my neck already…”
“Celebrant, that costume is…unthinkingably sinful. We have talked about this, dressing so…slatternly will do nothing but inspire lustful thoughts in the minds of the poor humans. Just by dressing so, you lead them into damnation!” the computer whined, “you have damned yourself utterly with thousands of …carnal relations. But you lead all of these poor humans away from Great God Zehey’s lessons of privation, self denial and scientific penance!”
“Zehey isn’t real, dipshit. We’ve been over this, like, a lot,” Celebrant snorted, making her lips pop and then posing in front of the mirror, holding up her cape, “how’s this costume look? Do I exude fuck me energy?”
Celebrant wore a crimson red body suit with white thigh high boots and ivory cape. A tan earned from frequent pool side naps gleamed on her chiseled thighs between body suit and boots or in the “C” shaped cut out on her chest that showed the bouncing slopes of her E cup breasts. As she held up her cape, the very large bulges of her rock hard cheeks were exposed, each glorious inch of her 40 inch hip measurement smooth as silk and strong as steel thanks to the high tech nanites infusing her cells.
“...You look like a street walker! And please, do not blasphemize! Already you’ve earned millenia of glorious, starving meditation!” her religious AI sobbed.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Celebrant giggled.
…..
Despite her furious fighting, strong enough that something ripped in her too tight pants, Michelle soon found herself at the railing over the ooze pit. Beneath her, green slime hissed hungrily, almost reaching for her body...
"Please, somebody help me!" the terrified woman shrieked, one last plea to an uncaring universe as she was tossed over the rim.
The roof to the bunker like compound gave way with one huge crash. Michelle found herself held in a bridal carry by a red clad figure, one arm under her knees and the other under her back, her face pressed into a soft, generous tit.
"Don't worry citizen," Celebrant smiled, "I've got you."
"Don't just stand there, shoot them!" the fake health tycoon yelled from the platform, her guards nervously gulping to see the famously bullet proof ginger in front of them.
"Oh, shoot me? That's assault with a deadly weapon, on top of that little murder I just stopped," the alien smiled, "Synapse, upload that order to local PD, FBI, SHOTGUN etc to send someone to collect them. And make sure all my accounts update as well with the footage of what comes next."
Michelle found herself standing, before a blur of red and white swept through the armed guards. The dozen men were soon wrapped in handcuffs made of their own guns, leaving only their CEO Sophie standing furious behind them. The shrieking blonde drew a strange looking gun, pointing it at Celebrant with trembling hands.
"D-don't you take a step closer! I am fully within my rights to have that slut tossed into the AI soup to be dissolved!" Sophie yelled, sights aimed at Celebrant's full chest.
A small blur swept by, the ginger effortlessly pulling the gun from Sophie's hands.
"Oh a testicular torsion ray, that would really have hurt. Not," she laughed, "but that sounds like a confession!'
The CEO was soon bound up as well, sirens from police already sounding. Michelle fell back to her knees from shock, the swing of facing death to being saved by a famed heroine almost too much. Said heroine was soon right in front of her, kneeling down to show a lot of cleavage.
"Hey, you alright there?" Celebrant asked, "sorry for the close call. I was doing some clean up."
"I'm...I'm fine...just," the reporter shivered, trying to get her tongue untied, "I'm just...sorry, I'm Michelle...and I..."
"You're cute, wanna go out to eat?" the ginger smiled.
Yes: Michelle's gonna be getting a lot bigger first...
No: No one's ever denied a request to hang with Celebrant before...this may have an impact on our heroine's ego...
Maybe, I don't know Michelle's too flustered and needs to meet her editor. Celebrant has to have a Power Lounge meeting.
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