Wonder Woman's luxury penthouse sat high above the heart of Metropolis. Looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the skyline shimmered with countless neon lights, but inside her bedroom, the atmosphere was a heavy, suffocating tranquility.
Silver moonlight poured through the glass, casting a pale, ethereal glow over the sprawling, classic wooden bed. Diana lay completely naked atop the snow-white silk sheets, her athletic, Amazonian body resting peacefully. In the moonlight, her skin was as flawless as polished porcelain, dusted with a faint, rosy flush of sleep. Her long, raven hair cascaded across the pillows like a dark waterfall, contrasting sharply with the pristine white linens.
Her face was serene, a masterpiece sculpted by the gods themselves. Yet, it was her extraordinary physique that commanded the room. Her body was a lethal combination of warrior muscle and ripe, feminine curves. The moonlight clung to the heavy, gravity-defying swell of her full breasts, highlighting the taut peaks of her resting nipples. The gentle night breeze drifted through a cracked window, softly stirring her dark hair and caressing her bare, flawless thighs. It was a picture of absolute, untouchable divinity.
But in the shadows, a subtle, insidious shift occurred.
An immense, impossibly complex magic circle—glowing with a faint, corrupt purple luminescence—began to trace itself into the floorboards directly beneath her bed. Its energy was incredibly ancient and perfectly concealed, designed to bypass all standard magical wards.
Yet, Diana's demigod physiology was not so easily fooled. Even trapped in deep sleep, her combat-honed intuition screamed that she was under attack.
'What is this?' her subconscious echoed in the dark. 'It burns...'
Despite the circle's stealth, the strange, invasive energy began seeping into her pores. In her deep sleep, Diana's statuesque body began to spasm. It felt as if countless, invisible, heated needles were piercing her skin, bypassing her invulnerable muscles to strike directly at her nervous system.
A grimace of pain and sudden, unbidden lust crossed her beautiful face. Cold sweat erupted across her forehead and chest, slicking her heavy breasts and soaking the silk sheets beneath her. Her breathing grew shallow and erratic, her chest heaving as she fought against the unseen force. The magical tendrils slithered up her legs like invisible, phantom snakes, coiling around her thighs and pressing intimately against her sex.
Her black hair trembled as if she were being electrocuted. She desperately wanted to wake up. Her warrior's instinct told her this was a targeted assault on her divine core, but she was entirely paralyzed, locked within her own mind. The corrupt energy continued its slow, steady invasion, systematically wrapping around her magical aura and subtly binding the connection to her artifacts—the Bracelets of Submission resting on her nightstand, and the Lasso of Truth.
She writhed on the bed, her hips bucking involuntarily against the sheets as the magic seeped deeper, planting a dark, dormant seed within her very soul.
The morning sun glared harshly over the bustling streets of Metropolis, bringing a chaotic start to the new day.
Sirens wailed in the distance. The city's relative peace had just been shattered by a crew of heavily armed bank robbers. They frantically hurled heavy canvas duffel bags stuffed with cash into the back of a black getaway van, their faces split with greedy, adrenaline-fueled grins. They were sure they had pulled off the perfect heist.
"Go, go, go!" the leader screamed, slamming the passenger door.
The driver slammed his foot on the gas pedal. The engine roared like a caged beast, and the rear tires spun wildly, screaming against the asphalt and kicking up a massive cloud of thick, acrid white smoke.
But the van didn't move a single inch. It was as if it had been bolted to the Earth.
The robbers exchanged looks of absolute panic and confusion. The driver floored it again, the transmission whining in protest, but they remained locked in place. Slowly, terrified, the leader rolled down the window and looked toward the rear of the vehicle.
Wonder Woman stood casually behind the van.
She was clad in her iconic red, blue, and gold battle armor, her metallic boots planted firmly on the pavement. One hand was casually gripping the van's rear bumper, effortlessly holding the roaring, two-ton vehicle in place with terrifying Amazonian strength. Her face was resolute, her golden eyes glaring daggers at the criminals through the smoke.
Yet, beneath her flawless, intimidating exterior, a faint bead of sweat rolled down her cleavage.
'Why does my body feel so heavy today?' Diana thought, her brow furrowing slightly as a phantom ache throbbed deep in her lower abdomen. She gripped the bumper tighter, ignoring the strange, lingering heat from her nightmare. 'It doesn't matter. I have a job to do.'
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