The Impossibles
Copyright© 2025 by Dragon Cobolt
Chapter 18
Incest Sex Story: Chapter 18 - Bryant DeWitt is a normal kid in an abnormal world - a world of superheroes and villains, where magic and technology rub shoulders. He never *expected* to get superpowers - but when he does get cosmic powers, what he super double never expected was to learn that his boring family is actually The Impossibles - each one with unique powers and abilities, each famous in their own right! Now, Bryant has to learn on the go as he's tossed into the (surprisingly erotic) world of superheroics!
Caution: This Incest Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa Fa/ft Ma/Ma Ma Fa mt ft Mult Teenagers Consensual Reluctant Romantic Gay Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual TransGender Fiction Superhero Aliens Extra Sensory Perception Robot Paranormal Furry Vampires Were animal Cheating Sharing Incest Mother Son Brother Sister Father Daughter BDSM Rough Gang Bang Group Sex Orgy Polygamy/Polyamory Swinging Nudism
Nova Nine was about to leap into action – to teleport to the nearest hotspot and start using his powers – when he got the message.
Nova? Now!
He skidded to a stop, sighed, then held his hands out, focusing hard. Part of the preparations for this day had been preparing for this eventuality, this specific order, sent in that specific tone of voice, with that specific telepathic inflection. He had known that it would be an important part of his job – and, abstractly, he was glad that it had happened now, in a lull in the fighting. If the telepathic signal from General Colt, the most powerful psychic in the United States Astroforce, had come when he had been in the midst of fighting Dyskord? Or Toxsyn?
Ugh.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
In truth, the thing that Nova did, for all it subtlety, was possibly the most sophisticated use of his powers he had ever done. It took every iota of his focus and a good chunk of his willpower, layering the complex wave of effects atop one another, bit by bit by bit. But he managed it – a small orb of shimmering gold, held in his palm. He looked at it and breathed in slowly.
“Okay,” he whispered. “Got it, General Colt.”
Good.
Then.
We need it.
Nova didn’t like the sound of that.
The King of the Forest grunted as the chain of barbed wire wrapped around his muscular forearm. Stryfe, his glowing red eyes blazing with triumph, hauled back on the chain, trying to either wrench King forward into his fist, or to rip the arm off. King dug in his hooves – while, at the exact same moment, a kinetic round fired hours before finished its deorbiting and smashed into the ground behind Stryfe, launching the middle child of Darkthornn’s twisted family forward in a spray of debris.
“Thanks honey!” King said, while Lady Luck, who was holding her arms up in a boxer’s stance, glared at a metron and ducked away from his punch, before focusing. The metron’s heart, which had always had a surprisingly weak valve, blew something as it pumped blood into the creature’s vast muscles. The red eyed beast’s eyes widened and he clutched at his chest, then dropped over dead.
“For what?” LL asked, glancing at her husband as King tugged the chain off.
Stryfe started to lumber to his feet, hissing and snarling. The void that was his voice rang out across the pock marked, cratered landscape that was the front-line battlefield that had been carefully selected for the invasion by the United Nations. “You two are going to die for a thousand years!” he snarled. “I will tear apart your marriage, your soul, your family, your-” He paused, then patted at his hip.
“Your...” He turned around.
Behind him, Corvi Magpie held a small key chair on her finger, twirling it, her eyes sparkling.
“That’s not even a literal set of keys!” Stryfe snarled. “My powers are a metaphor!”
Corvi thrust the Key of Torment that was the heart of Stryfe’s powers into a glowing lock that appeared out of nowhere, then twisted. Stryfe shrieked as he was held in place, and King of the Forest stepped up, grabbed him by the small of his back and his shoulder, hefted him up, then smashed him down onto his broad shoulders with a cheerful grunt. Then King leaped up and slammed the entire weight of his broad shouldered, muscular elk’s body down onto Stryfe. The crunching impact was almost louder than the shrieks and snarls of the metrons and the other beasts that filled the battlefield.
“Okay, Corvi, baby, hand me the keys,” Lady Luck said, while Corvi grinned at the keys that dangled from her finger.
“Just saying ... they’re really magical,” Corvi whispered, softly. She looked at the glittering key that hung lowest from the ring. The black key. The key that whispered softly. The key of Oblivion itself, which even Stryfe feared to use, lest he be unable to control what it opened. King of the Forest, who was busy handcuffing the unconscious warrior of Cenetaph, didn’t even look up.
“We’re not doing that again, Corvi, give your mom the keys,” he said.
“I can control them, I think I can!” Corvi said, licking her lips, her eyes beading with excitement. She held the ring close, then wriggled the key of oblivion off. “I know I can, actually! I ... yes! I can! Aahaha!”
Lady Luck pinched the bridge of her nose. “Honey, please, we already did this.”
The King of the Forest stood, tossing Stryfe over his shoulder, then casually bucked his head, impaling a passing metron with his antlers. The creature shrieked, gurgled, spat up green blood, and King tossed his head again, sending it pitching away. “Corvi Magpie, you are not turning evil this week,” he said, in his most serious ‘dad’ voice.
“You’re just jealous of my power!” Corvi hissed. “I-”
The Ring of Oblivion flared bright red. Corvi squeaked and dropped it, wringing her hands as the ring hissed, bubbled, then burst into a spray of sparks. The ground it sat on turned cherry red and when the light faded, the key was ... actually unharmed, sitting black and untouched in a crater of molten ground. But Starfleet had landed beside her sister, shaking her head. She wrung out her hand, her finger-tip still glowing faintly from the heat-exchange of her grazer.
“Fucking evil magic this is worse than the dark lord’s ring,” she grumbled.
“I had that under total control!” Corvi said, her voice having returned to normal as she sucked on one of her singed fingers.
King shook his head.
And then...
“Ladies and gennnnnnntlemen!”
A cheerful, faintly familiar voice rang out across the battlefield. Capes and costumes alike turned away from metrons, who hesitated in their snarling attacks – and all the beautiful, amazing, strange people watched as a purple ray of light shone down through the huge hole in the planetary shield that the Tormentium forces had blasted through to reach the ground. The light shone down on a hovering black platform, covered in spikes everywhere save for the flat top, where stood ... Miss Malydie. Even from a distance, the resemblance between her and Lady Luck was uncanny. Her leather bodice and her mask did break it up a bit, compared to Lady Luck’s brighter costume and cape – but her voice was identical.
She held a microphone, and when she spoke, her voice echoed not only over the battlefield, but from every TV set and screen that the world had.
“We’ve all had a wonderful forlorn hope, but enough is enough. You have captured several of my liege’s children ... and he...” She gestured to the side – and a shimmering wave of fire swept up. In its wake appeared ... Darkthornn. He towered, almost ten feet tall, with shoulders broader than some cars. His skin was pebbly and gray, and his eyes had the same daemonic red glow of all of his people. He held in his left hand the body of Legacy II – his fingers tight around a spine clearly twisted and broken, her eyes empty. Staring.
“Has killed your legacy,” Miss Malydie purred, softly. “Now. He’s going to kill all of you.”
Darkthornn dropped the body of the earth’s strongest hero.
Legacy Girl came shooting from the sides. Darkthornn glanced her way and the backwash of the eye-beams that hit her body produced a shriek that was almost as loud. There was a momentary flash of cape, a flickering skeleton, a hazy hint that there was something ... and then there was nothing. Just smoldering ash, blowing away in the wind, and a streak of scarred earth almost half a mile long. Skrayper and Buggo were both merely human and they had been standing toe to toe to Metrons all day. Buggo flicked out his webshooters, but Darkthornn swept his eyes over him – and the former sidekick of Skrayper was obliterated in a fraction of a second. Skrayper, teeth gritted, rolled to the side, came up, and hurled a set of three explosive darts from his multi-launcher. They struck Darkthornn, exploding along his arm.
Said arm did not even slow as the flat of his hand took Skrayper’s head off.
“Corvi, run,” Lady Luck hissed.
“Fuck that,” Crovi snarled. She stepped forward, while The Mentalist, Psylass and Yolaro all thrust out their hands and focused. Invisible waves of psychic energy started to crackle along Darkthornn’s head and the master of Cenetaph paused – for a moment. In fact, he smirked as they focused ... and then all three mentalists shrieked, clawing at their faces. They fell to the ground, clutching their heads as blood started to pour from nostrils. Eyes. Ears. But as they fell, Gorilla God and Rubrik were both rushing forward. Rubrik caught Darkthornn’s fist in his own hands and was stopped gold, but Gorilla slammed his knee into Darkthornn.
Darkthornn smashed Gorilla God’s head in with his own forehead – shattering skull and brain everywhere.
“Gorilla!” Rubrik shouted – only for Darkthornn to take hold of him and smash him into King of the Forest – who was rushing forward. Rubrik’s body was driven onto King’s antlers, sending the hero sprawling and Rubrik’s blood spurting.
“Hey, Darkthornn, you fucker!” Corvi shouted, her voice pure rage. She held a finger above her head, then pointed it at him. “Kel-Toh!”
The word, the Power Word for Death – rent the world itself. Negative energy burst from a seam between planes and streamed through Darkthornn’s body, sending the Master of Cenotaph reeling. Corvi’s cape fluttered around her shoulders, her top hat knocked back slightly by the wave of hot wind that blew away from Darkthornn. She held her palm wide, then whipped out Merlin’s grimoire with her other. She began to incant, her eyes blazing with fury.
Darkthornn flicked a single rock.
The rock whipped out and shot towards Corvi’s throat.
King, hurling himself forward, caught the rock. His palm crunched and he staggered, blood exploding around his fingers.
Corvi kept shouting words as Darkthornn advanced.
“You stay away from my daughter, you-” King snarled, then kicked out with a hoof that could shatter concrete. Darkthornne caught his leg, then grabbed his antlers. Darkthornn said nothing at all as he held, then wrenched, then ripped King of the Forest’s head off in a spray of arterial blood. Corvi was splattered with it and she choked, unable to speak for a second more. Her jaw hung open in shock as Lady Luck, screaming, threw herself at Darkthronn, who slapped her aside with a single palm – every iota of ill fortune sliding off his shoulders as if it had never been. Lady Luck sprawled as he put his foot onto her head.
Starfleet, by then, had unfolded her entire battle apparatus. Her shoulders opened and she loosed dozens of rockets at Darkthornn, who swept his gaze along the haze of missiles. They exploded in the air, flashing and flickering and their concussions sent Starfleet skidding backwards.
Corvi shook her head. Blood dripped off her chin. Her father’s blood. And somewhere, deep inside her head, she was screaming. Furious. But she could only think one thing, even as Darkthornn’s foot crushed down onto her mother’s head.
Finish the spell.
Her jaw tightened. Through clenched teeth ... she hissed. “Teloth Vorin Makaet Seloth!”
She slammed the grimoire shut.
A portal opened before Darkthornn, swirling and crackling magic. Through it, the infinite complexity of Ortekonna, the Titan of Industry, one of the primordial beings that had been there, at the beginning of the cosmos itself. A recursive megastructure of magic and mystery, Ortekonna was a being of near limitless power, populated by a species that called themselves the Kotekka. In their ancient wars against disorder and anarchy, they had built many a weapon. And one such weapon was, thanks to this spell, aimed directly at Darkthornn’s head. A beam-cannon of pure sorcerous fury, it took a scant few seconds to warm up as Darkthornn, for just a moment ... smirked.
Then the beam hit him.
Corvi’s cape fluttered as her shadow was blasted into the landscape behind her. She did not look away, even as the soul-scouring heat and light faded away.
And there, standing in the center of a smoldering crater, was Darkthornn. A single bit of blood dripped, slowly, from his brow. He stood from his knee, cracked his knuckles, and then gave her the smallest of nods.
“Fuck,” Corvi whispered.
And then Darkthornn obliterated her in a single flash of dazzling heat.
And silence.
Silence everywhere.
“Oohhhh, it looks like the Impossibles ... weren’t so impossible,” Miss Malydie said, her voice wrought with relentless, mocking sympathy. “But where’s the youngest of them? Where’s Nova Nine?”
Darkthornn smirked, his finger touching his brow. He snapped his fingers – and a haze of purple light flashed ... and there stood Nova Nine, yanked there, his hands clutching something close to his chest. And, at last, Darkthornn deigned to speak.
“The Omni-Spark,” he said, his voice the gruff, deep, rumbling voice of a patrician - but no more. It did not resonate, nor ring with magical power. It was merely the voice of a man, a powerful man, confident in his power. That seemed to make it a billion times worse. “Give it to me.”
Nova’s eyes took in the battlefield. He took in the corpses. His massacred family. His friends and coworkers.
The issue was...
He had already seen it. Miss Malydie had broadcast it to every screen, after all.
His voice came out, surprisingly strongly.
“Why?”
That single question hung in the air, while Miss Malydie hissed. “Why!? Why? You seek to question Darkthornn, the mighty, I-”
“Silence,” Darkthornn said, holding his hand up. He regarded Nova with a distant, cold gaze. “What are you doing, there?” He gestured to Nova’s hands. “What do you hold?”
Nova clenched his jaw, then turned his hand around. His fingers spread – revealing the golden orb he had crafted. But now, here, the thin threads could be drawn. The golden filaments, leading off into the air. They wafted up, then arced down. One connected to the mangled body of Gorilla God. Another threaded to the twisted form of Legacy II. One floated in the air where Legacy Girl had been, before she had been atomized. And, yes. One threaded to the King of the Forest and Lady Luck, whose bodies lay near the glowing crater Corvi had put into the landscape. There were dozens of threads. Hundreds. Thousands, even. They reached off to the horizon, and up into the air.
Darkthornn began to laugh. It was a low, deep, steady chuckle – and it made Nova grind his teeth.
“This is incredible,” he said. “You could have stood here and fought me as well – and instead ... you have all the power in the world, and you use it to shepherd the weak.”
Nova frowned and jerked his chin. “Didn’t look so weak to me,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady. Managing the quantum sustaining pattern field that kept every single sentience that had been lost thus-far in the ground invasion intact was trickier than it looked. He had to not only keep their consciousnesses intact, he also had to make sure they didn’t mix together too. And he had to do at range. And every few seconds, another got added to the pile as a street hero, fighting desperately to protect their homes, got ... unlucky.
And that didn’t even count the Tormentium casualties. Including them had been one of the most difficult balancing acts he had ever done – he had needed to do so while not tipping his hand too early. That meant a bunch who had died earlier were permanently dead. Nova knew he’d be ... thinking about them for a long time.
Later.
Much later.
Darkthornn touched his brow, where the cut had been seared. “True, I am weakened,” he said. “I did take years to prepare for this for a reason. Every year, I glutted myself on the willpower of my subject’s suffering and pain ... and do you know why?” His voice grew amused. “This ... world. This pathetic, simpering, soft world? It actually produced the most accurate, profound summation of the universe to have ever existed.” He clenched his hand. “Struggle. The will to power. That’s how this universe works, Nova. Superheroes?” He laughed. “We are best described by the man your entire civilization has dedicated itself to despising.”
He began to pace around Nova, watching him from his towering height. His broad hands – blood soaked hands – clasped behind his back.
Nova’s glare was furious. “If that’s the case, why did they lose the fucking war, asshole?”
“Did they?” Darkthornn chuckled. “In truth, we had similar events on Cenotaph, long ago. When I was ... simpler.” He paused. “I know what you think of me. That I am some primordial creature of evil.” He shook his head. “Propaganda. Fine propaganda, written by Miss Malydie...”
The simpering head of Cenetaph’s propaganda network preened behind Darkthornn.
“ ... but in truth, I was much like you, two thousand, three thousand years ago,” Darkthornn said. He turned to face Nova fully, looking down at him. “I called myself the Stalwart Defender. I wore a cape. A costume. A cowl.” He cocked his head. “And like your world, mine faced ... many challenges. Emergent energy beings. Warlords. Dictators. Invaders. And every time, the weak would die. The strong, preserver. Those strong would then force their will upon the world – and that will is what I realized was made all the difference.” He knelt down, so that he could look into Nova’s eyes. His voice grew soft, gloating. “There is no good, nor evil, we are beyond that. There is only strength and weakness. And I chose strength, again and again. To keep my world safe. And now, is there a world more safe, more secure, more glorious than Cenotaph?”
Nova remained silent.
Darkthornn reached up. Two of those blunt fingers closed around one of the golden threads, connecting Nova’s hands to the corpses littering the field. Nova felt the tension heighten as Darkthornn stressed the wire, as if it were a drawn bowstring.
“You fight us now only to become us. One way, or the other.” Darkthornn murmured. “If you give me the Omni-Spark, then I will make your world perfect overnight, and not over painful decades of final crisis after final crisis, after an infinity of pains and torments. I will bring you to the peace that is Cenotaph.”
Nova snorted. “You keep calling us weak, but-”
“Because you are!” Darkthornn said, fiercely. “On my world, even in our false heroic aggrandizement, we never were as foolish as you were!” He clenched the entire thread in his hand, squeezing it, about to break it. “We, at least, knew when to kill.”
Nova...
Smirked.
“That’s the difference,” he whispered. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
“Oh?” Darkthornn chuckled, then laughed, out loud. “Is this where you tell me about the value of human life? About the heroism inherent in mercy? In how I should change my ways?”