0 comments/ 86357 views/ 6 favorites Nightstick By: cybaby78 As I pulled up the leather leggings I could almost feel the breeze blowing in my face. I wanted to chase the office off me and feel the throbbing of the Harley's engine between my legs. The leather thong and vest completed my outfit. Keeping the buttons from popping might be a trick, once I get going I'll just undo them and let the wind tickle my nipples. I had been yearning for it to be Saturday, I had planned to hop on my hog and drive through the countryside. Let the wind burn against my soft skin. To feel the hogs throbbing motor stimulates my clit. I had driven the back roads before and I knew they were not heavily travel, my chances of coming across someone would be slim. I wanted to open her up maybe do a wheely or two. I was not expecting what happened next. I had been driving for about an hour when I crested a hill, there at the base of the hill was a sheriffs car parked blocking the road. The officer was standing next tot he vehicle and as I approached the officer directed me to drive down the lane of a farm. Not wanting trouble I turned down the lane and watched in my mirror as the officer got in the car and followed me. I parked the Harley next to the open door of the barn. The officer pulled up next to me, shut off the car and got out. It was then I saw that it was a female. " What do you think you were doing out there on the highway" she asked, "There are laws against driving with your breast exposed." I had been enjoying the feel of the wind that I forgot I had opened my vest. They were covered now but while I was riding they had been exposed by the blowing wind. "Officer I ....." I started to explain but was cut short. "I don't want to hear any excuses. Come with me." She ordered me. I followed her into the barn. There were bales of haystack like an altar then covered by a blanket. She told me to kneel on the blanket. I didn't know what she planned to do but I didn't want to make her any more angry than she seem to be so I obeyed. Since all I was wearing were leggings and vest with my thong my bare butt was exposed to her. " Now we can do this one of two ways, I can site you for indecent exposure or I can give you your punishment here and now. Which will it be?" Looking back over my shoulder I pleaded with her, "OOH please officer don't hurt me. What are you going to do with that big black stick?" She had removed her belt and now stood with her nightstick in her hand. AS she walked up behind me I could hear the sound of the nightstick slapping against her palm. Then I felt the cold hard wood as she placed between the cheeks of my ass. She slid it up and down before I could say anything she had slipped my thong down " Shall we see how far this will go?" she whispered in my ear. I felt the end part my pussy lips and enter me. It was wet and hard as she forced it in my cunt. She began to slowly slide it deeper then drew it out almost all the way then back in again. I couldn't help myself as I parted my legs to make it easier for her. The long hard presence in my wet hot pussy was driving me wild. I began to rock back and forth as she fucked me with her nightstick. As she twisted and drove it in and back I moaned loudly. She talked to me, " You bitch you like the feel of my stick you want more baby, you want me to go faster?' All I could do was moan yes, She was bringing me to orgasm and she knew it as my body spasmed with the release. Jerking and heaving as I was overcum by the great feeling? As I settled down she withdrew the stick and knelt behind me, she parted my lips and sucked at the juices running out of me, licking and darting her tongue in and out her fingers found my clit and she began teasing it as she licked my pussy. I was soon overcum by another more intense orgasm. When she had finished she slapped my ass, " Next time you get to be the cop." Then she laughed. With that I pulled her to me and kissed her. She wasn't getting off that easy as I began to undress her. Nightstick My mother was bitten by a radioactive vampire while she was carrying me. My father was a criminal mastermind whose deeds I must atone for. I was accidentally dropped into a mutagenic experiment the day I was born. Then I was sent to this planet when my world exploded, to protect a weaker race. I was traumatized as a boy by a flock of flying squirrels issuing from a cave. I grew up a genius, and saved the world by throwing myself into a runaway reactor, where my atoms were stripped apart and reassembled from dark energy. Every hero has an origin myth, and I'm sticking to that one. Of course I have a secret identity, strictly to protect those who are near and dear to me from harm, should one of my many arch-enemies want to play rough. Not that I have anyone near and dear at the moment, or even middling distant and well-regarded. But it's best to be prepared. Right. Who am I kidding? My "condition" is embarrassing, and I wouldn't want to be associated with that buffoon who uses it to do good. I'd never get a date that way. People will cut a superhero some slack; they're expected to be eccentric, even tormented. Anyone else and you're just a pervert. Ah, some of you have guessed. Yes, I am the Nightstick. I first came into my powers as a teenager. I had found some pornography on the internet, and had locked myself in my room to enjoy it. It was a Friday night, and as usual, I hadn't been invited to any parties and had been turned down by all the girls. I dimmed the lights, stripped and got on the bed. I placed the laptop on a stack of physics books, and dreamed briefly of the day when I would find a girl who thought physics was sexy. "Cheerleaders from Venus" was probably more realistic than that daydream; I hit play. The plot was as thin as a condom, but that wasn't what I was after. It started with the cheerleaders showering in their locker room. A few minutes of bobbing boobs and I was stiff ... almost as stiff as the acting on screen. I started stroking gently. I liked to build up for a long time before my climax; I expected to get at least halfway through the video before I couldn't hold back any longer. Now one of the cheerleaders had gotten one of the football team to come into their locker room, and had gone down on him. The acting may have been wooden, but that girl loved to suck cock. She slid lovingly up and down the shaft, lingering for long moments on the swollen head, running her tongue around the rim. Then she plunged all the way to the base in an amazing deep throat that rolled his eyes back in his head. She pulled back ever so slowly, as if to emphasize the unbelievable length she had swallowed. Her eyes glinted with mischief as she kissed the very tip as it emerged. Something awoke just above my balls, just behind my straining cock, a magnesium snake burning bright as it coiled and flexed within. I started to doubt I was going to hold on until mid-video at this rate. Now it was revealed that the cheerleading squad were invading Venusian women, and the girl summoned the rest of her minions to overwhelm the hero. (Why they were invading the football team seemed rather beside the point at the moment.) He disappeared in a scrum of breasts and buttocks and other curved anatomy, with only his pole sticking up from the middle. The bright snake wound tighter, striking sparks from its coils that burned their way up my spine. I had never felt anything like this before. I slowed my stroking to the barest touch, wanting to hang on a little longer. Now four cheerleaders sat on his outstretched arms and legs, one brushed her nipples across his face and lips, and another mounted him and sank slowly down on his pulsing cock. The bright snake within me flared incandescent, and my power came to life. My cock swelled in my hands to heroic proportions. I needed two hands to grip it as the veins stood out with steel-like rigidity. The muscles in my arms grew and corded. My chest deepened, my legs swelled through the thighs and calves. Strength thrummed through my body; I felt like Hercules. Then I realized I was floating two feet over the bed. I rotated in the air and looked at myself in the mirror. I hung above the bed, unsupported, wearing a body that had been peeled from my stack of comic books. Legs like tree trunks, arms like mighty pistons, muscles that I didn't know I had bulging and rippling underneath my skin. And pointing at me like a cannon, the hard-on of the apocalypse. It must have been eighteen inches long, as big as a bat, purple capped and rampant. I rotated to look at myself in profile, noting that my hair had darkened and become curly, my jaw and cheekbones were chiseled, my nose lengthened and straightened. I struck a pose in the air and laughed. I would have girls all over me now. No more dateless nights for me. And wait until they saw this monster! I ran my hands up and down my shaft; it felt even more sensitive than before. I could feel my balls tensing, the feeling building, a climax nearing ... I was lucky that I wasn't floating too far off the ground that first time. If I had experimented with flying before coming to a climax, my adventure might have ended that night. I landed on the floor with a thump as my semen spattered against the far wall. I slowly regained my feet and turned to face the mirror once more. The same beanpole as always looked back from the mirror: 6 feet and 140 pounds. My comic book stature had fled as quickly as it had come. What had happened? I considered a dream, or insanity, but those could not account for the pearly glob streaming slowly down the wall. I wiped it off and sniffed it: positive identification. I posed again before the mirror, flexing the muscles that I remembered from a moment before. I lifted my flaccid cock, a drop of fluid still clinging to the tip. All was back to normal. The video was still running. I paused with my finger over the key that would stop playback. Team Venus was busily incapacitating the entire football squad, riding cocks, sucking them, milking them. Gobs of cum ran down their faces and tits, attesting to the success of their plan. Today the stadium, tomorrow the world. I felt myself getting hard again, and reached down to stroke myself a few times. This was an unusually fast recovery for me, but it was a pretty hot flick. I didn't know if I could climax again, but it still felt good to try. I grew to full hardness, and beyond. My cock filled one hand, then both, then my muscles bulked up, and my feet lifted from the ground. Over the rest of that night and the following nights I confirmed that as long as I kept an erection, I had superhuman strength and endurance, I could fly, and my vision and hearing were enhanced. (Sadly, no X-ray vision. I supposed that the EPA had banned it as excessively hazardous to bystanders.) As soon as I reached orgasm I reverted to the proverbial ninety pound weakling. Likewise if I just stopped stroking, my strength would ebb away with my erection. Under cloak of darkness I practiced flying. I buzzed the neighborhood houses, and managed to get a few good eyefuls outside of Emily Johnson's bedroom window. I learned caution when her father suddenly banged out onto the porch, and I nearly tumbled into the bushes as I started to go soft. I recovered just in time to soar into the night sky. The surreptitious night patrols and the keeping of a secret identity made me bolder, perhaps influenced by countless movies. I heard at school that Liana Carter was having a Halloween party in a week's time. She wouldn't have dreamed of inviting me, but what matter? We would all be in costume anyway. I found a Guy Fawkes mask and a flowing black cape to become V from "V for Vendetta." Underneath I wore black spandex winter track warmups with long sleeves and legs. I hoped that if I should happen to bulk up I could conceal my state under the cloak, and that the spandex would stretch without ripping. I looked in every store in town to find a sword to complete the outfit, but there were none to be had. Finally I found a policeman's black truncheon and a wide black belt, and those made a satisfactory effect. Darkness arrived early and I arrived fashionably late at the Carter's. The door was opened by Liana herself, perhaps predictably dressed as Wonder Woman. I wouldn't dream of criticizing a costume that presented so much of her creamy cleavage to the cool October air. I was thankful that she could not see me gaping behind the Guy Fawkes visage. "Well, and who might this be?" I had my answer prepared; I had seen the movie a dozen times. "it's my very good honor to meet you and you may call me V'" I bowed. She had not seen the movie. "Oh, well. We'll have fun guessing, won't we?" She ushered me in, showed me the refreshments, and left me to mingle with the other costumed revelers. The costumes were surprisingly good, and the girls were surprisingly daring. These were girls I saw every day at school, and while I thought many were good lookers in the hallways, here they were positively stunning. Pretty Laura Lee, whom I had always thought of as flat-chested, was anything but in a skimpy genie costume. Billie Crowder was spilling out of her cowgirl vest, and could have roped any guy in the room. Naughty nurses and anything-but-innocent schoolgirls abounded. Jeannette had on a police uniform unbuttoned and tied over breasts that strained the material. She arrested any loitering eyes in the room and the guys were lined up to be handcuffed by her. I hadn't expected such a display of tantalizing and jiggling girlflesh tonight. I had to breath deeply to calm myself. I didn't want to suddenly go Hulk in the party, though I thought my costume should conceal me if it were to happen. I tried keeping my eyes above neck level, though I could see I was about the only male in the room who was succeeding. Near the punchbowl, Thad Jenkins was standing in his football uniform with a cheerleader on his arm. That was about all the imagination Thad could muster; he wore that same uniform on Friday nights. I didn't know what position he played. Linethug or something like that. He looked me over. "Hoo wee, now, what've we got here? Are you suppos' to be Shakespeare or sumpthin? Say sumpthin poet-like." "Conceal me what I am, and be my aid//For such disguise as haply shall become//The form of my intent." One of the few Shakespeare quotes I could do from memory. Thad's face darkened. "You makin fun of me?" I suspected he had been drinking. "There are no coincidences, Thad. Only the illusion of coincidence." Thad was convinced that anything he didn't understand was a joke at his expense. He was probably right. His face turned an ugly shade of purple, and he took a step forward. "A poet shouldn't be needin a billy club." He reached out his hand to the stick hung from my belt. That was enough. I stopped supressing the churning in my groin. I looked straight down the neckline of his girlfriend, and imagined her boobs bouncing free as she did her splits on the field. Since she had omitted a bra tonight and pulled her neckline low, they were pretty close to doing that already. My cock, already teased by all the suggestive costumes, swelled in my pants. I reached the triggering point, and I loomed suddenly within my cloak. My hand landed on his wrist, and arrested his attempt to pull the truncheon from my belt. He tried to pull free, but found that my grip had all the give of a steel vice. "Let go of the stick, Thad." I slowly tightened my grip. Thad opened his fingers spasmodically. Then when I let go, he swung an overhand roundhouse at my face. I snatched his fist from midair and pulled him close. "Step back and shake hands, Thad, and you'll look like a good old boy just roughhousing. Swing again and I'll clean the floor with you." He looked my mask in the eyeslits and knew that I meant it. He took a step back, thrust out his hand, and shook. We slapped each others shoulders, and I said, "Good one, Thad." He turned back to his girlfriend. I noticed that everyone had stopped talking nearby and were staring at my now-looming shoulders. All except for Thad's girlfriend, directly in front of me. She was staring at my crotch. I twitched my cloak closed self-consciously, and turned aside. "This visage, no mere veneer of vanity, is a vestige of the vox populi, now vacant, vanished." The voice was low, feminine, full of quick wit and humor. I looked for the source, matched it to the sparkling eye of a pirate wench. A red bandana bound her hair, a black eyepatch covered her left eye. Earring hoops of gold dangled against dusky skin. The vest that tucked into her pantaloons was open to the waist and held apart by her lovely breasts, which bared their inner half moons to each other. "Many pardons, dear lady, but I believe that is my line." I bowed to the pirate. "I know it is, but I couldn't resist. And now, who are you?" "Who? Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask." "And now we are back on the right foot. I asked only because I wanted to hear you say that. You handled Thad masterfully." The rest of the party faded into the background for me. I had found a jewel; a girl who understood me. We traded quotes all the way through V for Vendetta, Hellboy, The Watchmen, The Lord of the Rings, and more. As we chatted, I gradually resumed my accustomed size. If she noticed that there was less of me under the cloak, she did not remark on it. As for me, I wondered what art or magic kept her vest just on the verge of sliding from her twin slopes, but never quite uncovering the nipples that stretched the fabric so. As midnight approached with the time for unmasking, she led me from the room. "Seeing beneath the mask would break the spell, but there are other things we can remove." In the back room she let the pantaloons drop to the floor and stepped out of them with dancer's feet. The vest, now unguyed, only guided my hand to squeeze her breast. The softness of the roundness and the firmness of the pointedness were new discoveries to my hands. Her clever hands released my buckle and slid that and tights down my thighs. My cock, between us, pointed to the ceiling, hard but not yet rampant. She took the invitation. Tall, she raised up on tiptoe, lowered and sheathed me in her warmth. Magnesium flared within. I held her with corded muscles, I balanced her across tree trunk thighs. I filled her tightness with bands of steel, lifted her on my heroic rod ... She screamed. "Get it out of me! It's tearing me up!" She pushed away from me, shoved futilely against my mighty arms, until I dumbly realized I needed to let her go. She could not pull off my cock, wedged under her pubic bone and filling her beyond breaking. She put a foot up against my hip and pushed with all her might. She slipped and fell to the floor, still connected by a bridge of hot steel-hard flesh. I backed away from her, only to drag her screaming across the floor. I grasped my cock with both hands, and with a twist I finally wrenched it free. She was sobbing hysterically. I went back to help her up, but she fended me off. "Get away from me you monster! What are you? You're not human!" I backed away from her, bleeding, naked and vulnerable on the floor. I realized my mask had come loose and she could see my face, though it was my hero face, more planed and handsome than the one I wore to school every day. Her eyes burned with hatred as she took in my half-clothed half-masked form. There was a pounding at the door. "Who's in there? Are you OK? What's happening?" I looked around in panic, seeing only a second floor window. I gathered my clothes and threw open the window. "They'll take care of you, Lady Pirate," I said. "I cannot." I bounded half-naked into the night air and flew away. Of course everyone talked about it the next day at school. A mysterious intruder had assaulted Liana's visiting cousin at the party. She had been taken to the hospital, delirious and raving. She had been flown home. No one knew who the stranger was, though police had interviewed everyone at the party. He was strong and handsome, and had a way with words, so of course no one connected him with me. But I did. I fell into the blackest pit of guilt and self-loathing. My condition, which I now labeled a curse, not a gift, had destroyed something precious. I did not know if she would recover, but I knew she would hate me all her life. I had not wished for comic-book powers, but I had wished for a girl who could share my enthusiasms. The first had come true and denied me the second. I realized that I could never have normal relations with any girl; my size would seriously injure them every time. My powers left me for several months. I couldn't get it up, was revolted by the thought of sex. I looked at some porn, and could only see my Lady Pirate writhing in bloody revulsion on the floor. In a fit, I purged all of the porn from my computer and sat contemplating the now barren and empty hard disk. A fit metaphor for life. Then, in the spring, as breasts rose from necklines like spring flowers greeting the sun again, I felt a stirring, an urge to look down those necklines as they walked past. Adolescent hormones being what they are, I felt an answering twitch beneath my belt. That night, I faced myself naked in the mirror and brought forth the power. I was steeped in comic book legend enough to know the choice I had. I could turn inwards and fester, become bitter and use my powers for evil. Or I could atone for my sins by putting aside my needs for the needs of society. I knew I would make a poor villain, so I made the only choice I could. I knew the drill from countless movies: I must go away, train body and mind, develop a persona, make a grand debut, fight crime. I switched my college aspirations from physics to criminal law and forensics. I took every physical training class that I could. Even my normal physique started looking pretty respectable, and when I was "powered up," I became truly fearsome. I spent my evenings hunting down every scrap of sexual lore I could, seeking to control my power better. I practiced creating and maintaining an erection through willpower alone, as well as being able to release it on demand. I spent hours in front of the mirror in mental exercises to bring myself to hardness on cue, and to maintain it as long as I could. I also sought clues as to the origin of my powers, hoping for ways to understand and control them. I poured through my medical records, strange happenings anywhere near the town where I grew up, reports of alien abductions or UFO sightings, meteor crashes, anything out of the ordinary. Nothing. I had had an infuriatingly normal existence until the night I had floated from my bed. I put together my costume. I started with the outfit I had worn to the Halloween party. It was suitably mysterious, concealing, and adaptable to my changes in size. I discarded the hat as impractical, the mask as dangerous. I could not go about as V other than as a Halloween lark. I had no wish to test my powers against a copyright lawsuit. Even with my strength, I could not win against an army of soulless corporate lawyers. I fitted a leather holster down my leg to hold my cock, rigged with electrical and mechanical stimulators, controlled from a dial on my belt. I could not afford to go soft at the wrong time. My utility belt had compartments for emergency supplies: tablets of viagra and a supply of Suze Randall photographs. I topped the holster with the cutoff handle of my police truncheon to conceal the true weapon I was packing. Finally I was ready. I pulled on my tights, settled the cloak around my shoulders. I fastened the belt around my waist and secured the holster to my left leg. I holstered my cock and topped it with the misdirecting handle. I struck a pose in front of the mirror, and flipped the switch on the vibrator. Nightstick I gasped with pleasure. The holster was lined with clear gel that clasped me warmly and transmitted the vibrations to my cock. It was ribbed, so it would continuously stimulate me as I moved. It was so intense at first that my vision wavered and my knees buckled. Then I crossed the threshold, and grew to fill the holster with pulsing steel power. In the mirror, tights stretched across ripped muscles, my neck disappeared as sinews bulged across my shoulders. My cloak filled out as my chest broadened, and I placed my hands on my hips in a heroic pose. "Ladies and Gentlemen (but mostly Ladies), I give you ..." What? I didn't have a name yet. I'd left dozens discarded underfoot, scrawled with "cheesy" or "corny", or "god, no!". In the mirror, though, the answer was now obvious, a double entendre worthy of Frank Miller or Neil Gaiman. "I give you ... The Nightstick!" The next day, the phone rang. My parents had died in an airplane crash. I had to return home at once to run the family business. *** After the funeral, my Dad's executive assistant made an appointment to meet for lunch to start going over my new business interests. The appointed place was Aujourd'hui, the priciest French restaurant in town. EIther my business interests were doing really well, or some cost cutting was in order. There were few occupied tables, and only one whose occupant was looking expectantly towards the door. She rose as I entered. "Mr Howard?" "You must be Miss Jones." I certainly hoped so. She was very tall, only an inch or two shorter than I was. Waves of chestnut hair tumbled about her shoulders. A business suit straightened her shoulders and rounded her hips; in front it plunged in a deep valley between proud breasts. Her face was slightly long for conventional beauty, with a wide and expressive mouth. She seemed to be about my age, though her eyes seemed already familiar with both humor and pain. Her skin had a pallor to it as if she had been recently ill. "Please call me Marilee," she said, gesturing towards the empty seat. "And please call me Peter." I wanted to establish my role in the business early: "Isn't this rather extravagant for a business lunch?" "Not for you, you own this place now." Now that was a surprise. I had no idea my parents owned a restaurant. "Maybe you had better fill me in on what my business interests are, then. I need to know what I need to learn." She extracted a single sheet from a folder and slid it towards me with perfectly manicured fingers. "These all, including the restaurant, have very competent and trustworthy managers. You won't have to worry about day to day operations." I looked down the page she had prepared. Fabrication, robotics, pharmaceuticals, petrochemicals, finance houses, this restaurant, condoms ... "Condoms?" "I believe that was a spinoff project between the pharmaceutical company and the petrochemical company, separately incorporated for intellectual property reasons." "And the restaurant? That doesn't seem to fit with the rest." "Your parents were very fond of it and wanted to move it here from the city, so they could visit it more often." "My parents never seemed the type to buy a restaurant just because they liked it. I had no clue they even had the means to do so." "They valued a normal, unostentatious lifestyle, especially for raising you. The restaurant was their one indulgence. I think it had sentimental significance for them." "You look hardly older than I am. How well did you know my parents?" "I worked as their executive assistant for the past three years. My father worked for yours since the beginning." "How have we never met?" "Are you so sure that we haven't?" I made a gesture in her direction with a smile. "I'm sure I would have remembered." A small smile dimpled her serious face briefly, then she was all business again. "I believe you'll find that your parents' will stipulates that most of the proceeds of the business will continue to go to charity, as they did when they were alive. You'll get a very comfortable salary as chairman, of course. There may be other provisions that I'm not privy to." I had been aware of sirens growing in the distance as we talked. They were suddenly loud and immediate outside the restaurant. I rose and walked to the window to see what was going on. Marilee stayed at the table, tapping her finger impatiently on the tablecloth. There was a commotion at the bank across the street. Three men burst from the front door. At a guess, they had just tried to make an unauthorized withdrawal. Masks and guns tend to be a dead giveaway about that. They changed direction when they saw the line of police cars outside, ducking behind parked cars and working their way along the street. They got off a few shots at the police, who were afraid to shoot back because of the people in the stores on the street. I started edging away from the window as the rest of the patrons surged forward to see what was going on. I ducked behind the bar, looking for a way out so I could use my powers to help the police. There was another burst of gunfire, then the front door rammed open. "Everyone down on the floor! Lie down! Hands on your heads!" Another voice said, "Good thinking. Now we have hostages we can use to negotiate." From behind the bar I could see Marilee, eyes wide, lying down with the others. I looked around behind me. There were stairs that looked like they led down to a wine cellar. I squirmed over to them and down into darkness. I didn't have my holster or belt, but at least I was wearing my tights under my suit. I tore off my clothes, and used all the sexual tension I had built up trying not to look down Marilee's cleavage to kick myself into high gear. My cock grew to enormous proportions as I transformed into my alter ego. I tucked it down the leg of my tights were it was at least out of the way if not exactly unobvious. With one blow I broke the lock on the outside door, and flew around outside to crash through the window into the restaurant. If I had been thinking above my belt, I would have realized that they still had the upper hand with the hostages. I reached one and threw him through the front window before they had time to react. I insured that the next was going to have very high dentist bills for some time to come. Then I turned to find the third standing over Marilee with his gun to her head. "Don't come any closer, you freak. Who do you think you are, anyway?" "I'm the Nightstick," I grated, as I turned to face him. His eyes caught on the rod running down my tights. There could be no doubt about what was outlined under the stretchy fabric. His eyes widened and his face paled, and I took advantage of his distraction. I grabbed a bottle of Opus One 1996 from the table beside me and flung it with all my might. I was going to have to watch my strength. I ruined both the wine and his face, and probably everyone's lunch as well. I started to help Marilee up, expecting I'd earned her gratitude and awe. Instead she scrambled to her feet as I approached, backing away with eyes blazing. "You!" I stopped, afraid that she had recognized me, even though my appearance had changed so much. I prepared to bluff. "Er, have we met?" Marilee's eyes had left my face and had locked on my cock with an expression of horror. I started feeling extremely self-conscious in my tights, and decided to beat a retreat as the first cop poked through the front door, gun first. I flew back out through the rear window and down the cellar door. I took a deep breath and released my erection, and subsided to my normal size. I donned my business suit again, and climbed back up the stairs to the restaurant. "Peter, there you are! What happened to you? I couldn't find you in all the chaos." I breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't connected me to the Nightstick. At the same time, I didn't want her to feel that I'd run away and abandoned her to the gunmen. "I, uh, was trying to call for help and I fell down the cellar stairs back here and knocked myself out." That was so lame I must have read it in a comic book somewhere. They really do rot your mind. The police were interviewing the witnesses, but Marilee spoke in low tones to the sergeant, who nodded deferentially. "Certainly, Miss Jones. We can take your statements at your convenience." A policeman escorted us to our cars, but I overhead one middle-aged woman giving her statement. "... and the robbers were scary enough, of course, but then that big pervert came crashing in and bashed them. I guess he saved us, but ... tights. That was so disturbing." *** Over the next months, I spent days learning the ins and outs of my new financial empire, and nights patrolling the town as The Nightstick. In the latter role, I nabbed burglars, foiled a kidnapping, recovered a highjacked truck, and intercepted drug shipments. Crime took a nosedive in our corner of the world. I kept my distance from the police, sensing that they might not approve of my somewhat less than due process tactics. I started making the news. I tried to be gone before anyone else arrived on the scene, but there were unavoidably witnesses, and there were the perps themselves, whom I tried to leave in some condition to face justice. There was of course a debate on vigilantism that raged in the media, but I hadn't counted on the fashion critiques and the typecasting. "That cloak is so creepy. He makes me think of a flasher." "Batman is sexy, but this guy gives me the chills." "You want to find his identity? Check the sex offender registry." "That nightstick he carries looks so phallic. I'll bet he's overcompensating." If only they knew. Marilee and I continued to work together. She helped me to see the true genius of my parents' conglomeration of companies. They were built to detect patterns of activity that indicated illegal operations. Their network could find money laundering, currency manipulation, purchasing of supplies for drugs or weapons. Sometimes our operatives locked up the evidence and handed the cases to the government, sometimes they orchestrated elaborate stings to derail their operations. I had a legacy to uphold. I think Marilee and I both noticed the chemistry between us and shied away from it. I knew I could never get close to anyone again. I could never scrub the image of my Lady Pirate bleeding on the floor from my brain. The revulsion and terror in her face woke me from the little sleep I managed to eke out each night. Marilee had her own pain to deal with, though she never spoke of it. I could see it in her eyes when she thought I wasn't watching. Yet we enjoyed each other's company, laughed at the same jokes, worked towards the same goals. When we parted at the end of the day, it was with a warm regard for each other. Never more than that. It was about that time that the Batman Theorem raised its ugly head. "A superhero gives rise to the villains he deserves," it posits. The criminals donned their own tights and fought back. I did battle with the Madam and the Iron Hooker, and thwarted the shadowy finger of the Proctologist. I was hot on the trail of the elusive Calico Crusader when Catwoman executed a preemptive infringement takedown of her own. I increasingly suspected that there was a single mind controlling the tactics of them all. Finally I had a name for this mastermind: the Mother-in-Law. I got a tip through our intelligence network that the Mother-in-Law was orchestrating a major drug deal at a warehouse outside of town. I suited up to join the party. The van drove into the warehouse at the appointed hour, lights off and nearly silent. I gave them a few minutes to secure the outer door and begin transferring the shipment, then I crashed through the skylight. There were no lights, no panic, no running feet. It seemed deserted. The van sat empty in the middle of the floor. I touched down and listened. At first I heard only the rats moving around, then I heard the footsteps of something larger, at least in the physical sense if not the ethical. There seemed to be only one. I followed. The footsteps entered a side room with a heavy doorway. I entered behind, feeling secure in my strength. I had just noticed that the room felt oddly padded when I heard the door slam shut behind me. The lights came on, and I faced a tall woman in scarlet tights. Her outfit stretched over enough curves to run anyone off the road. Magnificent breasts moved within spandex skin, nipples dotting the centers of the digits 69 on her chest. In case you were particularly dense, the tails of each digit leaned suggestively towards the other. A black mask obscured her eyes. "Only one of us is leaving here, Nightstick. I plan on it being me." Her voice was low, sultry, and menacing. "Are you the Mother-in-Law?" She laughed. "Do I look like a Mother-in-Law to you? She couldn't be troubled to deal with you personally, so she sent me to take you down. You've become quite a nuisance to us. You may call me Sixty Nine, at least for a few more minutes." She was apparently not a believer in extended banter before engaging. She rolled forward into a double forward salto, twisted off the final handspring and slammed into me in an inverted position. I toppled backwards with her thighs scissored around my head and her arms around my waist. As I hit the ground she sliced the straps securing my holster to my thigh and yanked it from my body. My cock flopped free of its confinement and she grasped it triumphantly. "The Mother-in-Law was right! This is your secret, and now I can use it against you." "How did she find out?" I gasped. I wasn't actually very concerned about anything she could do to me, but played along to learn where the information leak was. "She has her ways," said Sixty Nine. She reached down and yanked open a flap on her costume, revealing her crotch to my face. She ground her pussy into my nose, and I took a shuddering breath of her fragrance. Fire burned outwards from my olfactory centers, bypassing rational thought, igniting pathways all down my spine. The room swam around me, my cock ached with the urge to thrust itself into something. "Do you like my pheromones? It should be an exquisite way to go, burned out by your own power. Total overload, like a lifetime of orgasms all at once." I thrashed, but she held me tight with her thighs, and my power flickered erratically. I levitated off the floor, but couldn't muster any control. I slammed into the wall, then landed heavily on the floor. Now I understood why the room was padded. She took my cock in her mouth, all silky fire and clever pressure. She got a good eight inches in, and jacked the rest with her hands. It sang with an unbearable pleasure that beat with harmonics through my body. My muscles grew convulsively larger, until their bulk defeated movement. My heart jackhammered staccato in my chest. A woman sucking cock loves the power it gives her. She can play her partner like an instrument, give and prolong pleasure, torment and reward. He will do anything to please her, to continue, to complete. Sixty Nine sang and moaned, sending vibrations through my burning member. She took amazing lengths of flesh into her mouth with willing ease. The thought swirled through my brain that she must have trained for this from a young age, like a gymnast, but that was too disturbing a thought even for me. She came up for a breath, or to gloat. "Come on, baby, give me your big stick. I'm going to drain it dry. I'm going to burn you out until you're just a husk that they'll have to sweep off the floor." My eyes widened in panic. "No! Don't swallow it! You mphhff ..." She stoppered my mouth with her pussy and ground her clit into my tongue. "So, is that the source of your power? If I drink all your cum, will I get your powers? Either way, I'm going to enjoy finding out." She redoubled her suction on my cock, and flooded my mouth with her juices. I could barely think, but I began eating her out in earnest, hoping to distract her from her mission. If I could make her cum first, maybe I could use that moment to break free. I sucked her clit down and plunged my tongue into her vagina. "Oh yeah! " she crowed between slurps. "Eat me! Eat me! I'll own you body and soul!" I was losing the race. Incredible pressure built in my groin. Super-powered muscles bottled the charge for as long as possible, ecstasy beyond pain. She felt it coming, gripped me in a two-handed grip, and pressed a little-known pressure point that told me she had been trained in a certain monastery in the Himalayas. I erupted and blackness overtook me. *** The funeral was closed casket. You can't put a loaded canon into your mouth and pull the trigger without consequences. Her name was Jennifer Saint Germain. I went to mourn. Mourn a worthy adversary, mourn a life cut short, mourn another confirmation that I could never have a relationship without hurting someone. I went to see who else came to her funeral. Just friends, they said. A few acquaintances, looking too lost and bewildered to be members of the underworld. No family. No one knew if she had any. The service was brief; no one took the invitation to say any eulogies. I kept mine to myself. "I only met her once. She impressed me with her strength." Near the end, an old woman came in. As we milled around after the service, I could hear her muttering. "He wasn't good to you, was he dear? I warned you he was a pervert. You said you could handle him, you were ready. Now look at you in your pretty wooden box. Do you know you don't get to keep it? It's just for display. You get pine or an urn or whatever's cheapest. It's all you're worth now." She went on like that and people started sidling out of the room. I could feel my power draining into an undertow of frustration and worthlessness. I sidled along with the rest of them. Out of earshot, I could feel my powers return. I knew then who the old woman was. She was the Mother-in-Law, and her power of withering could completely negate my own. I would have to figure out a way to defeat her indirectly. I knew I could not hope to confront her head-on. The following months rolled on. The Mother-in-Law's tactics became more convoluted, and I became more wary of another trap every time I went in. It reached a stalemate when any move either made the other countered. Finally, I received a message that she wanted to send a lieutenant to negotiate with me. I had no intention of actually negotiating, but I was desperate to learn what she thought was on the table as some kind of clue to break through the stalemate. The venue was the penthouse of the Parkhurst Hotel. That seemed an unlikely place for a trap, and gave me ways to escape via the balcony if needed. I prepared some noise canceling earpieces that I could switch on if the Mother-in-Law herself appeared and used her withering power on me. On the appointed day, I told Marilee that I had an appointment at the Parkhurst after lunch and might not be back that day. She look slightly surprised. "Oh, so do I, as it happens. Let's drive over together." There wasn't really anything I could say to that. It wasn't all that unusual, since the Parkhurst was a common rendezvous for business meetings in town. I would have to give her the slip once we got there. On the trip over, she handed me a sealed envelope with my name on it. I didn't recognize the handwriting. "We found this in the files we were going through. It looks like it might be private, so we left it for you to open." I didn't have to give her the slip, as it turned out. She got off at a different floor for her meeting, and I rode all the way up to the penthouse. The card for the door was left on the table next to the orchids, as promised. I opened it, and entered cautiously. Nightstick No one was there yet, which I had counted on since I arrived early. I removed and hid my business suit, leaving only my black tights. I hadn't thought it necessary to pack my entire costume, but I did want to be in character before my appointment arrived. I stroked myself through the spandex a few times, and within moments had stretched the fabric to its limits. I still had a little while before our meeting time, so I sat down to open the envelope that Marilee had given me. I pulled out a sheaf of papers and started reading. It seemed that the condom company that my parents had spun off had been trying to address some of the problems of condom use, or rather lack of use. Common complaints had been that they reduced feeling and were messy. They set out to create a condom that men would want to wear, because it actually felt better than not wearing one. They incorporated biologically active materials to transmit and amplify sensation, and rather than containing the semen, they would absorb it and lock it into an inactive matrix, so there was no mess afterwards. Sounded good in theory, but in tests they found that they only bound 99% of the sperm. 1% was more than enough to spoil someone's morning after. Further, they found that the resulting births had a high rate of unusual mutations. They stopped the trials after lab and animal testing, before getting to human testing. The final page of the report had the word "CANCELLED" printed in block letters across it. There was a handwritten note in my mother's elegant loops. "I now deeply regret that we decided to try the early lab samples on ourselves. I am now expecting, and am fearful that our child might be born with some hideous mutation. Tests so far don't show anything obviously wrong, but some of the animal tests didn't show any problems until well after birth. Still, I can't bring myself to abort this, our first son. I hope and pray for a normal birth and a good life for him." I sat and stared at this paper for a long, long time, in that penthouse in the sky. This then was my secret, my origin story. I was the product of a condom failure, a mutation induced by a misguided experiment. Unplanned, perhaps even unwanted. I was almost glad they had died without knowing what they had wrought. Just at the appointed time I heard the sound of a card in the lock. The door opened, and my Lady Pirate walked in. The red bandana was unchanged, and the eyepatch. The open vest tucked into pantaloons, pushed into taut peaks by proud breasts, baring their inner half moons to each other. The hair that tumbled in chestnut waves from the bandana was longer now, and the eyes held less of merriment and more of pain. The Lady Pirate was Marilee. She advanced in a barefoot tread across the carpet, a long knife in hand. "The only verdict is vengeance; a vendetta held as a votive, not in vain," she quoted. "I've come to replay our first meeting, this time with a different ending. I'm going to cut your heart out and leave it on the floor." "That's not possible, dear Lady. I already left my heart a bleeding wreckage at your side four years ago." "Fine words will not repair the damage to my body. Fine words will not give me back my life." She slashed twice, from collarbone to thigh, and my costume fell in tatters. My cock sprang free and pointed towards the ceiling. I could not raise a hand against her, though while I was powered up her knife could not pierce my skin. She stepped out of her pantaloons, and pushed me down on the carpet. She stood astride my cock and centered it on her pussy, rubbing the head in her juices. "Don't do it! I couldn't bear to hurt you again!" I protested. She smiled, and stretched wide around my bulbous head, fitting like a glove. She slid down inch by inch until her pubic bone touched mine, and the knife came to rest against my sternum. "I needed over a dozen surgeries to repair the damage. I was scarred and sterilized for life. They had to rebuild everything from scratch. After the initial surgery, I took charge of the design and engaged my father's labs to rebuild me into the instrument of your undoing. I added super-elastic tissues, kevlar reinforcements, and advanced artificial muscle tissue that is ten times stronger than ordinary muscles." I was trapped in her vagina by a painful grip that matched my own. "I'm going to fuck your power right out of your body, and ram my knife home as you come." "How can you work for the Mother-in-Law? You've always been on the side of justice." "What do you know of me? You abandoned me four years ago. Since you ask, I only joined her because she offered me this chance to take revenge on you. Even now my noose is growing tighter around her. I'll have disposed of both her and you in one operation. You can die knowing I've made you superfluous as well." "Well, that is a comfort." I really was relieved to hear that the Marilee that I knew wasn't a sham or a turncoat. If she had turned to evil, I think I would have given up then and there. She began to move on me. She tightened in waves up and down her vagina, drawing all my feeling into my sensitive tip. She could contract and expand lengthwise as well as laterally, pushing up and down in sucking waves. I broke out into a sweat and tried to maintain control. "Don't do this, Lady Pirate! I'll go off like a cannon, and probably kill you, I'm so deep inside." She looked down into my eyes. "You tell me this, even though it might have saved your life? You should worry about your own short life. I studied the wounds you gave Sixty Nine; I'm built to handle it, while she was not." Still, I saw the faintest shadow of doubt in her eyes. She clasped and stroked me, rising up and down my pole in a hypnotic rhythm. I was still a virgin, since the one time I had penetrated before it had ended abruptly and horrifically, before I could feel how wonderful it was. I started to cooperate with her, grasping her thighs and helping her thrusts. A sheen of sweat appeared across her breasts and she bit her lip. "Oh, you're so big. I feel so full. I never expected .... Ah!" I lifted my hands to her vest and eased it off her shoulders. Her breasts quivered in the air above me. I reached to capture them with my hands, and roll the nipples between my fingers. "Oh, harder! Harder!" I grasped her shoulders and puller her down to me. "Kiss my, my pirate. If you're going to plunder my heart, know that you've always had it." Our lips touched, our tongues met en garde, parry, riposte, feint, coupe. Disengage. She was flushed and breathing hard. I pulsed my cock inside of her, feeling it grow momentarily larger. I twisted my hips gently and shifted her back a fraction, so I would rub her clit as I moved in and out. She gasped, "What are you doing?" "Making your triumph as memorable as I can." This was all book learning on my part, but it seemed like my sources were good ones. "Oh! This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen! Ahhhh!" She rose up on me, and speared down again, plumbing her depths. Again. Her breasts bobbed with every thrust. She clamped as she went up, and stroked as she went down. My control frayed. My fingers dug into the carpet, and hers creased my biceps. She went rigid, arching her back and thrusting her breasts towards the skies. Her storm broke and she thrashed above me, held only by her superhuman grasp on my pole. The knife fell aside, forgotten. She squeezed me, milked me, pulled me from my self, and sent me over the edge with her. She channelled and contained me, clamping my base to control the explosion. I felt completed, and emptied, and sated. We collapsed together in a sweaty heap. I could feel myself softening, shrinking free. She felt it too, and still had her mission. Her hand scrabbled, recovered the knife. She reared back and put the tip beneath my breastbone. As I became merely human once more, the tip broke the skin, and a drop of blood welled redly up. She looked me in the eye as she started to push. "Peter? Peter! It was you this whole time? You're the Nightstick? You were V at the Halloween party? You did this to me?" I nodded. "if this seals our debt, then I pay it gladly for the hurt I gave you. I pay it doubly gladly for the gift of an experience I never thought I could have." Her knife wavered. "But stay your hand and marry me, and I will devote my life to loving you. Our bodies are made for each other, mine through a genetic accident, yours through medical technology. No one could fulfill you the way I can. Plus we have common cause against the true evil in the world. Please say yes." She searched my face. "Why did you abandon me?" "I was scared. I was only sixteen, and had no idea of the damage I could do. When you called me a monster, I had to fly away and leave you to people who could help you. I knew I could not." The knife fell aside, a tear fell my chest to mix with the drop of blood. "Peter, I've been keeping myself from falling in love with you ever since we met. You've been so good and decent it's hard to believe you're the same man I've hated all these years. Give me some time. I think I'll say yes." We embraced and kissed. After a while we made love. *** We were married later that year. The Mother-in-Law proved to be harder to defeat than we thought; we're still working on that. I've never quite been able to tell Marilee what was in that secret report, though. What sort of origin story is that, a condom failure? My mother was bitten by a radioactive vampire while she was carrying me. My father was a criminal mastermind whose deeds I must atone for. I was accidentally dropped into a mutagenic experiment the day I was born. Then I was sent to this planet when my world exploded, to protect a weaker race. I was traumatized as a boy by a flock of flying squirrels issuing from a cave. I grew up a genius, and saved the world by throwing myself into a runaway reactor, where my atoms were stripped apart and reassembled from dark energy. I'm sticking to that.