2 comments/  10095 views/  1 favorites

Heroes

By: poisoniv1



Rita heard the front door swing open, and Mitch thudded in wearing his heavy boots. He stopped in the kitchen doorway and leaned against the jamb. His hair and uniform were a crumpled mess. “Hi,” he said. “Something smells good.”

“How does lasagna sound?” Rita said.

“Sounds real good. We saved a couple kids today.”

Rita wiped her hands on a thin dishtowel and turned directly towards him. The circles under his eyes were very dark after the long shift, but his eyes still danced. “Yeah?”

He smiled, his teeth bright. He had missed a dark smear of soot near his ear. 

Mitch almost never talked about work. There were bad days – when an apartment building burned to the ground, or a civilian got burned up, or a firefighter was injured (or worse) – and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was come home and relive the horrible events he sometimes had to experience.

When they were first married, she had tried to get him to talk. He would slog home, slump into his overstuffed armchair, and for fifteen minutes he would drink beer and stare at the television. “Nothing,” he would snap, “nothing happened.”

At first she was hurt by his reticence, but she slowly realized it was probably better this way. He needed home to be a haven, a place where the bad things never intruded. Now, six years later, he still dropped in front of the TV after his shift, although he didn’t drink beer any more. Mitch and Andrew Spears got together and agreed to give up alcohol, so they would be more alert for their jobs.

And Rita was a firefighter’s wife. Julie Spears, Andrew’s wife, told Rita once that wives had a job too, an important support role. Mitch and Rita were newlyweds at the time, invited over for a barbecue. The women were inside cutting up vegetables for hamburgers. Julie’s eyes were pink from slicing an onion. “If it wasn’t for us,” Julie said as she wiped a tear with the back of her hand, “they wouldn’t be able to go out and do their jobs day after day. They couldn’t stand it.”

Eventually, what Julie said began to make sense. So Rita stopped complaining. When Mitch wasn’t brooding, she took it upon herself to make their time together fun and happy.

Her most successful technique was letting him see her naked. Once, before they were married, as she climbed out of the tub, he was standing there watching. “Baby, I love your butt!” After that, whenever she got the chance, she made sure he caught a glimpse of her naked backside. Waking up in the morning. In the shower. Putting on makeup. She spent a lot of hours on the Stair Master keeping her butt toned and fit.

It was the part she played to keep the city safe from fire.

But none of that kept her from worrying.

The worst days were the ones when someone was seriously injured or killed. The sickening news speeded along the phone lines among the wives and girlfriends. “Somebody from the 164th died, have you heard who?” “I heard it was the 112th. Have you heard from Mitch? If he calls, ask him if Andrew is OK.” And then the long, sleepless night, waiting for someone to find out what really happened, watching the TV news, desperately hoping to see Mitch’s image captured by a news camera.

And then, when he finally came home, the enormous relief. And then Mitch’s maddening silence.

But Mitch was bursting to talk today, a mood Rita had not seen in years. “So what happened?” she asked eagerly.

“We got to this old house and it was already almost fully involved, smoke everywhere, big flames coming out under the eaves. A teenage girl was running around crying and screaming. She said her brother is still inside. Cap was trying to get her to explain where exactly they were, but she was hysterical, and we couldn’t get anything out of her. 

“The other crew was getting ready to get up on the roof, and I was waiting to be second on the water line, but they were having trouble with the hydrant connection. Cap told me I needed to get in there and see if I could find the boy.

“I grabbed a mask and air bottle and went through the front door. I’d been in houses like this one before, so I found the hallway right away. But the smoke was really bad. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. I knew the fire was in the attic, and it could drop down on me at any minute. 

“And then the door at the end of the hall just blew open, and I could see the master bedroom red with flames. I had to duck into another bedroom to get out of the heat.

“The smoke was terrible. I wasn’t even sure I’d found a bedroom. For a minute, I thought I heard crying somewhere, but there was so much smoke I couldn’t see a thing and it was so loud I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t just hearing things. I felt around for anything, but I kept bumping into walls and dressers. ‘Hello! Can you hear me?’ I yelled out, but I couldn’t even hear my own voice, the fire was too loud. Then it got real hot real fast. I was about to give up and get out of there, when I nearly tripped over the bed. 

“I felt around on the mattress and I found his foot. A little kid’s foot, right there on the bed, with his socks on. He wasn’t moving at all, and I hoped I wasn’t too late. I snatched him up, he didn’t weigh anything. Just then I heard something up on the roof, and I knew I had to get out of there. Either the fire was above me, or the crew was about to vent it open. The fire was getting even louder. I could hear it in the next room, pounding, like it was trying to break down the wall.

“And the kid started crying. ‘Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,’ he was crying.

“I ran out and gave the kid to an EMT. They took him off in an ambulance. I heard he’s OK. A little smoke inhalation, but not too bad.

“And then Cap came up to me. ‘The girl here says there’s another girl inside,’ he said.

“I told him I was going back in, but he said no, wait for them to vent the roof. But I knew it would be too late by then. Hold them off just a little longer, I told him, I had been in there, I knew exactly where the rooms were. If she was still alive, I could find her.

“’OK, you have one minute,’ Cap said.

“It was the luckiest thing. The fire was already in the boy’s room, the one where I found the kid, and it was coming down the hall, and there was only one place left I could look that wasn’t fully involved. I knew I only had a couple seconds. The door was closed but it wasn’t hot. I pushed it open and at first the smoke wasn’t quite so thick. A little girl who couldn’t have been more than two years old was sitting right in the middle of the floor, crying, hugging a little stuffed dog. 

“The smoke rushed in the room. And I could hear it, I could hear the fire coming, like an animal snarling. I grabbed her and the fire flared up behind me in the doorway. It looked like it was going to blow right inside on us, but it died down a minute. No way I could get out through the door, there was fire everywhere. But there was still the window. I kicked it to pieces, I can’t believe I could even get my foot up that high, but it smashed and someone from the 112th rushed up. Outside, there was fire coming down from the eaves. I handed him the kid and got out.

“See, I cut my finger on the glass,” he grinned, a little bandage wrapped around the tip of his index finger.

“We were out for maybe ten seconds when the house exploded. Boom, like a bomb. One guy from the 112th broke his arm, but he’s OK.”

Tears budded in her eyes. “Oh my God, you’re a hero,” she said.

“No,” he said, “I was just doing my job.”

He walked up to her and wrapped her up in his arms. He was a big man, and so very solid. She held the wooden spoon, wet with tomato sauce, away from them, trying not to drip.

“Do you want to eat?” she said, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Her throat felt thick.

“No,” he said.

He turned off the stove and took her hand. He led her to the bedroom. He undressed her. He kissed her neck. His fingers danced down her belly, and he kissed her nipples. 

She undressed him. When she uncovered the familiar scar across his ribs, an injury he’d received when he fell off a roof, she ran her finger across the damaged skin. It was strangely smooth and ragged at the same time. 

She lowered his pants. His penis was thick and hard. He stroked her earlobes as she petted his solid length. 

She lay back and he got on top of her. They kissed. He entered her. She arched against him. He pressed into her.

They made love.

When she reached her peak, she forced her eyes open, looked into his eyes. Mitch kissed her, and she throbbed. In a moment, he cried out, “Oh, Rita!”

Afterwards, they lay together. “It’s so nice to see you in such a good mood,” she snuggled against his chest.

“It was a good day,” Mitch said. 

They fell asleep in each other’s arms.

She woke up first, the sun streaming through the window. His morning erection poked her thigh. His eyes fluttered beneath their lids.

She thought of making love again, and put her hand on his naked hip. Mitch’s eyes eased open, and he smiled.

Then the phone jangled. Rita forced her mouth into a pout. Mitch rolled over and picked up the receiver.

He listened for just a few seconds. “OK,” was all he said. When he hung up, he kissed her. “I have to go, baby.” He slid out of bed.

“But you’re supposed to be off today,” she whined as he pulled his uniform pants up over his firm, round butt. 

But she knew it was pointless to complain. He had flipped that switch inside him, and he moved in that deliberate way of his, his eyes fixed as if he were aiming at something in the distance, his fingers moving quickly and precisely as he dressed. 

“It’s something big. I have to go.”

She rolled over and hugged his pillow to her chest. It was soft and thick and still warm with his heat. The air above the covers chilled her back, but she didn’t want to cover up, not just yet. He always said he loved her butt. She wanted him to see her this way, naked, before he left. “Hey,” she said, “be careful, OK?”

He looked back over his shoulder, his eyes moved quickly down her body, his smile gleaming.

He was gone for only a few minutes when the phone rang again. “Did you see the news?” Julie said.

She turned on the television and saw a picture she did not understand: geometric shapes and parallel lines filling the screen. “It was a plane, it was definitely a large, passenger plane,” someone said on the TV. The camera pulled back to show what she had been looking at: a close-up view of the World Trade Center. A black scar sliced the building at a slight angle, and thick, black smoke billowed upwards.

She noticed a passenger plane fly across behind the building and wondered if that was the plane they were talking about. She felt Mitch’s semen slide inside her. Surely this was the fire he had been called out on.

She turned off the television. She couldn’t stand to watch, it worried her too much. The big buildings were difficult, very dangerous. It would be best to hear about it later, after he came home. If all went well, if it was another good day, maybe he’d even tell her about it.

But she knew if it didn’t go well, he wouldn’t say a word.

Heroes and Villains Pt. 01



In so many ways it was a natural outgrowth of both societal need and the growing power of the political/industrial/military/entertainment complex. Super hero movies took over television and movie box offices completely by the third decade of the twenty first century. Before long the traditional heroes and villains had been played out, Jaded audiences wanted more than just special effects laden films and TV shows they wanted the REAL thing or as close to real as possible.

Dynamic Studios had the answer and media companies and local, state, and national governments were more than happy to acquiesce entirely. Dynamic pointed out that no one was actually USING most of Detroit. Why not refurbish 10 acres as the largest open are studio in history? The buildings could be refitted, at least most of them and five acres would go to Villains and five acres would go to Heroes. But here was the best part and the biggest selling point. Who got to be the heroes and who got to be the villains? John and Jane Q public! After a year long selection process a select number of average citizens would become super heroes!

Cameras would follow every step of the process covering everything from the reconstruction of the city to interviews with costume designers and personal trainers The advertising revenue and the money from downloads and access to the 24/7 website would bring in untold wealth. The audience would be the entire world so foreign nationals could enter the contest as well.

The City of Detroit and the state of Michigan were more than happy to accept Dynamic Studios money. Palms were greased in Washington and the ten acre parcel passed into Dynamic and its partners studios hands govern as they saw fit. The only proviso all three governments made was an agreement that after all the seasons of Heroes and Villains had run its course, Dynamic would return the restored real estate to the city of Detroit. All the politicians thought they had pulled a fast one. The largest urban renewal project in history and it didn't cost uncle Sam, the state, or the city a dime! 

And it truly was a massive undertaking. All the streets were wired for cameras and sound. Old buildings received new facades as dozens of home repair shows filmed the results. Faster than moist thought possible, ten acres of decrepit streets and decaying infrastructure had been turned into a state of the art open air studio. Going beyond verisimilitude. The ten acre lot, temporary called Dynamo City became a functioning community with real dry cleaners and shoe stores and the like. Real restaurants to feed the film people and the common people who came to make new lives in the (mostly) shiny new city. They received salaries of course, most of it from outside contractors but the lure that perhaps Missile Man or Dynamic Girl or one of the other super heroes the studio writers were creating would enter your shop, making you too a celebrity, at least briefly. It was very enticing indeed. 

More than a World's fair, more that EPCOT, Dynamo City WAS the future. Special effects geeks would make the Villains and Heroes as super as possible. There would be no camera tricks. If it violated the laws of physics it was not about to happen in Dynamo City. The writers working for the Villains and those writing for thee heroes were forbidden from communicating with each other to make things as interesting as possible As set up the Villains controlled five acres of the city and the Heroes the other five with a decrepit now man's land three blocks long in between as a buffer zone. The folks at home would watch as, if things went according to plan, the Heroes would retake the rest of the city from the Villains. Or, perhaps, the Villains would win. The Villains were just as determined to hold their own and if they could manage it take the city for evil. Dynamic Studios went to great lengths and testified before Congress that Heroes and Villains would not be just another "Survivor" or other "reality" program that was reality in name only. Those programs had burned themselves out earlier in the century and no one wanted a return to those days. To lure folks away from the game channels and the movie channels what happened in Dynamo City had to be as real as possible.

A chance at stardom and fame had lured Holly Yeastman from her home in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada to hero try outs. The producers liked her immediately. Long brown hair and a perfect figure with piercing blue eyes and large breasts, she was skilled in judo and also knew how to strut on a catwalk. With three brothers, Holly had been a tomboy in her early years. She had not been intimidated in the least in lacing on her skates and playing hockey with her brothers. Her siblings soon learned that she could more than hold her own against them on the ice. In judo, the sport she decided to specialize in, she soon soared to an elite rank. No shrinking violet, she was taught by her parents that she was the equal of any man. 

As she came to maturity, Holly grew to adore all the things about being a female. When she discovered sex, she saw men in an entirely new light. Muscles tended to attract her but a man had to have brains as well to hold her interest. When she was horny however, the fact that he was muscled alone would be enough for her to seduce him. With her fetching beauty, her friends said that Holly should be a model. The five foot seven 135 pound beauty wanted so much more. Heroes and Villains could launch her to a movie contract and or huge endorsement deals. The pay was not bad while you were trying out but if you made the final cut the money was sweet indeed. 

Every step of Holly's journey would be filmed from interview to gymnastics lessons to rappelling and all of the many skills a super hero would need. Cameras followed the villains as well but in a move that amazed everyone the Villains wore masks at all parts of their training. Only three producers knew their names and identities and they were not about to talk. From the first day of training, ratings were phenomenal. The idea had caught everyone's imagination and everyone from Maine to Alaska and from virtually every point around the globe. It was better than any soap opera or sporting event. That was sweet news to Holly and the other contestants.

Over the next few months Holly Yeastman became Holly Hayes, television reporter by day, and Canadian hero, Yukon Jill ,when ever there was need of her services. At the only television station permitted to broadcast in Dynamo City, KBOOM, she filed stories and appeared on camera and sometimes read the news. Holly enjoyed the work and found that she had an aptitude for it. Her salary as a reporter, combined with what she was getting as a hero was sweet indeed.

While not working Holly enjoyed the many clubs and bars that had brought an exciting nightlife to the entertainment boom town. After a while Holly stopped noticing the cameras, even when they followed her when she strolled home with a new date. The cameras in her apartment were not supposed to on without Holly's consent, but Dynamic Studios often flouted that agreement.

Adding to the allure of the many clubs was the fact that you could be partying with another hero, a contestant, or a villain and never know it. It was positively spine tingling. To prevent things from becoming too realistic in the wrong way real fire arms were banned. In their stead were real looking replicas equipped with a laser. Each citizen, tourist, contestant or visitor to the gigantic set was fitted with a reactive button. It was worn either on the clothing or on the costume of a Hero or a Villain If struck with a laser the button would turn black, rendering the wearer "dead."

Citizens and police could be recycled but were required to stay "dead" for forty eight hours. 

There was a police force In Dynamo City but it mostly issued parking fines and summonses and directed traffic. Serious crimes were left to the Heroes to solve. One of the regular jobs of the cops was directing the "dead" to "zombie hotels" where they partied hard awaiting their "resurrection." 

Heroes and Villains on the other hand had to stay dead and were eliminated from the game and had to leave Dynamo City. The "Life Badges" could also be turned off manually during hand to hand combat or to prevent being captured alive. So long as the badges were not blank they transmitted a signal indicating the wearer was "alive." The producers were quite proud of this innovation and it worked flawlessly in rehearsal.

The Villains were entitled to keep their loot and divvy it up any way they saw fit. Heroes drew a salary as long as they were "alive" and drew another salary under their "true" identities. Dynamo City became among the most desired place to live and work in all the world. The boom town of the century became home to real businesses, banks and every other aspect of modern life. This was more than incentive enough to draw ambitious criminals. After the first week of going live. Heroes and Villains had ratings that dwarfed anything previous. People tuned in on every format imaginable from smart phones, to tablets, to televisions anywhere there were people.

Holly Yeastman ADORED becoming Holly Hayes. Working with a team of creative people they came up with a great costume for her. It looked a bit like Bat Girl's costume from the old "Bat Man" TV show except for the color scheme and cape. Capes tended to be more hazards than enhancement to crime fighting in the real world so they were eliminated. Reflecting her heritage Yukon Jill's skin tight costume was Canadian white and red with tall white boots, a hood that hid her identity with long flowing red hair attached, a red maple leaf adorned the center of her forehead of the hood that acted as a cowl for the costume. The utility belt was filled with goodies for fighting crime or escaping from a tight squeeze. 

.

Holly found the training surprisingly easy. Her natural athletic gifts served her well. Where other contestants found their limits, it seemed to Holly only a moderately difficult endeavor. Make no mistake. After training an rehearsals she was often worn out an exhausted but she was also filled with a goal of accomplishment and bliss. She felt all the skills she learned made her a better athlete and a more rounded person. It was a sweet kind of liberation. After a six week crash course she attended her first Hall of Heroes meeting. Holly took her seat at the great round table. Currently there were twenty Heroes, Yukon Jill sat down between Steam Man and Venturous Woman. The huge computer screen in the Hall of Heroes tried to keep tabs on the activities of the League of Villains. The producers of Heroes and Villains controlled the data the heroes received.

During her first week as a hero Holly helped Dynamic Man and Hurricane, capture the Werewolf and his gang who had been smuggling prescription pain pills and shaking down local businesses. It was a complicated operation and Holly was proud of herself and the other heroes, The heroes loved taking over for the local cops as well since it maximized their camera time. 

There were some disadvantages to living in Dynamo City. Information about the outside world and information within the city itself was carefully controlled by the producers. It had the odd effect of millions in the outside world knowing Holly's real identity just by turning on the TV but none of the heroes themselves in Dynamo City knowing each other out of costume. This disappointed Holly at first because she felt an incredible charge of sensuality whenever she interacted with Magnetic Man. Holly wanted to act on that feeling but heroes were forbidden from revealing their identities to each other and perusing romantic relationships. If however they met in the "real" world, relationships were permitted.

Holly felt sure that she would recognize Magnetic Man's arousing physique anywhere. But no matter how many times she frequented the clubs and bars of Dynamo City she never saw the thighs and muscles, she had memorized. The men she DID often take home were often fine consolation prizes however. 

It was sometimes hard for Holly to keep up the charade of her dual identity. If the alert signal in her watch sounded, summoning her to the Hall of Heroes, while she was on the air, she had to make excuses such as feign dizziness or sickness to get out of the studios of KBOOM. It helped that Dynamo City was relatively compact and that the Hall Of Heroes and her studios were only a few blocks away. Holly became adept at changing into her costume in alleys or dumpsters, There often was not time to return home to change, her costume was designed to fold up and hide away in a compartment of her over sized purse. Even the spiky boots were collapsible. Holly had an advantage over the male heroes who either had to wear most of their costume under their clothes or stash their costumes in unobtrusive places where they could be retrieved in a hurry. But often days would go by with no calls there was the boredom of stakeouts and the hours trying to determine where the Villains would strike next

The Heroes did not know how many Villains there were but they did know the names of a few. Most feared was The Crimson Soul. He was apparently in command of the Villains and seemingly had deactivated three Heroes so far. Sagebrush, Iron Ike, and Melinda had all vanished while fighting in The Crimson Soul's area of town. Their life badges had not been deactivated so apparently they were still alive, but being held prisoner. The rules of the game were that Heroes and Villains could only be replaced if one died. Unlike the citizens who roamed Dynamo City's streets. Neither Villain nor hero could be resurrected. Unless of course the producers and writers though them too valuable to lose. So far a hero had not come back from the dead but several new ones had entered the Hall of Heroes. Keeping his prisoners alive was a stroke of genius for the Crimson Soul. If he kept capturing Heroes soon there would not be enough to defend their allotted territory and the Villains would win by simple attrition. 

Captain Dynamo, the stern leader of the heroes, warned all of them to be especially vigilant and to sacrifice themselves if necessary rather than be taken alive. Holly respected Captain Dynamo but he was often such a stuck up hard ass that she wanted to slap him silly. An old style Captain Dynamo seemed taken from an earlier century. One got the impression that if he had a choice of a life to live her would have been either General Patton or General MacArthur. Still, he was the most experienced and toughest of them all so he was always listened to. 

Holly settled into the heady life of Dynamo City. She loved the clubs and her "job" at KBOOM paid very well. Audiences really liked her and she was one of the few heroes who had a following sans costume. Although Dynamo City residents did not get outside telecasts or unfiltered web service, they recognized Holly from her TV appearances. Sometimes she was stopped for autographs and, if she was with a date, nice tables often opened up in restaurants. Holly found herself courted by many desirable and handsome men. It was such a delight being Holly Hayes . She never wanted to go back to being plain old Sally Yeastman from Hamilton, Ontario, ever again. With her new fame she doubted that she would have to.

Holly could scarcely believe the news even as she read it live on the air. At an art gallery near the Villain's turf some gold doubloons and silver treasures scavenged from a Spanish galleon were going on display. Everyone knew that the Villains would like nothing better than to steal those objects. The villains were entitled to keep all the loot they could lay their grubby little paws on. Unless it was taken away by one or more Heroes. 

That night Captain Dynamo announced the assignments for guarding the gold before it got to the gallery. The gallery had iron clad security not even the smartest of the Villains could steal the gold once it was at the gallery but on its way in and out of the city it was vulnerable. Yukon Jill would be placed on a secure perch on the roof of the armored car once it entered the city. From there She could alert the police and the rest of the Heroes to an attack from the air. It was an important position and Holly felt fortunate to receive such a plumb assignment. She was armed with a modified machine gun and hand guns. She could rain fire down upon the villains and their henchmen in such a high velocity that their life badges would never stand a chance. "Dead" folks can't keep playing.

The big day arrived and Holly proudly manned her position, at a leisurely pace the armored car began its trip to the gallery. Holly had used the ruse of planned vacation days at work so she didn't have to cover the story. Still she smiled and waved at the KBOOM camera as they rolled past the studio. There was no trouble for the first part of the journey, a few snipers tried to pick off Yukon Jill, but she was well shielded. Front Street was a mess. Burning cars and refuse meant slowing to a crawl. Some foemen riding a front end loader appeared out of an alley. Captain Dynamo and Hurricane took care of that assault. And then it happened. Debris and a row of cars that burst into flame meant that the armored car and its escorts had to move single file. Modified laser file began to rain down on the Heroes. The armored car was alone when the street opened up underneath it! The Crimson Soul had rigged a trapdoor in the street! Before Holly could react the trapdoor closed and the chamber she and the armored car occupied filled with anesthetizing gas

The first thing Holly saw when she awoke was the Crimson Soul. His featureless red mask only accentuated the sinister nature of his coal black eyes. He was holding Yukon Jill's utility belt. Holly was strapped down to a table. A ball gag prevented her from talking. 

"Ah our little bonus package is awake!" He cackled. "Welcome to Dynamo City's dark side Ms. Canada!" 

The Crimson Soul ran his hand the length of Holly's costumed clad leg. Moths the size of B52s began to stir in Holly's stomach. 

"Despite the meddling of your superior, Captain Dynamo, the gold and silver is my possession. Captain Dynamo fails to see the big picture. He prepared for every eventuality except an underground assault. Captain Dynamo NEVER sees the bigger picture which is why, eventually, I and my fellow Villains will own this city." 

The Crimson Soul then allowed his hands to take an extensive tour of Holly's breasts and crotch. Holly cursed the skintight nature of her costume as she struggled mightily against her bonds. Overhead she noticed the ubiquitous cameras of the network. Holly realized that she was being filmed. She cursed the cameras as well as the Crimson Soul.

"Let us run over the events of the past hour shall we Ms. Canada?" The arch villain began gain. I removed you and the unconscious guards from the truck, blew off the back doors and helped myself to the gold and silver. The tunnel to my chamber collapsed as soon as I had finished retrieving my prize. I cannot be easily followed. The guards I dumped in an alley. I didn't even bother to deactivate their life badges. As for you Ms. Canada you really should read your contracts more carefully." On the ceiling above Holly was projected a large copy of the standard contract she had signed to participate in "Heroes and Villains" The foul man began again, "You will note this clause here the legalize means that Dynamo City is NOT subject to the laws of , Michigan, Detroit, OR the United States Of America. This territory is self-ruling meaning there is NOTHING stopping me from being as evil as I want to be. Therefore there is NOTHING to prevent you from becoming a member of my harem!"

The Crimson Soul laughed evilly while Holly's eyes grew large with both fear and understanding.




Heroes and Villains Pt. 01



"Imagine the ratings at homes around the world as you are subjected to a new training regimen. In a few weeks, perhaps less you, will be quite contentedly sucking my cock and spreading your legs for me. My henchmen could really use blow jobs in addition to their salary." 

Gingerly, the Crimson Soul removed Yukon Jill's life badge from the center of her chest. "You will remain alive, Ms. Canada, although in upcoming days I am sure that will wish that I had simply "turned you off" and let you leave this game to return home, wherever in the Great White North that is. But what's the fun in that?"

Holly fought with renewed vigor against her bonds but it was futile she was held in a vise like grip. The Crimson Soul vanished from Holly's field of vision. In a moment he was back, wielding a pair of paramedic's scissors.

"Shall we begin Ms. Canada? I am sure that the world audience would love to see your charms revealed. To heighten the suspense I will expose your identity last. I am NOT responsible for nicking you If you squirm too much." 

Holly tried to shrink away from the scissors but there was no place to go. Alternating between laughing maniacally and humming to himself, The Crimson Soul cut away first the left and then the right of Yukon Jill's tall white boots. Her captor rubbed her feet and gently parted her toes under the spandex. Then he tugged on the toe of Costume and plunged the tip of the scissors through the fabric, With extreme precision and agonizing slowness, the Crimson Soul sliced up the right leg of Holly's costume. After what seemed like forever, Holly felt the cold metal of the scissors on her hip.

Her enemy paused for barely a moment before beginning on the top to her costume. As he had done with her leg, the Crimson Soul sliced around Holly's restraints. The bonds would not shield enough of the fabric to protect Holly's modesty however. As he worked the malevolent eyes behind the featureless blood hood became filled with lust. Holly was VERY afraid of those eyes and the evil behind them.

In a sudden movement, he peeled back the material he had cut. All of Holly's fine right leg and arm were exposed, revealing as well Holly's finely toned tummy and sexy navel. For the time being the Crimson Soul had left her second skin like panties and bra in place. Moving to her left side the foeman repeated the process. Holly thought this treatment was far more humiliating and terrifying than if she had been captured and simply ordered to strip. Being exposed a millimeter at a time was a kind of torture.

The Crimson Soul carefully cut away the hood and cowl of Holly's costume. Even forcing his hand beneath her head to leave her disguise in place. Holly realized what she must look like; strapped to a table in just her bra and panties and hood and cowl with the long flowing red hair, the vision in her mind both terrified and appalled her.

"Let's see those tits," brayed the Crimson Soul as he sliced up the middle of Holly's brassier. Holly's fantastic breasts became the loving focus of the overhead cameras. Back in network headquarters the admen and accountants were doing cartwheels. Crimson Soul was enormously popular with audiences. He was a villain they loved to hate while admiring his ingenuity. The idea of keeping the heroes alive and having his way with them was HIS idea. The Crimson Soul seemed to be running his writers! Heroes and Villains always got a huge ratings boost when a hero was captured. The audience had been clamoring for more of the Holly Hayes character, so as far as the network was concerned her capture was a win-win. 

Holly's entire body blushed beet red as the Crimson Soul sliced away the thin fabric of Holly's panties. Her nicely trimmed brown thatched pussy looked very inviting indeed. The Crimson Soul ran his hands over Holly's prostrate form. He tugged on a tuft of her pubic hair.

"Well, apparently, you are NOT a redhead. That is a bit disappointing, but you will still look quite fetching with my cock in your mouth. Slaves are not permitted body hair in any case." 

The Crimson Soul stepped to the side of Holly's head and lowered his face to stare intently into her frightened blue eyes. "Now we will find out who you are, BITCH!"

With a swift and deft movement The arch villain pulled off Holly's hood and cowl. Her long brown hair tumbled out of the hood. Holly's debasement was complete. Holly was a very proud woman, she detested the tears that came to her eyes. All her life she had been taught and believed that she was the equal of any man. To be treated like this was especially painful. 

The Crimson Soul stared at Holly for a moment and then said. "Wait, I KNOW you. You are that hot little reporter and newsreader from KBOOM. What do you know I nabbed a celebrity! I can't wait until you are suitably trained. First you will experience some of of the remarkable devices at my disposal.

For example, I don't need to hear your voice, nothing you have to say to me is of any consequence. This device," he held aloft a small needle with what looked like motor oil inside it, "will keep you silent while you are trained."

The Crimson Soul inserted the needle into Holly's throat. She felt warmth creeping under her flesh and then nothing. A moment later the Crimson Soul sliced the tape holding the ball gag in Holly's mouth. He removed the gag. Holly tried to speak but emitted only a loud hiss which quickly faded to nothingness. 

The Crimson Soul cackled like an evil warlock.

"Now to disorient you."

He pushed a metal contraption over Holly's head. Unknown wattage coursed through her head. Holly was lost in a world of confusion and noise. When her head cleared and her focus returned she found herself sitting up on the board to which she had been strapped. Unable to gain her wits, Holly did nothing as the Crimson Soul slipped a collar about her neck with his logo on the front. 

Suddenly Holly's head was clear. Now that she was free of her bonds she intended to beat the living shit out of the Crimson Soul. Her captor seemed non-pulsed however.

"Before you show me you judo moves slave have a look at this."

The Crimson Soul hefted a weapon. It looked like all of the laser equipped weapons of Dynamo City but then the villain quickly spun and emptied a string of very real bullets into a target on the far wall.

"Yes my slave it IS a very real gun. I and all of my henchmen inside my headquarters are armed with real firearms. Did you really think that we would play by the rules? We are villains! Because we do not play by the rules is why we will win this game. In the meantime I will have the enjoyment of turning you into my personal pleasure slave, just as I have already done with Sagebrush, Iron Ike, and Melinda! So your choice slave is simple. Try to attack me or attempt to escape and be ventilated with bullets OR as a living prisoner there is always a chance that you can escape. Which will it be?" 

Holly knew that she had only one option. She came out of her attack posture, visibly signifying that she would be obedient. Two masked women with holstered side arms entered when summoned by the Crimson Soul. Holly knew nothing about weapons, even if she could disarm one guard the other would shoot her before she even figured out how to fire it. Holly had no way of knowing if the phony weapons she had trained on were like these real guns in any way. Glumly she allowed herself to be led down a hallway. In a sterile white room she was minutely inspected. The key pick bobby pins that Holly wore in the hair under her cowl were discovered.

Her anus and vagina were probed. At last she was led to a tub where she was scrubbed head to toe. Holly's ultimate humiliation came when he Crimson Soul arrived in person to shave off her pubic hair. His foul hands ran their fingers over her shaven sex and Holly was repulsed in the extreme. The Crimson Soul seemed to know exactly how to get under the proud Canadian's skin. At last she was dressed in a short Gossamer skirt and micro bikini top that barely hid her areolas from view.

"Ahh yes so much more alluring and humiliating than simple nudity." Said the Crimson Soul. Silently, Holly seethed in agreement. 

"It is too late to begin your training tonight so we will send you to your cell. I will give you an option however, if you agree to suck my cock right now and swallow my seed I will give you back your voice."

Holly scowled angrily in response.

"I thought as much," he chuckled and Holly was led off to her cell. Her prison cell was completely round with not a single straight edge. There was a only a round cot and a combination toilet and sink. On a reflective surface, Holly caught sight of her collar. Despite applying all of her strength the hated object remained fast about her neck. Defeated as she had never been before Holly collapsed in tears upon the cot. Overhead the cameras lovingly drank in her misery.



Heroes and Villains Pt. 02



Despite her anger and fear Holly fell into deep slumber. A piercing alarm awoke her. Holly arranged her scant clothing to hide as much of herself as possible. Armed guards arrived a short time later and marched Holly to an empty room. A short time later what she understood to be Sagebrush, Iron Ike, and Melinda entered the room. Holly recognized Sagebrush even without his uniform. The men were naked. Sagebrush, the tall broad Texan shuffled along instead of his usual rolling gait His body was hairless and his below average sized penis was locked in a metal cage. Iron Ike, turned out to be a bald man of average height with a pigeon chest, like the Texan he was hairless and his small penis was caged. 

Melinda's long blonde flowing hair was restrained in a pony tail. She was as hairless as the men but clad similarly to herself, Melinda's, gossamer skirt was and micro bikini bra were pink while Holly's own were aqua. All of the former heroes wore expressions of defeat. All wore collars like her own, emblazoned with the Crimson Soul's logo.

Holly was left to ponder these humbled heroes she tried to speak but her silence was profound. The other indicated that they too had been robbed of their voices. Holly was utterly depressed when the Crimson Soul entered the room armed guards in tow. The arch villain quickly perceived Holly's unease and sadness. 

"Take a good look slave, soon you shall be just like them. You no longer have a name by the way, you will be trained to respond to either female slave or brown haired slave. I know all kinds of ways to make people compliant. Allow me to demonstrate. Female slave, I require a blow job." 

Holly was utterly appalled as Melinda strode forward. knelt before the Crimson Soul and liberated his massive penis from his pants. In no time she was making contented noises as she suck on the evil phallus. The Crimson Soul praised the beautiful blonde woman as she worked, gently stroking her head. 

Holly could not believe her eyes. Melinda the Hero had been a lesbian and an ardent feminist. In the Hall of Heroes she would often shout down the male heroes and insist that the distaff heroes were treated with respect and honor equal to their male counterparts. If the Crimson Soul could turn her into a diligent cock slave what hope did Holly have? 

While being serviced by Melinda the Crimson Soul ordered Sagebrush and Iron Ike to service two of his guards. Without a scintilla of complaint the two men set to dutifully sucking cock. As they worked their penises became engorged in their cages. Sagebrush was a nice guy but he was so gay phobic that he sometimes had problems relating to the proudly gay Heroes. Iron Ike was more a cipher, Holly didn't know a great deal about him. She did know however that he was not gay At least he wasn't.

Before long the three kneeling slaves finished their assigned tasks and happily lapped up the cum that the three men being serviced ejaculated. Holly's jaw fell nearly to the floor as she contemplated the tableau before her. Her cruel captor noticed her distress and said.

"The more vigorously you fight your training the more permanent the condition becomes"

He dismissed Melinda and the male slaves and they returned to stand, heads bent in supplication, next to Holly.

"The one formerly known as Melinda for example was VERY resistant to the cock. To get her the way she SHOULD be, obedient and cock craving, I am afraid that I had to permanently rewire her brain. I am afraid that once this game is over and the villains have emerged triumphant she will probably have to be housed in an institution. However, I will probably award her to a worthy disciple as a pet. Perhaps he could breed her if he so desires. As for the men, the one formerly known as Sagebrush took to the cock with little prodding. The biggest homophobes turn out to be the biggest pansies. The one you called Iron Ike was neither too difficult nor too easy to train, he is much like his hero persona was, a whole load of blah." 

"Which brings me to the subject of you! If you want to escape from this game with your brain intact then the smartest course of action for you is complete and utter surrender. I DON'T have to train you if you willingly submit to me. What that means is that you will suck me off when I request, You will fuck me when want where I want and how I want and be damn happy doing it. You will provide blow jobs to men of my choosing when and where I demand. In other words, you need to surrender every fiber of your free will and become my organic fuck doll. When this game is over and the heroes are repatriated you can take up with your old life. Perhaps the fame you have already achieved will provide spectacular new vistas for you. But you will not be able to enjoy that life with only half a brain."

The Crimson Soul then laughed uproariously. 

"I will briefly return your voice and that of the slaves in this room. You may talk about anything you like. You will quickly discover that inside those skulls no one is really home. After fifteen minutes of talking to them, well talking AT them really, I am sure you will see the truth of my words After fifteen minutes with my harem I will re enter this room and ask you politely to accept service in my harem. If the answer to that question is yes you will ask for permission to suck me off and I will grant you permission to do so. If you think you can bite me and attempt to earn your freedom know that there is no escape from this room. My men will riddle your body with bullets. Your jaw muscles can't move faster than a bullet.

You will instead eagerly suck me off and swallow my seed. As a willing slave I will treat you well, nice clothing, fine food, wine and luxury. Refuse me and you will STILL end up as my slave, a mentally deficient one but an obedient one. The choice is yours." .

With that the Crimson Soul waved a small object under the throats of each of the slaves and then Holly. Holly promptly began shouting invectives to the retreating form of her abductor. 

"Sister" said Melinda, "Do not criticize the Master He is the noblest and kindest man alive."

As the former hero spoke there was a vacant look in her eyes, even more pronounced than when she was silent, The men broke out in praise for the Crimson Soul as well. They were like robots or MP3 players. Not one of their words was their own yet they all spoke with conviction and sincerity on the goodness of their "Master." For Holly it was a horror movie from which she could not escape. These two men and women were little more than obedient, retarded children. Holly's blood ran cold. She knew that she wanted to live and to do that she had but one choice open to her Holly realized that her pride was her enemy, She began to weep copious tears. 

Presently the Crimson Soul reentered the room, his guard brandishing their weapons. Without any fuss at all his harem stood silently as he took away their voices once more. He looked at the tear streaked face of Holly Hayes, Once Yukon Jill, and before that Holly Yeastman, Holly would give anything to be ANY of those people again. Instead she knew what she had to become. 

The Crimson Soul's expressionless eyes met Holly's

"Kneel." He commanded.

Holly knelt

"Holly Hayes AKA Yukon Jill, do you wish to renounce your old life for the comfort and protection of my harem? If so signify by stating "Yes Master."

Holly hated herself for not wanting to die in a blaze of glory. She hated every syllable as she uttered . "Yes Master."

"To signify your willingness to enter my service you must ask permission to give me a blow job."

Tears fell heavily from Holly's eyes as she asked "May I suck your cock Master?"

"You may indeed slave."

 Holly scooted on her knees to the feet of her "Master." His men leveled guns at her head. With fumbling fingers. Holly opened her "Master's" fly and freed his penis. Abstractly Holly realized that it was one of the largest and thickest cocks she had ever encountered. Crying openly her mouth encircled the hated penis and went to work. Despite herself Holly preformed an admirable session of fellatio. The Crimson Soul held her head in place as he shot a load down Holly's throat. Holly knew better than to spit the viscous bitter liquid out. She choked down every drop.

As Holly collapsed in a heap of tears upon the floor, The Crimson Soul said

"You made the only decision you could have. Don't hate yourself for wanting to save your life and mind?" Gently he stroked her flowing brown hair and then he and his men left the room. Some guards came in to lead the brain addled former heroes out of the room. At last the female guards who had processed Holly led the unresisting girl back to her cell.

As they walked along the hallway the taller one said, "You did the ONLY smart thing. The boss is not a bad guy once you get to know him. We will be back later to prepare you for dinner."

The cell door closed and Holly felt more alone then she ever had in her life. Not even tears could offer any comfort. 

Holly was served lunch in her cell. Some simple sandwiches and a bottle of water. It was a supremely boring meal but Holly was supremely hungry, She ate every crumb. Much later in the day Holly's female handlers arrived. Holly was given a shower and the women did her nails and gave her a pedicure, They styled her long brown hair and at last clad her in a short silk aqua robe. It exposed virtually every inch of Holly's spectacular legs but it hid the rest of her, for which Holly was grateful. 

Holly knew what all the preparations were for. Her handlers escorted her to a small room. The doors opened and there sat the Crimson Soul at a sumptuously apportioned table. Armed guards stood along the walls. Holly sat in the chair opposite the Crimson Soul.

"You look radiant slave." Opined the villain Holly sat stonily in place.

"I know that you are resentful, angry, frustrated, humiliated and many other emotions. You chose the only logical course. You are a woman who is as beautiful as she is intelligent. Here is what will happen. You and I will eat a very fine meal and then you will offer me your pussy. I know better than to expect a great deal of enthusiasm tonight, that will come with time Now eat hearty. If you prefer, a vegetarian platter can be provided." 

Holly looked at the table, the china and silverware were of the finest and most expensive kind. The tablecloth was obviously silk. the food looked delicious. Despite her anger and humiliation she sat in the chair opposite the Crimson Soul and began to dine. The food and wine tasted every bit as fine as they looked. To eat, the Crimson Soul raised his mask a bit, exposing an attractive nose and a strong masculine jaw. Holly realized that under the featureless expanse of cloth, the Crimson Soul was probably quite handsome. 

For some reason that made Holly even more unhappy and upset. His ugly acts might be a bit more understandable if her were an ugly person. Perhaps a lifetime of being mistreated could create a beast like the Crimson Soul, But if her were attractive, his evil was just a banal aspect of his personality. It was all SO confusing! 

As they ate, her abductor attempted to engage Holly in conversation. The proud Canadian had decided that she would not let this foul creature into her mind and would remain silent. A strange thing began to occur however. The Crimson Soul was obviously well versed in psychology and the human mind. He seemed to have an innate understanding of Holly's psyche. After forty five minutes of probing questions, Holly was astonished to hear herself answering him. Why she wasn't using her restored voice to berate, belittle, and humiliate the man across the table was mystery she was powerless to answer.

After a very long dinner, Holly's handlers returned to escort her to a bathroom where she was permitted to relieve herself, wash her face and brush her teeth. After that she was doused with a very feminine perfume and deposited in a large, bedroom. The walls were paneled in teak. The furniture was expensive and the canopy bed was huge. Armed guards were present so Holly did little more than look around. 

Presently the door opened and in strode the tall and powerful Crimson Soul. This was the moment that Holly was dreading. He stood next to her inhaled deeply and said, "My favorite scent. My girls certainly know what I like." He paused for effect and said. "I know that you wish you were anywhere else on the planet earth right now but you are not. It will be easiest for you if simply obey me. I am a giving and gentle lover, and really you have NO other option."

He hiked up his mask, exposing his lips, "Now how about a kiss slave?"

Visions of the brain addled ex-heroes flooded Holly's soul. She thought of Melinda and her mind dragged her body to the only logical place. She raised her lips to his and he took her to his broad chest and wrapped her in his strong protecting arms. The Crimson Soul gently removed Holly's robe and then ordered her to undress him. 

As Holly unbuttoned his shirt she made two discoveries. The first was that her captors hood was fastened to a contraption that covered his shoulders. Holly realized that her plan to yank off the Crimson Soul's mask was doomed to failure. He had obviously anticipated her plans. The other discover was how finely muscled the Crimson Soul was. He possessed a chiseled six pack set of abdominal muscles. His arm were like coiled pythons. His legs massive and powerful, his buttocks was tight and firm.

This was the worst possible revelation for Holly. Bodies like this had always made her weak in the knees. Crimson Soul's body reminded her of Magnetic Man's, the body she had so lusted after since becoming a hero. Unresisting, Holly allowed the Crimson Soul to pick her up and carry her to the huge canopy bed. His talented tongue darted in and out of Holly's sex. Holly had trouble focusing on maintaining her anger. And then his huge penis was inside her, driving away. Holly tried to think of ANYTHING else but failed. She did not have an orgasm but it was far less unpleasant than she had expected. 

After a brief interval, the Crimson Soul took Holly a second time. This encounter was better than the first. He had brought her to the brink of orgasm despite her anger and feelings of violation. Afterwards he stroked and massaged her body until she was dismissed. In her robe once more, she was led back to her cell by her handlers. As they walked the shorter one said,

"You see, the boss is not too bad at all. I wish he looked at ME the way he looks at you. I know no one likes to be a prisoner, despite that fact, I think you and the boss will have a lot of fun together."

The guards words echoed over and over Holly's skull as she threw herself onto her bunk and collapsed into tears.



Heroes Don't Always Win



Copyright February/2011 

Constructive comments, critiques, and emails are welcome and appreciated.

Please enjoy the story.

**********

The visiting team was ahead 2 to 1. It was the bottom of the ninth, with two outs and runners on second and third. The count of 0-2 put the batter in the hole. He was one strike away from ending the home teams run in the playoffs. Their catcher called time and went out to talk to his pitcher.

"C'mon Sammy focus," I yelled encouragement to the batter from my coach's position on the third base line.

The youngster stepped out of the batter's box, turned and smiled at me. He nodded his head and took a few practice swings waiting for the catcher to return to his position behind the plate.

That smile is just like his mother's, I thought. She could say more with a smile than a lot of people could with words. Sammy's smile showed he appreciated my encouragement and understood my instructions; it also showed his confidence. He turned and gave the pitcher a smile and this one challenged the pitcher. It said do your best but it still won't be good enough.

I could read Sammy's smiles and recognized his mother in him because Sammy Gerard is my son. My daughter Maggie is in the stands cheering for her younger brother; she never lets him forget that she is the oldest.

My son feels he's too old to be called Sammy; he prefers Sam or Jr. He may be right. Sam Jr. at 15 is just two inches short of my 6' 4. He has my dark hair and blue eyes but his smile is his mother's. Sammy hasn't filled out yet but he'll match my 225 pounds when he gets his full growth.

Maggie, who at 16 prefers to be called Margaret, is tall for a young woman at 5' 10. But she takes after her mother with light brown, almost blond hair and big brown eyes. Margaret also has her mother's slender but athletic build. Like her brother she also plays ball, both softball and volley ball and we'll be at one of her games tomorrow afternoon.

**********

Their mother, my wife Carol, is not in the stands. In fact I don't know where she is. She left us. I came home from work one day and found the kids with my mother, watching cartoons in the family room. Mom quietly pointed to a note from Carol propped up on the breakfast bar that separates the kitchen from the family room.

The note read:

Sam,

I'm sorry but I can't take it anymore. You and the kids are turning me into an old married woman. That's not what I signed up for. I'm only 35 for Christ's sake. I can't and won't be made into a soccer mom.

There is a signed and notarized divorce decree on the night stand beside the bed. There is also a signed power of attorney giving you my half of the house. I've taken the savings and checking accounts, my clothes and my car. The equity in the house should be worth a lot more than that. Those things and out of this prison of a marriage are all I want.

One last thing, you're a good man. We had fun going to parties and taking trips before the kids came. Then you wanted me to become a stay at home wife and a mother. That isn't me. I have to have excitement and adventures.

Don't come looking for me. Even if you found me there's nothing you can say or do to change my mind.

Goodbye Sam.

Carol

Mom told me, "She called and told me she was leaving and someone had better come over and watch the children. When I got here Maggie and Sam were eating cookies and watching TV; Carol had already left."

Mom's face was red with her anger. She tried and almost succeeded in keeping her voice calm. "What in the world was she thinking leaving two little ones alone?"

My Mom and Dad had tried to be friendly to Carol and welcome her into the family when we got married. But I could tell they weren't real happy with my choice of a wife. I knew their feelings because Dad warned me just two weeks before our wedding.

You see Carol had a reputation when we met as a, well as the English call it, the village bike. Anyone could ride if they bought her dinner and a few drinks. Sometimes dinner wasn't necessary. But after our first date she changed. They village bike had retired and I was the only one riding.

About six months after we started dating Carol told me she was 2 ½ months pregnant. My Dad suggested I have a paternity test done to make sure I was the father. "After all, celibacy hasn't been one of Carol's strong suits," he said.

In the twelfth week the test proved that I was the father of Carol's baby. I was in love with her so marriage was the next step. Our daughter Maggie was born and was perfect. A year later Sam Jr. came along and I thought Carol was happy with our family for six years. Then she changed almost overnight.

I'd noticed that Carol didn't seem happy for the last month or so but she refused to talk about it when I asked her what was wrong. About three months earlier she had started going out one night a week with women from where she worked. That's when she became unhappy. I found after the fact that it wasn't just the girls from work she was meeting.

We never heard from Carol again. The first year was the toughest. How do you explain to children that are 5 and 6 that their mother doesn't want anything to do with them. There were many nights that I had two little bodies snuggled up to me in bed. They knew their mother was gone and were afraid that I would disappear too.

It took a couple of months but I finally convinced them that no matter what I would always come home to them. No matter what, I would always be there with them. Soon they were able to sleep in their own beds without nightmares; or at least not too many of them.

I've taken care of Maggie and Sammy for the last 10 years with help from my mother. My social life, what little there was of it, was put on permanent hold. Taking care of my children was more important than my love life.

Now at 16 and the woman of the house Maggie made it a point and Sammy backed her up, to tell me I should date. Or "get a life" as she says. Maybe they're right, now with them almost grown I can begin to think of myself a little.

**********

The crack of the bat pulled me out of reminiscing about the past. Looking up I saw Sammy's hit rocket into the outfield. The line drive seemed to have eyes as it hit the gap in right center field and rolled all the way to the fence.

The two base runners scurried home scoring the tying and winning runs. Sammy stopped at second base with a walk off double to win the game. The boys ran toward Sammy and mobbed him as he trotted toward home plate. After celebrating for several minutes the team lined up single file to shake or slap hands with the losers.

As the two teams filed by each other a chorus of "good game or nice game and even a few good lucks" passed between them. I smiled as I walked over to the opposing coach and shook hands. Right now Sammy was a home town hero. Every boy, hell every man, should feel that happiness, that glory, and that sense of achievement at least once in his life.

I gathered up the team's equipment and started to cart it to my Ford Expedition; it would take at least two trips to stow the gear. Much quicker than I expected Sammy came to help me carry the loads. I smiled at him and couldn't help myself; I pulled him into a hug. "Good job son. I'm proud of you," I told him.

He hugged me back for a few seconds and then stepped away embarrassed as only a 15 year old boy can be.

"Dad, I'm too old for that," he protested with a smile on his face.

"You're not too old for me to hug you," Maggie said as she grabbed him. She kissed his cheek and giggled when he wiped the kiss off.

"Hey Dad, do you think we can give Justin and his sister, Beth, a ride home?" Sammy asked and then continued very fast without waiting for my answer the way boys will do. "Their mother was supposed to be at the game but she didn't make it. They've got money for a bus or taxi but they'll miss the ice cream if they have to go right home. They only live about a mile or two from us."

Sammy waited for my decision with an expectant look. Justin Reynolds was one of the boys on the team I coached. He played center field and was a nice young man about Sammy's age. I hadn't met his sister but had seen her at the games cheering for her brother.

"Sure, not a problem," I replied. "Go get them . We'll meet the team at the Dairy Queen and then give them a lift home."

I had started a tradition when I became the coach of the team. After every game, win or lose, I would treat the boys and their parents if they wanted to come to an ice cream feast at the Dairy Queen. It was a way to reward the boys for their hard work and dedication. Sammy ran off to gather up Justin and Beth.

I could afford the cost of ice cream a lot easier than some of the parents. The kids on the team were all from working class families who sometimes found it hard just too met life's needs. Most of the parents, men and women, worked to make a good life for their family.

Being the owner of several, 5 to be exact, auto parts stores in our city, I was a little better off than most of the parents. I wasn't rich but I was more than comfortable. Ergo my sponsoring the team and footing the bill for the after game ice cream. I also made sure there was bottled water and Gatorade at all of the practices and games.

Maggie stepped closer to me. "Their mother probably didn't show up because she's having trouble with their father," she informed me. At my questioning look she said," Their parents are divorced but their father sometimes comes around causing trouble. I bet that's what happened this time."

I stowed Justin's equipment in the back of the Ford with the rest of the gear. "Everybody climb in. Next stop is the Dairy Queen," I said.

"Thanks for the ride Coach Gerard," Justin told me. "We would've missed the ice cream party without your help."

"You're welcome Justin. Can't celebrate our victory without our center fielder," I replied and continued driving. Why didn't Mrs. Reynolds even show up to pick up her kids after the game? Wonder if Maggie is right?

After the kids and some of the parents ate more ice cream than they should have, I gave Justin and Beth a ride home. It was about 9:30 when we got to their house. But the place was dark with no lights on anywhere. I wasn't about to leave the kids until I knew someone was home. I followed Justin and Beth to their front door and went inside with them.

"Mom. Mom," Justin called out as he turned the light on in the living room. "Mom, where are you?"

I heard a moan coming from the kitchen area and went to investigate. Feeling for the light switch I turned the overhead light on. Lying on the kitchen floor was a woman I assumed was Mrs. Reynolds. She had a cut over one eye, one of her lips was cut and swollen and she was semi conscious. Around her neck were finger marks that showed she had also been choked by someone.

"Mom," yelled Justin as he knelt beside her. Beth didn't say anything but knelt with her brother.

"Call 911 Maggie," I ordered as I wet a towel at the sink. Kneeling beside Mrs. Reynolds I bathed her face with the damp towel.

Maggie used her cell phone and called for the paramedics. The response time was pretty good; only about five minutes. The EMTs treated Mrs. Reynolds then laid her on a gurney and took her to a hospital Emergency Room. I gathered up the kids and followed the ambulance.

The ER took Mrs. Reynolds in for treatment right away so the children and I sat in the waiting room for over an hour with no word on her condition. Finally about the fifth time Justin said, "I wonder if Mom's alright" I couldn't take it anymore.

I walked to the desk and asked about Mrs. Reynolds. The woman behind the desk asked if I was family. Admitting that I wasn't she told me she couldn't give me any information.

"Look, I'm not trying to find out what you guys have done or are doing, I'm just trying to find out if she's okay," I told the Nurse Ratched wanna be. She still wouldn't tell me anything repeating that hospital rules forbid her to discuss a patient with anyone but family.

"Okay, Mrs. Reynolds' son and daughter are right over there," I told her pointing to the kids. "Can you tell them about their mother?"

Looking over at the children she asked, "Are either of them of legal age?"

"Justin is 15. I think Beth is a year younger."

"If they're not at least 18 I can't discuss the patient with them either," she said.

"Look you officious bitch, those children need to know if their mother is okay," I almost yelled. "Now I suggest you get your supervisor or someone with an ounce of sense over here. If you don't I'll....."

"What the problem here?" An older nurse said interrupting my outburst. "I'm Nurse Riley, the night supervisor." She must have heard my loud voice.

Before the nitwit at the desk could reply, I explained the situation and my frustration at the "hospital rules". "All the children want to know is if their mother is going to be okay and when they can see her."

Nurse Riley led me back to the waiting room. She sat down across from Justin and Beth. "Your mother is going to be fine. She has a cut over her eye and a split lip but she'll be fine in a few days. Okay?"

Beth cried and grabbed onto me. Justin just nodded.

"We're going to keep her overnight to make sure she's okay but she should be able to go home tomorrow," Nurse Riley told them. "Do you have someone to stay with you tonight?"

"They can stay with us," I replied pointing to Sammy and Maggie. "I'm the coach of his baseball team," I explained while pointing at Justin's uniform. "We only live about a mile away from their house."

As we were talking to the nurse I saw two police officers come into the ER and approach the nitwit at the desk. One was a grizzled looking older man who from the look on his face had seen and heard everything. His partner was a nice looking, younger woman. They asked some questions and the nitwit pointed toward Nurse Riley.

As the police walked toward us Nurse Riley went to meet them. They were talking in low voices but I heard "spousal abuse, domestic violence, what an asshole", that last one was from the woman officer. They followed Nurse Riley into the treatment area.

I guess Mr. Reynolds got over zealous in the talk with his ex wife, I thought. My Maggie was right. What an asshole I said to myself, parroting the young police woman's statement. It was about a half an hour later when the police left and Nurse Riley rejoined us.

"C'mon kids, I'll take you back to see your mother," she told them. She looked at me as if she was trying to decide if she should take me back too.

"We'll wait here for them and take them home after they've seen their mother," I told her.

The kids returned after 20 minutes or so. Beth was softly crying and Justin was trying not to. On the way home Sammy and Maggie, God bless them, talked to the Reynolds kids and got them calmed down a little. At home I suggested Beth, who I found out was 13, sleep in Maggie's room and Justin in Sammy's.

The next morning I called my office and told my secretary the boss wouldn't be in today . I had asked Justin and Beth to stay home from school because I didn't want them to be alone. Sammy and Maggie tried to persuade me they should stay home too. "You know just to help out," they said. They both got on the school bus mumbling that it wasn't fair but promised to take my letter of explanation about Justine and Beth's absence to the principal.

Justine, Beth, and I were just finishing our lunch of tuna fish sandwiches when the hospital called and said that Mrs. Reynolds was being discharged. I had left my phone number as the person to contact when she was able to go home. The kids were excited and I had to smile at them.

We arrived at the hospital and Mrs. Reynolds and a nurse were waiting just inside the front door. The nurse pushed Mrs. Reynolds in a wheel chair to my Ford. Justin and Beth were all over their mother, smiling and laughing and she laughed with them. Then Justin actually looked at his mom's face and got very quiet.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry son, those bruises and the swelling will go away very soon. Your mom's going to be okay." I waited until the kids had a chance to say hello and walked over to the wheel chair.

"Hi Mrs. Reynolds, I'm Sam Gerard," I introduced myself with a smile. "I coach Justin's baseball team and I guess you could say we're neighbors. My chariot awaits to take you home."

"It's nice to finally meet you Mr. Gerard," she replied. "Justin is always going on about what a "cool" guy you are. And thank you for the ride. I wasn't looking forward to a taxi ride home. And please call me Carol."

That stopped me for just a second. Carol was my ex-wife's name; you just had to be a Carol, I thought. I'd never actually met Mrs. Reynolds before. I'd just seen her from a distance when she picked up Justin. Up close she was an attractive woman, in spite of the yellow, blue, and sickly green of her bruises.

I watched as Carol got out of the wheel chair slowly; she moved like an old woman of 90. It was obvious that she was sore, stiff, and had trouble moving without pain. I helped her into the rather high front seat of my Expedition, motioning to Justin and Beth to get in the back.

On the way home I had a thought. "Mrs. Reynolds, I mean Carol." I was still having problems with her first name. "I know how hard it is to take care of two teenagers and you're still suffering. Why don't you guys stay with us, at least until the weekend?"

"Oh I couldn't put you out Mr. Gerard. It would be too much trouble."

"It's no trouble, and if you're Carol I'm Sam," I replied. "The kids can bunk with Sammy and Maggie like they did last night and you can sleep in the fourth bedroom. Right now it's sort of a home office that I don't use very much."

I could see she was wavering and added, "Today's Wednesday. Justine and Beth can ride the school bus with my monsters for the next two days. If you're up to it you can go back home on Saturday or Sunday. In the mean time you'll have help if you need it."

With prodding from her children, Carol decided they would stay with us for a few days. We drove by her house and Maggie and Beth packed clothes and personal items for themselves and as directed for their mom. Back at our place we got the kids and Carol settled. That evening I ordered pizza for dinner.

The next morning Carol was still sleeping as I helped all four children get ready for school. After a breakfast of oatmeal, I watched the troop in front of the house until they got on the school bus. Going back inside I found Carol at the kitchen table drinking coffee. She was wearing a thick terry cloth robe that had belonged to my wife. I'd forgotten it was in the closet in the office/bedroom.

"I hope you don't mind," Carol said pointing at the robe. "I found it in the closet.

"Naw that's good. It belonged to my ex and is something I forgot to get rid of. I'm glad someone is getting some use from it." I busied myself getting her some oatmeal. "I'll go into the office for a couple of hours and come back and have lunch with you."

"You don't have to bother, I can get my own lunch."

"Actually it's a good excuse to take a little time off," I replied smiling. I stood, got my briefcase and jacket. "If you'd like to clean up use the master bath," I suggested. "It has a Jacuzzi tub and would help get rid of the soreness. Anyway see you at noon."

Carol had hero type sandwiches and chips on the kitchen table when I got home at noon. She smiled and motioned for me to sit. I watched as she poured ice tea and could see she was moving much more freely now.

"I didn't mean for you to make lunch," I told her.




Heroes Don't Always Win



"I didn't mind. I feel so much better after an hour in your tub," she replied. "That thing is magical."

The previous day and last night Carol Reynolds had just been someone that needed a little help. For the first time I really looked at her. She's about 5' 9, I thought. Looks like a wholesome but sexy girl next door with that dark almost black hair and those big brown eyes. Being a man I couldn't help but notice that she was full figured. Not fat, more like voluptuous. Sort of like a young Selma Hayek.

"Carol, it's not really any of my business but what's going on with you and your ex? From what Justin and Beth tell my kids this isn't the first time he's hit you."

She took a deep breath and I could see tears in her eyes. At first Carol shook her head like she didn't want to talk about it. Then she told me her story.

"Eric and I had a good marriage until about a year ago," Carol told me. "He started to complain and get on me about my weight." She sort of smiled, "I put on weight while I was carrying Beth and just couldn't seem to lose all of it. I tried dieting but that cut into my energy level and I had a family to take care of."

I handed her a box of tissues and she continued. "Like I said things were good and then Eric went from being a little out of sorts to being down right insulting. I was hurt and we argued some but finally I just ignored him when he got in one of his moods. That's when the hitting started." Carol paused for a several seconds. I sat quietly waiting for her to go on.

"At first he would slap me on the butt and say something like I was as big as a house. I didn't respond except to tell him he hurt me." Carol blushed and said, "Our sex life hadn't been good for several months. I bought a sexy night gown thinking I'd spice up our relationship if I showed him I still wanted him then things would get better." Now she stopped talking and cried. I got up and refilled our glasses waiting for her.

"The jerk said he wouldn't touch a fat pig like me." For the first time I saw Carol's temper as she continued. "Can you believe it? Here I am trying to make things better, trying to show him I still love him and he says something like that." Her voice was hard and angry.

"I lost it and told him he was an insensitive, uncaring, hurtful bastard and not a real man.....That's when he actually hit me for the first time." Carol pointed to a small scar on her cheek. "Took eight stitches to close this up. His ring cut my face."

She starred at the wall for close to a minute. "Every week to ten days Eric would come home late. He was usually drunk and would insult me. I let it go for a month or so and finally told him to stop spending so much money; it was needed to pay our bills. That led to this one," she said pointing to a scar near her elbow. "He threw a lamp at me and cut my arm.

"That was the one that pushed me over the top. I filed for divorce. He has to pay child support, alimony, and I got the house." Carol gave me an evil little smile. "It eats him up having to pay those things."

"So why the beatings now? Why do you let him come around?" I asked.

"This is the first time he hit me since the divorce. He came over drunk and started screaming about me ruining his life and that those two rug rats, that's what he call them, were bleeding him dry. I told him he was the one that ruined his life and ordered him to get out. That's when he hit me."

I saw her shutter and reached over to take her hand.

"This was the first time he hit me with his fist. It scared the heck out of me," Carol admitted.

"Don't think much of a man that would beat on a woman," I mumbled softly. Carol smiled when she heard me.

We had just finished lunch when the doorbell rang. Answering the door I saw two police officers standing there. It was the same grizzled old veteran and young police woman that had been at the hospital.

"I'm Sergeant Thomas, this is Officer Patterson," the man said. "Are you Mr. Gerard?" I nodded. "The hospital told us you picked up Mrs. Carol Reynolds, is that correct?"

"Yes I did. Her car was at her house and her children and I didn't think she should have to take a taxi home."

"We were just at Mrs. Reynolds' house but she isn't there. Do you know where she is?" The Sergeant asked.

"She's in the kitchen," I replied. I motioned for them to follow me and walked back toward the kitchen. "Why are you looking for her?"

Officer Patterson spoke for the first time. 'We're just following up on the domestic violence report we took at the hospital."

Carol looked up as the officers walked into the kitchen and her face paled. The Sergeant reminded her who they were. She nodded indicting that she remembered them.

"Mrs. Reynolds we arrested your ex husband but we can't keep him locked up unless you file a complaint," said Officer Patterson. Carol shook her head no and Patterson continued, "This isn't the first time we arrested him for beating you but without your help we can't hold him."

Patterson sighed and looked at Thomas. He shook his head. "Mrs. Reynolds at least file for an order of protection, you know a restraining order," he pleaded. Again Carol shook her head. Thomas handed her a card. "If you change your mind or need to talk to us, both our numbers are on that card. Call us please."

I walked the officers to the front door. Patterson turned before leaving and asked, "Are you two an item?"

"No, she's the mother of one of the boys I coach." I shrugged my shoulders and added, "I didn't set out to get so involved but she needed help and I couldn't just let her and her children go it alone." I smiled and said, "Besides my two kids wouldn't let me not help. They can be very forceful about something they want."

"Here," Patterson said handing me her card. "If you or she needs help call me. You can reach me at one of those three numbers, day or night." She smiled and touched my arm. "You're a good man Mr. Gerard."

I looked at the card. There were two numbers printed about half way down the card. Across the bottom portion was a hand written number with the word cell in front of it. At the top of the card was printed her name and title. It read, Patrolman Carol Patterson.

Carol? Carol? I thought. What's with this every woman I meet being a Carol?

After they drove off in their patrol car I went back into the kitchen. I sat down across from Carol. "How long has this been going on with your ex-husband?" She looked at me surprised at the question. "You really should file a complaint against him to keep him away from you."

Carol didn't say anything but continued to stare at me. "I can't tell you what to do but if he'll hit you he'll hit Justin or Beth. File charges and get a restraining order against him before he starts on the kids." I watched as indecision crossed her face and she hung her head.

"Justin is a fine young man and he wouldn't stand by and let Mr. Reynolds beat on you Carol. If he's there the next time it happens, Justin will try to stop your ex-husband. He could get hurt."

Finally Carol reacted. "No, I can't let that happen," she replied and looked up at me. "Will you call the officers and tell them I'll sign a complaint?"

I was on my cell dialing before she got finished with her question.

"Officer Patterson, this is Sam Gerard. Mrs. Reynolds has decided to file a complaint against her ex-husband.," I informed Patterson. "How does she go about it?"

I took Carol to the police station the next day and she pressed charges against her ex-husband. Then I had my attorney obtain a restraining order against him. She was a little thoughtful and quiet that evening but seemed to feel better both emotionally and physically.

On Sunday I took Carol, Justin, and Beth back to their own home. While I was there I noticed a few little things that needed tending to. One of the toilets was running constantly, the kitchen sink was almost stopped up and the filters for the furnace and air conditioning needed to be change. Just a few everyday maintenance items.

For the next month or so, the two families spent a lot of time together. Ball games, picnic, pizza and movie nights were some of the activities we shared. Carol and I went out alone a few times, nothing serious. We would go to the movies and sometimes out for dinner and a little dancing.

I know we liked each other, maybe more than liked, but we were in no hurry to push things. Carol was coming out of a bad relationship and I hadn't dated for ten years. It was almost like we were teenagers again and we took things slow. About the most romantic it got was a few good night kisses at Carol's door. Even then we acted like her mom and dad would open the door and catch us kissing.

One evening I went to Carol's to install a new set of dead bolt locks on the doors. I'd told Carol she would feel safer with the new locks. I was working in the kitchen and heard the front door bang against a wall as it was thrown open. Walking into the living room I saw a man that could only be Eric Reynolds.

Reynolds was about 6 feet and a sloppy 200 pounds. I could see the family resemblance to Justin and Beth. He was obviously drunk. He couldn't have showered recently because I could smell him all the way across the room.

"Carol, where the hell are you?" He yelled. Then seeing me he yelled, "Who the hell are you?"

Before I could answer Carol came down the stairs. "Eric, you're not supposed to be here. Go away."

"Why did you bring charges against me? We only had a little misunderstanding. I had to put up bail to get out of jail."

"She filed charges because you beat the hell out of her," I answered for Carol. Stepping between Reynolds and Carol I faced him. "I suggest you leave before we call the police. There's a restraining order that says you're supposed to stay at least 500 feet from Carol."

"You the guy she's banging now?" Eric asked with a sneer.

"That's a pretty ugly way to describe one of life's pleasures, but no I'm not 'banging' Carol. I'm Justin's baseball coach and Carol's friend," I replied. "I'll tell you one more time to leave before I call the police and you ended up back in jail." I pulled my cell phone out of its holder and flipped it open.

Eric shouted at me and Carol. I started punching 911 into the phone saying each number as I pushed it.

"Nine," I said looking Eric in the eye. "One," I continued. "Should I push the last number Eric?"

He shouted again and stormed out of the house. Carol slipped to the floor crying. I helped her up and onto the couch. "It's all over Carol. Take it easy."

Thinking I better make sure Eric had left, I went outside. As I stepped through the door something hit me across the shoulders. I went to the ground and rolled away before I stood up. Eric was winding up for another swing at me with the broom handle in his hands.

The only experience I'd had fighting was what a lot of men had growing up. As big as I am normally people don't mess with me too much. The two years I worked as a rough neck on an oil rig taught me more about fighting than any other period of my life.

Eric clumsily swung at me again. I leaned back and he missed. While he was recovering and off balance I stepped close to him and hit him with a short straight right hand. I have to admit I was really pissed and tried to take his head off with that punch. He staggered two or three steps backwards and fell down. Eric shook his head, roared, and got up.

I'd heard that some people when they're drinking don't feel pain. Don't know, never been that drunk. But that was the state Eric was in. He came back at me without the broom handle. A left jab and a right cross put him on his butt again.

"Eric, there's no need for this," I told him as I stood over him. "Just leave before one of us really gets hurt." I'd offer even money on who was going to get hurt.

Before he could get up I heard, "Hold it right there. Step back Mr. Gerard, Mr. Reynolds you just sit there." I turned to see Sergeant Thomas and Officer Patterson coming toward us. I found out a little later that Carol had called 911 and since they were the closest Thomas and Patterson answered the dispatcher's call.

The Sergeant got Eric on his feet and handcuffed him. "Aren't you going to arrest him too?" Eric asked. "He attacked me."

"First Mr. Reynolds, according to witnesses you accosted Mr. Gerard with a weapon," Thomas answered. "Second you're in violation of a restraining order preventing you from coming within 500 feet of your ex wife. So you're the one going to jail." As he was talking he walked Eric to the patrol car and put him in the back seat.

As he was being put in the car Eric yelled, "This isn't over Gerard. Next time I'll kick your ass or maybe worse."

I gave him an evil grin and motioned with my hand to bring it on. Macho bullshit but what are you gonna do?

It was two months later that my life changed. The relationship between Carol and I had progress to a few make out sessions, either at her house or mine or in the car. We hadn't slept together yet but it was on the horizon if things kept going in the same direction.

I had taken Carol out to dinner and then to a club for drinks and dancing. During dinner I'd had a couple of drinks but changed over to soda by the time we got to the club. The last thing I wanted was a D.U.I. arrest. It wouldn't be a good example to set for Sammy and Maggie.

We went back to my place and were sitting on the couch expressing our interest in each other. My kids were spending the weekend with my folks so we had the house to ourselves. We had progressed farther than we'd ever done before. Carol's blouse was unbuttoned and her bra had been unfastened. Just as she reached for my belt the door bell rang.

Moaning I stood up and went to the door. "I'll get rid of whoever it is," I told her. Carol pulled her blouse closed without fastening her bra.

I was watching Carol cover up and thinking how sexy she looked as I opened the door without looking through the peephole. The 2 by 4 hit me right between the eyes. It dazed me and I fell to the floor. Eric Reynolds stood over me with a sneer on his face.

"Try to screw my wife will you?" He yelled. "I'll show you what happens to someone that messes with what's mine."

Carol screamed and Eric turned toward her. "Just wait, you're next. I'll teach you to run around on me."

I had regained some of my senses and kicked the side of Eric's knee. He fell to the floor and I jumped on him. We wrestled around for a few seconds and he rolled away from me. During the struggle he'd dropped the 2 by 4 and now as he stood up he pulled a large hunting knife.

Eric swung at me with the knife cutting me across the ribs. As he recovered from his swing and before he could try again I picked up the 2 x 4 and hit him in the head. He dropped to the floor. Shaking my head to clear it, I went to the phone and dialed 911.

By the time the police arrived, I had taken my shirt off and was trying to stop the bleeding from the long cut across my ribs. Carol was sitting next to me on the couch softly crying and trying to help me. I could feel myself drifting and thought I must be going into shock. The paramedics walked in right behind the police.

The EMTs stopped the bleeding, put a temporary bandage on the long cut and started an IV. While one was working on me another EMT was tending to Eric Reynolds. I saw the one next to Reynolds look at the one next to me and shake his head.

A female officer took Carol into the kitchen to question her and an officer started to question me. I was a little dazed but heard a voice that I knew.

"If you wanted to see me, you could've just called," Officer Carol Patterson said as she sat next to me on the couch waving the other officer away. "Tell me what happened," she requested.

I explained about Eric's attack and my part in the fight. I told her about Carol Reynolds and me becoming friends and starting to date. Too much information but I wasn't thinking clearly. I saw Officer Patterson frown when I mentioned dating but she never said anything. The officer that had started to question me stood by and wrote notes on a pad as I talked.

After the EMT finished with me, he joined his partner tending to Eric. The officer that had been taking notes stepped closer to the EMTs and asked about Reynolds.

Looking up one of the paramedics said, "He didn't make it. His skull was fractured and he died almost instantly."

Before I would let the EMTs take me to the hospital I called my parents and explained what had happened. I didn't want them or my kids to hear about it on the radio or TV or read about it in the newspaper. After a few minutes I got Sammy and Maggie calmed down. I told my kids I would see them tomorrow and not to worry. My Mom was still on the extension and I told her there was no need of her coming to the hospital. Before leaving Officer Patterson promised to take Carol home.

The ER personnel made sure I wasn't still bleeding and that I wasn't going to pass out. I'd been in the hospital treatment room for less than ten minutes when my mother walked over to my bed. From the look on her face there wasn't any sense in arguing that she didn't have to be there.

My wound was closed with 18 stitches, I had to get a tetanus shot, and they examined my forehead where Eric hit me with the 2 x 4. The doctor explained that because I had a mild concussion they wanted to keep me overnight for observation.

I finally talked Mom into going home and promised I would call her and Dad when I was released the next day. Also they agreed to call my office. Once the hospital staff put me in a room I settled back and tried to relax. I had a terrific headache but they wouldn't give me much more than Tylenol because of the concussion. Flipping through the channels on the TV, I tried to find something that would take my mind off the headache. I gave up and turned the boob tube off.

"Not much on worth watching, is there?" Carol Patterson said as she walked into my room. "I just finished my shift and thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing."

"I'm okay, considering. It could have been a lot worse," I replied. "They say I've got a mild concussion and that's why I'm still here. Guess it's a good thing I have a hard head."

We talked for a few minutes and I got the impression that her visit wasn't official.

"Well I'll get going," Officer Patterson said. "It may get hairy the next few days, after all it was a homicide, but don't worry. I'm pretty sure you're in the clear. Reynolds attacked you in your own home and was in violation of the restraining order. Shouldn't be a legal problem for you. But call me if you need help." She said good night and left.

Carol, Patterson, not Reynolds, was right. Over the next few days, after more investigation, the police and the district attorney's office decided that I was within my rights to protect myself. I think they called it a justifiable homicide. Self defense to us common folk.

If this were a Hollywood script, Carol Reynolds and I would fall in love and live happily ever after together. We would have gotten married and raised our four children in a happy home. Unfortunately real life isn't a Hollywood story and that isn't what happened to us.

The day after I came home I let Maggie and Sammy fuss over me and then I called Carol, Reynolds not Patterson. She sounded strange on the phone and wouldn't talk for long. It almost seemed like she didn't want to talk to me.

I gave Carol a couple of days and called her again. She was sort of evasive about us getting together. Again I got the feeling that she didn't want to talk to me or see me.

After what I'd gone through, I wasn't in a mood to sit back and see how things developed. I waited until I knew that Justin and Beth were at school and drove over to her house to talk to her.




Heroes Don't Always Win



She looked surprised and a little fearful when she saw me at her door but she did invite me in. We talked about ordinary things for a few minutes. But I hadn't come over to talk about needed repairs on her house or how Justin and Beth were doing in school.

"Carol, what's the problem?" I confronted her. "You act like you don't want to see me or even talk to me. Please tell me what you're feeling and thinking."

She sat quietly for more than a minute and I waited. Carol had been staring at the floor but raised her head and looked at me. Taking a deep breath she said, "I know you were just protecting yourself, and me, against Eric. I know that if Eric hadn't showed up that night that there wouldn't have been a problem." Carol hesitated for several seconds and I waited.

"I can't explain it," she continued. "I know Eric was a monster over the last year or so, but we had a lot of good years together. I know you didn't mean to kill him. But he's the father of my children and I just can't be with the man that killed him."

Shocked doesn't begin to explain how I felt. I'd put myself between Carol and a horrible situation, I'd almost been killed and now she couldn't stand to be with me. My first reaction was anger but looking at Carol's face I could see that she was hurting too.

I took a deep breath. "I won't try to change your mind. You can't make someone want to be with you." I paused for a few seconds. "Just know that I was falling in love with you and we could've had a good life together." Standing I walked to the door and turned. "I hope you find a way to be happy Carol. Have a good life."

**********

I'd just finished a practice with the team and was putting the gear in my SUV. It was one month since I'd had the talk with Carol Reynolds. Justin, Beth and their mother had moved back east several weeks ago to be near Carol's parents. I still couldn't understand Carol's reasoning but the hurt had pretty much scabbed over.

My cell phone rang and I answered. "Sam Gerard."

"Hi Sam. This is Carol Patterson. I thought I'd follow up on your situation," she said. "Are your ribs healing up?"

"Yeah, the ribs are almost healed. The doctor says they'll be a scar but it won't be too horrible." I was surprised at how happy I was to hear from her.

There was a sort of awkward silence. "I'm glad you called, it's nice to hear from you," I offered.

"Oh hell," Carol said. "I didn't call to talk about your injury. It's embarrassing but I thought that if you wouldn't call me then I'd have to call you. So here I am."

Hesitating for a couple of seconds I said, "I think we should get together over dinner tonight to talk about your embarrassment and my stupidity. I should have called you earlier."

Two days later after finishing dinner I said, "Carol went back east to be near her parents. Before she left she told she couldn't be with the man that killed her children's father." I had to stop for a few seconds.

"But it was self defense. You probably saved her life," Carol Patterson said.

Nodding I said, "I know and even she knows but she can't get around it. So she left."

I looked her in the eyes and said, "Maybe it's a little early to say this but the only reason I didn't call you is I was afraid you would think you were my second choice. You're not. At the time we first met, I was developing a relationship and I'm not the kind of guy that can juggle women or my feelings."

Carol smiled and took my hand. "I can appreciate that but there's no need to hesitate now. Is there?"

**********

In real life heroes may save the fair damsel in distress but they don't always win her heart.

However, sometimes the heroes win someone more important...hopefully forever.

The End



Heroes' Night Off



NOTES:

This is a work of fantasy based on the characters in the cartoon Young Justice and Young Justice: Annihilation with the characters being envisioned as being of a responsible legal age. This is an original work featuring DC Comics characters, and I claim no ownership of them.

This work is based on a chat session playing as those two characters and exploring how they might have interacted sexually.

This is dedicated to my sweet Artemis. A collaborator and a partner who can curl my toes every time. Thank you so much, dear, for the incredible encounter. 

Thanks to the readers and writers on literotica. I really do admire what you do, and I hope this story isn't too bad for a first effort. 

All characters in this story are over the age of eighteen. 

This contains explicit material, so if you are prohibited by laws or morality from reading that sort of thing, please stop reading now.

*****

The martian ship slipped quietly through the sky, making her way back home. In her control center, Artemis offered a disappointed groan as she readjusted the harness straps securing her into her seat, instinctively glancing to recheck her bow and quiver, stowed within easy reach. She broke the silence in the cockpit with her smoky voice. "Was it just me, or did that last mission just seem too easy to you?" 

The other occupant of the craft, Miss Martian, looked over to her teammate. "Well, it was easier than some we've had recently, but with the rest of the team gone, I'm just glad things weren't worse. We did well, but how well do you think we'd do against a 'real' baddie like Lex Luthor or the Joker?"

Artemis was not so easily placated by her friend's usual optimism. "Well of course they wouldn't give us Superman or Batman's arch-enemies, but there has got to be some middle ground between the most dangerous people on the planet and... for god's sake, M'gann, these guys were burglars! Burglers! If we weren't using this ship, the stuff we recovered wouldn't have paid for the gas to get down to Happy Harbor to hunt them down. We're supposed to be heroes. Gah!"

To her friend's disgust, Miss Martian kept up her usual cheery demeanor. "Well, it's good that we were able to stop the burglars. Happy Harbor is a safer place because of us. Even if, um, maybe it's not that much safer. They can't have perfectly tailored missions lined up for us every time, and we do need to keep in practice."

Artemis sighed in disgust and gave up. It would be more effort than it was worth to convince the other woman things were less than ideal. She looked up to the viewport. "At least we'll be home soon." 

"Yeah," the martian responded, wistfully, "back to our empty mountain. Alone. How long can this secret mission take? I'm going crazy without the others. Without... well, not that you're bad company, but we never have really hung out all that much."

Artemis could not help but notice the omission. She knew her friend missed Connor, but it would do no good reminding her of the fact. Besides, she would find herself forced to dwell on Wally, and she didn't think she needed that right now. She did hope the rest of the team would hurry back. "I know what you mean, but you know they'd never turn down an assignment." She chuckled. "And Dick jumps up like a puppy every time Batman snaps his fingers, so it's not like the league is going to hear any objections from us. Still," she sighed. "It does get lonely." 

The martian added, "Yeah, how much can we really train or watch TV? We need human... well, we need interaction. I can't tell you how dull it gets after you've gone to your room and I suddenly feel you... I mean, after you've gone to sleep."

Artemis was focusing on her friend's slip of nearly calling herself and the kryptonian human so much she nearly didn't put together her other slip. Many nights in the cave, the archer would find herself missing Wally, and after she turned in for the evening... The restraints kept her from springing up from her chair, but she shot a glare at the martian known to freeze criminals in their tracks. "M'gann," she said, her cheeks reddening. "Have you been spying on me?"

The other woman shifted uncomfortably. "Well, no, I mean not really. I mean, not on purpose." She flinched at Artemis's continued scowl. "I didn't try to peek, but, well, you were kinda broadcasting your feelings very strongly when you... Um... well, I felt you... uh... and the first time, it was a new sensation, and I just, sorta... peeked... to... make... sure... you... were... okay?" The martian looked like she would have liked nothing better than to sink into the floor. 

Artemis was still incensed. "Don't you dare lie to me. There's no way you don't know how it feels when you... when someone climaxes. How long have you been going out with Connor?" 

The martian's face turned from its normal green hue to an unnatural beet red color. "I'm not lying to you! We don't, I mean, Connor, he... he wants to wait."

Artemis's eyes grew wide. Miss Martian had never... "Oh god, you're a... I'm sorry, I didn't realize. I was just embarrassed that you knew that I... look, I didn't mean to put you in that situation. You know that, right?"

Artemis herself was nearly nineteen. Word in the team had M'gann as significantly older, perhaps in her forties, but the way her species aged put her maturity on par with her human counterparts. Artemis had never given the other woman's sex life any real thought, but she would have assumed M'gann to have experimented with sex, or at least thoroughly explored her own body, well before now. 

"No, it's fine. You should be free to do what you want in your own time. It's just... not so easy to block out very intense thoughts for me. I swear, I never meant to pry."

Artemis felt the soft bump as the ship touched down in the hangar. "Tell you what? Why don't we forget it? No one meant any harm, and the only hurt was a little embarrassment for both of us."

They emerged from the ship arm in arm and laughing about the whole thing. The martian brought them to a halt and yelled, "It's so empty here!" Both women laughed as her echoes came back to them. "You want to do something?" she added. "I can't go back to training again today. I just can't take it."

"Definitely," replied the archer. "I don't know what I'd do if I had to shoot another practice robot tonight. This is officially our night off."

The martian bent closer to her friend, waving her hands to momentarily disable surveillance in the hangar. "Listen," she said quietly. "He made me promise never to tell anyone, but back in the day, when Connor and I were stuck here all the time, Dick rigged up a little control box that lets us watch pay per view channels in the den. It's a little hard to control what you're watching, but I could hook it up if you wanted to make some popcorn. Maybe we'll find something worth watching."

Artemis laughed heartily at the image of the younger Boy Wonder, paragon of justice and good, using his crime-fighting equipment to pirate cable. "Stealing movies? I knew he wasn't always such a boy scout." She chuckled again. "I'm in. That sounds like a lot of fun." She placed her bow and quiver with care on a rack as they exited the hangar and removed her mask, tucking it into her belt and shaking out her long blonde hair. 

They separated, and she entered the den a few minutes later in the den balancing a bowl of popcorn and two bottles of soda. She saw the martian had hooked up a box to the television with a series of wires and was fiddling with some controls on it. M'gann began to murmur, as if to herself, "He explained it all once. Something about encryption and signal spikes or something... I was just jazzed when we could have pay per view without having to explain the bills."

Artemis let herself sink into the couch and, deciding it was payback for the disappointing mission, propped her booted feet onto the nearby coffee table. As she opened the sodas, she scoffed. "The Justice League has a space station. A space station! It's not like they couldn't afford a few movies."

The martian continued fiddling with the descrambler. "Afford? Yes, but can you imagine trying to explain to Red Tornado why we should be able to?" She looked up and modulated her voice into a perfect impersonation of the android who had spent so much time in charge of the team. "If you have extra time to waste watching films, you could be training or applying your mind to more practical matters." Both women laughed. 

Artemis wiped her eyes. "Do another,"

M'gann bent back to the computer. The android's voice emerged from her mouth. "I like to go to the park on Sundays so all the boys can see my pretty yellow dresses." They laughed. 

The screen on the television began to resolve into recognizable shapes. "Ooh, here's a strong signal," exclaimed the martian in her normal voice. A video clarified on the screen of two women, one blonde and the other brunette, pouring champagne and orange juice into champagne flutes and toasting one another. "Maybe this is some kind of drama. We can watch for a minute and see if it's any good."

Miss Martian jumped up from the floor to sit beside Artemis on the couch. She accepted a proffered soda, both women clinked their bottles together, and they watched the film. 

The movie's subjects walked outdoors together to a pool area where they began to drink and chat. The blonde woman said something about not wanting tan lines and took off her bikini top. M'gann's cheeks began to glow red. "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry. I don't think this is a drama."

Artemis studied the blonde onscreen, clearly the more buxom of the two, and she thought she could see a tiny plastic surgery scar in an armpit that might explain away the mystery. She deadpanned, "There may be some drama here, but I think it may just be porn." The brunette woman on the screen mirrored her friend, revealing her smaller, though certainly no less fake, boobs. 

M'gann fumbled for words. "I... I'm so sorry. I'll turn it off. We can find something else..." The brunette woman sat in a deck chair near the pool, and the blonde woman walked behind her friend to apply sunscreen to her back. The camera focused on her backside and its hypnotic dance. 

Artemis continued to watch, noting the martian, though clearly set on turning the movie off, had completely failed to even begin to do so. "Yeah, okay," she said, her voice distant and her attention clearly not on the conversation. In the movie, the blonde leaned forward, her arms sliding over the brunette's shoulders, to apply sunscreen to her breasts. 

The martian kept her eyes glued to the screen. "Can you imagine how weird it must be to have a woman rubbing lotion on you like that? That's so intimate, so... well, it must be weird."

"Weird or not, those two seem to be enjoying it." The blonde, leaning farther over the other woman to spread lotion on her belly, had leaned in far enough to bring their faces close, and began to kiss the brunette passionately. Artemis sneaked a peek at the martian, who had leaned forward, watching events unfold on the screen. Her cheeks were bright red in a blush, but she nevertheless seemed completely entranced by the two lesbians. 

The blonde circled in front of her friend and, with the facade of spreading more lotion, slid the brunette's bikini bottoms off as she coated her legs. Artemis barely registered the martian add, "I... I don't know if I could... oh my gosh, she's licking her."

Onscreen, the brunette had spread her legs over the sides of the deck lounger while the blonde knelt between them and was lapping hungrily at the brunette's womanhood. Artemis faintly registered the martian mumble something like, "should turn this off" again, but neither woman thought she would carry out the threat. 

"Wow," was all Artemis could manage to get out as the brunette began to cry out in pleasure.

"Wow," agreed the martian. Artemis felt M'gann's hand, perhaps seeking the popcorn, brush her leg. Her combat training, together with something altogether more primal, kicked in, and she grabbed the wandering hand and held it as the brunette began to writhe in pleasure. The other woman made no move to pull away.

Artemis began to reflexively tighten her grip as the brunette began to buck her hips, her chest heaving, getting closer and closer to a climax. As the brunette began to call out, her toes curling and her legs shaking, Artemis could feel the woman's pleasure causing a sympathetic warmth begin so spread between her own thighs. Almost completely spellbound by the movie, it took her some time to notice the martian had completely stopped watching and had been starting at Artemis, a hungry look in her eyes. 

"M'gann..." began Artemis. She had no idea how she would complete the thought, but she found her eyes roaming over the martian's costume, thinking it had always seemed so innocent, but the thoughts rising in her head made her realize how very much she would like to see her friend without it.

"Artemis, we can't..." The martian began, but gave lie to her own words as she leaned forward, kissing her. The archer had been kissed before, but never by a woman. Her lips exalted in the feeling. It was so much smoother, softer, and somehow more focused and in the moment than any kiss she had experienced before. 

The other woman's lips began gently, hesitantly, but they quickly turned savage. Artemis could feel M'gann's hands on her head and it registered she had released the hand she had been holding so tightly. M'gann held her strong in the kiss, holding their faces together, and Artemis felt the same passions rising in her own body. Her arms clutched the martian to her, the toned muscles holding their bodies tightly together in hopes to ease her craving for more of the other woman's touch. 

She was surprised, but pleased, when the martian suddenly moved to push her backwards, down into the couch. The comfortable weight of her friend and teammate settled on her as M'gann's kisses became steadily more frantic... hungry... primal.

She felt M'gann's hand on her side, rubbing the skin of her bare midriff. She felt the electricity between them and her growing urges for more. She moaned with pleasure and began to grind her hips, rubbing herself against a martian leg, stimulating herself through the cloth of her costume. She ran her fingers through her friend's red hair. 

As if it were a hundred miles away, Artemis distantly registered the sound of the coffee table as it flew away from the sofa and landed with a thump across the room. Quickly after, she felt her stomach lurch as M'gann threw herself off the couch, pulling Artemis with her to the floor. After she landed on M'gann, she felt her legs suddenly caught up, entangled in the other woman's and martian hands running along the line of her spine and to her sides, lifting her shirt.

Artemis lifted her arms to assist Miss Martian in removing the obstructing shirt and, once it was away, she leaned forward and ran her tongue along M'gann's freckles. She felt the other woman give a thrilled shudder. She reached down and began running her hands upward on her friend's smooth green legs, pushing upwards on her skirt.

M'gann looked at Artemis with a naughty gleam in her eyes. "Remember, Artemis," she nearly purred, "I don't wear a suit." The outfit, purely a projection of her conscious mind, faded away before Artemis's delighted eyes. She could suddenly see the martian in all her nude glory: her high breasts with their taunt green skin with deeper green nipples, and below, a little bush of red hair barely concealing her green lower lips and the darker green inner lips which seemed to be slowly making their way outward even as Artemis watched. Artemis could do nothing but smile and return to kissing her friend, stroking the smooth skin of her nude leg.

Again the martian broke the kiss, looking into the archer's eyes. "I'd like to try something," she said, and Artemis nodded, trusting her friend. With a kiss to her forehead, she suddenly felt an extremely disorienting sensation, as if she could not entirely rely on her senses to tell her where she was. She opened her mouth to ask the martian what she had done when the other woman slid down to her chest, lifted her sports bra, and ran her tongue across Artemis's pink, already hardening, nipple. The archer felt an explosion of electricity at the gentle touch, but more, she could feel the pressure of her nipple on her own tongue and could taste the salty sweat from the day. She could feel all the sensations of someone licking her, and at the same time, she could feel the sensations as if she herself were licking the nipple. She gasped in astonishment. M'gann looked up apologetically. "I thought that might prove instructive," she said, meekly.

"That... that was incredible," gasped the archer, suddenly more breathless than after a heavy workout.

The martian reached down and fully removed the sports bra, tossing it away. She turned her attention back to Artemis's aching breasts. Artemis could feel a tongue stimulating her right nipple, circling the areola in tighter and tighter circles until it began to flick at the hardness in the center, making Artemis gasp. At the same time, she could feel the tiny bumps from her nipple across the tip of her own tongue. Gooseflesh prickled up on the archer's breast around the other woman's tongue as the nipple tightened even further. The feel of the M'gann's tongue sent increasing waves of pleasure through Artemis as her skin responded to the gentle stimulation. Out of the corner of her eye, Artemis could see the other woman's right nipple hardening as well, their psychic link offering it a phantom tongue's attentions. 

Artemis shifted her position, spinning her body around so she could have access to M'gann's breasts without displacing the other woman from her own. She caught a glimpse of the lesbians in the movie, and the pair had adopted a similar position, on the ground beside the pool and simultaneously pleasuring one another in a sixty-nine. The thought passed through her head that they knew nothing at all about simultaneous pleasure. With M'gann teasing her right nipple, she focused on her partner's left, feeling the echo of the tongue on her own breast, as if a different mouth was on each of her tits, focusing all their attention to bring her pleasure. She, or perhaps it was Miss Martian, moaned in ecstasy, their shared sensations making the distinction somewhat fuzzy.

Artemis, ravenous for this beautiful green woman underneath her, began to sloppily lick and kiss her breasts, drawing a moan from one of the two women. Her saliva reflected the room's light in the green breasts, causing them to shimmer for her. 

She again tasted her own salty sweat again as the martian's tongue began to leave a wet trail down her torso. She wiggled in anticipation of its eventual destination and began stimulating the other breast in front of her with her hands. She had to stretch to maintain her mouth on M'gann's sweet boob, but she had been trained since early childhood to be agile and limber, and tonight, her training served her in such a sweet way.

The martian tongue began to explore her belly button, beginning by tracing the rim and licking out the inside so delightfully. Artemis groaned in frustration, her hips bucking to draw the other woman's attention downward. When she felt the wicked smile form on M'gann's lips, she vowed to herself to pay the other back for her teasing. 

After a time, most likely seconds but which seemed like hours, the martian continued her descent, and Artemis tasted the tanned leather of her belt as the M'gann began to remove it, using her tongue and teeth. Artemis kicked off her boots and squirmed in an attempt to get out of her pants, mentally cursing their tightness. Every inch of her skin burned for the martian to settle into her pussy, and she was so close. 




Heroes' Night Off



She felt M'gann's lips form, "Hello, Megan!" more than hearing her voice, and, with the chastisement, some outside force, most likely martian telekinesis, began to draw her pants away from her. 

Her nostrils were suddenly filled with the heady smell of her arousal, and she felt wet cloth rub against her slit as M'gann pushed her nose into her and took in more of her aroma. She felt a tear of pure sexual frustration begin to form in the corner of her right eye. She wondered how the martian was able to remain so calm through the ordeal. "Please," she begged. "Please do it. Lick me."

M'gann looked downward through their chests at her, adopting a confused expression. "What do you mean?" She asked around a wicked grin. Artemis vowed she would make this martian bitch pay for this if it took her the rest of her life, but not yet. After.

She pleaded, "Lick me, like the women in the video. I need it. I need... your tongue in me." When the other woman did not move immediately, Artemis's cries became more frantic. "Please! I need you... I need your tongue in my..." She stumbled over the forbidden word, "...my cunt! Eat me out! Please!" 

Artemis felt her panties fly away as the martian dove downward and started licking. She could feel the rough texture of her own blonde bush followed by the surprising slickness within. M'gann began tenderly and clumsily, but as the psychic bond carried the sensations back to her, she began to quickly learn where to send her attentions. Artemis felt her legs spreading and wrapping around the other's head and back, either from her arousal or from something martian was doing, but gleefully did not care which. She focused her whole being into her sex and the little tongue and its explorations. The archer thrust her hips up and clenched her legs, forcing the tongue deeper into her hungry pussy, and she felt hands on her backside, also trying to get more of her human vagina.

Artemis writhed under the martian's attentions and could see the M'gann's own midsection buck with the stimulation. She could feel the alien tongue in her while tasting her own juices. She could feel it when her partner's chin, pressed into her and following a lick downward (but upwards toward their chests), encountered another object, and she nearly screamed when her clit felt the sudden sensation from the inadvertent brush. From the way she could feel her own lubrication flowing, she knew her friend's face must be coated with her love, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

For a few moments, Artemis completely gave herself over to the pleasure of the alien tongue exploring her snatch, moaning again and again in pleasure at the probing. She reached her left hand up and took her own left nipple between the thumb and forefinger. She pinched it and pulled it away from her chest, relishing in the sensation of pain mixed with the pleasure from the other woman's tongue. M'gann groaned under her. 

Artemis reflected that since the psychic link carried her attentions on her own breasts to her partner, there was no reason she could not stimulate the martian by touching herself and still be free to touch, and taste, her friend in other ways. 

She shifted into a more comfortable position and began groping her own boobs with both hands, alternately rubbing them with her full hands and then gently flicking or pinching at her nipples with her fingers. From the moans coming from the below her, she could tell her partner was enjoying the sensations. When she finished extending herself, she found her mouth hovering over M'gann's pussy. She could see it had already opened invitingly from their earlier play, and she could see the little green bud emerging from its hiding place. Since Artemis knew the psychic link was already making them both feel M'gann's tongue deeper in their pussies, the earthling focused her attentions on her partner's clitoris. She began to lick around it, teasing the area, and slowly honed in on the organ itself, nearly bringing herself to orgasm from the shared sensation. 

Again, Artemis felt a strange and disorienting feeling. Her tongue, dancing more and more quickly over the tiny clit in front of her, began to have three tastes on it at the same time. Her body interrupted any wondering she might have been doing with an entirely new sensation. Forgetting everything else for a moment, she could do nothing more than call out in passion and pant as she felt the tongue inside her elongate, and became forked. It was all she could do to return to stimulating M'gann's clitoris. 

The world around her faded to the twin tongue tips gently brushing, stimulating, tasting her more deeply than anything she had ever felt, or thought she could possibly feel, and the phantom tongue flicking her clit while her own phantom lips gently sucked on it.

Her little world shrunk further when M'gann's explorations found another spot, deep inside of Artemis. At first she thought she suddenly needed to rush to the bathroom, but the tongue's gentle probing instead brought her a pleasure she had never felt before. 

She moaned in pleasure again and then screamed. "I'm cu..." she called out, but she was cut off by the shared feeling in her mouth as her juices gushed into the martian's, overwhelming both women. Her legs quaked and nearly gave out as the muscles spasmed in her passion, but she held herself above M'gann and her talented tongue. As the wave of her own orgasm began to subside, she felt another rush arriving, coming from deep within herself. A look of confusion briefly crossed her face until she felt the muscles in the other woman's pussy tightening nearby. She quickly brought her mouth to it, and was barely able to get her lips in place when her friend's juices began to gush into her mouth. It was all she could do to keep drinking, licking the slick green skin when she paused to take a breath. 

When Miss Martian's orgasm had also passed, Artemis finally let herself collapse onto the floor, and she switched her position so she could hold M'gann in her arms. She could still feel the other woman quivering in the aftermath of their experience. Artemis stoked her hair, her arms, her legs with gentle affection, caressing her and reveling in the joy of holding her, feeling her breathing as it returned to a more normal rate. She kissed her again, this time lovingly and without immediate sexual need. 

M'gann gasped, still a little winded from the encounter. "Oh Artemis, that was so... oh my god." Artemis thought she could feel the psychic link between the two of them slipping away. She held onto her partner's mind with all her will, but it slowly but inexorably drew away from her. She sighed with disappointment when she was alone in her head.

She nestled into M'gann's neck and hummed her approval. Her senses began returning to their normal heightened state, and she realized she was on the floor, naked, and cuddling with a similarly naked martian. She could think of nowhere on earth she would rather be. 

M'gann began to muse aloud. "But what can we tell the others?" She tensed up and turned red. "What can I tell Connor?"

"Don't worry," muttered the exhausted archer, gently rubbing the martian's back. "I'm sure we'll think of something."

M'gann considered. "Of course, no one really has to know, do they? I mean, no one's to say this wasn't a nice quiet evening watching TV." She smiled a wicked smile. "What if there are other missions? What if this mission goes on and we have to find a way to occupy ourselves for a month? Maybe this... night off... could be our little secret?"

Artemis was not so sure she wanted the physical relationship with the martian to end, but decided she would cross that bridge when she came to it. She kissed her friend. "Our little secret," she agreed. 

The two sank into each other's arms and let themselves drift off.



Heroes, Villains and a Vampire



Foreword: A quick note, a UK women's size 12 is equivalent to a US women's size 10 according to Google ;) Here in the UK what we refer to as 'sweets' are what you call candy. A mobile phone/number is a cell phone/number in the US. A lift is what we call an elevator.

I loved writing this story, the main character and Sage really spoke to me very loudly. I hope you enjoy reading it :)

A massive thank you to my editor.

*

I'm a woman of routine. My day to life is always the same, nights out planned in advance otherwise I feel stressed out if something happens at the last moment. I wake up at seven every morning, go for a run that lasts thirty minutes, arrive home to take a shower before having breakfast. I get to the office where I'm a secretary, and all round slave to management, at nine. I have the same thing for lunch, the timing of which is the only thing I can't predict, seeing as it depends on when I get the chance to eat it at my desk. Finishing time is always six in the evening.

My days are mapped out in my PDA, meetings and such. I dislike when something is suddenly arranged last minute. Maybe it's because my Dad had always been so disorganized. As a single father he was often late collecting me from school, would miss the performances I put on during high school as he'd forget or be busy working late yet again. Maybe it's because I am just fussy and like things to go my own way. All I know is that this is who I am, any deviation from the things I have planned in my head or PDA can cause mood swings.

I've no idea why I actually agreed to go to the damned Valentine's Heroes and Villains Ball that was hosted by the dating agency my best friend Sage (yes that's her real name, her parents were unusual to say the least) worked for. Every Valentine's day for the past ten years Sage and I had spent together. The first time was due to us both being single, and deciding that we really didn't want to spend the night in yet another pub, getting groped by men that reeked of desperation. That night we had such fun that we made a promise to always spend the night together each year, and do it all over again. It suited me just fine. 

We'd get a bottle of whisky, hire a couple of horror films, eat tons of popcorn and ice cream, while complaining about men and what a myth romance was. This year I'd been all set for the same thing, had even spent time figuring out what my choice of film would be, when I got the email from her begging me to let her off and buy myself a fancy dress instead.

Sage couldn't possibly get out of the Ball. She said she'd thought she'd managed it, but when the regular Events Manager had broken her arm it was down to Sage to step in to help organise everything. That alone made me laugh at the irony, Sage loses her own door keys at least once a month. An organiser she is certainly not.

Instead of staying home alone she managed to work around me with her pleas for my company during the night. She promised she'd owe me one, and that after she'd welcomed everyone she would stay with me for the rest of the night. Then she mentioned that maybe there'd be some eye candy, and it almost put me off altogether as I am not looking for a man at all, whoever I date seems to fall drastically short of my expectations. I'd sworn that 2009 was going to be date-free.

Eventually I agreed after several phone calls of her begging me to go. I guess the only reason I said yes was that I couldn't bear the thought of not spending the evening with her. We'd been close since we were five years old and she moved in next door to me, since she'd taken this new job we'd rarely seen each other except for our fortnightly girlie night out.

Seriously though, a Heroes and Villains Ball? On Valentine's Day? I had to question the sanity of the original Events Manager. Sage was forever telling me about the gorgeous men she was the matchmaker for, how she rarely saw an older guy at all, but honestly I still couldn't help but think that a dating agency was for the old and desperate. They had a website, but it was pretty basic despite offering email communication. An old fashioned type of place for sure, so how she expected me to believe that the average age of men there was thirty-five I don't know.

Besides if the men were really that fantastic, surely she'd have found one for herself instead of lusting after her boss, Grey. At thirty-one neither of us were getting any younger but Sage wanted the whole family thing, she wanted four kids and a husband she could love forever. 

So there I was, a week before Valentine's Day, googling for a costume. I had absolutely no idea, I knew who Superman and Batman were, but naming female superheroes or villains was simply beyond me. All I knew was that there was no way I was doing anything permanent to my hair, or wearing a horrid itchy wig, and that I didn't want to be stood there in a costume that was practically lingerie.

In no time at all I quickly grew frustrated, there wasn't all that much of an option for women on the website I found that promised quick delivery. Realising that my options were limited I quickly chose what I thought was the least revealing and placed my order.

Despite all the effort I put in at the gym, and jogging each morning I remain a solid size 12, probably due to my everlasting love affair with sweets. While I'm not ashamed of my body nor do I tend to wear skin tight clothing, which meant on the 14th February when I unwrapped my parcel to find just how fitted the outfit was, I was not impressed.

The black fake leather bodysuit clung to each part of my body, while a black belt went around the middle. There was no way I was cancelling when I'd only just gotten used to the idea of going, and looking at myself in the mirror I didn't feel too bad, the belt helped hide the slight belly I had and it was forgiving black after all. Thank God February in the UK is cold, I could just imagine how sweaty I'd get in this costume if Valentine's day fell in July.

I found myself dialling Sage's mobile number while staring down at my make-up in confusion.

"Hi, make it quick," Sage gasped down the phone at me. "I'm up a ladder." 

"I don't care, you're dragging me along with you," I growled at her in response. "So you can at least tell me what the hell kind of make-up Catwoman would wear." 

"Oh that's easy, smoky eyes with black eye-liner and bright red lipstick."

"Bright red lipstick? I don't bloody own any red lipstick."

"Calm down, I've got some here with my own costume, just leave that until you get here."

"Hmm. Fine. What you wearing?"

"No way Lydia," she giggled at me, knowing how much I hated surprises. "It's a surprise for when you get here." 

"Suit yourself. I'll be there in an hour then."

We said goodbye, and I finished off drying my shoulder length black hair before applying my make-up. I stuck to Sage's suggestion of smoky colours, using dark grey and black on my lids, finishing with the black eye-liner. Glancing into the mirror I felt my nerves go into overdrive, I hated new places, and I definitely wasn't looking forward to waiting on my own for an hour while Sage saw guests in. Securing the mask, complete with kitty ears, over the top part of my face, and a quick slick of clear gloss on my lips for the time being, I was ready to leave.

As soon as my taxi pulled up outside the hotel where the Ball was being held I spotted Sage. Unmissable in a skimpy She-Ra outfit! I was holding in a huge grin as I approached her, she rarely wore anything glamorous so to see her so dressed up, and showing her long legs off, made me grin like I hadn't in years.

"Thought you might find it amusing," she sighed, pouting her full lips that were painted red. "I lost a bet with Grey, he got to pick a costume for me." 

"How many times do I have to tell you not to make bets? I've not known you to win one yet!" I laughed while she rolled her eyes at me. My friends, let me introduce you to Sage, Head of the Eye-Rolling Perfection Association.

"Well I thought it was a sure thing." She mumbled, flicking her pretty thick blonde hair over her shoulder.

"You always do Sage, but you look fabulous, he made a good job of choosing for you."

"Yeah, yeah, you're holding up the line and I don't want to hear it, take this lipstick and go get yourself a drink." she finished, pushing me inside. "The ballroom is on the right and just before you get to it there's the ladies' loos." 

"See you in there She-Ra." 

"You sure will Catwoman... Love the boots." She winked at me.

Walking into the ballroom sporting my freshly applied lipstick I glanced around to check it out. As always I was on time, and there were only about thirty people milling around; looking closer I saw that they all seemed to be of a similar age to me or younger. The decorations were classy and not at all tacky as I'd been expecting, instead of big red frilly love hearts there were black and red helium balloons floating out of luscious red Gerbera centrepieces. I was impressed, but I still needed a drink to settle my nerves.

I was sat at the bar nursing a glass of white wine, watching a very skinny Superman trying to get conversation out of at least five different women, before making his way over to the buffet table despondently. Chuckling quietly to myself I almost jumped out of my super tight bodysuit when I heard a male voice behind me.

"I'm guessing he won't have much luck with you either then." It was rich and deep, sending shivers right down my spine. 

"Desperate men aren't really my thing." I blurted out, turning to see who the laughter belonged to.

Whoa! Holy cow. He was tall, clearly over six feet, with bright green eyes and brown hair that made me think of Peter Petrelli tucked behind his ears. His face should have been on the cover of every magazine in the country and his full lips in every woman's fantasies.

"Good job I'm not desperate then, let me buy you a drink."

To my amazement I let him, I was speechless and could hardly hold up my end of a conversation as he chatted with me. He ordered a bottle of champagne without even asking me what I wanted to drink, he literally oozed charm from every pore. Remembering that I had a vocabulary other than giggles and 'yeah' I tried to wake myself up.

"So who did you come as then?" I intelligently asked the hunk in front of me, not able to think of anything better.

"Dracula."

I stared at his ankle length black leather jacket, Goth biker boots, tight black jeans and even tighter black t-shirt. Raising an eyebrow, I wondered where the cape and fangs were.

"Think Gerard Butler's portrayal." He smiled, clearly noting my doubt.

"Uh huh." how lame could I get? "So you're a villain then." What the hell was happening to my brain?

"Oh yeah, no doubt about that Kitty." He reached over the bar for the bottle of champagne he'd bought us to drink and topped up my glass. I love champagne, but can never afford it except for extra-special occasions, so it was a real treat for me to sit on the stool sipping the bubbly. 

"I'm going to have to get back to my brother, but I'll come find you later." He promised.

I almost protested, but then he melted my brains into a puddle at his feet when he leaned over, confidently kissing me firmly on the lips. It was over before I could blink, and he was walking away from the bar, leather coat swinging from his broad shoulders with his brisk stride while I stared after him, stunned at the sudden kiss.

"Don't tell me that gorgeous specimen just brought you a bottle of expensive bubbly, kissed you and you still insulted him?" Sage made me jump in surprise again, as she sat on the chair he'd vacated only seconds before.

"Nope, he did and he did, but I didn't insult him at all," I shrugged, "In fact I could barely bloody speak."

"Argh, the first decent offer you get and you act stupid," Sage joked, poking me in the ribs with her elbow.

"Maybe he likes his women stupid, he said he'll find me later, had to do something or other."

"Lucky you. He sure looked red hot from where I was standing."

Suddenly Aretha Franklin's 'Respect' started playing. With a groan Sage reached into the tiny pocket on her short skirt and pulled out her mobile phone.

"Sage... Yeah I'm at the bar... No, not yet... Fuck... I'll be right there." She glanced up at me and I smiled, knowing what was coming next. "I've got to drive some guy dressed up as Superman to the hospital, apparently he tried to feel up Spidergirl and she did something to his hand. Grey can't drive as he's had a couple of drinks already."

"Oh go on, I'll hang around a bit and if Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous doesn't come back then I'll get a taxi home." I was amazed that I didn't feel worked up at the sudden change of plans yet again. Maybe I should drink champagne more often. 

"What no bitchy comment? Damn, I think I'll hire that guy to hang around you more often if he fries your brain to this extreme." She frowned at me before kissing me on the cheek and running for the exit.

I was about to give up, the champagne was all gone when, as I left the ladies room feeling slightly irritated with myself for waiting around for a guy that was clearly out of my league, I felt an arm slip around my waist. The tantalising scent of leather and man could only belong to Dracula.

"Now I've caught you Kitty... are you going to faint away in my arms?" his voice rumbled in my ear.

"Catwoman doesn't faint when bad guys catch her," I scoffed at the mere suggestion.

"What about when bad guys whisk her away to their hotel room," he breathed, kissing my neck, his stubble bringing me out in goosebumps.

"Catwoman can handle anything villains throw at her," I assured him, really not sure if it was the best idea, but not caring if it wasn't. At least I was able to speak, despite the heat flaring up between my legs as he licked and nibbled on me. Spontaneity was suddenly appealing to me for some unknown reason.

He didn't waste a single moment, swooping me up in his arms like I weighed nothing and carried me over to the open lift. Catwoman may not faint, but right then I was coming dangerously close to doing so in the arms of my mysterious, leather wearing He-Man.

As the doors closed behind us, he put me down to press the button for his floor. I still couldn't believe how perfect he was, and obviously strong if he could carry me about so effortlessly. I was wondering what he'd look like naked, and what his arse was like underneath the long coat when he glanced at me, raising an eyebrow.

"If you're not careful, I won't make it back to my room before I devour you." He stepped closer, cupping my own arse in his large hands.

"I'm not doing anything!" I grinned.

"I can feel the lust coming from you in gigantic waves," he whispered spookily in my ear.

"Huh? Who the hell are you?" What I really meant was, was he nuts? What on earth was he going on about?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he teased, pulling on my ear lobe with his lips.

"Try me."

"OK. I'm a vampire." 

I was about to tell him that I thought he was having me on, and I wouldn't be going anywhere other than my own home that night, when suddenly the lift stopped and he pressed his lips to mine. My brain ceased to function as he forcefully pried my lips apart with his, teasing my mouth with his warm tongue, his hands roaming all over the tight catsuit I was wearing. Suddenly I didn't care about his delusions or weird sense of humour any more when he pressed his hard cock against me. I simply wanted him.

I was breathing rapidly when he pulled me to a bedroom door across from the lift, and took out a key card before inserting it into the slot and opening the door to let me through. My legs turned to jelly when I saw the huge bed in front of me, warm and inviting. Nerves began to tingle as I realised I didn't even know the handsome stranger's name.

"It's Duncan Cole." He interrupted my thoughts.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

"I told you the truth, not a joke, when I said I was a vampire, I have some psychic abilities."

"You can read my mind?" I asked incredulously, finding it still hard to believe.

"Well it's a bit more complicated than that," he shrugged, watching my confusion spread over my face. "I pick up some things, sometimes it's a whole line of thought and then others it's just a word or vague impression." 

"I still don't believe you. I've never believed in mumbo jumbo."

"When we've had a good burst of emotions our abilities are stronger; you are a very strong woman with powerful emotions, including your lust. It feeds me so that I can do things like this." 

He paused, raising his arm towards the bed. I watched as the cover drew back all by itself, simply stunned. "We're stronger than regular humans, but still some of us have stronger talents than others, mine are merely modest, but my brother can make things appear out of thin air."

"Like a magician?"

"Without the sleight of hand and tricks, yes, real magic."

"Do you drink blood?" The thought of it made me shiver in excitement, but I was sure it was different in reality.

"Yes, but usually only from another vampire. There are those of us who do feed off humans however." He shrugged. "It's normally only done by long-term couples if a vampire takes a human as a mate."

"Why are you telling me all of this? Surely it should be kept quiet?" I struggled to take in everything he was saying.

"I trust you Kitty, and I am drawn to you more than I have ever been drawn to any woman."

"My name's Lydia. I know what you mean about being drawn; I don't normally do this kind of thing with strange men," I replied honestly, despite my doubt at his words, I still felt like I was safe and could trust him.

"I think you were born to be mine," he told me, his deep voice echoing throughout my heart.

He stepped towards me until he held his body mere inches away from mine. My heart felt like it was going to beat through my rib cage it was pounding so hard. Again he pressed those delicious lips to mine. Desire shot through me, drenching me with need, while he nibbled my lips and licked them in a most delicious way.

"Oh Kitten, I want you so much too. It's not just your heart that beats so furiously."

I moaned at his words, his fingers removing the belt around my waist as he used his telekinesis to unzip the catsuit to my naval, revealing my bare breasts. I gasped at the air brushing my naked skin, sensuously stroking my nipples, as I stood there needing Duncan so badly I thought I would burst. 

My nipples hardened quickly beneath the strong fingers that caressed them. I pushed the heavy coat off his broad shoulders, looking at how the black t-shirt rippled with each movement he made. He was what all men should look like, gloriously masculine and beautiful beyond belief.

He knelt before me to pull off the black knee high stripper-like boots I'd worn with the costume, before kissing me like he was possessed. Everything he did was impossibly strong and sure. There were still so many questions I had to ask, but I couldn't wait to feel him inside me, questions could wait until the morning.

He stepped out of his own boots, pushing his jeans past his hips as my hands slipped beneath his t-shirt, stroking the smooth skin and muscles on his back. Impatient to see him I tugged it up, and he finished lifting it over his head. 

His body was incredible, moulded perfectly by the muscles that covered his torso. My eyes roamed from the strength of his shoulders, down to the taut abdominal muscles of his stomach, and the hard cock that sprung up from his groin. He was made to be appreciated, built for sex. 

A black tribal-style tattoo was stretched across the right side of his abs; it looked different to anything I'd seen before, more delicate and swirling than the tribal tattoos I'd once checked out myself.




Heroes, Villains and a Vampire



I felt scared that he wouldn't want my body with the same degree I wanted his. He pushed the bodysuit from my shoulders, peeling my arms free and I couldn't stop feeling self-conscious when he stared at my breasts like he was starving before taking a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh Lydia," he groaned, "You're even more beautiful than I thought you would be." 

This man could get any woman he wanted and yet he was licking and biting my nipple, making me feel like I was on top of the entire world with his words and the way his hands stroked the curve of my hips.

His thumbs slid under the tight material at the waist of the costume I was wearing and he pushed it down as fast he could, which was excruciatingly slow due to the tight fit. I attempted to help once it got to my knees by kicking my legs to shake it off. 

He threw me over his shoulder and carried me to the large bed like I was some kind of prize. Laying me down where he'd pulled the covers back with his telekinesis, he looked over my body in much the same way I had his.

"I wanted to take it slowly, but I don't think I can," he whispered roughly.

"Then don't. I'm all yours."

"I will make it up to you later Kitten," he promised, joining me on the bed, a hand cupping my mound as a finger explored the folds between my legs.

I moaned when he found my clit, rubbing it in circles before he penetrated me with the same finger, the juice of my longing coating it as it slid in and out. I didn't even have time to wrap my hand around the cock prodding my hip when he rose above me, pushing my legs further apart with his thighs to position himself at my entrance. 

Grabbing a condom off the bedside table he rolled it quickly down his thick length. I bit my lip at the erotic sight of seeing him handling his own cock. Sending a silent prayer of thanks that somebody had their head screwed on, because I certainly hadn't bought any protection with me, I looked at his face.

In one thrust he was inside me, his lips parting to utter a gasp. My pussy stretched around him. I could feel every inch, spreading fire as he moved. He withdrew and then rammed back, driving me crazy when he adjusted the angle of my arse with his hands on my hips, before starting to thrust long and hard, hitting my g-spot with each motion of his hips. His eyes were on mine, like the colour of new grass.

The orgasm was upon me before I could think. I stared at his perfect face and he took me over the edge, my body shaking from the force of it. He became more demanding, plunging into me harder as I cried out his name, increasing the pleasure with the friction of his cock. My toes curled at the warmth inside me and I managed to gain control over the shudders racking through me as it came to an end.

"You're gorgeous when you come." He kissed my neck softly, still impaling me on himself.

I cried out in disappointment when he withdrew, but he rolled me over, drawing me up onto all fours and I felt the head of his cock ready to enter me once more. His fingers gripped my hips hard, my skin tingling from the pleasure the slight discomfort gave me. 

As he thrust forward he pulled me onto him, fucking me so hard and deep that I swear I could see stars. I gripped the headboard in my hands to keep myself from being driven into it with his powerful strokes. He left one big hand holding a hip, while the other reached up to grab my hair, pulling my head back. He was rough and insistent, turning me on even more.

I tightened around him, as a sudden fire consumed me, screaming loudly. It was so strong that if his hands hadn't been holding me up my knees would have given way. As it was it left me half collapsed on the pillow, barely able to see as I practically sobbed in the aftermath.

"Fuck yes," he rasped, increasing the speed of his cock. He was breathing heavily, on the edge of his own orgasm, and it felt wonderful to have such a strong man behind me about to lose himself inside of me. He gave three sharp grunts as he stiffened behind me, his cock pulsing hotly where it was buried inside my pussy.

As he recovered from coming, I sat up and turned to face him. He had sweat running down his stunning face, but what drew my attention were the fangs protruding from his mouth. Shit, he really was a vampire, not just some magician. He smiled awkwardly as if to apologise.

"Sorry, my fangs don't usually protract during sex, but you do something crazy to me."

I shrugged, he hadn't eaten me so it wasn't like it was a big deal. In fact it was really rather flattering that I made him lose control, I liked that thought.

"I wanted to bite you," he continued, "But I didn't want to scare you. Please can I see you again?"

I wanted to say yes, I wanted to see him again and have him fuck me like that repeatedly, but I was starting to think straight. I didn't want a man in my life, so how the hell would I cope with a vampire in it? Despite being the best looking man I'd ever seen, I seriously doubted that he'd live up to my expectations when nobody else ever could. Not to mention that I didn't need the added complication of what he was. He seemed to sense my hesitation, and lay down, pulling me to his chest.

"I'll have to leave in a couple more hours, get home before daylight," he murmured, holding me tight.

"So what was a man like you doing at this silly party?" I kissed his hard chest, tasting the salty taste of the sweat beading on it.

"I'm not a man kitten, don't forget that," he told me, his fingers playing with my hair like he couldn't stop touching me. "My brother was the caterer, I've been away for over a year, and I wanted to see him."

Suddenly I was worried that I'd never see him again if he left to return to wherever he'd been. My heart was telling me to see him again, but my head told me not to set myself up for a disappointment. I was so confused.

"Where were you?" I asked when I really wanted to ask if he'd be leaving again.

"Vampire business," he grunted, "Are you tired?" Clearly trying to change the subject.

"Not really, why?"

"Because I'm not finished yet," he replied with a wicked grin.

Before I knew it he had me sat on top of him with his cock filling me once more. The vampire was insatiable. When he left afterwards, he told me to stay and order whatever I wanted on his card. He also left me his mobile number, telling me to call him whenever I wanted, that he really did hope I would call.

I was torn. Should I or shouldn't I?

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the story then a comment and vote would be most awesome. 



Heroes Wanted



A couple scenes in this were inspired by a quite fantastic audio recording titled "Sehnsucht" by user feurlilie on SoundCloud, as well as the X-Art video "Farewell." I encourage everyone to check out both. 

*****

"Wh... where am I?" 

The room was dark, or was it her eyes that were failing her? She could hear noises, but everything sounded like her ears were plugged with cotton - muffled, indistinct. 

"Samantha, can you hear me?" a voice, muffled and distant as it was, cut through the other sounds. "Samantha?" 

"Yes... yes, I can hear you. Are you there? Where am I? What's happening?" 

"Yes, I'm here." 

She felt a squeeze on her left hand, and instinctively she squeezed back, seeking something to tether her to the world in the midst of the darkness. 

"Your grip strength seems to be normal, so that's a good sign," the voice said. 

"Why can't I see? And my legs, I can't feel..." 

"It's okay, Samantha. This is normal. You've been in an accident, and you're being treated at a medical facility. My name is Dr. Cho, I'll be monitoring your recovery." 

She realized that although Dr. Cho kept calling her Samantha, the name didn't feel familiar. 

"I'm not Samantha," she murmured. "My name is... my name is..." 

Panic started to set in as she realized she couldn't remember her name. Or anything else about herself. 

"I can't remember. Why can't I remember?" 

Alarms started to beep and blare as her heart rate surged and she began to thrash and flail the parts of her body within her control. 

"I need a hand here!" Dr. Cho's voice called out. 

Several sets of hands took hold of her body and held her to the bed, and then she heard Dr. Cho speaking to her in a low voice. 

"Samantha, I need you to calm down. We'll explain everything to you in due time, but right now if you don't stop fighting, you're going to make your injuries worse." 

She felt a heaviness start to overtake her body. 

"I'm giving you a sedative," Dr. Cho explained. "To help you relax. Your body needs time to recover. Once you're a little farther along, we'll talk more." 

The noises in the room started to fade into the silence as the sedative took hold. 

When she awoke again, Samantha was pleasantly surprised to find that the world was no longer black to her eyes. She looked around, taking in the small room with concrete walls, lined with monitoring devices and medical equipment. An IV line was attached to her right arm, feeding her a steady supply of an unknown clear liquid. In one corner of the room, facing away from her, an Asian woman in a white lab coat was speaking in hushed tones with another woman whose face Samantha could not see. 

"Dr. Cho?" she asked hesitantly, barely finding her voice, her throat parched and scratchy. 

The Asian doctor turned and smiled. 

"Ah, someone's awake," she said, and both women approached the side of her bed. "And I take it your eyes are back to normal?" 

Samantha nodded, and Dr. Cho immediately began making notes. 

"As you've already guessed, I'm Dr. Cho. You can call me Janice if you like." She gestured to the professionally dressed, mocha-skinned woman behind her. "And this is Dr. Elise Yates, our facility counselor." 

"Hello, Samantha," Dr. Yates said, her voice carrying a hint of a British accent. 

"I... I still don't think that's my name," Samantha insisted. "I don't know what is, but that just doesn't feel like it." 

"Memory loss is common in cases like yours," Elise explained. "And the treatment sometimes exacerbates it. But from everything we have been able to determine, your name is Samantha Sutherland. Maybe you went by a nickname? Sam, perhaps?" 

"Sam... Sam..." she repeated, trying on the shortened version. "Maybe. It feels a little better, but I'm still not sure. What did you mean when you said cases like mine?" 

"Sam, do you remember anything about what happened to you before you woke up here?" Janice asked. 

Sam shook her head. "Nothing at all. It's like waking up from a dream you know you had, but you can't piece together any of it." 

"Well, there's no easy way to explain this, Sam - you were in a terrible car accident. The other driver was drunk and blew a red light going 40 above the speed limit. You suffered extensive tissue and organ damage, and severe spinal and brain trauma. Given that, it's not surprising that your memory has taken quite a blow." 

"Is it going to be permanent? The memory loss, I mean." 

"With luck, no," Janice explained. "You've been brought to a special facility where we're testing a new treatment for survivors of traumatic injury. It has shown great promise for repairing even the most severe injuries, and may be able to reverse paralysis, brain damage, and many other conditions that would otherwise be lifelong." 

"I still can't feel my legs," Sam said. "Will that get better too?" 

"Before we brought you here, the doctors at the hospital thought you were going to be in a vegetative state, breathing through a machine for the rest of your life," Janice said with a comforting smile. "It's only been a week, and you're already doing much better than that. I can't make any promises, but my hope is that your legs will regain full function if you continue with your treatments." 

"How long will I have to stay here?" 

"We... don't have any sort of release timeline," Elise interjected. "We can discuss it more as your recovery progresses, but for now, you should plan to be here for the foreseeable future." 

"It's also a medical concern," Janice explained. "The treatment you're receiving is experimental, and highly confidential at this point. If we released you, or transferred you out to another facility, and your condition deteriorated, the doctors there would have no idea what to do. This isn't exactly something you take two Advil for and see if you feel better in the morning. It's safest for you now to remain here with us." 

"Does my family know that I'm here? I mean, I assume I have family. Or a job? Work?" 

"Sam, we did a thorough search for next of kin and didn't find any. Your mother passed away several years ago. There was no father listed on your birth certificate. Your mother was an only child and wasn't married when she passed. Her parents are both deceased as well." 

Sam felt a sudden chill in her bones. 

"So I'm all alone?" 

"Not at all," Elise assured her. "Janice and I will be here with you every step of the way. This is a scary process, and we want to make sure you have someone to support you. You'll be seeing a lot of us as you recover, and will probably get tired of us before you know it. For now, I think Janice has some tests she has to run." 

Janice walked Sam through a battery of basic tests - following a pen light with her eyes, wiggling her fingers, testing her reflexes, that sort of thing. With the exception of her legs, which still were completely non-responsive, Sam thought she did quite well on all of them. If what she'd been told about her injuries was true, whatever they were pumping into her must have been some kind of miracle cure. After Janice was done, she was given a light sedative again so that she could sleep some more, with the promise that both doctors would be back to see her the next day. 

The first few days after that were not much different for Sam. Janice and Elise came to see her daily, making small talk while Janice made notes, looked at readings from the various instruments and monitors, and had Sam perform various small tasks to check the pace of her recovery. Though she felt more energetic and seemed very much in control of her upper body, she still couldn't use her legs. 

All that changed late one night, when Sam awoke with a mild burning sensation in her left calf. She mentioned it to the night shift nurse, who pulled back the sheets to examine her leg. It was only then that Sam noticed the toes on her left foot slightly wiggling back and forth. Dr. Cho was paged in to examine her immediately, and she confirmed to Sam's excitement that she did appear to be regaining function in her left leg. 

Sam was ecstatic, but Janice was more reserved. Within a few hours, Sam began to understand why. The mild burning that had started in her left calf soon spread upward into her quads and hamstrings, with a similar pain building in her right leg. By morning, the pain had intensified and spread throughout her torso, rendering her a quivering ball of flesh and sweat, moaning in intense pain as she huddled in a fetal position while every muscle fiber in her body felt as if it had been dipped in acid. Janice did what she could to alleviate her pain, but even the most powerful pain medication seemed to barely take the edge off, and the pain tormented her even through the deepest sedative-induced sleep. This was a normal part of the healing process, Janice explained, as the treatment reconstructed her damaged tissues. It was of little comfort to Sam, who at that particular moment wished she had just been left to die on the side of the road. 

After nearly a full day of excruciating discomfort, which felt like an eternity, the intensity finally started to decrease, ever so gradually. Eventually, by the end of the week, her muscles felt as if they were back to normal, although extremely weakened from her painful ordeal. After a solid night's sleep and a good meal, however, she woke again feeling refreshed and hopeful. Janice, too, seemed optimistic that the worst had passed. 

"It's different for everyone," she said, "but usually after the pain you just experienced, which correlates with a rapid healing phase triggered by the treatment, most patients don't go through it again." 

"God, I hope not," Sam replied. "It was... awful. Just awful. I don't even know the words to describe it." 

"That's what I've been told by everyone who made it this far. But you know what this means?" 

The Asian doctor stood by the side of Sam's bed and offered her arm with a smile. 

"You get to test out your legs today." 

The notion was both exciting and terrifying to Sam. She felt like she had been laid up in bed so long that she might not remember how to stand anymore. Plus, Janice had told her that both her legs had been shattered in multiple places during the accident. What if they couldn't support her? She feared that what little fight she had left in her would be utterly crushed if she tried to walk but failed. 

As if reading her mind, Elise approached and stood beside Janice. 

"Don't worry," she assured in her smooth, polished voice. "Nobody knows this recovery process better than Janice. She wouldn't let you do this if you weren't ready. We'll take it nice and slow." 

Carefully and hesitantly, Sam swung one leg off the bed and touched her toes to the floor. The other leg followed shortly thereafter, and then, leaning on both Janice and Elise for support, she gingerly began to shift her body weight onto her shaky legs. Her knees buckled and trembled slightly and she wobbled a bit at her ankles, but eventually she found herself standing fully upright. 

"Oh my god," she said softly, taking a few small steps under the guidance of her doctors. "This isn't as bad as I thought it would be." 

"You're doing quite well," Janice encouraged. "Some patients have trouble just getting up at all." 

Sam afforded herself a small giggle of delight as she took a few more steps, then some more, until she found herself standing in front of a full-length mirror at the opposite side of the room. She blinked once or twice, fixated on the unfamiliar face staring back at her. Absently, she raised one hand to her cheek and touched it, the reflection in the mirror confirming that the stranger's image was, in fact, her own. 

"Janice, Elise... do you mind if I have a few moments alone?" 

After looking to one another for objections, both women agreed. 

"We'll be right outside the door if you need anything," Janice said on their way out. "Don't strain yourself too much." 

Once she was alone, Sam turned back to the mirror, staring fixedly at her own reflection. She'd thought that she would at least recognize some trace of herself or have some memory of her own appearance, but the person looking back at her in the mirror just seemed so utterly foreign. Her doctors had made no mention of any reconstructive surgery, so she assumed that her inability to recognize herself was the result of her memory loss. She ran her palm over the top of her head, realizing for the first time since waking up in the facility that she had no hair. Or rather, what she had was a thin layer of fuzz, proof that she'd once had hair but that it had been shorn at some point in the recent past. Probably when she was being treated at the hospital, she reasoned. 

"Hello, Sam," she said to her reflection. 

She took in the contours of her face, trying to become familiar with her own appearance. The bones of her face were generally round, but tapered to a narrow chin, giving her face overall a heart-shaped appearance. Her eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to mesmerize her every time she looked at them, though she assumed that if she'd had memories of looking at her reflection all her life, they would have been far less interesting to her. She traced the curve of her jawbone and down the lines of her neck with her fingertips, until she reached the top hem of the hospital gown she was wearing. Curious to see what lay underneath, she quickly untied the strings holding the gown together at the back and allowed it to slip off one shoulder, and then the other, exposing her chest. 

Holding the gown up underneath her breasts, she sized herself up. 

"C-cup, maybe?" she said under her breath. "D, if I'm lucky." 

Letting the gown slip down further, she took in her stomach and hips, and felt a nagging in the back of her mind. Not a memory, per se, but definitely something remembered. More like a feeling, a sense that this was not the first time she was standing in front of a mirror evaluating herself. 

Dissatisfaction. 

Her stomach seemed too soft and flabby, her hipbones just a little too wide. And as the gown dropped further, her thighs too thick. Not enough gap between them. 

"I can't even remember who I am, but of course I remember just enough to be unhappy with my body," she lamented. "Just great." 

Setting the crumpled gown aside on a nearby chair, she assessed her nude body as a whole, unable to shake the lingering dissatisfaction with her image. She absently ran her fingers through the unruly bush of hair on her mound, which had clearly gone unmanaged in the time that she was confined to bed. Again unsure of why, she felt that perhaps a trim or shave might help improve her outlook on her body. She made a mental note to ask Janice if that might be a possibility. She returned her gaze to the fuzz on her scalp, and wondered how long it would be before she had a full head of hair again. Guessing from her eyebrows and pubic hair, she figured it would be a medium to dark brown, and tried to picture herself with various lengths of hair, but nothing her imagination could come up with seemed familiar. 

Janice and Elise returned as Sam was tying her gown back up. 

"Hey Sam, you doing okay in here?" Elise asked, clearly attuned to her patient's shift in mood. 

"I guess," Sam sighed. "I was hoping that I would see something I recognized of myself, but so far... nothing." 

"I know, dear. It takes time. Maybe the best thing you can do for yourself right now is get to know the you that's here. With memory loss, it can be hard to tell when things will return." 

"On the bright side," Janice added, "now that your legs are on the mend, we should be able to move you out of this room into the longer term recovery units here in the facility. They're a lot less like a hospital room and more like a studio. More privacy, better amenities." 

"I'd like that," Sam said with a smile. She was looking forward to being able to go to bed without the presence of all the machines and the night nurse. 

"We'll just keep you here a few more days to make sure things continue to progress, and if everything looks good, we'll get you moved. We'll also get you started on some basic physical therapy to make sure your muscles recover correctly, but from what I've seen so far, it looks like the treatment has done most of the heavy lifting for you." 

As promised, a few days later, Sam found herself walking down the hallways with Janice and Elise, leaving the medical wing and headed toward the residence units. As they walked, she got the sense that the facility was much bigger than what she had seen so far, and also noticed that all of the walls, like those in the medical room she had occupied for the weeks before, appeared to be solid concrete. 

"Are we... underground?" she asked. "I don't think I've seen a window yet." 

"Very astute," Elise said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "A lot of people don't notice until they've been in their residences for awhile. The answer is yes, we are underground. This entire research project is heavily backed by the government, and because of the potential ramifications, they take secrecy very seriously. We're occupying an old underground military installation." 

"What happens if people want to go outside? Get some air?" 

"Unfortunately, we don't allow that until patients are... further along," Elise explained. "But we make every effort to balance the lighting and environmental conditions in the facility to make them comfortable." 

For Sam, it was enough just to be out of her hospital bed and moving about, so she didn't push further. She did make a note to bring it up at a later time, though. 

When they arrived at her residence unit, she was impressed by just how much it did resemble a studio apartment, as Janice had promised, despite the lack of windows. The unit was fully furnished with surprisingly updated and contemporary furniture, and sported a generously sized bathroom with a bathtub and separate shower. The kitchen was fully stocked, and the wardrobe contained a full supply of basic clothing items. Nothing fancy, but more than enough to get by on. After leaving her with directions to get back to medical and instructions for reaching medical staff in case of an emergency, the doctors left Sam to get settled in. 

Her first course of business was to take a long, hot shower, during which time she also took the opportunity to shave her underarms, legs, and pubic hair. She had initially planned to just trim around the edges of her bikini line, but she began to shave off progressively more and more hair trying to find a pattern that suited her liking, eventually settling on leaving behind just a thin strip of hair down the center of her mound. Afterward, wrapped up in a white, fuzzy robe, she availed herself to some of the food and drink in the kitchen before turning on the television. The channel selection was extremely limited - perhaps because they were underground, or perhaps because the government didn't want to pay for better service - but she was able to find some old shows to serve as white noise while she pondered what was next for her. She was lucky just to be alive, from all that she had been told, but she couldn't help but wonder what the exchange would be for her life. She wanted to believe that this was all just a medical trial that she had been fortunate enough to fall into, but was that really it? 

***** 

Over the next few weeks, Sam's life settled into a routine of medical checkups and physical therapy. Janice seemed pleased with her recovery overall, and her physical therapists seemed impressed as well by how quickly she was regaining her strength. Her hair also grew back more quickly than she had expected, and it wasn't long before she was sporting shoulder-length, medium brown locks with occasional streaks of dirty blonde. With the exception of her memory, which had not returned beyond occasional flashes of past events, everything seemed to be getting back to normal, until one day during a routine blood draw, the needle that Janice pressed to the vein in Sam's right arm flexed and bent, instead of breaking her skin. 




Heroes Wanted



"Whoa, what the fuck?" Sam exclaimed. 

Janice, on the other hand, seemed unsurprised by the occurrence. Elise, who was also in the room, pulled up a chair beside Sam. 

"Sam, what we're about to tell you comes as a surprise to many," Elise began. "The treatment that saved your life, it's not just some wonder drug that reverses tissue damage." 

"It's also designed to enhance the human body's physical capabilities," Janice finished. 

"You mean like some kind of steroids?" Sam asked. 

"No, this is something different all together," Janice explained. "Since you began the treatment, it has been re-engineering your cells at a genetic level to be stronger, faster, more versatile." 

"Sam, do you remember Jordan Connors?" Elise asked. "Or the Sentinel, as the world calls him now." 

"Jordan Connors...," Sam said. "I..." 

She stopped as a sudden flash of memory came to the forefront of her mind. She was in a classroom, a high school classroom, and everyone was watching the TV as the president gave a speech. Standing just behind him was a handsome young man in a red, white and blue uniform. 

"Jordan Connors!" she said. "Yes, I remember! I mean, I actually remember. I was a senior in high school when the President announced him to the world. The world's first superhero. God, I had such a crush on him. All the girls did. Forget boy bands and vampire novels, he was every girl's wet dream and... oh my god, I'm totally off track aren't I?" 

She could see both Janice and Elise stifling shared laughter. 

"It's all right," Elise said. "I can't blame you for being excited about the first memory you've had that is so vivid." 

"And yes, Jordan is quite handsome," Janice said with a playful smirk. 

"Wait, what does Jordan Connors have to do with all this?" 

"Jordan is with us," Elise said. "And if you continue to develop and grow, the hope is that you will be too." 

"With us like... here?" 

"This is more than a medical facility," Elise explained. "We've coordinated Jordan's superhero activities from the start, and we've been tasked by the government to develop and train future generations of heroes. The treatment you received is the first step in that process." 

"Holy shit," Sam said, stunned. "You're saying ... I could be a superhero?" 

"Not everyone makes it through the process, but in theory, yes. It will be tough - we haven't had a successful recruit since Jordan - but your recovery and development so far is very promising." 

"I... this is... kind of crazy. Are you sure this isn't a joke?" 

"No joke," Janice promised. "I've been involved in the process for several years now." 

"Wow. I mean... wow. Okay. Let's say I believe this all - and I'm not sure I do yet. What happens next?" 

"We'll continue to monitor your growth for awhile, but if things continue on their current track, the next step would be for you to join our next class of recruits. Probably in a month or so." 

"You mean... there are more people like me?" 

Elise and Janice smiled. 

"There are indeed," the Asian woman said. "And I hope you get to meet them quite soon." 

***** 

Malcolm Black, the director of Project Sentinel, sat in silence in his office as he watched and listened to the recorded conversation between Drs. Cho and Yates and their latest subject, the young woman that had been named Samantha Sutherland. She looked quite different now than she had when she was brought to the project, and not just from the healing of her injuries. The young woman who had been flown to the secret facility was golden blonde, hazel-eyed and a little on the heavy side. The treatment had changed much of that, as it did with every subject as it reconstructed their bodies from the DNA on up, though she still retained the broad hips and larger breasts she'd had in her previous life - features that Malcolm found to be rather attractive, quite frankly. He knew from past subjects that the treatment would continue to subtly mold her features for some time more, and he was optimistic that by the time she was ready, she would be just what the program needed: a pretty, strong, yet curvy female that every news publication would want to run in a cover photo, the perfect counterpart to the all-American Jordan Connors. 

Optimism. That was something that Malcolm had not had in large supply. Ever since the President had gone public with Connors - or "the Sentinel," as the commander-in-chief's PR advisors had dubbed him, over Malcolm's objections that it was ridiculous to give a comic book codename such a valuable asset - there had been increasing pressure for the project to produce another superhero the nation could rally around. That, coupled with his scientists' inability to get consistent results from their formula and the President's ban on continuing to recruit volunteer test subjects from the military, had threatened to bring the entire project down. Now his doctors and scientists were telling him that the latest crop of subjects, including Samantha Sutherland, were showing more promise than any that had come before, but Malcolm had heard all that before, too. Still, he had to admit, things were looking up. 

***** 

Sam's new abilities began to develop quickly. Within a few days of her medical exam, she had accidentally broken several glasses and mugs in her dormitory simply by gripping them too hard. The project staff took it in stride and added a program to her schedule that was solely directed to teaching her how to adapt to her growing strength; apparently it was a common occurrence among the patients. She also received a packet of skin-colored, rectangular patches that when applied, administered a compound absorbed through her skin that temporarily neutralized her abilities. In addition to using them occasionally around her quarters, she was asked to bring one to her medical exams to allow Janice to continue drawing blood samples. 

Sam began to notice subtle changes in her body in the mirror, foremost the addition of more muscle and firmness to spots that previously had seemed just a little too soft and squishy. To her dismay, the added mass in her thighs led them to remain basically the same thickness, but she was also glad to see that her breasts had not significantly changed. In fact, she thought they might have actually become larger and a little more youthful and firm, if that was possible - and with the treatment, it did seem that anything was possible. 

After the strength came the enhanced hearing. At first it was just a very quiet buzzing in her ears, the kind of thing that was so barely noticeable she wondered if she was simply imagining it in the silence and solitude of her quarters. But then she started to hear distinct sounds that clearly were not occurring within earshot: a metal fork clattering onto the concrete floor, the beeping of medical monitors, the repeated thud of fists striking a punching bag, a woman moaning loudly in ecstasy. Concerned that she was losing her mind, she reported immediately to Elise's office, and was relieved to hear that it was simply another ability gained as a result of the treatment protocols. 

"I'll let Janice know you've reached this stage," Elise remarked. "She'll probably want to run a more expanded physical exam tomorrow during your regular appointment. As a heads-up, it will involve a pelvic exam. I assume you're familiar with the process, but I didn't want it to surprise you." 

Sam knew how the exam worked in theory - that knowledge hadn't been lost to her lingering amnesia, which showed no sign of letting up - but didn't have any memories of actually undergoing an exam. When she arrived for her exam the next day, Janice went through all of the basic tests, then handed the process over to a redheaded gynecologist who prepped Sam for the gynecological portion. 

"You're 26, so I'm guessing you know how this works right?" the doctor asked. 

"I... well, I don't, actually. I mean, I do. But I don't remember what it's like in real life." 

"Sam hasn't recovered her memories from before she was brought here," Janice explained. 

"Ah, I see," the gynecologist remarked with a friendly smile. "Well, just try to relax as best you can. It may be a little uncomfortable, I'm sorry to say. But given your enhanced strength, you'll probably experience less discomfort than most women." 

Sam tried to relax as she was told while the redhead lubricated a speculum, though she found it quite awkward with her feet positioned in the stirrups and her legs parted. She gasped softly as the speculum slid inside of her. 

"That's kind of cold," she remarked, staring up at the ceiling. 

"That's actually a good sign," Janice said. "You've retained a decent amount of your sensitivity to sensations. Some patients lose that when their strength starts to set in." 

"I'm going to spread the speculum now," the gynecologist cautioned. "Let us know if you experience any pain." 

Sam heard the mechanism of the speculum working as it spread her open, but felt surprisingly little discomfort. 

"It's weird," she remarked. "I know it's spreading because I can feel it, but it doesn't feel... uncomfortable at all." 

"Robust pain resistance and retention of sensitivity to other sensations," Janice said, as she jotted down a note. She seemed impressed. 

The gynecologist concluded the exam with a Pap smear and a manual examination, neither of which caused Sam any particular discomfort, much to her relief. Once she had her feet free from the stirrups and was sitting upright again, the doctors asked her a series of questions about her health and her body. The final one caught her a bit by surprise. 

"How is your sex drive?" Elise asked. 

Sam blinked, unable to find an answer. She had been so focused on getting better, and then on the amazing changes she was undergoing, that the thought hadn't really occurred to her. 

"I... I don't know, honestly," she said. "Everything has been so crazy, I hadn't really thought about it." 

"We get that answer a lot," Elise remarked. "But you should give it some thought. And by that, I mean listen to your body. Being here - underground, no windows, all sorts of new and unfamiliar changes - can put a lot of stress on you, whether you realize it or not. A little sexual release can go a long way to alleviating that stress." 

"You may have noticed there's not much male/female interaction here," Janice cautioned. "Sexual intercourse between patients, or patients and staff, is pretty heavily discouraged. We've found that the treatment has effects on developing fetuses that can be very... unpredictable. It makes pregnancy a high-risk situation for female patients. And traditional barrier protection methods tend to be ineffective when it comes to men with enhanced strength." 

"So... what should I do?" Sam asked. "Masturbate?" 

"Self-pleasure is the most effective alternative, yes," Elise said. She stood and walked to one of the cabinets in the exam room, procuring a vacuum sealed package containing two objects, handing the package to Sam. "Some of our female patients have found these to be quite helpful as well." 

Sam looked at the two objects inside the plastic packaging. One was a long and clearly phallic in shape, with a pretty obvious function. The other was a much smaller bullet shape. 

"Sex toys?" she said with a raised eyebrow. "Do these even work with... you know, super strength?" 

"Based on your reactions during the pelvic exam, I expect that your tissues will still be quite sensitive to stimulus during sexual arousal," Janice said. "But if you find that they're not, you can always use your fingers. Or apply a patch to neutralize your strength as needed." 

"The toys are made with pretty resilient materials," Elise added. "We had them specially designed to meet our patients' requirements. So they should be able to withstand even an enhanced patient's muscular contractions during orgasm. But if you do find that they become damaged, just let us know. We can always requisition a custom design for your specific needs." 

Sam wasn't sure if it would be inappropriate to laugh. The entire situation seemed at once fantastical and completely ridiculous. A super-powered orgasm? Her mind couldn't even fathom what that would be like. 

"Is it... different?" she asked. "Having an orgasm with super powers?" 

"Most patients report that it feels the same, from their perspective. Certainly no diminishment in pleasure. Just be aware that your muscles are stronger now, so they will be contracting more forcefully. It may not feel different to you, but the amount of force exerted is significantly greater than in a normal human." 

"Super powered vagina, got it," Sam quipped. 

All of the women responded with laughter to that one. 

***** 

After her scheduled activities that day, Sam took a long, hot soak in her bathtub. She'd been distracted the whole day since her medical exam. Although she hadn't brought it up, she couldn't actually remember ever having sex or masturbating. As with many other things, she realized that her mind had an instinctive reaction to the notions, a gut feeling of sorts that suggested she had done both in the past and enjoyed it. She just couldn't remember. 

She considered opening up the set of toys she received from Elise, but decided to save them for later. Her entire life since waking up at Project Sentinel had been devoted to getting reacquainted with her body and its new abilities; why should this be any different? 

Despite being completely alone, she felt her heart begin to nervously beat faster as she slid her fingers down her neck, grazing her shoulders and collarbone. 

"It's okay, Sam," she whispered to herself. "Just getting to know yourself... No pressure." 

She found her skin to be pleasantly sensitive to even the lightest touch of her fingertips or grazing of her nails. As Janice had surmised, she had retained much of her sensory perception, despite her increasing invulnerability. She slid one hand down between her breasts, the soapy water in the tub sloshing gently into the deep valley of her flesh. She reversed the motion and then repeated it several times slowly, tracing the up and down the cleft, each repetition sending small tingles racing through her chest, seemingly converging on her nipples, which stiffened rapidly, peeking up just above the layer of suds that floated atop the water. Sam palmed her swollen breasts in her hands, feeling her stiff peaks graze the skin of her hands. 

"Hello girls," she sighed, leaning her head back against the edge of the tub and sliding deeper into the warm water. "Oh... you're sensitive." 

She gasped again as she let a nipple slip between her fingers, giving it a gentle pinch. 

"Oh... oh, that's good." 

She repeated the action, a little more forcefully. 

"Nnnghhh." The sensations surged downward through her body like electricity, reaching their apex deep between her thighs. 

She felt a different kind of wetness now between her legs, a warm, sticky moistness from deep within her, seeping out and mixing with the bathwater. She let one hand delve beneath the bubbly water, sliding down her stomach and over her mound, through the narrow strip of hair that she maintained. She raised both feet up and propped them on opposite sides of the tub as she parted her thighs. As she stared down at her spread knees surfacing from under the water, she had a very vivid and distinct memory of seeing the exact same view before. 

"Mmmmm," she sighed, toying with her nipple gently. "I've been here before, haven't I?" 

With the way now clear, her other hand slipped over her mound and in between her legs, finding the heat at her center. 

"Ahhh!" she cried, as her fingertips grazed her outer labia. "Oh my god..." 

She continued to vocalize as she pressed one finger inward, piercing her outer and inner lips, seeking the entrance to her waiting canal. 

"Oh god... oh... fuck..." 

Her hips bucked instinctively as she penetrated herself, her fingertip immediately deluged in the thick, slippery wetness that had built up inside of her. 

"Nnnnnghhh... mmmmm... oh yes..." 

She let her eyes fall closed as she continued to rest her head against the edge of the tub. Her body was taking over, her roaming fingers guided by a muscle memory buried somewhere deep within her mind. She began to fuck herself at an increasing pace with first one finger, then two. The water in the bath stirred and sloshed about as her hips rose up and fell down in rhythm with her finger thrusts. 

"Nggh... nngh... ngh ngh ngh unh!" she grunted gutturally, her hips slapping against the heel of her palm again and again. 

She tweaked and tugged her nipples, squeezed her breasts, and groped her own body as she raced with herself toward the precipice. Soon both hands were between her legs, one buried to the knuckles inside of her and the other applying firm, circular movements to her clitoris, which was engorged and peeking out from its protective hood. 

"Ahhhh!" she cried out. "Ahh... ah ah ah ahhhhh!" 

Her entire body tensed in orgasmic spasms as she found her climax. The muscles in her legs flexed powerfully as she lifted nearly her entire body out of the water, supported by just her legs and her shoulders pressing into the sides of the tub. She writhed and twisted in pleasure as her internal muscles clamped down strongly on her fingers, squeezing and milking her digits for something that they could not possibly provide. When the contractions finally subsided, she dropped back into the tub with a splash, sending wavelets of water surging over the edge and splattering onto the floor. 

"Oh... god," she sighed. "Wow. I needed that." 

She sprawled out in the partially-emptied tub, gently massaging her sensitive pussy lips as she caught her breath. She hadn't even realized how badly she needed a good release. But now that she'd experienced one, she couldn't help but wonder how she would get through the rest of her time at the project on just fingers and toys alone. 

***** 

As Jordan Connors landed in the tunnel leading into the Project Sentinel facility, he was immediately approached by a member of the operations staff, undoubtedly wanting to discuss debriefing. 

"Hello, Max," Jordan greeted him with a nod. "Everything going smoothly in Ops?" 

"As well as can be expected," Max replied. "I'm sure you already know what I'm about to tell you." 

"Head to Medical," Jordan recited. "Then to Quartermaster for equipment check. Then to Ops for debrief." 

"Yep, pretty much. I'm not sure why they even bother having me do this." 

"Tell me about it," Jordan said. "We already know Medical is going to say that the bullets didn't do a thing to me. And I'm pretty sure the suit is fine, so the Quartermaster has nothing to worry about." 

"You know the government. Always gotta follow procedures." 

"No kidding. Thanks, Max." 

As he made his way through the halls toward Medical, Jordan couldn't help but notice the increased amount of activity inside the facility. In addition to the people he saw, he could hear the growing buzz inside the underground complex. It seemed like the base had gotten a little more crowded every day since the project went public nearly eight years ago. Before then, the circle of trust had been much, much smaller, limited mostly to the former base commander, a very limited scientific staff, and him. 

Jordan wondered what General Connors, the kind but stern former commander of the project who had first named him Jordan - and whose surname Jordan had later adopted - would think of the way things had gone since command was passed to Malcolm Black, a civilian with a mercenary background. Under Connors' command, the project had been focused almost exclusively on scientific study and understanding the scope of Jordan's powers. They had called on him occasionally to assist the military in dire circumstances - assets trapped behind enemy lines, for example - but he had very rarely left the base or risked any sort of public exposure. That changed when Black took command, and Jordan had found himself increasingly embedded with black ops teams on espionage, sabotage, and other secret missions where his abilities greatly increased the probability of success. Upon realizing Jordan's usefulness as a military asset, Black also began commissioning scientists and medical experts to try to duplicate his powers in others, with the goal of developing a standing army of superhumans. That, in Jordan's mind, was really the birth of Project Sentinel as it now existed. 




Heroes Wanted



The test subjects had been volunteers from the armed forces at first, but the early versions of the Sentinel treatment had been a disaster. Although Jordan never interacted with the subjects directly, there was no place in the base that was safe from his superhuman hearing. As a result, he heard the pained death cries of the volunteers as their muscles expanded uncontrollably until their skin burst, and every final choking breath of lungs filling with liquefying tissue. Realizing that they were losing too many of their best soldiers, airmen, and sailors, Black ordered the next generation of subjects to be drawn instead from the military's worst - servicemen and women facing punishment and dishonorable discharge for murder, rape, and brutal human rights violations. The vast majority of them didn't survive or were left completely disabled, which Jordan found preferable to them actually successfully becoming superhumans - they didn't seem the type that should be running around with enhanced powers. 

After the new administration had taken the project public - in what Malcolm Black had referred to as part of their "hope-y, change-y agenda" - there had been an influx of scientists and doctors looking to contribute their talents. The President had also forced a change in recruiting practices for test subjects, which Black had grudgingly accepted, requiring recruits to only be those in the most desperate of situations on the verge of death - critically injured servicemen and women, terminally ill civilians, and the like. As the project's scientists gradually began improving the treatment formulations, the base was slowly filling up with recruits who had developed various levels of powers, from some who were simply a little bit stronger but still within human limits, to those who had "officially" achieved superhuman levels of speed or strength. None of them, however, had yet reached anything near Jordan's power levels - a fact that Malcolm Black had made very clear was quite bothersome to him. 

As he entered the exam room in Medical, Jordan was immediately greeted by Dr. Janice Cho, who had been treating him ever since she joined the project shortly after it went public. Although the project had later adopted policies requiring recruits to be attended by medical staff of the same sex, Janice had been allowed to remain as Jordan's primary physician because of their longstanding doctor-patient relationship. 

"Hi Jordan," she said with a smile. "I heard you got shot at tonight." 

"Just a 9mm handgun," he said, as he hopped up on the exam bed and sat on the edge. "Nothing to sweat over. How are you, Janice?" 

"I'm doing well. The latest recruits are coming along quite quickly. I think we may have a new class for you to work with soon." 

They made small talk as Janice examined him, confirming that the night's events didn't have any adverse impact on his well-being. It was a standard part of his debrief procedure, which the two of them had done so many times it was almost second nature. Once the exam was over, however, Janice pulled a metal cup from one of her supply drawers. 

"I think you know what this is for," she said with a smirk. 

"Sperm sample? Is it that time already?" 

She set the receptacle on the counter with a soft clink, then teasingly unbuttoned her white lab coat to reveal her completely nude body underneath. 

"Oh come on, Jordan," she said, shedding the coat and climbed onto his lap, putting her arms around his neck and leaning her face in toward his. "I think you knew I was going to extract a sample from you whether the project needed one or not." 

Janice rubbed her bare pussy against his groin, feeling him begin to swell and rise underneath the layer of his form-fitting suit. A soft growl rumbled from deep within his chest as he ran his hands over her body. With a seductive smile, she reached behind him and found the hidden closure for his suit, pulling it downward and exposing his broad shoulders and back. She caught the sight of his eyes flicking back and forth around the room as she undressed him. 

"Don't worry, honey, they know better than to try to put you in a monitored exam room," she reassured him. 

Jordan had insisted years ago that he no longer receive medical examinations in monitored rooms, and also that his personal residence in the facility be unsurveilled. He was well aware that the project kept most areas of the facility under 24-hour surveillance, and had laid down an ultimatum: either he be allowed privacy, or he was done. Perhaps realizing that they were powerless to try to keep him if he was dissatisfied with their answer, the leadership had agreed. 

Janice tugged at his form-fitting suit until it reached mid-thigh, exposing his manhood. She took the shaft in her hand, thick and pulsing even though it was only partially erect. His lustful gaze bored into her as she started to stroke him up and down, pumping his rapidly growing member in her small fist. When she was satisfied with his hardness, she eagerly engulfed the swollen tip in her mouth. 

"Ahhhh... fuck, Janice," he groaned. His fingers gripped the edge of the exam table, causing the structure to creak and groan slightly under his strength. 

"Mmmmm," she hummed as she sucked and slurped, swallowing him down until her nose was pressed into his thick patch of hair. 

She inhaled deeply, breathing in his manly scent. Jordan had a unique muskiness, unlike anything she had ever experienced with a non-powered man, that drove her wild. 

The two of them had been tangled up in a somewhat unusual affair since the early days of Janice's involvement with the project. She was the first woman he had been consistently sexually involved with, which was odd in that they'd never actually had intercourse, primarily at his insistence. But their relationship was also unusual because she never allowed him to get her off; although she had imparted on him much of her medical knowledge, as well as personal experience, on how to please a woman, by letting him watch her as she brought herself to countless orgasms, he had never practiced that knowledge on her. Jordan wasn't sure why that was. Perhaps she had given him a blowjob the first time out of curiosity, or sympathy for his oftentimes solitary existence. Perhaps their affair had continued simply as a way for her to cope with the strange and often disturbing things she was forced to witness day in and day out as part of the project's medical staff. 

He watched as she withdrew his cock from her lips, his member now fully erect and glistening with her saliva. Janice had larger breasts for an Asian woman - a shapely pair of 34Cs, of which she was quite proud - and she now took her fleshy orbs in her hands, pressing them around either side of his cock. They weren't quite large enough to fully enclose his throbbing member, but they were more than enough to get the job done. She moaned excitedly as he jerked his hips up and down, sliding his member up and down the cleft between her tits, excited both by the physical sensations and the thrill of having her breasts fucked by the most powerful being on the face of the planet. 

"Give me your cum, baby," she teased, her tongue darting out to steal licks of the head of his cock as it protruded from her cleavage. "I want it..." 

She felt his hands take hold of the sides of her breasts, and she relinquished her body to his grasp. Her own hands slid down between her naked thighs, seeking the wetness of her pussy, which was already dripping down her legs and onto the floor beneath her. After coating her fingertips with a thick layer of her juices, she pressed them to her clitoris, crying out at the jolts of pleasure that surged through her as she began to finger and flick sensitive nub. 

Janice forgot completely about the need to collect a sperm sample as she relinquished herself to her own enjoyment, panting and gasping as the constant stimulus on both her sex and her breasts brought her closer and closer to the edge. Her pussy was soaked with her juices, sloshing noisily and wetly as she fingered herself. She felt Jordan release his grip on her tits, and as her mounds slipped away from his cock she quickly replaced them with her free hand, encircling his shaft once more and pumping up and down furiously. His hand on the back of her head tugged her nearer to his erection, and she was more than willing to take him in her mouth once more, bobbing her mouth up and down his cock. 

"Gugh... ugh... nugh..." she half-moaned, half-gagged as she devoted her mouth and throat to his pleasure. 

When her orgasm struck her, she sealed her lips around his shaft as tightly as she could and screamed into his dick, channeling her pleasure into her efforts at fellating him. She even bit down on him with her teeth, raking his flesh; one of the advantages of pleasuring a superhuman was that even the most ferocious love bite to his cock was a source of pleasure, rather than pain. 

Her head was still reeling from her release when she began to sense his impending orgasm. She sometimes joked that it was her one superpower; after pleasuring Jordan for so many years, she could read all of his tells. She continued to suck and lick him, fondling his balls with one hand. Maybe just once, she would be able to feel his cum shooting down her throat, direct from the source... 

But Jordan made clear that it was not to be. 

"Janice, stop..." he ordered gruffly, his breathing shallow. "I'm going to... fuck..." 

He pushed her away from him forcefully but not dangerously, clamping his fingers around the base of his cock. His face contorted in a mix of pleasure and exertion as he struggled to hold back his release a few moments more, while she staggered to her feet and retrieved the metal specimen cup from the counter. She rushed to his side and he took the cup from her, positioning it in front of the monstrous head of his swollen member, which was throbbing visually and about to burst. Her hand joined his, jerking his shaft, and with a loud roar, he unleashed jet after jet of his seed into the cup. Each spurt struck the base of the container with a loud metallic ping. The cup was made of a space age alloy specifically designed to resist high-velocity impacts - it was currently also in testing for armored vehicles and body armor plates - but even so, the force of Jordan's ejaculation left several dents in the sides as it collected his expended semen. Despite witnessing firsthand the power of his involuntary muscle contractions, Janice couldn't help but imagine that if she could feel him cumming inside of her just once, she could die a satisfied woman. As a doctor, though, she understood why he insisted on never finishing inside of her. 

"Wow, I think that's more than enough," she remarked breathlessly, looking at the volume of off-white liquid that had accumulated in the specimen cup. She quickly sealed the container and pressed a label to it, before returning to Jordan and sliding herself onto his lap, facing him, wrapping her slender legs around his waist. 

"I wish you'd let me take you inside of me," she sighed, feeling his cock, still semi-erect, rubbing against her delicate pussy lips. "It'd be so good..." 

"Janice, you know..." he protested, but she silenced him with a kiss. 

"Yes, I know. I still think you'd be able to pull out in time. You have very good control." 

"It's too risky," he said, before kissing her again. "And you know better than anyone..." 

"Yes, yes, the orgasm would rip my insides apart. And even if it didn't, the pregnancy would be... unpredictable." 

"Maybe we should talk about when you're going to let me make you cum," he said. 

"Hey, you have your lines, and I have mine," she said, with an enigmatic grin. Sliding off his lap, she did a small pirouette in the middle of the room before retrieving her lab coat and draping it over her shoulders, then opening up a nearby cabinet and pulling out the panties she had discarded earlier in anticipation of his arrival. "Until you bring something to the negotiating table..." 

"I may never understand you," he said, shaking his head, giving her another kiss before pulling his suit back on. "If you'll excuse me, the Quartermaster is probably wondering where I am." 

"Come see me to give another sample soon." 

***** 

After another week of observation and medical testing confirmed the extent of her new powers, Sam was informed that she was ready to be placed into the new class of recruits to begin training. She received instructions to report for training in a part of the facility she had not yet seen, and her wardrobe was refreshed with a large supply of standardized exercise clothing, consisting primarily of numerous pairs of black yoga-style pants and non-descript grey tank tops bearing a single digit - 2 - above the left breast. 

When she reported in as instructed, she found herself in a large assembly area filled with tables and benches. There were other recruits waiting as well. Some, like her, wore shirts marked with the number 2. Others bore numbers ranging from 3 to 5. None, she noticed, had a number 1. On a hunch, she approached the small group of other recruits with the number 2 and introduced herself. Although they were a diverse group in terms of age and ethnicity, Sam quickly learned that they all shared a common thread, coming to the project on the heels of injuries and illnesses that should have been fatal. As they made small talk, Sam gradually noticed an increasing murmur in the room, and heads turning in the direction of a walkway to one side of the room, behind a clear Plexiglas window. 

"Holy shit, it's him," one of the group muttered in disbelief. 

Sam felt her heart jump in excitement as she saw the person at the center of everyone's attention: Jordan Connors. 

Jordan could feel the eyes of the new recruits on him as he passed by the assembly area on his way to Ops. There were more direct paths on the base from his quarters to Ops, but Black insisted that he make a show of passing by each wave of new recruits on their first day of training, supposedly as a reminder of what they were training to become. Pausing briefly to acknowledge the group with a nod, Jordan quickly glanced over the latest crop of aspiring heroes. As in the past, the vast majority of them wore uniforms marked with a 5 or 4, indicating power levels above their natural abilities, but not significantly greater than the human body's overall potential. Few of them would ever advance beyond the early stages of training, although various military and government agencies would no doubt have places for them in their ranks. Then there was the handful of recruits who had been categorized into Tier 3; historically, their performance had been difficult to predict, often coming down to the ingenuity of the individual recruits. Those who were clever and found ways to balance the playing field against the more powerful Tier 2 recruits might have a future in the project; those who couldn't often joined their Tier 4 and Tier 5 colleagues. 

Jordan let his attention linger a little longer on the Tier 2 recruits. In all likelihood, they would be the ones he saw most often as they progressed in their training. He took a few moments to try to memorize each face, but found himself pausing longer than usual on one of the recruits in particular, a young brunette woman with streaks of blonde. He wasn't sure what it was about her that caught his attention, but in addition to learning her face, he let his eyes drift downward, admiring her curvaceous breasts, prominent hips, and strong legs. She wasn't the model-thin standard of beauty that seemed to so mesmerize the world outside of the base, but something about the way the parts of her body came together had ensnared his attention. Still, he had to remain detached if he was going to train her, and grudgingly he forced his gaze away, turning and resuming his course to Ops. 

Sam couldn't be certain, but would have sworn that she felt Jordan's eyes fall on her for just a little longer than everyone else. She felt a hot blush rise in her cheeks as she held her breath, wishing that she'd had the option of wearing pants that didn't emphasize her hips as much as they did. For a moment she felt as if she were back in high school, desperately wanting to be noticed by the star quarterback but having no idea what to do with herself when he actually looked. Thankfully, the other recruits were too focused on Jordan himself to notice where his attention was directed, and moments later, he turned and headed on his way, leaving the recruits to resume their small talk. Now, however, the room was abuzz with only one topic. 

"Was that really him?" 

"I thought he had his own fortress in the North Pole or something." 

"That's Superman, dumbass." 

"Mmmm, I usually like my men a little darker, but I'd let him take me for a ride." 

"He didn't look so tough, I bet I can take him." 

Sam kept silent for the most part, grappling with the way she'd reacted to Jordan's brief attention. Here she was, in training to become a superhero, and a momentary gaze from a man - admittedly, an extremely attractive man who had been her teenage dream - was enough to reduce her into a jumbled mess. She had no doubt that had she actually attempted to speak, she would have made a total fool of herself. That had to change. 

***** 

As the recruits' training began, Sam learned that the rest of the facility - to which she now had full access - resembled, more than anything, an expansive gym. The recruits had access 24 hours a day, seven days a week to an open training floor equipped with sparring mats, punching bags, training dummies, parkour-style obstacle courses and walls, and a diverse selection of weight training equipment. With supervision from project personnel, they also had access to a variety of specialized areas designed for testing the limits of their powers, including combustion chambers, firing ranges, and numerous other settings that reminded Sam a little too much of deathtraps one might find in the lair of a James Bond villain. 

Much of their early training was directed to controlling their powers, in particular their enhanced strength, under the watchful eye of Damian Sleet, who was also their hand-to-hand combat instructor. The training served double-duty; the recruits practiced their martial arts techniques against one another, and were incentivized to control their strength by the knowledge that if they slipped, their training partners would undoubtedly repay the favor when the time came to switch roles. By the end of the first long session, despite her enhanced strength and rapid healing, Sam's body was covered in bruises and welts. 

By the time the first full day ended, after another long sparring session in the afternoon and several hours of non-stop running on a treadmill while medical and scientific personnel took readings from an array of monitors, Sam was too exhausted to do anything but collapse into bed. The following days and weeks continued on the same grueling pace, though Sam was thankful to notice that her bruises generally healed completely by the time she woke in the morning, and over time she no longer bruised at all, despite the hits her training partners would deal out in sparring. She also found herself looking forward to the non-physical elements of her training, including science courses taught by Janice in which she learned more about the physiological origins of her new abilities. 

As days and weeks turned to months, the initial group of recruits who had reported in with Sam began to dwindle. Most of the 4s and 5s had gone, failing to make the cut for the program or unable to recover from injuries they sustained during training. Many of the 3s had gone as well, though a few of them remained, battling to keep up with Sam and the 2s. Some of the 2s had dropped out as well, though for reasons that remained unclear. Most notable were two recruits whom Sam had walked in on having sex in one of the training rooms after hours. Although Sam hadn't reported the incident, neither returned to training the next day. When she asked Janice about them during one of her checkups, the doctor had ducked the question, emphasizing only that sexual relations between the recruits was strongly discouraged. 




Heroes Wanted



At the same time that the number of recruits began to drop, Sam noticed that various important-looking individuals more frequently observed their training sessions. She sensed that Sleet was somewhat peeved by the presence of observers, which he at times took out on the recruits. Occasionally her enhanced hearing would pick up whispers or hushed disagreements between the various observers, who seemed to be pressing Sleet to identify recruits who were "ready" for... something? The presence of observers pushed Sam to fight harder, run faster, and endure longer. More than anything, she was ready to get out from underground and see the world, and it seemed that impressing the observers was the way to go about it. 

Things came to a head one day in the middle of a sparring session when a whispered dispute between Sleet and the observers blew up into full volume. 

"Dammit, Sleet, we're not running an after-school gym here," one of the suits blustered angrily. "You've had these recruits for months now. Are you telling me not one of them is ready for action? What the hell do we have you here for?" 

"Every single one of them could kick your ass twice over," Sleet retorted. "But then, that's not much of a bar, is it?" 

Marching over to the training floor, he gathered the recruits together. 

"All right, recruits," he barked. "Our government friends here want to know if any of you are ready for the big leagues. Quite honestly, I don't think any of you are. Anybody here with the guts to prove me wrong?" 

There was a silence in the room as the recruits looked to each other, confused. Sam's heart was pounding in her chest. This could be it - a chance to prove herself, a chance to get outside. She'd been training hard, pushing herself to the limits. She was ready. 

"I'm ready," she said, hoping that the words sounded more resolute than they felt rolling off her tongue. 

Sleet gave her a wry grin and a steely glare that almost made her regret her decision to speak up. 

"All right, Sutherland," he said, taking up a fighting stance. "Show me what you've got." 

"I'm sorry, sir?" 

Sam could see where this was going, but it made no sense. Sleet wasn't enhanced or powered in any way, having never received the Sentinel treatment. Was he seriously asking her to fight him? 

The question went unanswered as another voice cut in. 

"Hold on." 

Everyone turned to see Jordan Connors descending the steps into the training area. He stood alongside Sleet, greeting the instructor with a nod. 

"May I?" Jordan asked. 

"Be my guest." 

Sleet stepped back and let Jordan take his place. 

"It's Samantha, right?" he said, recalling the curvy young woman who had caught his attention the first day of training. 

"Sam," she replied. She could feel his eyes on her again, threatening to unleash the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. 

"Well, Sam, all you have to do is hit me. Just one, any hit will do. Let's see what you've really got." 

Shaking off the warm fuzziness of her schoolgirl crush, Sam launched herself at Jordan, immediately going on the attack. She tried to ignore the watchful eyes of the group gathered around and the quiet whispers of her cohorts as she threw kicks and strikes at her opponent. All she needed was to land one hit. The outside world was within her reach. Jordan ducked and dodged her strikes, always just a half step ahead of her. Digging deep, she willed herself to move faster, forcing him to add a few blocks here and there into his defense. Her fellow recruits were cheering her on now, seeing that one of their own was standing toe-to-toe with Jordan. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of launching unsuccessful blows, Sam thought she found her opportunity when she managed to bait Jordan in off a feint jab. As she came in with a cross, however, she realized that he was coming in too fast, and before her fist could actually land, he was inside the arc of her attack, locking her up with a clinch. Sam growled in frustration; he was right there, so close she could feel the heat between their bodies, and yet he had both of her arms trapped, unable to strike, and he was too easily deflecting her attempts to hit him with a knee. As she hissed and groaned, struggling to free herself from the strength of his hold, she saw him smirk at her with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. 

Before she knew what was happening, she was airborne, pulled upward toward the ceiling by his grasp as he leapt upward. They came to rest just short of the top of the room, and in the brief moment of weightlessness before gravity drew them back down, he had spun her and pushed free of their clinch, then landed a solid punch to her chest that felt as if she'd been struck by a speeding bus. She crashed back first into a wall and fell to the floor, taking a solid bounce on her buttocks. Looking up, she watched as Jordan flew along the path she had taken, landing in a straddle position on her chest, the weight of his body pressing her to the floor. She bucked and thrashed beneath him in an effort to throw him off, but he was positioned too far forward of her hips for her flailing to do any good. As he lifted one fist, she brought her forearms up to shield her face from the inevitable blow, but he easily swept her guard to the side with his free hand. Beaten, she steeled herself for the finishing strike, but it never came. 

Confused, she looked up at Jordan and saw his eyes soften as the fire of combat receded. He rose, standing for a moment with his feet on either side of her, regarding her with an intense stare. Then he turned, walking past the other recruits, Sleet, and the observers. 

"They're not ready," he said simply as he left the room. 

"You heard the man," Sleet told the observers, vindicated. 

Sam lay on the floor, bruised and exhausted, trying to understand what had just happened. It had all been going so well, and then suddenly it wasn't. She reached the conclusion that he had been toying with her the whole time, stringing her along before utterly crushing her. A few of the other recruits helped her up and patted her on the back, crediting her for having the guts to speak up and doing as well as she did, but it was a small consolation for her as she returned to her quarters, the entire walk back from the training floor feeling like an extended walk of shame. 

Once alone in the quiet of her quarters, Sam replayed the defeat in her head over and over again as she stripped out of her tank top and sports bra. The spot on her chest where Jordan had punched her was slightly sore, but thankfully no unsightly bruise had appeared. She could still feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment and humiliation as she pictured herself in the last moments of the fight, struggling beneath Jordan's weight. 

As she peeled away her form-fitting pants, a prominent wet spot on her white cotton panties led her to the realization that embarrassment and humiliation were not the only feelings the fight had stirred in her. She hadn't noticed the dampness before, as sparring with Jordan had caused her to break a sweat for the first time in recent memory, but as she pushed the undergarment down her thighs, the thick, sticky trails left behind on her skin left no doubt as to the source of the wetness. 

"What the hell, Sam," she said in disbelief, running one finger lazily across her swollen labia. "Ohhh!" 

Her vulva was so shockingly sensitive that her knees trembled at her own touch. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw that her breasts were swollen as well, her nipples straining and hard as mountains. 

"Oh, I can't fucking believe..." she moaned, as she sank one finger effortlessly into her abundantly wet pussy. "Ohhhhh god!" 

She quickly walked to the bed and fell back with her legs spread, the world spinning out of control as she fingered herself. She tried to justify her intense arousal as a result of neglecting her own needs for too long, blaming the grueling training schedule she'd been living day in and day out. She wasn't into domination or humiliation, so it couldn't possibly have been that she was getting off on her defeat at Jordan's hands. But as she worked herself into a frenzy, her mind kept returning to the final moments of the fight, the feeling of Jordan's hot body pressing hers into the floor, the weight of him on top of her. It wasn't the fight, she realized at last. It was him. In her mind, they were back on the floor, her body pinned beneath him, but he wasn't clothed anymore. His erect cock bobbed in front of her eyes as it grazed her breasts, inching closer and closer. She reached for it, but he swept her hands aside, pinning her arms over her head. 

"Fuck!" she cried, and quickly yanked open a drawer on her nightstand, pulling out the sealed package she had received from Elise months ago. 

She had neglected the duo of sex toys since receiving them, but now she tore at the plastic packaging, extracting the longer phallus while the small bullet vibrator clattered to the floor. The long toy had a vibration function as well, but she couldn't be bothered to find batteries for it. She slid the long, sleek form between her breasts, imagining that it was Jordan's cock, but ultimately she knew there was only one place she wanted it to be. Gliding the pointed tip down her stomach and over her mound, she positioned it at the entrance to her pussy and plunged it in with one smooth stroke. The penetration was almost frictionless, as wet as she was. She immediately felt her inner muscles clench around the new intrusion, clinging to it as it filled her. 

"Unnnnghh... unh... unh... ooohhhh..." she moaned and whimpered, as her hips rose to meet the thrusts of her toy. 

Knowing that the other recruits could hear her - she had heard them, on more than one occasion - she bit down on her lip in an attempt to stifle her noises. But her body resisted, especially as she felt her orgasm dawning. In her mind, Jordan's cock was inside of her now, his body still pressing down on her but from a different position as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him in deep. She moaned loudly into pursed lips, desperately trying to hold her volume down even as she felt her insides begin to tense and tighten. Her hand moved furiously between her thighs, thrusting her toy in and out in rhythm with her fantasy Jordan's fucking. She knew she probably looked ridiculous with her legs raised up in the air, grasping for a lover that wasn't there, but she was beyond caring. 

"Ohhhh... oh god... Jordan," she moaned, tossing her head from side to side in pleasure. "So close... fuck me Jordan..." 

She came with a loud cry of ecstasy, any effort at suppressing her noises quickly forgotten. She rammed her toy deep into herself as her inner muscles squeezed and clenched. Her back arched and her body tensed in spasmodic waves as she bucked, writhed, and thrashed through her orgasm. 

"Ohhhh! Ahhhhh! Oohhhh! Nnnngghh!" she moaned, bearing down on her toy with each ecstatic contraction of her pussy. 

Others in the base would hear her, undoubtedly, even those without powers, but the orgasm was too good, the sensations too pleasurable. She continued to moan and cry out until the waves of pleasure subsided, leaving her body a quivering, wet mess. She had just enough energy to withdraw her toy from inside of her and let it drop onto the sheets, soaking them with her cum. There would be time tomorrow to deal with the mess, she told herself, as she savored the post-orgasmic glow and let her heavy eyelids fall shut. 

***** 

Jordan woke the next morning in a state of intense arousal, his penis at full erection and creating a prominent tent in his sheets. He had gone to sleep replaying his sparring match with the pretty young recruit, Sam, wondering if perhaps he had been too hard on her. He had intended only to show that the recruits weren't ready to be out in the field, but in the heat of things perhaps he had gone too far in mounting her and utterly dominating her defenses. Somehow, those thoughts had morphed themselves in his sleep into something sexual, and even when he woke, he could still hear her voice in his head, moaning his name. 

Or had it been a dream? Early on, when he was still adapting to his enhanced hearing, his dreams would often mingle with sounds he heard from various parts of the base. He used to sleep with a white noise track playing to drown out the other sounds, but hadn't done so in years as his body and mind learned to tune the sounds out. It seemed unlikely that now of all times he would be affected by any specific sounds he heard while he slept, and equally unlikely that Sam would have actually been moaning his name after the events of the previous day, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than his own subconscious at work. 

As he swung himself out of bed, Jordan briefly considered relieving the situation himself - with a little superhuman speed, he could be done and in Ops without missing a beat - but decided to take a walk to Medical to see Janice instead. 

***** 

The first thing Sam noticed when she woke was the stickiness between her legs, the lingering reminder that she had fallen asleep after being thoroughly fucked - admittedly by a sex toy. The next thing she noticed was that she was floating a few feet above the bed. That was fleeting, however, as she quickly came crashing down with a surprised cry, causing the bed frame to creak and rattle as it struggled to retain its integrity. 

"Oh," she sighed, instinctively checking herself for injury, although she knew her body was far tougher than that. 

After the initial shock wore off, she was overcome with a sense of anticipation and excitement. If she could float in the air, however beyond her own control as it was, perhaps she would one day be able to fly, the same as Jordan. 

Jordan. 

She buried her face in her hands at the thought of him, remembering the way his name had loudly escaped her lips in the throes of orgasm the night before. With her luck, the entire base would be gossiping about her. Telling herself that there wasn't much she could do about it now, she tried to put it out of mind and focused on getting dressed so she could report in to Medical. Perhaps Janice could tell her something about her new ability. 

When she arrived at Medical, Sam was greeted by one of the nursing staff, who asked her to wait in an exam room and informed her that Janice was indisposed at the moment but would be along shortly. While Janice was usually prompt and on time for scheduled exams, Sam didn't find anything unusual in the fact that she was busy during an unscheduled drop-in, and so she waited. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, Janice arrived, looking a bit less put-together than usual and noticeably flushed. 

"Janice, are you okay?" Sam asked, as the attractive young doctor seemed to be trying to pull herself together. 

"Yeah," Janice sighed. "Just one of those days..." 

Sam also noticed something in the air, mingled with the scent of Janice's perfume. Of all of her senses, her olfactory sense had been the one that exhibited the least enhancement in response to the Sentinel treatment, so she couldn't be sure if she was imagining it or not. But she could have sworn that she felt her own body come alive a bit when she breathed in. Putting the odd sensation aside, she told Janice about her hovering experience. Immediately, any previous fluster in Janice's demeanor disappeared and she was all business, peppering Sam with questions about the experience as she took notes. Sam answered as best as she could, even reluctantly admitting that she had masturbated before falling asleep. 

"Good, this is really good," Janice said. "I mean, not the masturbation part specifically - although it's also good that you're tending to your needs - but overall, this is good. I'll need to report this to the project leadership. I won't mention the masturbating part, of course, just the hovering. This is very likely a precursor to flight capability, so the leadership will very likely want you to begin flight training as soon as possible." 

"Flight training," Sam repeated, imagining the possibilities. Not just being outside again, but flying, seeing the world from above. 

"Keep up the good work Sam," Janice said encouragingly. "This is all really promising." 

"Tell that to Jordan," Sam muttered, remembering the beatdown she had received the day before. "You probably heard he kicked my ass yesterday." 

"Jordan is just... protective of the recruits," Janice said, seeming a little more evasive than usual. "He means well, really. Just ... he's a really good guy, you'll see. Especially if you get into flight training. That's a lot of one-on-one work with him, since he's the only one on base who can actually, well, fly." 

The notion of working intensely with Jordan was both intimidating and exciting to Sam - more of the former after the previous day's events. Still, the possibility put a new spring in her step as she left Medical and on to her day's training regimen, determined to work harder and prove her readiness. 

***** 

Malcolm Black looked around the conference room at his assembled team of advisors, the heads of every division of Project Sentinel and some of the best minds in their respective fields. In a way, it was a disappointing reminder of how little they had accomplished despite having the best talent in the world and a living, breathing prototype to build from in Jordan Connors, but he hoped that the meeting would bring about some good news. 

"So, where are we?" Malcolm asked as the meeting began. "Are any of the recruits ready to see action?" 

Damian Sleet, who was responsible for the recruits' combat training, shook his head with a grim look on his face. 

"You've seen my report on the combat evaluations," he said. "The recruits are good fighters, and they've got a lot of spirit. But Jordan easily wiped the floor with the best of them." 

"You're referring to the woman, Samantha Sutherland?" Black asked, pulling out Sam's file. 

He thumbed through the various reports and papers in the file, pausing for a moment to look at two full height photographs of Sam's nude body, taken from the front and side. 

"It's too bad our birthing program never took off," Black mused. "She's certainly got the hips for it." 

The offhand comment was met with a disapproving glare from Dr. Janice Cho, the head of his medical team. 

"Malcolm, you do realize that whole "birthing hips" business is a myth with no real scientific basis?" she asked rhetorically. 

"Relax, Janice, I know. Just observing that the woman has some fine curves. Speaking of which, though, whatever became of those two recruits who were pulled?" 

"The woman, Kristin Elena, is entering her second trimester and being monitored around the clock. So far the pregnancy seems to be proceeding normally, but as you know, when the mother is herself a recipient of the Sentinel treatment, many of the complications don't arise until the third trimester." 

"What about the father?" 

"He's under containment," Black's head of security added. "Dr. Yates is working with him, but he's not taking well to the idea that he won't get to see the child." 

"A damn waste of two perfectly good Tier 2 recruits," Black bemoaned. "Dr. Cho, I know your team is doing all they can, but we need to get a birth control formulation that works. We can't be losing recruits because they can't keep it in their pants. Now, back to Miss Sutherland. Damian, I understand you and Connors share a certain sense of caution about putting new recruits in the field, and I appreciate that. But aside from that, is there any reason we don't think she's ready?" 

"Medically, she's in top condition," Janice said. "I could approve her for field operations immediately. She has even reported experiencing early flight events." 




Heroes Wanted



That piqued Malcolm's interest significantly. Only a rare few recruits in the history of the project had developed flight abilities, and of the current class, it appeared that Sam was the first. 

"Flight potential, that's good. What else? How are her psych evals?" 

"All signs show that she's adjusted well," Elise replied. "Her memory of events before the project still has not returned. At this point, it's likely it never will." 

"And if it does, we have measures to counteract it if needed, yes?" 

"Correct. Our memory blocker formulations have proven quite reliable, as have our memory reprogramming techniques. I expect Sam will generally be quite complaint, as she has exhibited an eagerness to excel in the eyes of the leadership." 

"Good. So what I'm hearing is that, aside from getting her ass kicked by Connors, Sutherland is a prime candidate to send out into the field. And we'd be sending her out with Connors anyway, so it's not like we need to worry about him taking her out." 

The group nodded in assent, although Black noted that Sleet was more reluctant than the others. 

"All right, then. Let's put her on the priority list for field work. Have the Quartermaster start work on something for her to wear - make sure it shows off her curves, something the press won't be able to resist putting on the front page. In the meantime, let's continue her training, and keep an eye out for suitable ops to send her on." 

***** 

It took about a week before Sam was approved for her first session of flight training, but she still felt her heart beat faster and her cheeks start to glow rosy red when she walked in and saw Jordan standing in there, waiting for her. Thankfully, she hadn't heard any rumors spreading about the base that indicated anyone had overheard her masturbating to fantasies of him, but she still couldn't evade the irrational fear that somehow, he knew everything. The way his gaze lingered on her body, freshly clad in a new prototype single-piece suit that had been issued to her, didn't help. 

She had just received the suit that morning, with a note that while the design was close to final, the colors were not yet set. At present, the entire suit was a dark blue hue; not offensive in any way, but also not particularly prominent. The fabric, which hugged her curves like a second skin, was surprisingly flexible, though supposedly also having protective qualities. In order to squeeze into the form-fitting ensemble, she had eschewed both bra and panties, and each time Jordan looked at her, she felt as if she were standing before him stark naked. 

"Good morning," Jordan greeted her with a friendly smile. "Our last meeting was a bit, um... I guess it'd be an understatement to say we got off on the wrong foot. I'm Jordan." 

"Samantha," she replied. "But I go by Sam." 

"Yes, I remember," Jordan said, smiling. "Before we start, I wanted to apologize for how things went down last time. I shouldn't have gone so hard on you." 

A naughty voice in the back of Sam's mind teased that Jordan could "go hard" on her any time he wanted, but she suppressed the thought. 

"It was a humbling experience. A good learning opportunity." 

"Thank you for saying so. But still, I got a little overzealous. The leadership here can sometimes be too eager to push recruits into the field before they're ready, so I take it on myself to make sure they don't find themselves in over their heads. But in your case I overdid it. But enough about that. We're here to do a little flying." 

Jordan led her to the base of a large ventilation shaft that ran vertically upward toward the surface. From the bottom looking up, Sam could see a number of handholds and protrusions that had been installed into the side walls of the shaft, and at the top, what appeared to be a gate mechanism that separated the interior from the outside world. 

"Once you've mastered flight, you'll be coming and going through the main access tunnel," Jordan explained. "But for now, we'll practice on this shaft as training." 

With a leap, he launched himself upward, catching hold of the lowest handhold and gesturing for Sam to follow. It took her a few attempts to get enough height in her jump, but eventually she made it up. 

"I know you're just starting out, so don't worry too much about actually flying for now," Jordan said. "Just try to work your way up to the top. Use the handholds if you need to take a break or reposition." 

Pushing away from the wall, he floated into the center of the shaft, and then began to ascend. 

"Try to keep up!" 

Surveying the interior of the airshaft, Sam spotted the next nearest hold on the opposite wall. Pulling her body up so that she could plant her feet on the wall, she took a deep breath, flexed her a legs a few time, and then leapt with a big surge from her feet. She caught her target with plenty of room to spare and hoisted herself up, looking for the next stepping stone. She continued that way, step-by-step, moving upward as the ground beneath her moved farther and farther away. As she advanced up the shaft, the handholds became fewer and farther in between, and their shapes less and less conducive to an easy hold. By the time she was three quarters of the way to the top, Sam was struggling to find stepping stones within her reach. Looking directly above her, she saw that the most viable handhold was directly above, which made it more difficult for her to get a solid boost from her legs. Holding her current handhold with one hand, she pulled her knees toward her chest and positioned both feet on her current hold as best as she could. Pressing upward with as much power as she could muster, she leapt up and reached... and fell short. The next rung seemed to hover just out of reach for a few extra moments as her body struggled to remain afloat against the pull of gravity, but she could not propel herself the additional inch or two needed to grab on. 

Then gravity won, and she found herself slipping back downward - slowly, at first, and then rapidly faster. 

"Shit!" she exclaimed. 

As she fell, her body slipped into a tumble, making it more difficult for her to latch onto one of the lower handholds along the wall. Everything was moving too fast for her as she picked up speed; even with some enhanced speed, she couldn't slow down her perception enough to give her time to strategize. The tunnel was racing by her, her hair whipped up beside her face by the air as she fell. She wasn't sure how long she had been falling, but she was certain the floor couldn't be that far away. She flailed desperately for something to halt her descent, finding nothing. 

Then she felt something grab ahold of her, gently decelerating her until she was stopped in midair, her feet dangling just beyond the lower opening of the vent. 

"I've got you," Jordan's voice said warmly, as he hoisted her upward with one arm. 

Instinctively she put her arms around his neck as he grabbed hold of her waist. 

"I thought I was done for," she said, her voice shaky. 

"I wouldn't have let you hit," he said reassuringly. "And even if I had, from what I've seen and heard, you're tough enough to take it." 

"I hope I don't have to find out," she said with a nervous giggle. 

She held onto him as he slowly descended both of them to the ground, and only reluctantly let go when her feet were back on solid ground. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he cut her off with a quick wave, activating a small earpiece she hadn't noticed he was wearing until that moment. 

"Okay, I can be there in no time," he said, speaking to someone in operations. "Should I send Sam back for... you're sure? No, if that's the order from up top, that's fine." 

"Sorry about that," he said, turning back to Sam. "It looks like someone in charge wants you out in the field with me. Bank shootout in downtown Crystal City. You feeling up for it?" 

Sam's face lit up with excitement. 

"Yes, absolutely!" 

"Good. We don't really have time for you to suit up, though I think they're still working on your finalized gear anyway. And we're going to have to fly." 

Sam's breath caught in her chest as Jordan stepped up behind her, placing his hands on her waist and pulling her into him so that her back was to his chest. She tried not to fixate on the fact that her ass was now bumping up against his groin. 

"Hold on," he said softly. 

She felt the air stir around their feet moments before they both surged upward, racing through the air shaft that she'd fallen through just moments before. At what seemed like the last possible moment, the doors at the top retracted, and they soared together into the blue sky beyond. 

***** 

The scene in downtown was a mess when Jordan and Sam arrived. Police vehicles had blocked off most of the streets, and in front the bank, officers were ducking behind a line of parked cars, exchanging gunfire with two shooters from inside. Jordan set down further behind the police line, near where a command post had been set up. 

"Aw geez, am I glad to see you," the officer in charge on the scene said. "Who's the girl?" 

"A friend," Jordan said. "She's with me. What's the situation?" 

"We've got five guys inside the bank, armed to the teeth. Body armor, AK-47s, the works. I've got four officers down in the line of fire, my guys can't get to them. Word is they've got civilians inside the bank too." 

"All right. Have your people stand by to receive the wounded officers. I'll get them first, and then..." Jordan looked to Sam, then reconsidered. "Actually, I'll handle the situation inside the bank. My colleague will rescue the wounded officers and get them back here. Have your people stand by." 

Taking Sam forward toward the line, Jordan pointed her to the four wounded officers who were down between the barricade of cars and the front of the bank. 

"You'll need to get the four of them clear of the line of fire and back here," he instructed. "Wait until I'm inside the bank - that should get the shooters' attention off of the police, which will make it easier for you to work. Still, you'll need to move fast. After they're clear, make sure everything stays under control out here. Can you do that?" 

Sam nodded. She knew that Jordan could have easily handled the whole thing himself, and was giving her an opportunity to stretch her wings a bit. She wanted to make sure she didn't let him down. 

"All right then," Jordan said with a smile. "You'll be fine. See you back here in a bit." 

Then, in a blur of red and blue, he was gone. The gunfire from inside the bank suddenly increased, but none of it was directed outward anymore. That was her cue to move, so Sam pushed herself to the max, hurdling over the line of police cars toward the first wounded officer. She helped him back to where the paramedics were waiting, then did the same with the other three. Just as she had dropped off the last wounded officer, a loud commotion among the police drew her attention to a large vehicle - an armored truck, by the looks of it - plowing through the police barricade at full speed, heading toward the bank. Sam leaped into action, pulling police personnel out of the path of the speeding vehicle as it skidded to a stop directly in front of the bank, apparently positioning itself as the getaway vehicle. 

Sam sped to the driver's side door and pulled it open, narrowly avoiding a bullet from the pistol the driver had pulled. She swatted the weapon away and then yanked the driver out, handing him over to the police who were waiting to cuff him. Then she heard something coming from the back of the truck, the sound of feet scuffling inside. She circled around the back of the vehicle and gave the door a solid pull. It didn't come flying off the hinges with the dramatic effect she had hoped for, but it swung open, which was good enough for her. When she looked inside, however, she found herself face to face with the largest mountain of a man she had ever encountered, holding a rifle that vaguely resembled one of the M-16s she had seen in her training back at base. When the man pulled the trigger, however, the sound was very different. 

When the first bullet struck her in the chest, she felt like a locomotive had smashed her. The feeling was reminiscent of the punch Jordan had landed on her when they sparred, but focused into a much smaller impact zone. It was definitely nothing like the 5.56 rounds she'd been shot with in training. She staggered back from the force of the blow, feeling as if all of the air had been sucked right out of her lungs. The second round struck her lower in the abdomen, like a punch in the stomach. She crumpled to the ground as her stomach turned and she vomited, then gagged on her own stomach contents as she still struggled to breathe, then vomited again. 

Jordan had just finished securing the gunmen inside the bank and tending to the injured civilians when he heard the report of a .50 caliber weapon being fired outside. His concern immediately went to Sam, and he kicked himself when he saw the armored vehicle that had pulled up in front of bank. In a flash, he was gone and headed back outside. 

The man in the back of the armored truck was all smiles as he worked the bolt on his rifle, chambering another round. The bank heist was a bust - it was clear his buddies weren't going to come rolling out of the bank strapped with cash - but it was looking like he would get the chance to bag a superhero. He didn't know who the woman in the dark blue bodysuit was, nor did he particularly care. From the way she'd responded to the two shots he had fired at her, she was tough, but nowhere near as tough as the Sentinel. As he lined up his sights at the center of her head, he was eager to find out just how tough she was. 

Sam heard the rifle fire a third time, but the bullet impact never came. As she looked up, gasping for air, she saw Jordan standing between her and the man in the back of the armored car. In a blur, he grabbed the rifle and used it to tow the man out of the truck, before grabbing him by the throat and forcefully throwing him against the back of the truck with a metallic thud. The man slumped down, unconscious, and then Jordan was kneeling at her side. 

"Are you all right?" he asked, brushing her hair from her face. 

Sam couldn't answer, her body still wracked by coughs and dry heaves. She felt him scoop her up into his arms. All around them, police were swarming the thwarted bank robbers, and after taking a look around to make sure that they had everything under control, Jordan floated up into the air with her in his arms and flew off. 

Sam wasn't sure how long they had flown or in what direction, but eventually, she felt Jordan touch down and set her onto a rocky riverside. Just beyond the granite slab where they had landed she could see a slow-moving current, fed by a rushing waterfall that broke through from a much larger rock face nearby. She could feel a chill in the air suggesting that they were at a rather high elevation. 

Jordan removed the earpiece and switched it off, setting it down on the rocks beside them. He waded a few feet into the river and cupped his hands, scooping up some of the cold water and raising it to Sam's lips. 

"Here, drink slowly. It's clean, the water here is fresh runoff from melting snow. And even if it weren't, I think your immune system can handle it." 

Even if the water had been swarming with microbes, Sam wouldn't have cared. The icy liquid soothed the burning of her parched throat and moistened her lips. 

"I'm a mess," she said, when her body had finally settled down enough that she could speak. "I sure fucked that up." 

"Hey, you did fine," Jordan said assuringly. "You just took two rounds from a .50 caliber rifle. I'd say you're in pretty good shape, all things considered." 

"I'd be pretty fucked if it weren't for you," Sam said with a sigh. 

"That's why we go out as a team," Jordan insisted, taking a seat beside her. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have let my guard down. I'm supposed to be looking out for you." 

"You won't always be there to watch my back," she replied. "I shouldn't have let that guy get the jump on me." 

"You're right, I won't always be out there. But this was your first time out, and you did exceptionally well. Those four officers are safe thanks to you. As for the guy in the truck, just take it as a learning experience. On the bright side, we know you're pretty darn bulletproof." 

Sam felt her spirits lift a little. 

"Do you mind if I take a dip in the river?" she asked, gesturing to her hair and clothing, which were spattered with trails of vomit. "I'd like to at least be clean when I get back to base." 

He nodded his assent, and she waded into the middle of the river, where the water rose to just above her waist. Her nerves registered that the water was freezing cold, though ultimately the sensation she experienced was only that of a comforting coolness. She lowered herself until she was sitting on the bottom of the river, letting the cleansing water wash over her hair and face. She winced as she stood up, feeling the spots where the bullets had struck her still throbbing with pain. 

"Are you okay?" Jordan asked. 

"Mmmm, yeah," she replied, wading back over to the riverbank. "Just a little achy where I got shot. I wish they made this outfit in two pieces, so I could lift the shirt and take a look." 

She watched Jordan's brow furrow slightly as he cast his eyes downward on her body, and it took her a few moments to realize he was observing her wounds. She'd completely forgotten that he had x-ray vision. The thought that he was seeing her naked body right through her suit sent a surge of warmth through her. 

"I don't see any serious damage," he said. "I do see a bit of bruising here..." 

He touched two fingers to her stomach where the second bullet had struck. 

"... and here." 

He moved his fingers upward, over her large chest, to the spot just above her left breast where the first bullet had hit. His touch lingered a bit longer this time as they stared at one another. 

"We should... get back to base," he said uncertainly. 

Sam nodded obediently, in spite of a growing desire deep within her to kiss him. He turned her so that her back was to him again, drawing her close with one arm around her waist. This time she crossed her arms over his. Her ass was against his groin again, and she suddenly became aware of a bulge that hadn't seemed to be there when they first left the base together. Instinctively she gyrated her hips, working her ass cheeks in small circles on his groin. She heard a small, throaty growl from him. 

Facing no resistance from him, she turned in his arms so she was facing him, their chests pressed up against one another, faces mere inches apart. Her arms naturally came to rest on his shoulders, and this time she did not fight the urge to pull him to her. She let out a soft moan as their lips touched. She clasped her hands behind his head, stroking the hair at the base of his neck as she held him in their kiss. She felt him start to respond, his hands holding her waist more tightly and his lips parting, kissing her back more forcefully. His tongue probed at her mouth and she opened her lips welcomingly for him, sucking him in. They moaned into each other, lips slurping and smacking, as their desire for one another surged. 

She whimpered eagerly as he laced his fingers into her long hair, then pulled her head gently to one side, bringing his lips to the soft skin of her neck. He inhaled deeply as he kissed and nibbled down her neck, taking in the scent of her hair and body. After tugging his face back up to hers for another heated kiss, she switched roles with him, hungrily attacking his jaw and neck with her mouth. His entire body radiated a distinct smell that she could only characterize as masculine, something that touched the most primal spark inside of her like nothing else she could remember. Their mouths met again in a wet kiss, and her fingers groped along the back of his suit for the hidden closure. She could feel his hands doing the same on her, and they both raced to be the first to succeed.