A heroine, with a daring rescue!

Crying, red-faced, in hopelessness and humiliation, as another spank connects hard with the meat of my sore, stinging bubble-butt, I wail once more, "Help!!" feeling certain that none will come. A stitch pops loose in my shorts and I can feel the material failing, tears stream down my face in defeat, when suddenly, a new sound enters the scene.

The thunderclap patter of sprinting footfalls echoes behind me, in the crowd where all present had their phones out, and captures my full attention, I look over my bare shoulder, only to see a woman decked out in a Black Manta costume tearing her way through the laughing throng of convention attendees, making an intense, speeding beeline straight at the scuffle in the photo booth.

I bear witness, awestruck and teary-eyed, as the mystery woman makes a grand leap, soaring through the air, her movements graceful yet powerful, like Tigger, or uh, I guess like a tiger, and she collides shoulder-first, full tilt into Amy, pouncing my intoxicated assailant to the ground with the sheer speed of her tackle, taking the Indian lady—Satya—with them; finally buying my friends the opportunity required to pry the other reprobates off me.

I fall prone onto the carpeted demo-booth floor, gasping at the profound relief of my brutal wedgie ending at last, even if my butt was still aching, and on full display. My savior in the diving helmet knocks the heads of my attackers into each other's casually, while Natalie and Alan restrain the other three. Raquel, ticked off and out of breath, shouts, in unison with our boss, "Security!! Security, you useless idiots!!"

The feckless absentee convention guards arrive to zip tie the plastered ruffians, and the leader of my tormentors, Satya, hollers, "Worth it!" as security promptly escorts her from the premises. I finish extricating the elastic fabric from between my prodigious butt cheeks, waterworks slowing now that my ass was once again hidden from the hundreds of attentive cameras.

A graceful hand in a black glove stretches down to help me up—the hand of the woman who saved me—and I take it eagerly; once I'm back on my feet, overwhelmed with feelings of happiness and gratitude, I embrace the anonymous rescuer and spin around with her in my arms, singing praise, "My hero!" Coming back to my senses, I set the philanthropist gently down, but don't break from the hug, which I notice she's reciprocating tightly, then, I exclaim with the utmost sincerity, "Can I kiss you?"

The mystery lady's body language becomes evidently, extremely, enthusiastically excited at my offer, and as she ceases hugging me, I hear muffled sounds coming from inside the oversized diving helmet as my savior struggles to remove her smooch-preventative headgear. It doesn't even budge, and she gets flustered and embarrassed when she discovers that it's stuck shut; hanging her head in shame, a lugubrious, groan-like noise escapes her helmet.

The heroic Black Manta cosplayer perks back up when I promise her, "Don't worry, you're getting the best kiss I can possibly give the moment you get that helmet off." chancing a glance at the packed exhibition floor watching us, I blush, adding, "But, for now… let's just get backstage."

My friend—the one with the massive crush on me—Natalie's countenance is the idealized representation of envy, but she's too thankful that I'm okay do anything besides usher Raquel, the mystery woman, and me safely behind the backdrop.