Bullseye

Getting a personal tour of the local superhero headquarters was pretty cool, even if my escort left much to be desired. Everything was shiny and sleek. From the inside you wouldn’t have thought that it had once been an abandoned oil refinery.

At Armsmaster’s request I was wearing my license in a PRT issued lanyard like it was a VIP backstage pass. Not that I was in danger of losing it. I always “felt” where it was like it was a part of me, plus there was always the fact that I can make it disappear and return to me at will.

But seeing respected heroes react so strongly to it was priceless! Particularly ****, who looked ready to ask for MY autograph had his lovely partner Battery not snagged him by the ear and dragged him away like a misbehaved child.

I laughed. Talk about whipped!

After a modest trek we arrived at a hallway with a set of opposing doors labeled with the familiar male/female logos, a scanpad and a dark glass slot. Armsmaster moved towards the female side, held the blade of his weapon by the scanner and a moment later the slot beeped green and the door clicked open for us.

“Please wait inside here.” he directed, holding the door open with his free hand. “Miss Militia shall arrive shortly. Do not leave without an escort. Understood?” At my nod he marched off without a second glance.

Free of my hang on, I walked inside to a tiled changing room with a line of open, empty electronic lockers and a series of doors spaced only two feet from the next like a boutique’s changing area but with card readers on the locks and green lights lit up at the top of each frame. Way nicer and infinitely cleaner than the ones at Winslow.

I passed through to the showers proper, I needed to wash this gunk out of my clothes anyway. Each shower was its own separate secure cubicle; spacious, with a lock on the door, a seat built into the wall, a polished handrail on the other, a sealed compartment holding standard amenities and a stack of white featureless plastic masks, and an interface that controlled the temperature, showed the time, an app for phone calls, news feeds and more! Whoa! Were all Protectorate bases this swanky? Happy workers and all that. Plus privacy. Plus the screen made it easier to send and receive alerts in an emergency. Huh. Maybe they did…

Oh well, I was going to enjoy this while I had the chance. I stripped and tossed my clothes to the side of the stall so they could clean alongside me, dropping my wallet in the compartment and took out some shampoo to lather up. Have you ever gotten maple syrup on your hands and you had to go through the day with sticky fingers? Imagine being dipped in the stuff and having to walk around before getting a hot shower. Pure bliss.

So I might be forgiven for not noticing as someone walked into the room until a throat cleared behind me. “I’m afraid this area isn’t part of any tour. I’m going to need you to turn around. Slowly.” The voice stern but measured in tone. There behind me was Brockton Bay’s premeir Protectorate heroine; Miss Militia, looking unamused.

Her costume consisted of a modified camo uniform tailored to emphasize her curvy figure without being skin tight or revealing. For a mask she tied a scarf of the American flag around her nose and mouth like a bandana, a matching sash was tied around her trim waist. A blurry iridescent bundle of energy in the shape of a handgun rested at her side, holstered but with a steady hand ready to draw it at a moment's notice if the need arose.

That was her power. A spectral energy that could change and function as any modern or primitive handheld weapon known to mankind, from knives to machine guns, spears, rocket launchers, snipers, claymores and much more.

Even with her mask covering most of her dark-olive face, I found her eyes to be extremely expressive and personable. Brow first narrowed with suspicion as she guardedly evaluated me. Then blinking with confusion as the card hanging from my neck drew her gaze which she relaxed upon suddenly recognizing me as a non-hostile. And finally widening with startled interest and not a little trepidation as she took notice of my dong dangling between my legs.

‘Ha! Never handled anything of this caliber, have you?’ my teenage libido preened with growing arousal even as the rest of my brain internally sagged with relief as her posture relaxed.

Seeing that she had my attention, she swiftly regained her composure, “Ah, my mistake, sir.” she apologised abashedly. “I was told to report here for an inspection, I didn’t realise what kind and, well, you looked rather young for an inspector.”

“I think my qualifications speak for themselves.” I joked, shifting and swinging my dick around for emphasis.

She chuckled good naturedly, “Perhaps a little overqualified. You’re likely to spoil most girls to other men with that.”

“Heh, I’ll take that as a compliment… So… Armsmaster didn’t tell you what this was about…?” I hedged a guess at no, he did not.

“He… has been rather busy,” was her diplomatic reply, “It must have slipped his mind.”

Seriously?! To be fair, Lung HAD just gone on a rampage the other day, I was more than understanding of him having his hands full, but, REALLY?! Did the guy not understand how most women would react to a strange guy washing in the girls’ shower?

“Right… I don’t suppose he remembered a clean change of clothes either…”

With her eyes she gave me a sympathetic smile then called in a request to be delivered to the changing room.

God, this wasn’t going at all like I imagined.

“Look,” I said, turning the water off and plopping myself down on the stool. “Let’s start over. Hi, my name’s Saul, and I’m here today to have sex with you!” Man, saying that felt surreal. “Why don’t you begin our first session by stripping down for me. -Let yourself get comfortable first.”

“Hm. It’s been some time since I last did this kind of thing.” she said, to herself as much as me it seemed, putting aside any lingering reservations she might have had.

Button by button she began to undo her flattering fatigues, each motion precise, practiced, formal. Reaching the bottom, she allowed the heavy jacket to slide from her shoulders to the ground and I was happy to learn that the woman beneath the costume was every bit as beautiful as I had envisioned. Full, perky breasts, large C’s at the least, were wrapped in a tight black t-shirt that worked well with her dusky skin tone, just begging to be played with.

She briefly fumbled as my appreciation made itself known. I smiled encouragingly at her. Slowly, she smiled back.

Spinning an about face, she kicked off one boot then the other, hooking her thumbs along the waistband of her pants, she rolled her hips and slowly shimmied out of the baggy fabric like a sultry snake shedding its skin. Except instead of a scaly reptile, what emerged was a pair of smooth graceful dancer legs and a firm sculpted ass that filled out a pair of plain black panties.

My eyes worshipped the sight of the hero before me. Eventually my stare rose to hers and I saw the shape of her nostrils flare and eyes smoldering with growing desire.

I beckoned her closer and she approached. I reached out to touch her and her right foot lifted to push gently at my chest, a playful look in her sparkling eyes as she held me at bay.

“Help me get undressed first.” And I gleefully complied with her request, my hands grasping her limb out of reflex and soon found them stroking it in wonder as hot athletic muscle shivered under my cool wet fingers. Tiny gasps of delight hitched in her throat as I explored the contours of her upper thigh, digging into the globes of firm yet yielding assflesh and gently teasing the moistening crease in her underwear.

Eventually, I relented, drawing back down and tugging the sock from her foot, she lowered it and lifted the other to take its place and the process repeated.

When both feet were bare, she was mewling in need, leaning on the shower rail to support her trembling leg. Pushing off the wall, she straddled my legs, a primal groan rumbling from deep in her chest as her steamy cunt pressed against my churning balls. Her hands found mine and she guided them up the sides of her waist to glide under her shirt to unwrap her like an early Christmas present with hard peaks pressing into the back of her black sports bra.

As she tossed the garment aside I marveled at how delightfully fit and toned she was with a row of smooth abs that did nothing to detract from her attractiveness. Hers was the body of a hero whose strength and endurance was built with rigorous training rather than a Brute rating like Glory Girl who could hurl cars around with the figure of a lithe cheerleader.

Unable to contain myself, I threw my arms around the older woman, fumbling with the bra strap. In doing so my dick was sandwiched between our muscular torsos and I could sense her gasp in awe as she began to truly grasp how big it was.

Literally. One hand was trying to wrap fully around my girth and failing, the other was tracing its length from the base nestled between her legs up and up and up until it reached the fat crown perched above her navel.

My desire peaked and I couldn’t take it anymore. I tore the strap apart and ripped the ruined fabric away. Eager for my prize, my lips immediately clamped down on a hard mocha teet and she yowled like a beast in heat. My hands fell to her ass and I clenched her cheeks possessively, pulling her body flush against my throbbing pre-slicked member. Enjoying the primal manner in which she gyrated her crotch up and down against my cock, wetting my balls with her own arousal.

Pulling my mouth away with a lewd pop. “Suck on it first.” I whispered into her ear, “I want it good and wet before I fuck you with it.” Which was a blatant lie, my dick had more than enough of both our natural lubricants to get the job done.

Militia didn’t protest as she slid down to kneel between my knees, her hands never leaving my dick; the sheer girth and size enough to act as a crutch to balance with.

Her face leaned into my spurting dick, inhaling the manly musk that wafted over it even with her mask in place. A mask that my dick disappeared under like a magic trick as I felt her hot mouth swallow the head with gusto. We moaned as one, the mix of tastes and organic chemistry that tickled her tastebuds and synapses making the task a pleasant treat rather than a demeaning chore. It enticed her to slide more and more down her gullet in search of more nectar and inhibited her gag reflex as readily as it dulled pain.

She didn’t even mind as I weaved my hands in her dark hair and began fucking her face. Even when I hilted myself all the way so that her chin rested on my balls, I could feel her warm breath steadily blowing into my pubes as she calmly breathed through her nose, unperturbed. A finger patted my thigh for attention and I looked into her eyes to see her wink up at me, egging me onward.

“Did I mention that I’m a huge fan of yours?” I asked, adjusting my grip so I wouldn’t start ripping her hair out. “Because, yeah, it needs to be said. You. Are. Incredible!” And began facefucking with abandon, a wordless hum of gratitude rewarding me for my praise and pushing me even closer to the brink.

I went all out. My patience was finally paying off and the world faded away until all I knew was the feel of her velvety throat clamped around my dick. At some point I’m pretty sure someone entered the room and saw the two of us fucking in the open stall, but I was too far gone to be sure as I came in MM’s throat like a hose. Halfway through I pulled out of her mouth and began spraying the rest of her down as if marking her as mine with my seed.