Getting a date

Sophie: "Like... using my new super bod for some much-needed attention on the company side of things. Haven't had a date in three months! I bet that after coming out of the super-closet in a flash like this, there'll be peeps just lining up to get with me!"

News of an arisen superhero do indeed reach the mass media in a timely manner. Within twenty minutes, footage of you catching bullets bare-handedly while tugging along a conglomerade of burly bankrobbers reaches national news stations. And attention does come, however platonically so at first. You are invited to all manner of talk shows and other media events, some of which you actually end up attending. Gotta flaunt your pretty face somehow, right?

A few days into this media rumba, you awaken in your own, newly self-built home. The plot and construction materials were kindly donated by the city - figuring that having a resident superhero would be worth the investment. Outside, there's a light commotion that sounds like a pandemonium to your hyper-sensitive ears. Groggily, you saunter over to the window and peek through the curtains into the bright morning.

Sophie: "Oh fuck me."

To say that people would "line up" to date you was hopeful woolgathering, it seems. The yard and nearby street are completely covered by a massive mob of hopeful suitors. At first it looks like a protest, until you read the various signs with drawings and questionable humour which you'd rather not recount.

You need to respond to this somehow. Still in your pajamas, you hurriedly make your way to the balcony.

Sophie: "People!"

The booming voice enabled by your super strength silences the crowd in a matter of seconds, before there's a chorus of loud cheering and hollering. You manage to drown out the thousands of roaring spectators by getting straight to the point:

Sophie: "I can tell exactly what you're here for, and I must say I'm flattered. However, there's something that everyone here should know."

In half a blink, you've retrieved something from your drawer and hold it up for everyone to see. It looks like a bent piece of wire.

Sophie: "Care to guess what this is?"

The crowd dials down slightly, partaking in a short-form guessing game for the sake of formality.

Sophie: "This is, or was a solid steel dildo that I tried using yesterday."

Everyone falls dead silent.

Sophie: "So unless you've got fucking cosmic-power-blood or whatever running in your veins, we are prolly gonna have a really bad time. All who can't with good mind call themselves a super can bugger right off."

The disappointed masses begin to traipse their sorry butts off your property. However, a few people remain - people you recognize very well. You weren't the only one bestowed with powers that day - about a hundred or so others worldwide got a very similar dose of comic-book grade powers of convenience, and they've been through the same kinds of media roughhousing as well.

These are people whose various powers allow them to have sex with you without grievious bodily harm.