Day 23 - Deepthroating - The Incredibles

It’s incorrect to say that it’s difficult to meet new people after leaving college. You’ll meet them every day. On the bus, passing you on the sidewalk, taking your order or having their order taken. It remains incredibly easy to meet people so long as you aren’t doing some kind of job for recluses and freaks like sewer maintenance or creative writing. The difficulty is in making any sort of connection.

Helen’s job meant she met new people every day. She punched guys in ski masks, saved people from burning buildings, kissed babies. Those were all people she was meeting. But the people she punched usually didn’t stick around for long, the people in burning buildings usually were less concerned with getting coffee than with their entire lives having just gone up in smoke, and the babies as a whole remained apathetic or negative about the encounters.

Fortunately, there were other people having roughly the same problem. Heroes couldn’t really reliably find dates in the conventional sense, as most of the people they’d encounter who expressed interest were either starfuckers or had other, ulterior motives. Her roomate, former college dorm mate who had settled into sharing an apartment with her out of entropy, had read about a sort of heroic speed-dating in one of her periodicals. From there, it was just a matter of waiting until she found herself saving the same person as another hero and to start asking questions. Seemed like there was a lot of that same problem going around.

Unfortunately, the service wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The majority of people in it were people like Roger.

Roger was a kind man, even somewhat charming in his own way. He was mild-mannered, very technically smart, and well-meaning. He had an unimpressive physique, but he was as well aware of that as anybody else and carried it well. He didn’t puff out his chest and try to impress people. If you had a thing for glasses and softly-spoken men, he was probably at least some kind of a catch. He was also a bundle of neuroses.

At the age of eighteen, he’d been bitten by a radioactive horse. She hadn’t managed to keep from laughing when he’d told her this, which had been a genuine mistake on her part and she’d felt bad about it later. She hadn’t been aware that it wasn’t a joke, and when she learned it wasn’t, that just raised a hundred other questions. Namely who was irradiating a poor horse and to what end, these of course were things he didn’t have answers to, as those who got their powers instead of being born with them tended to be victims of circumstances beyond their control or comprehension. Like rats eating the tallow inside a pressure-differential railway line and not realizing they’re about to be reduced to a soup-like homogenate. It also hadn’t given him the strength and speed of a horse inasmuch. It had simply transformed half of his body into that of a horse, and that line happened to occur exactly at his navel, making his fairly unexceptional appearance that little bit worse. Not only was he slightly pudgy and lacking any real muscle, he also had a pair of hips broader than a bodybuilder’s shoulders and a pair of legs that bend the wrong way while being longer than you’d expect. Pants, he said, were difficult, but if all you cared about was if a guy was tall, he had you covered.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was trying to come up with ways to sell him to anybody but her, but there was a relief that by the second date, back at his place, she could tell he wasn’t really feeling it either.

“I don’t know if this whole thing is a good idea,” He came right out and said it.

“You and me, or what?”

“This hero speed dating thing,” He looked down into his lap, “I don’t really think I’m a superhero.”

“Well, do you save anybody?”

“Only on their car insurance,” He tried a grin, but it didn’t fit, “I only joined the thing because it’s basically impossible to date any other way. This might as well be a disability.”

“Oh come on, don’t say that.” She considered patting him, but worried it might feel condescending, “Any power is special, right?”

“That’s easy for you to say, you’re Elastigirl. It’s pretty easy to tell what makes your power super, what makes mine so super.”

Helen started something, then realized it was going to be an uphill, night-long battle if she did. She sighed and decided to let things take their course.

“I guess I’m just not so sure what the line is between super power and disability.”

“You’re asking me?” Roger bleated with his sort of ailing goat voice, “I’m the one over here with a human heart trying to pump blood to this. I can’t feel my feet most of the time!”

“You have hooves, Roger.”

“I can’t feel my hooves any of the time!”

He had started panting and wheezing and Helen reached out to pat him softly on the back.

“Hey, hey, come on buddy. It can’t be all bad. You’re fast, right?”

“I guess,” He gasped, “Only a little bit faster than the usual person.”

“But that still makes you fast.” Helen kept rubbing him between the shoulder blades, “Plus, your squat must be incredible.”

“Yeah…” Roger responded a little dejectedly, “It’s strong, but what are you even supposed to do with just having a good squat? Just hope to be there when something starts falling toward somebody?”

“Hey, any port in a storm for a civilian in danger.” She tried to reassure him, “You might not think a guy who fixes furnaces is very super, but in the winter time…”

“Great, that puts me right up there with the guys who know how to use a wrench,” Roger bleated.

Helen realized that this wasn’t going anywhere. She’d heard from one of the other group members that Roger was a bit of a walking pity-party, and she wasn’t seeing any evidence to the contrary. She didn’t have the mental energy to be somebody’s emotional babysitter full-time on top of everything else. That meant it was back to another night of her and her roommate watching crap B-movies and then pretending not to hear each other masturbating. However, as Helen was getting up to leave, she sighed internally and decided that she would at least get an answer to a morbid curiosity which had lingered in the back of her mind for a few weeks now.

“There’s other stuff, right?” She smiled playfully, “Other good sides to having the lower body of a horse?”

“I guess the fur is pretty nice,” Roger sniffed. She realized he was on the verge of tears and suppressed a groan.

“That’s not what I meant, Roger,” She put a hand on his thigh, “Come on, don’t tell me you were lying about everything from the waist-down being horse.”

“Oh… you mean… that way?” He turned a cherry sort of red, “Most girls aren’t really interested… considering.”

“Considering? Are you crazy, Roger?”

“Are you crazy? No girl can handle it. It’s like having a sports car on a boat.”

“Hey, you’re forgetting who you’re talking to.” She unzipped his pants, “Let me show you something really super.”

He was anatomically correct alright, perhaps more so than was convenient. Roger’s cock was usually hidden by a sheath which emerged a few inches from the skin, and was only starting to show itself when she pulled the sheath out from his boxers. It was dark brown and mottled with streaks and blotches of black like cloud patterns. Perhaps more importantly, it was as big as one would hope. Even only starting to harden and emerge, Roger was already larger than basically any man could honestly claim. She realized that the narrow hole of his boxers was going to be a problem, so she slid them down entirely before it could get to that point and found his balls each fist-sized.

There was nothing wrong with being a size queen, assuming that you had the capability to handle things and didn’t constantly find your eyes bigger than your stomach. This, of course, was a logistical problem which existed for other girls and which Helen couldn’t relate to. Actually, she had a struggle of her own in that nothing of any size could actually pose a challenge to her. Fortunately, she also had enough control that she could usually find the right size to make herself to actually feel something. It had taken some getting used to and some fine-tuning though. It also meant that any size-queening on her part was entirely a matter of showing off and girlish curiosity. Something that she suspected Roger represented near enough to the human limit for her ability to partake in. It wouldn’t be a challenge, but it would be a fun demonstration.

She pushed her head down onto his still-emerging member, now over a foot long and still growing. Feeling out where the flared head sat in her throat like the plug of a drain, she made that the bottom of her throat and stretched the rest of her neck forward to hold his length, pressing her lips and mouth down to his sheath. Roger gasped and whinnied, squirming in his seat. He probably wasn’t used to his own hands hitting some of the spots she was able to. She felt him twitch and continue to swell as she tightened her throat as much as she could, conveniently shifting the place where air came in and went out to somewhere she wouldn’t have to worry about it. A little breath play during head was fun, but with something of this magnitude the second you started taking it less than completely seriously, you risked hurting yourself.

Roger seemed desperate, overstimulated. She was fully aware she was going to be the first real sex he was going to have had since his accident, had been aware of it going in and had some expectation that he wouldn’t last very long. She relaxed her throat slightly, giving him a little less stimulation gradually until his desperate whinnies turned into pants and moans. Fully hard now, he twitched and throbbed inside of her, likely taking up so much blood he couldn’t have strung a full sentence together if she’d asked him to. Helen could practically feel his massive balls churning, she honestly wasn’t sure she wasn’t feeling it. He looked hazy, faraway. His mouth hanging open and his eyes dumbly glazed.

Part of her wanted to draw it out, to edge him or tease him until the load he gave her was enough to genuinely fill a pint glass, but she also realized that there was basically no way to get there reliably. He was going to be such a quick shot and so poor at communicating when he was close that she’d likely push him right over the first time she tried to back off. He also didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d be able to go multiple rounds. At least not for now. Perhaps with a little time and a little experience… but perhaps she didn’t want to be the girl to give him that experience. Though there was a fair question of who else would. Who else could.

There would be some things to think about tonight when she got back home. She could feel her underwear was wet, but it was hard to say if any of that was really her enjoying it or if it was entirely just her body’s response to a sexual situation after some time without any. Was it worth trying to “fix” Roger? She hated the term, she also hated the idea. It was just putting a good face on the idea of enduring somebody’s bad habits because you found them sexually gratifying.

She realized that twisted into strange, borderline horrific shapes with his cock in her throat was probably not the time and place to ponder these things.

Helen tightened her throat again until Roger’s face twisted in a grimace and he started to whinny, then she began pumping him with her lips and her whole body, rocking forward and back up and down his length. His whinnies became a high, whining groan, then his expression suddenly cracked into desperation before bliss.

He unloaded, whole cock twitching to bring up a torrent of cum from his seizing balls, rolling up his shaft tangibly in a pump before blasting it down Helen’s throat. She felt her own head go slightly hazy at the feeling of Roger letting loose down her throat, pumping his cum near-directly into her stomach. It seemed to slosh out of him and into her, churning and roiling, nearly a full pint by the time it was done. He seemed near enough to passing out, the force of blood in his throbbing-hard cock and groin clearly more than enough to leave the rest of his body weak. She swallowed it all without issue, then as he was winding down shifted back to something closer to human anatomy, only holding his massive flared head in her mouth and catching the final dribbling strands, hot and slick as cooking oil. When she let him free of her grasp, he was already quickly deflating as the other parts of his body gasped for air.

“Call me?” He muttered in a daze.

“I’ll keep your number,” She promised before leaving. And to her surprise, she realized that she meant it.

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