Tracer and Elastigirl

Helen Parr sat at her desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she reviewed the latest deployment schedules. The office was meticulously organized, a stark contrast to the chaotic world outside her window. Papers were neatly stacked, and her digital display flickered with updates from various sectors of the Nexus base. It was a rare quiet moment in her typically hectic day as the leader of one of the superhero divisions.

The door chimed softly, and Captain Tracer, one of Maxima's most reliable field commanders, stepped into the office. Tracer's posture was relaxed, yet her expression carried a hint of confusion—a look Helen had come to associate with unexpected problems.

"Morning, Helen," Tracer greeted, her British accent crisp in the quiet of the office. "Got a minute?"

"Of course, Lena," Helen replied, setting aside her tablet to give Tracer her full attention. "What's on your mind?"

Tracer hesitated, her fingers drumming lightly on the back of the chair across from Helen's desk. "So, about our 'super juice' distribution—there's a bit of a free-for-all happening. No real tracking on who’s draining whom. It’s all over the place."

Helen raised an eyebrow, a slight frown creasing her forehead. The issue Tracer brought up was indeed serious; such a fundamental aspect of superpower maintenance falling through the cracks was unusual and potentially disastrous.

"That doesn't sound right," Helen muttered, her mind racing through the regulations and protocols she would have helped establish. "We should have a system in place for tracking all variables that could affect operational readiness, including... that." She paused, the reality of discussing such a personal aspect of their lives still slightly jarring, despite its necessity.

"Exactly that," Tracer confirmed, her expression a mixture of amusement and concern. "It's like the wild west of blowjobs and ball-draining sessions. There’s no system, Helen. People are just... popping off wherever.'

"Clockblocker’s been wasting his loads on Uravity. No offense to her or her gravity powers, but that’s not exactly a strategic pairing. And between you and me, I reckon those loads could be... better utilized elsewhere."

Helen raised an eyebrow, picking up on Tracer’s underlying meaning. "Ah, I see. A bit frustrating for you, time powers syncing and all that?"

"Just a tad," Tracer replied with a wry smirk.

"Caught Starlight coming out of the bathroom the other day, looked like she’d been with one of the tech guys. Sweet girl, but normie jizz can’t be doing much for her powers."

Helen continued to listen to Tracer’s concerns, a pang of guilt tightening in her chest as she realized she’d missed such a critical oversight. Blowjobs were so commonplace around the base that she hadn't thought to formalize the process. It’s just part of the day-to-day here, she thought ruefully. Healthy libido is a sign of vitality, erections are just part of being male, and well, a woman’s mouth does make a convenient cleanup method.

She leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "You're right, Lena. It’s my oversight. We've always known that for normal guys, it’s just biological waste unless they’re aiming to reproduce. But our guys? Their stuff has... extra properties. Can’t believe I let that slip."

She gave a soft, wry chuckle, the kind a mom might use to lighten a serious moment at the dinner table. "Guess it shows even us 'super' types can miss the details. We treat it all like it's just another day at the office—guys popping off as they need, ladies lending a hand—or a mouth, rather. Keeps the morale high and the mess low, right? But with powers in the mix, we ought to think more like a bank than a frat house. Time to secure our assets and invest them wisely."

Helen’s tone remained light but her mind was already racing through potential solutions. "We'll need to start tracking and managing our resources more effectively. It's not just about keeping the floors clean anymore; it's about powering up and making sure we're not wasting a drop of potential. I’ll get on drafting some guidelines, set up a system. We need to match the right... donations... with the right recipients. Strategic alignment, you know?"

Tracer nodded, clearly relieved that Helen was taking the issue seriously. "Exactly, Helen. We need to make sure the right people are in the... receiving end, so to speak. Boost efficiency where we can."

"Right," Helen agreed, her mind already formulating a plan. "I'll pull some strings, get us a setup that tracks who’s contributing and benefiting. We’ll treat it like a training regimen—gotta make sure everyone’s getting their, uh, nutritional supplements tailored to their needs."

"I can start a preliminary audit, see how widespread the issue is," Tracer offered. "Gather some data to help build out the system."

"That would be excellent," Helen agreed, her mind already turning over the potential implications. "Keep it discreet, Lena. We need information, not rumors spreading."

"Understood, boss," Tracer replied, standing to leave. "I’ll get on it right away."

As Tracer left the office, Helen shook her head slightly, amused despite the seriousness of their conversation. Only here would we need to organize a schedule for blowjobs like they're coffee breaks, she thought, a smirk playing on her lips. But if that’s what it takes to keep the world safe, then I guess I’m just the mom to make it happen.

She began to draft the new guidelines, her mind clear and her resolve firm. This was just another challenge to overcome, and she would handle it with the same dedication and efficiency she applied to everything else in her life. As the leader of this division, she was responsible for every aspect of her team's welfare, no matter how unusual or personal.

Helen sat back in her chair, a knot of dismay tightening in her stomach as she considered the state of affairs on the base. It was her responsibility to ensure that everything ran smoothly and efficiently, including the somewhat surreal but critical aspects of superpower maintenance through semen distribution. How had she let it get to this point where the system was so haphazard?

And now that she thought about it, she was somewhat complicit, sticking to a comfortable pattern without pushing for better oversight or optimization.

Reflecting on her own sources, Helen acknowledged the convenience of relying on Bob and Dash. With Bob, it was straightforward—a quick session before bed and another in the early morning. And then there was Dash, whose quarters were just a short walk from her own. The familiarity was deep; after all, she had been his mom through the turbulent teenage years, dealing with all the messy aftermaths of a rapidly maturing speedster. For a while, she mused with a touch of rueful humor, she'd been consuming more of Dash's output than Bob's, given Dash's super-speed-enhanced... productivity.

Yet, as Helen considered the potential of branching out—specifically to Reed Richards—she couldn’t help but feel a mix of practical anticipation and personal reservation. Reed's contributions would likely be the perfect match for her elastic abilities, possibly enhancing her powers in ways Bob or Dash's couldn't. But Reed himself was quite the stiff, always buried in his research, rarely showing any warmth. The thought of approaching him for such a personal favor added a layer of complexity to the decision.

"I need to talk to Susan," Helen decided, the thought firming up her resolve. Susan, ever the mediator and the voice of reason, would know how to facilitate this delicate conversation without making it awkward. Reed might be a bit of a stick in the mud, but his potential contributions could be too beneficial to pass up.

This whole situation highlighted a larger issue: the necessity of implementing a more structured system to manage these interactions. It was crucial, not just for maintaining power levels but for ensuring the well-being and dignity of everyone involved. Helen felt a renewed sense of urgency to address this, starting with a comprehensive audit and strict guidelines to prevent such casual, disorderly conduct in the future.

As Helen prepared to draft a new policy, her mind buzzed with the logistical and ethical challenges ahead. The balance between personal familiarity and professional necessity was delicate, and she needed to tread carefully to respect both.