Sex and the Single Superheroine

Story by chessdemon

Let's go two for two ;) One of my rare non-furry works. I might post the other story I thought of presenting here--a more self-contained one, 'Personals'--later once I find a good copy of it (might have to grab one from my website, a hard drive crash earlier this year may well have taken my last digital copy of it with it, dratted compy-thingies...). At any rate, getting feedback on this tale might well convince me to finish this tale! Yes, written in 2004, but still no finish to it...I promise I'll stop procrastinating next week sometime, honest.

General disclaimers...as y'all can probably guess, this story contains superheroes. Mild sizey content, only a few buckets of spooge really, some transformation content, hardly any violence to speak of but it's there. Pretty tame, 'course I'd think so if it contained ten-foot-long cocks. Give it a look-see.

There's a term for people like myself, usually said in a slightly condescending tone: 'sun-worshipper'. Whenever I've got free time on a sunny day I want to lay under the sun in as little clothing as possible. Who knows, maybe it's genetic, I am half Hawai'ian after all. I'm forever being asked, 'Aren't you worried about skin cancer?' Sometimes I am, to be honest, though the one doctor I consulted about it couldn't tell me whether my powers would be able to prevent the disease. I do know I never sunburn, never even tan, likely a good thing; with my skin tone, I'd go from being mistaken for Hispanic to having everyone think I'm black (not that I've anything against either race, but why pretend to be what I'm not?). My complexion looks like I've got a permanent café au lait-colored tan anyway. Though it leads to other questions: 'If you don't tan, why do you do it?' Because it feels good, I always feel wonderful after I've basked in the sun for an hour or two. A simple answer, and the truth, though it never seems to satisfy the questioners. Screw 'em. I knew what I liked.

So, it's no surprise that when I visited Houston that day, and the interview I'd been scheduled for was cancelled--an interview of me for KTEX News, regrettably, 'regrettably' because I'd much rather have been interviewing someone else and getting my forever-flagging journalism career off the ground, instead of bolstering my superhero career--I found an empty high-rise building with an open rooftop, spread out a beach blanket from my duffle after changing into the bikini I also kept in there, and stretched out under the afternoon sun, my sunglasses shielding my eyes. One helicopter hovered around me for awhile, but I ignored it. The worst they could do was call the building owner and have me evicted, police generally being reluctant to arrest people who could bend iron bars with their bare hands and who went around fighting crime besides. Most likely all the helicopter occupants would do was put the pictures they took online, either for muscle-cheesecake websites, or else some 'Superheroes caught being people!' site if they recognized me. Who cared, either way, the Kevlar-reinforced Spandex uniform in my bag wasn't much less revealing than the 'kini. Most web page admins would probably look at the pictures, see that there wasn't much more to see than was on the news at times, and tell the shutterbug where he could shove the photos in no uncertain terms.

Oh, who am I? Summer Thompson is my name, though most who had heard of me in my other role, few as those were outside of Gulf City, Texas, called me Jackrabbit. Yeah, I know, not the most flattering of handles, even if it is rather apropos for a Texas-based superheroine, but I didn't really have a say in the matter. Ironic as it may be for a fledgeling newshack to say, I was at the mercy of the media when that name came up. But believe me, it could've been much worse. In our superhero and -villain-overrun society, one can honestly say that all the good names are taken.

Sex and the Single Superheroine

Based loosely on concepts created by John Harrington

and inspired by DC Comics

(any stray DC Comics references are the trademark or

inferred, don't sue me, you won't get any moolah anyway)

Am I being too hard on myself, saying the photog wouldn't be able to just sell the pic to porn sites? Perhaps; I didn't really think of myself as beautiful, hardly prime fodder for such sites, being far too tall at six foot five, too long of limb, and certainly too muscular. Though I refrained from the sort of bodybuilding that would turn me into a muscle-bound freak, I did enough to keep in good tone,

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