Sex and The Single Hero Ch. 01

Sex and the Single Hero

Giant and Impact

Helena slid a pair of dimmers at the top of the stairs, turning on the overhead lights, then flicked another switch, opening the curtains on her second story home office. It was still dark outside, and she loved seeing the sun rise while she worked. Taking up the entirety of what would have been a game room for a family, it was half a floor with several large windows and custom plush thick-piled carpet. A small three-quarters bath let her take care of immediate needs and a quick shower if needed, taking quick breaks for minutes at a time during her busy days. It was five-twenty, and a couple of her clients on the East Coast had been open for nearly half-an-hour.

Her primary income was as a software designer and security consultant, had been for nearly six years. She'd first worked out from a tiny apartment, then in a couple of houses before buying this one four years ago. She'd christened it her Fortress of Solitude for a few months, but the sheer size of the house was much more than needed if she had no-one to share it with. Now she just called it Home.

Her last relationship had been six months long, tempestuous and torrid, filled with long bouts of fucking on every single horizontal and against nearly every vertical surface. It had been so satisfying on a physical level, and, for a time, emotionally. He wasn't right for her, and she knew it almost from the outset. Thad had been in his late twenties, voracious in his appetite for her, and they spent long hours satisfying both their deepest desires. They said they loved each other, but it hadn't been enough.

It was what he called Helena's mania for secrecy that did them in. She'd spent long hours away from him, traveling on one undisclosed assignment or another, led him to accuse her of cheating, of leading a double life. She had never cheated on a boyfriend, or her one brief girlfriend, and his anger and distrust hurt her deeply. Thad never physically hurt or even threatened her, but it was the growing anger towards and dwindling faith in her that had finally driven a stake into the heart of their relationship, their love.

He'd walked out over two years ago.

Firing up both of her work laptops, she sat down at the ten-foot long polished and curved wooden table that served as her desk. Settling into her executive chair, Helena's eyes widened when she saw the dildo, still slick with lube and pussy juices, on its side next to her personal laptop, which had seen some very personal use the night before. Muttering a quiet curse, she took it to the bathroom and washed it off in soapy warm water, patting it dry before slipping it into the cabinet beneath the sink with the others. She wiped the thick, clear goo off her table, and sank into her chair, contemplating the day ahead.

Out in the middle of not quite nowhere, her nearest neighbor was a quarter-mile away, and she carefully kept her curtains closed when she felt the need to masturbate, which was every two or three days, often online in a teddy or completely naked, always masked to conceal her identity from anyone she played with online. She wasn't recognizable to her neighbors, had few casual acquaintances, and for now she avoided being known by anyone who could get inside her heart and wound her.

Last night she had played online with three anonymous cocks on her screen, fingering and later using her dildo to cum when their jizz spurted out onto keyboards and towels. Her last e-tryst had been with a blonde with a shaved pussy. They'd played together for an hour, enjoying simultaneous climaxes; both were squirters, and Helena's own arousal had spiked watching her virtual partner spilling her juices onto the leather chair she was seated on. It had been almost one a.m. before she went downstairs to bed.

Helena Harper wasn't just beautiful, but stunning, nearly a goddess among mortals. Her brown hair was cut short now, and had been past her waist in college. She didn't regret cutting it to a shorter length, but recalled the longer tresses fondly. Her eyes were an almost unearthly cerulean blue, atop high cheekbones, a slender nose and full sensitive lips over her strong chin. Her skin seemed carved from the finest marble by a master craftsman, and if she didn't tan, no-one commented on it. She had breasts of spectacularly average size, firm with nipples that pointed in a perfect horizontal line forward, her figure a slender hourglass.

With a confident but not arrogant gaze, she stood out in a crowd, despite being barely a breath over five feet tall. Anyone who met her apprehended her beauty and poise, the latter borne of a long history of seeking above all the comfort of anonymity. The men and women who traded nudity and self-pleasure with her never saw her face, and she always hid her IP address, an easy task for her, almost expected by her virtual one-night stands.

She had just settled herself in when the first call of her day came in, and she slipped her headset on, keeping her camera off. The robe she wore was diaphanous with purple satin demi-cups concealing the bottom half of her breasts, gauzy lace everywhere else. She'd grabbed a random pair of clean panties from her drawer and slipped them on before heading up the stairs, but didn't want any of her clients to speculate how she spent her off time, or see her this relaxed.

"Crucible Software Management," she answered crisply, and listened. It was Hal, an executive with a small investment firm in Hartford, Connecticut, and he sounded a little panicked, a lot angry. A hacker had brought down their website with a Denial of Service attack, expertly executed two hours before, piercing the carefully constructed protection she had built for them. Her card and platform gave her hours from seven a.m. to three p.m. Monday through Thursday, and by appointment, carefully expressing the time as Central, not Pacific where she really dwelt. Concealing facts about herself was second nature, had been for years.

Reviewing the data dump from their stymied IT department, her eyes and mind dove in and swam through the information, making instant sense of what had happened. It took twenty minutes to find the breach and seal it, and after testing system integrity twice, she uploaded a patch that would give her time to manufacture a complete reset of their system and website and called him back.

"Hal, I found the problem. One of your people fucked up." She let just a little bit of anger seep into her words. "They violated three protocols, three of them! I found the website, and it's something they should never be looking at from work!" She transmitted the name, though not the link. Hal looked at it, frowning. The offending site was heavily man-oriented, meaning men with men, doing all sorts of things she personally found...intriguing if she admitted it to herself.

Stifling that thought, she bit out the next vital bit of data. "User BAT01767." It was the three first letters of the last name and a random sequence of numbers. She didn't bring up their roster and wouldn't unless requested.

Her client sounded as if he was choking. "That's our controller!"

Grimly, she gave her prescription. "Well, he's a pervert, or at least has very little control, playing at work like that. I can't and won't tell you how to run your business, but your best options would be either A, fire him, or B, fully train him on your sexual harassment and porn protocols, get that sick puppy to keep it in his pants at work." She detested unprofessional conduct, even though she did the same at home in off-hours. Her protocols were bulletproof, and updated nightly, and she never indulged in self-pleasure when working.

She heard Hal's voice waver, imagined his face crumpling a little. "You don't understand. That's my wife getting off on men...doing that on camera." Hal sounded mortified, not only by his wife's choice of erotica, but doubtless her doing it in her office. It occurred to her abruptly that Hal's last name was Bates. Oh, fuck...

Her employer couldn't see the perturbed look on her face as she went on, voice calm and above all professional. "I understand, Hal. You need to talk to her, see if she's...unfulfilled..." She let her work voice slide off her as if it were a mask. "Hal, you're one of my favorite clients. You personally. I'm no expert, but she's obviously missing something, needs something.

"Or...it could be one of the janitors on her portal while she's out." Helena didn't really believe it; the security protocols for anyone using any of her systems were also, if not bulletproof, well outside the ability of an above-average genius to penetrate. "I don't mean to...pry, Hal. Just look into it. Privately. See what's going on."

He responded soberly. "I will. Thank you, Helena." and disconnected. She pulled off the headset, laying it gingerly next to her keyboard, then laying her head back against the headrest, just breathing for a moment. She swore nearly silently, thought about a break for coffee, then resolutely pulled the headset back on, and proceeded to her IT maintenance calls and updates.

********

Around two o'clock, her East Coast clients were all closing up shop, at least their front offices, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Standing, she stretched, hearing the vertebrae in her back snap, crackle and pop when she twisted them. It felt good, and she realized she was famished. Walking downstairs to her kitchen, she grabbed a quick snack, devouring it in less time than it took to make it.

Then came the sound. A soft, ululating high-pitched whine, audible only to her ears. When she started her second job in the evenings was when it usually arose, but it was earlier, therefore urgent. Pressing buttons on the opposite side of her watch, she withdrew the small earbud and inserted it in her right ear. It activated on contact with her skin. "Go, Point Man."

Point Man was the name for the covert operative that doled assignments out to her and a select handful of others. His voice, like hers, was scrambled, so neither of them could recognize their voices if they stumbled across each other in real life, a vanishingly small likelihood. "Minnesota, Big Red Fucker, co-ordinates to follow."

Helena tossed off her robe and mismatched panties, then removed her watch, standing naked in her living room. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and a blur gathered around her, solidifying in moments to her other work outfit. It was form-fitting, a vibrant green with purple diagonal slashes across her breasts, her groin and buttocks. Opening a hidden wall cabinet keyed to her DNA, out of the sight of any windows even if they were open, she pulled out her boots and vambraces. They were the same purple and green motif, her hands, specifically her palms, uncovered. The facemask and helmet were also purple, the bug-like eye covers green and transparent to her sight alone. She pulled it over her head swiftly, and In a few seconds, she was ready for action.

"Point Man, I'm en route." She pressed a stud on her right vambrace, and faded from view, briefly invisible to all sight and radar. Another switch directed her house to slide the skylight open on lubricated tracks, then she shot up vertically into the brilliant blue sky, the skylight sliding silently closed in her wake.

When the altimeter display in her helmet told her she was close to five thousand feet, the invisibility aura discharged, her form appearing out of thin air without witnesses. Helena headed east at Mach Three, slipping past the sound barrier with ease as she'd done so many times before by manipulating the gravitons around her, forcing them to gather and pull her along. A quick glance at the oxygen gauge told her she had four hours at this altitude and speed. The coordinates were already dialed into the helmet, and she quickly calculated it would take less than forty minutes to arrive in the general vicinity.

The cold bit into her as she rocketed over the Rockies and onto the Great Plains. Far from being unpleasant, the rushing icy wind aroused her, the chilly air serving as an unwelcome aphrodisiac, an evil distraction from her fight against crime. Cold was an incredible turn-on for her, and the touch of ice on her made her shiver from sheer passion instead of the ambient chill. Her trainers had called it a cold affinity, as opposed to mere resistance.

Early in her career, she had chased Arctic Blast into a walk-in freezer and cornered him there, well before she met Thad. Incredibly, the two of them had hit it off. Despite his rap sheet of B&E's, he studiously avoided harm to others, and the two of them shared an attraction to and a fondness for sub-zero temperatures. Simply put, the cold aroused both of them in a way that no-one else would ever understand. They spent a long night in the freezer, naked and fucking furiously. Frost had crystallized on her clit, driving her wild, and his jizz had felt like Soft-Serv pouring into her pussy, tasted less like it in her mouth.

He had ended his criminal career shortly after, claiming to have seen the light and not wanting to use his powers to harm others. He had been a great lay, and she considered tracking him down, even though that was strictly forbidden, for another bout in a freezer, or maybe even above the Arctic Circle. Even now, she would sometimes let her tempered glass dildo languish for a few hours in her freezer, then hump it to complete sexual exhaustion.

Helena shook her head to eject the image from her mind, enticing though it was. I'm heading into battle, not the prom after-party! Get your head in the game!

Point Man's voice interrupted her naughty ruminations. "Quantax, you just drifted off course to Big Red Fucker. All systems okay?"

Fuck! Now it's not just my thoughts wandering. Speaking calmly, she replied, "No, just thinking of something I need to handle afterward. After I take BRF down."

Unusually, he chuckled, a crackling squeak coming through the scrambler. "Maybe he's just on the prowl for BRC!" The joke around the hero community was somewhere there was a matching female villain with the monicker Big Red Cunt who BRF was trying to impress.

The levity was welcome, and she chortled back. "If I see a six-foot deep hairy hole, I'll distract him with it."

"Roger that. Show five minutes before you're in Minneapolis airspace, Q. He appeared just before I called you, and has been slowly advancing since." The horny behemoth moved slowly, and she knew he couldn't manage a run, even if he hadn't been...stimulated.

Point Man continued. "BRF is now across the bridge into St. Paul, still by the docks." Triggering the infrared vision in her helmet, she dropped to one thousand feet and slowed to give herself warning of aircraft or the odd hot air balloon that might be in her path. BRF's heat signature wasn't just large, it was very, very hot, almost white in her IR scan. She jetted towards him.

He was giant, impossibly so, standing nearly fifty-two feet tall, completely nude. immensely muscled from head to toe, he had to be to move his mass. The square-cube law dictated he weighed upwards of one hundred and twenty tons, and just walking on the streets left deep potholes wherever he lumbered. Much less and he'd look like a furious, crimson Woody Allen. With a huge dick. His thick tegument was proof against mere bullets, and exploding shells just seemed to piss him off. "Engaging. Any others on the way?"

Point Man sounded a little disappointed. "No-one's available within the next two hours. Lady Maelstrom and the Bounder would take this, but they're still honeymooning on the Virgin Islands. I have a jet on the way, but they won't be here soon enough. Try to take him down with a minimum of collateral damage." She bit off a disagreeable reply to his stock instructions before she could say it. The name of the game was always to protect people and property first. Setting her jaw, she moved in.

Circling around to his front, she saw his Big Red Pecker come into view, red, rigid and veined from head to root. Out of proportion to his height, BRF's cock should have been about five feet long, but it jutted more than eight feet out in front of him, leveled like a literal battering ram as he advanced across the city. Helena triggered her external speaker.

"Hey, Big Guy! Maybe we could talk about this?" BRF didn't so much rampage as look for some hole he could stick his oversized dick in, humping mines or subway tunnels, disappearing when he shot his sticky load into whatever terrestrial feature caught his fancy, leaving behind a substance like pink glue, scented vaguely like Clorox. His semen was also mildly acidic, sloughing away clothes and leaving chemical burns on anyone it covered or splashed on, complicating her attempts to keep the public safe.

He stopped and glowered at her, then sneered in an appropriately booming voice. "You wanna take it all, bitch? Come close and I'll shove it all the way up your ass and out your face, then I'll fuck you until your body splits down the middle..." His smile was dripping with malice. "After I cum all the way through you, I'll peel your corpse off my cock like a used condom."

Yuk! No matter how horny I get that's not happening. Not fucking ever! She dodged a swat of his powerful forearm with ease, felt the wind disrupted in front of her. Still negotiating, she went on. "There are other ways, BRF! Maybe dig a hole in your backyard, wherever that is, put some trees or brush around it so it feels like a real..." She mentally gagged at the mental image of the horny crimson titan humping the ground, buttocks rising and falling like rounded red hills with each stroke, and couldn't finish the sentence. Her gorge rose and she fought it back down, along with her lunch.

Big Red Fucker roared his outrage. "Stop mocking me! You fucking know how this works, cunt! I stick my Wonder Cock in something and fuck it!" He resumed his passage through the city, and she pictured a mental icon with a golden lightning bolt. Good, enough for maybe four discharges. Looking down to the ground, she verified the distance with her altimeter. She aimed her palms at his side, and released a bolt of electricity to distract him.

Helena's main power made her a human capacitor, able to absorb and discharge all sorts of energies, but one at a time, and maintained in separate 'silos', preventing her from firing combined blasts of, say, fire and gravity. She kept a tally of which energies and how much of each she had stored within her, and had schooled her mind to show it as a bar graph when she called it up, a line of big buttons underneath each vertical bar, a unique icon marking each.

She fired her bolt, a full two seconds above the pavement. At her silent command, she felt the gravitic energies keeping her aloft fade away, replaced by the tingle of lightning coursing through her bare palms.

The discharge sent a thrill of pleasure through her body, an irritating side-effect of the power she wielded. Any energy discharged made her nerves hum and sing with an almost erotic tension head to toe. The bolt splashed against BRF's herculean physique, dissipating quickly with no obvious effect. Without gravity control active, she plunged downward the moment she fired. One second later, she switched back to gravity control, buoying her form above the concrete. BRF shrugged off the blast and moved onward.

Now what? By herself, Helena knew she probably wouldn't be able to stop him, not without a great deal more power. Gravity was ubiquitous, easily absorbed just standing there, so she had plenty of it all the time. Electricity was less so, and she had to manage her absorption rate not to burn out the electrical grid, but its conversion rate was over ninety-four percent. Other energies, such as radiant heat and life energy, had miserably poor conversion rates, and equally low reserves.