The Return of Cougaress Ep. 01

So you end up dating other heroes. There aren't nearly as many of them as there are normals to begin with, so the selection is limited. And to tell the truth a lot of them are simply not good boyfriend material. He might be too obsessed with duty, or too vain, or have serious anger-management issues, or think he's a god (and act like one), or is too alien (sometimes literally).

A big difference in power levels can also be a problem. You really did like Iron Knight and the two of you had a thing going for awhile, but without his armor he's just a regular guy. After that one time when you got carried away and squeezed your thighs together a bit too hard; well, let's just say that is took him months to recover fully from the pelvic fracture.

So you're receptive when Paragon asks you out. You've been a hero for long enough at this point that you feel like you've pretty much exhausted most of your obvious romantic options. You don't know Paragon all that well, he's the very definition of an A-list superhero and therefore you think he's out of your league (probably why you never even considered him before). But he's known as a seriously nice guy, he's got these totally chiseled-but-boyish good looks, and he's even tougher than you are (meaning no problems if you end up getting a little wild once you do get to know each other better).

He's rather reserved on your dates, but you put that down to his well-known gallantry and morals. (You've heard some of the other heroes call him Super-Mormon behind his back, and not as a compliment). He's definitely charming and gallant. When he tells you on the third date that he doesn't believe in sex before marriage it's a little disappointing but at the same time you admire it as a sign of his respect for women. So you keep dating him, even if he does act like he's something out of the 1930s at times.

You're surprised when after three months of dating he takes you in his arms and flies you up to the top of the Washington Monument where he goes to one knee and offers you a ring. It feels too soon, but you hate to turn down such a nice guy. Plus you're not getting any younger, not many more birthdays for you before the Big Four Oh arrives. You hate the whole notion of women supposedly feeling some invisible biologic clock ticking, but you do want kids. How much longer are you willing to wait to see if SuperRightMan finally comes along?

And truth to tell, another reason you say "Yes" is that you haven't had sex in a while. You're really looking forward to seeing how the "Man of Titanium" is in the sack, even if it means a wedding ring on your finger.

* * * * * *

Your first year and a half of marriage is good. Not great, but you're happy enough. It's hard to call Paragon a loving husband, he's too emotionally absent for that, but he's attentive and respectful. If he's a bit distant at times you put it down to the distractions imposed by his job. And while he's definitely not the adventurous type in bed (he won't reciprocate oral sex, and you may as well try to beat him at arm-wrestling as convince him to try a position other than missionary) you've never had a partner that has more stamina.

At first he's reluctant to include you in his work, but once you remind him forcefully that you have powers of your own by tossing him through a wall (it's only an interior wooden-frame wall, but that's not the point) he starts taking you along on missions. You're now interacting with the A-list heroes, and by default being considered one yourself.

The result is that you discover you've been selling yourself short for years. Your powers may not let you go toe-to-to with your husband or Titanic or Hellione, but you're easily on a level with heroes like Steel Eagle and Synchonicity who no one doubts are serious heavyweights.

It's fun. And exciting. You don't want to give it up.

Which is exactly what Paragon insists on happening eighteen months after the wedding, when you tell him you're pregnant.

* * * * * *

You have to admit he has a good argument. Paragon's invulnerable and you're pretty darn tough, but past experiences of other superhero couples says that you can't be sure which if any of your powers your offspring will inherit, or when they'll manifest. A blow to the belly that only inconveniences you could possibly bring a sudden end to your unborn child. Aside from this, the morning sickness you start getting in the sixth week is bad enough that you get the feeling you might end up suddenly vomiting all over the villains instead of punching them out. Since "caustic vomit" isn't one of your powers, this presumably wouldn't be all that tactically effective.

So you reluctantly agree to take nine months off being a hero. Which turns into nine months and four years, because after little Ryan (your choice, Paragon wants to name him Exemplar but you put your foot down) comes along it turns out he's precocious. Meaning he exhibits heroic strength and speed as a baby rather than waiting till he gets a bit older like most super-kids. It's not as if you can trust an ordinary au pair with a child who can crush any playpen not made of case-hardened steel and can toddle faster than most sprinters can run, so like it or not you become a full-time super-mom.

If that was your only problem you might be okay with it, because you love your son and you know he won't be a baby forever. Meanwhile however Paragon has become more distant than ever. He's very proud to have produced a son (and it bothers you the way it seems important to him that it's a son rather than a daughter), but he spends less and less time at home with you even when he's not out fighting crime. In particular it seems that he's constantly hanging out with Fliedermaus and his "young ward" Wonderboy, a pair you're certain are gay as all get out. This reminds you of certain rumors about your husband that you'd heard years ago but always dismissed. I mean, he married you, right? Surely that was proof he's attracted to women.

Unfortunately that idea gets less convincing after you got pregnant. Right away it seemed he was no longer interested in you in a sexual way. Initially you thought it was the pregnancy itself, having the notion that some men are bothered by that, but even after Ryan was born it was the same thing. Namely, nothing.

Okay, so you no longer have the figure you had when he married you. Your hips have broadened, and your tits hang heavier than before, and your belly isn't flat but pouches a bit. But all that's because you bore his baby for fuck's sake! And it certainly doesn't seem like reason enough to avoid you entirely.

And it's not just the sex thing. Even when he's at home Paragon won't talk to you about anything important (or what you would consider important, now that you're out of the "saving the world" business). Like the time you want him to sit down and have a discussion about whether you should enroll Ryan in pre-school to start socializing him, or if it's better to wait till kindergarten and he has a little more control (meaning he would be less likely to accidentally fracture a playmate's arms and legs). Paragon just blows you off and said not to worry about it, he'll take care of everything.

It's incredibly dismissive and demoralizing being treated this way! To say you're unhappy is a considerable understatement. You wonder how things could possibly get worse.

The day your son and your husband both disappear answers that question quite decisively.

* * * * * *

You contact all the other heroes you can. Ditto for all law enforcement agencies you can reach. You strongly consider suiting up for the first time in years and going out and beating up any villain you can find, either to get information out of him or just to relieve your own anxiety and stress.

Thirty-six hours after he vanishes Paragon shows up at home. You rush to him, crying and begging him to tell you what's happened. He gives you his patented shy grin. "I've made our son safe," he says.

You stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

He has the grace to look sheepish. "He's vulnerable as a child. Also, he's no longer a baby and needs education. But if he goes out into our world he would be a target for all my enemies. So I brought to where he'll be safe until he can defend himself."

"Without discussing it with me first? Your wife? His mother?"

He winces a bit, since your voice gets louder and angrier throughout the statement. "I had to do what was best for him, darling," he says, taking your rather stiffly into his arms. "Don't worry, I'll bring him back soon. He'll be gone two weeks at most."

You bat his arms away. "Two weeks? How the fuck will keeping him away two weeks possibly help!"

He tells you, but you have trouble believing him.

Two weeks later he brings Ryan back, and you can't deny it any longer

* * * * * *

"So, how was your day?" you ask, trying to keep your voice light.

"Fine."

"Oh, okay. What did you do?"

"Stuff."

"Stuff. What sort of stuff, Ryan?"

"Just stuff."

You can't hold back your sigh. "Okay, good. I'm making lasagna for dinner, is that okay?"

"I guess."

"Would you like me to help you with your workout later?"

"Nah. Going out."

"Going out where, dear?"

He's been looking at his phone the whole time and continues to text. "Places."

"With your father?"

"Nah."

"Ryan, is everything okay?"

"Sure," he mutters, still staring at his phone. He's been back a month, but you're not sure he's looked you in the eyes more than ten minutes total ever since his return.

Paragon explained it to you. Time passes differently in the dimension to which he took Ryan. To you, your son was gone fourteen days. But for Ryan it was fourteen years. Years where he could grow into his powers and learn to defend himself, so that Paragon no longer has to worry about the boy being used as a weapon against him. Which are also years you lost of watching your baby grow into a man. You've missed his fifth through eighteenth birthdays, and there's no way you'll ever get that back.

When you last saw your son he was a happy preschooler. He's come back a sullen, moody teenager.

* * * * * *

What your husband has done is unforgivable. Not that he cares. When you tell him how you feel he just shrugs and uses it as an excuse to move out of the house. You're more suspicious than ever that he's a closeted homosexual and was using you as a beard.

You get your old costume out of storage and decide to start patrolling again. Mostly because you can't think of what else to do with yourself. Though if you're totally honest you have another motive as well, namely you're starved for sex.

Since Paragon stopped doing anything with you along those lines as soon as he found out you were pregnant it means you've been celibate for nearly five years. It's the longest period you've gone without sex since you graduated high school. The lack is making you a little crazy.

Even before Ryan disappeared you were strongly considering having an affair with one of your old hero colleagues, but soon found out they're divided into three basic categories. The first (and by far the smallest) class are heroes who believe in truth, justice, and the sanctity of marriage, and wouldn't feel right about helping you cheat on Paragon. The second category consists of heroes who just aren't interested in you, either because they're faggots like Fliedermaus or because they're not interested in a hot mommy who's no longer as slim or young as she used to be. The third group are guys who might be interested but are also terrified that Paragon might find out and beat the living crap out of them. So basically you're out of luck on all fronts as far as heroes are concerned.

But sex with other heroes is hardly the only sort of fun you had back in the day. Heroines never talk about it in public (it doesn't fit with the image), but when it's just us girls most will admit they've "bumped uglies" with the bad guys from time to time. And not just on those occasions where they ended up "helpless" or "in their opponent's evil clutches," though sometimes that happens too. (In fact, certain heroines actively seek out that sort of thing. Being helpless isn't your own kink, but you'll admit that simply hearing the words "evil clutches" invariably reminds you of Robber Baron. The things he could do with that Invisible Hand of his, talk about finger-banging!)

In fact you and the other heroines used to discreetly exchange information on certain villains, namely the ones who were good-looking, knew how to treat a lady, and were relatively sane. On certain occasions a heroine might issue an unofficial challenge to one of these guys to meet them for a one-on-one encounter, which would inevitably end in a "draw" but preferably only after a long, hot, sticky, and extremely close-range face-off.

So when Cougaress makes a return to the world of crime-fighting it's not just because you badly need an acceptable target on which you can violently take out some of your frustrations. You're also more than half-hoping to run across one of your old nemeses, a villain who "knew" you in the Biblical sense back in the day, and might be willing to help you relieve certain other, not so violent, frustrations you have.

* * * * * *

It's a slow night. You interrupt a mugging but the guy surrenders as soon as you drop into the alley, so you just tie the fool to the nearest lamppost and notify the police. Next you hear the sounds of a gang brawl, but before you get there the sound of sirens causes the participants to break up and flee.

Then just after two a.m. as you're thinking about heading home you spot a bunch of thugs breaking into a antique store. The shop's display window contains a bunch of faux-Egyptian junk including a gold-painted cat statuette and you can't help but feel it's a good omen.

It's not only the decor that makes you nostalgic. The thugs turn out to be a lot like your opponents from your first heroine fight ever, namely armed, disorganized, and not very bright. The first symptom of which is simply their choice of targets. What the hell are they thinking, knocking over an antique shop? Sure, the alarm system is crap and easily disabled, but most of the jewelry in the place is going to be costume and not worth much, and the owner would certainly take the till home for the night. What were they going to steal, a set of Louis Quinze chairs? Maybe a nice mahogany sideboard?

You're grinning to yourself as you drop into the street. The smile gets broader when several of them spot you, their eyes bug, and there's a chorus of muttered comments along the lines of "Oh fuck, we are so screwed!"

The fight doesn't last long at all, which is sort of disappointing at you were hoping for more of a workout. A few minutes and your half-dozen opponents are unconscious or otherwise disabled.

The last of the thugs, a scrawny teenager, is trying to run. You leap, backflip in mid-air, and land in his path. He doesn't stop or swerve, he runs right into you. It doesn't feel like an attempt to attack, he just wraps his arms around you, buries his head between your breasts and emits a soft moan.

You're both bemused and amused, so you don't immediately punch him senseless. "Not sure I've seen this move before," you purr. "What do you do next, try to lift me off my feet?"

Last man standing looks into your face. "You're Cougaress," he breathes, eyes wide.

He's older than you first thought, just fresh-faced and dewy-eyed for his age. He smells of fear from before, but right now the primary emotion he's projecting is adoration.

You look at him skeptically. "You don't seem the type to be running with a gang, kid."

With his skin tone it's a little hard to see the blush, but it's there. "I'm kind of a legacy. My brother's an OG and he insisted I join. He also told the others they had to let me in."

You roll your eyes. "He one of the guys here?"

"Umm, no, he's doing five to fifteen for dealing," the kid says, still embarrassed.

"So if he's not around, why are you doing this? You enjoying the thug life?"

"Fuck, no! They push me around and give me all the shitty jobs," he says.

"Then you only run with them because they're threatening you."

"All the time," he begins, then stops as he feels your claws extend and lightly prick him. "They do, really! But, ahhh, I guess they actually sort of want me to quit. They say I'm no use, I should stay home and they'll just tell my brother I'm doing gang stuff to get him off their backs."

"So again, why are you doing it?"

He's still got his arms around you but stands up straighter. He's just about your height so this has him look right in your eyes. You're sure he's 19 or 20, his baby-face and lack of muscles fooled you earlier.

"Well ... I was hoping to see some heroes. Especially the really great ones, like, like you."

You suppress a snort. You've met the occasional criminal who's also a hero groupie, and consider it a bit pathetic. Grabbing his shoulders you push him to arm's length.

"Then you should have joined a fan club. If you seriously thought criminal acts are a good way to impress someone who fights for justice you must be dumber than you look," you announce.

The kid's no longer looking at your eyes when you say this, though. He's staring down at your cleavage. Which is exposed a little more than usual, your breasts being bigger since you had Ryan.

"It was worth it," he murmurs.

You cock your head. "Huh? What was worth it?"

He blushes again, but his eyes remained locked on your chest. "I got to touch you. I got to hold you, just for a few seconds. I'll never forget it as long as I live."

"Whoa, this kid has it bad," you think. Out loud you say, "Get real, dummy. You're probably going to prison for this. How could a quick feel possibly be worth hard time?"

Finally fanboy looks back up at your face. "You've always been my favorite. I've got posters of you on my bedroom walls," he says. "I've dreamed about, umm, holding you, for years. No way I would have ever gotten the chance to do that by joining some stupid fan club."

He swallows hard. "If I'm going to prison, could I ask a favor? Could I kiss you, just once? It would be like my dream come true."

Now, once upon a time you'd probably have clobbered this guy so hard that he wouldn't wake up for a week for saying this. If you didn't do that you'd probably laugh at him, tie him upside down to a lamp post, and sarcastically blow him a kiss.

But it's not once upon a time. You're older now, you're more world-wise and a little more tolerant. The other thing you are at this point is freaking horny.

You'd been thinking about the old days and fantasizing about some of your steamier villain encounters. You're hard up, not having sex except with your vibrator for five years. And for whatever reason, your old costume has been roughly massaging your crotch throughout this patrol, and it only got more intense as you were acrobatically dealing with the gang.

The kid's rather attractive. His musculature is crap, but he's got a cute face and plush, kissable lips, and you've always preferred men who weren't hairy (it's the reason you broke up with Wolfclaw back before you started dating Paragon, guy refused to shave his face stubble). You could definitely do worse.

It's a dumb idea, you know that. It's impulsive and reckless and probably crosses all sorts of ethical boundaries. But thinking of that last bit reminds you of how high-and-mighty your husband would get about his "moral code" and that's what finally convinces you.

"What's your name, kid?" you ask.

"Tyrell. Why?"

"I'm not about to kiss somebody whose name I don't know, dummy." You spin the kid around, grab him by the jacket, jump to the nearest wall and start climbing one-armed toward the roof, towing him behind you.