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Message-ID: <27990asstr$977548204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Oblimo@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} Alexander Angel (FF/m, superhero, humor)
Date: Sat, 23 Dec 2000 00:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Attached, please find the story submission "Alexander Angel" in plain text
format.

   America Online has been behaving strangly, possibly resulting in
multiples of this message being send.  If so, please accept my appologies!

   Oblimo

   <1st attachment, "ALEXANGEL.txt" begin>

   ALEXANDER ANGEL, Introduction

   This is the start of an experimental story type inspired by a
(strangely) intriguing website about women raping superheroes.  What do you
think?  Should I continue?

   Thanks!

   Oblimo@aol.com

   ***

   Welcome to the continuing misadventures of Angelboy, our hapless young
hero"Don't call me that."

   What, hapless?

   "No, don't call me Angelboy.  Supergirl called me 'Angelboy' and now
everyone does.  And don't call me 'Ultraboy' either-that's what TeenBeat
Magazine calls me, and it's even worse."

   Okay, what should we call you then?

   "My name is Alexander."

   What kind of superhero name is 'Alexander'?

   "It means 'protector of humanity' in Greek.  How more superheroic can
you get?"

   Okay, okay, good point.  Can we start again?

   "Sure."

   Welcome to the continuing misadventures of Alexander (Angelboy to his
friends or should we say his Superfriends)"Hey!"

   -Our hapless young hero cloned from the remains of Alexander the Great
and infused with the spirit of the Sun itself.  First the boytoy of the
wicked villianess Dr.  Jean Splicer and her naughty Splice Girl Gang"Don't
remind me."

   -But now free to combat evil with his endless reserves of strength,
stamina, and boyhood fluids!

   "Oh, gross!"

   Our story begins under the boardwalk of Beach Island, pleasant getaway
from the City of Metropolis during the heat of summer...

   ***

   ...Where evidently Angelboy is hiding like a coward!

   "Look," says Angelboy from the deep shadows cast by the boardwalk,
"hiding from Supergirl when she is horny is not cowardice.  It's common
sense."

   She's got x-ray vision, you know, so what use is hiding?

   "I'm hiding in the one place she wouldn't think of, the one place I
would not dare go."

   Where, under the boardwalk?

   "No!" Angelboy shouts, and then scrambles about in the shadows
nervously. "No," he whispers urgently, "Beach Island, so close to my
superheroic weaknesses."

   So then why are you crawling around in the dark?

   As if on cue, the cadence of small dainty feet ripples on the wood
overhead.

   "Did you hear?" comes an excited girlish voice.

   "What?" asks another.

   "Angelboy is here!" cries a third.

   "Oh my God!" the second voice sighs.  "He is so cute it kills me!"

   "A bunch of us are getting together to look for him.  Wanna come?" the
third says.

   "Are you kidding!  Let's go before some bitch grabs him!"

   The voices burst into a fit of giggles, feet tramping down the boardwalk
as they run into the distance.

   After a long pause, Angelboy asks, "Are they gone?"

   The narrative voice can't answer questions like that and you know it.

   "I'm not moving until I'm sure I'm safe," Angelboy insists.

   Okay, we'll help you out.  But first come into the light and show the
audience what the fuss is all about.

   "It's a deal," Angelboy says.  A shadowy form uncurls and steps into the
lines of light shining through the slats of the boardwalk.

   The shadowy form becomes a figure so fine Michelangelo would give up
sculpting forever if he saw it.  A young lad of fifteen, Alexander stands
before us with skin the color of honey.  His hair crowns his head in lazy
locks as if spun from purest gold.  His verdant eyes flash mischievously
behind thick lashes.  His heart-shaped face frames a Roman nose and
cherubic lips.  The soft lines of his hairless, muscular frame"Hey!  That's
enough," Alexander said, crouching in modesty.

   Sorry, we got carried away.  A deal is a deal.  There's a comic book
shop about ten minutes south down the boardwalk.  If you stay in the back
browsing through old Marvel issues, no one will notice you.  After sunset,
it'll be safe.

   "Thanks!"

   In a blur of superspeed and sand, Angelboy darts away.

   Hm?  Yes, of course we lied about it being safe after dark.  We wouldn't
want Angelboy to miss the *real* fun now, would we?

   Stay tuned!

   ***

   Dusk settles over Beach Island as Alexander grows weary of flipping
through stacks of comic books in the shop's back room.

   "Reading these things when you are a superhero is like watching that
Biography show, but on people you already know," Angelboy sighs.

   He flicks through another dusty cardboard box at random, coming across
the old Great Literature comic series, starting with his favorite,
_Treasure Island_.  "Now that's more like it!" he says, settling in a chair
for some fun reading.

   Now if we all stay quiet, our young hero will be so distracted by the
comics he won't notice the shop closing for the night...

   ...until the florescent lights overhead wink out and the security lights
flash on.

   Alexander drops the issue of _The Man in the Iron Mask_, blinking.  "Aw,
you should've told me!"

   He walks out of the back and tries the front door.  Locked, of course.
His superhearing picks up the whine of the store's security system. 
Breaking out-although easy for him-would just draw attention.  He peers out
the glass of the front door.  The boardwalk is less crowded, with no sign
of the hordes of bikini-clad girls.

   A tall woman rides past the shop, her roller-blades growling over the
boardwalk, features hidden by the night.

   "Looks safe," Alexander muses, "but is there a better way out?"

   Then he hears a dull thumping noise from the back room, the droning bass
of a loud stereo.  Checking out the back room again, Angelboy finds the
unlocked back door.

   "Thanks!" he says.

   (He won't be thanking us soon!  Heh heh heh!)

   Clad only in swim trunks, Alex is not dressed for blending into crowds
at night.  He picks out a dreary Batman t-shirt from a rack on the wall
before leaving.  "How does he get royalties without revealing his secret
identity?" On the other side of the wall is the girl's section, displaying
lots of white and pink t-shirts and sexy tops.

   Almost all of them are decorated with Alexander's face or just
"Angelboy" splashed across the chest.

   Alexander closes his eyes.  "It's just a fad," he intones.  "You're the
latest addition to the Hall of Justice and the newest face on the block. 
It won't last forever."

   Opening the back door reveals a communal storage area for the line of
boardwalk shops.  The buzzing beat gets louder as he checks locked door
after locked door.  After a few anxious minutes, one door opens readily. 
Loud pop music pours out, colored lights spin and flash on the wall behind
him.

   "Oh great," Angelboy sighs, "a dance club!"

   He slips inside, closing the door soundlessly behind him.  He finds
himself in a huge square hall, standing next to a towering speaker. 
Strobes flash overhead while the music slams out an addictive rhythm.  The
floor is packed with dancing bodies, writhing and bobbing in the gloom. 
The exit is all the way on the other side.

   A DJ is spinning records on a raised platform in the middle of the
place. He leans into the microphone and croons, "Hello Metropolis!  Let's
get this party started right: welcome toooo ladies' niiiiight!"

   The crowd lets out a happy cheer, but our hero just groans and hangs his
head.  Flying over the crowd is right out, he realizes.  Superspeeding
through it could get someone seriously hurt.

   No one's noticed our hero yet.  In this light, no mortal eyes could pick
him out.  If he's careful, he can just dance his way out!

   "Yeah, yeah," Alexander says, "I know, I know.  Don't I have a say in
this?"

   Across the long hall, the front door opens.  Metropolis Community
College's women's volleyball team bounces in, waving their hands above
their heads and cooing "Ooo!  Ooo!" to the rhythm.

   "Stop it!" Alexander whines.  "I'm going!  I'm going!"

   The beat is very catchy.  Alexander shimmies into the crowd with ease.

   "Hi!" sings a girl nearby.  In the strobe he can just see the white of
her smile and her hair whipping about.  She crouches and swings around to
the beat.

   "Hiya!" Alexander calls back, imitating her move, using the momentum to
dance closer to the front door.

   The girl gives him a happy wave goodbye and continues to bop.

   "Say," Angelboy realizes.  "This is kinda fun!"

   He bounces his way around the dancers, moving closer to the center of
the room.  "This'll be easy!"

   Then he bounces into someone's back with his shoulder.  "Oof!" she says,
turning around.

   "Hi!" Angelboy says, trying to dance nonchalantly.  "Sorry 'bout that."

   She looks at him for a while, and slowly begins to dance again, eyes
locked onto his.  "No problem," she says over the music.

   They dance together for a few beats.  She's taller than Angelboy, who
stands just a few inches about five feet.  (Alexander the Great, his clonal
father, was even shorter.) She's wearing a tight, shiny black top,
emblazoned with the "Bebe" label, hugging her large breasts and thrusting
them into his face.  Her white jeans flare out at the cuffs, where she
wears thick jelly clogs.

   She slowly dances closer, and the next thing Angelboy knows, all he can
see is the word "Bebe" sparkling in the strobe.

   Shaking her head to the beat, she says, "You dance great!" One of her
arms innocently drapes itself over Angelboy's shoulder.

   He grins and looks up into her face.  Some of her sandy-blond hair drops
onto his nose.  "Thanks!  You too!  To be honest, I've never been to a club
before!" he blurts out.

   Why the heck did I have to say that, Alexander thinks, I must sound like
an idiot!

   "You're doing great!" she giggles as the beat slows down to a funky
grind.  Her other hand finds its way over Angelboy's hip.  "What a great
ass!" she gasps.

   Angelboy, too caught up in his own embarrassment, says, "What?"

   "Um, I said, 'What a great bass.' Here, let's dance slower.  I'll show
you."

   Excited to be dancing with a college girl, Alexander lets her take the
lead.  The hand draped over his shoulder scoots behind his neck.  The arm
on his thigh snakes across his back.  She pulls him toward her, pressing
her belly into his, but keeps his head back so she can look into his eyes
rather than mashing his face into her breasts.

   She rocks him back and forth, grinding up against him.  Angelboy tries
to glace away shyly, but her head bobs to follow his and fixes him with an
intense gaze.  He soon picks up on the sensuous rhythm, losing himself in
the beat.  His swim trunks provide little support, and he can feel his
erection ground up against the zipper of her pants.

   He smiles coyly at her.  Her fingers work there way into his hair. 
"God," she breathes, grinning like a schoolgirl, "you are soooo *sweet*."
Alexander realizes she's teary-eyed with emotion.

   Oh, no.

   Just as he feels the need to break away, he hears another girl call out,
"Hey, what a cute butt!  Who you got there, Alice?"

   In a flash she tightens her embrace, burying Alexander's head in her
bosom and obscuring his vision.  Between planting tiny kisses on the top of
his head, she replies, "I don't know, but he's all mine."

   The voice gets closer.  "Sorority sisters share, Alice," it teases. 
"Even from behind I can tell I've never seen him before." A second pair of
lips comes close to his ear.  "What's your name, honey?"

   "Um," Alexander begins, his voice muffled by soft flesh, "I think I
should be go-"

   "What's that scent?" asks the second voice, a bit more throaty than it
was before.

   "That's him," Alice laughs, rocking him back and forth, "it's a cologne
or something.  Isn't it wonderful?"

   The second girl leans in close to him.  He can feel her hot breath
fluttering against his ear.  "God, that's yummy." She presses her lips
against his ear for a long, slow kiss.  "Mmmmmm."

   Alexander feels her press up against his back.  Whoever she is, she's
shorter than Alice, but not by much, and even bustier.  "How about we both
dance with him, like this?" she suggests, and slides her arms over
Alexander's back, wiggles them between his body and Alice's, and presses
her hands tight against his inner thighs.

   "Oh, I like that," Alice sighs.

   The two women grind to the rhythm against him.  A hand finds it way over
his hard-on.

   "Wow!" giggles the second girl, gently pumping her hand, "do you feel
that?"

   "How could I miss it?" asks Alice, squeezing his ass.  "Keep going;
let's see if we can make him cum in public!"

   "Oh there you guys are!  We've been looking for you!" cries a third
girl. "Say," she says, sounding a little flustered.  "What are you doing?"

   Angelboy, sandwiched in the warmth between to two big girls, trying to
control himself against the slow and relentless hand-job, squeaks out "No,
not again..."

   ***

   How will Angelboy get away from the two grabby coeds?  Will he escape
the club unmolested?  (Isn't it too late to ask that question?)

   Why hasn't he used his superpowers?

   Stay tuned!

   ***

   Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Justice, Wonder Woman makes a distressful
discovery.

   "Angelboy has gone off on his own again!" says the all-American amazon,
striding into the Control Room.

   "I know," replies Clark Kent without looking up from his laptop, "I
asked Supergirl to look for him hours ago."

   Wonder Woman glares at the mild mannered reporter sitting at the silver
conference table.  "Supergirl?  Kara's the worst possible person to send!"

   "But it will teach Alex a lesson," says Kent, not even trying to hide
his grin.

   The amazon groans and rolls her eyes.  She walks to the towering main
viewer at the front of the room.  Activating the Supercom, she radios,
"Hall of Justice to Green Lantern."

   The main viewer flicks to life.  "Green Lantern here," says the man in
the famous green suit.

   "Angelboy has left the Hall unescorted.  I need to you track him down
and bring him back."

   "What, I'm your errand boy now?"

   "Come off it," says Wonder Woman.  "Supergirl is after him.  If those
two get started I can't separate them."

   "Damn that Angel kid," huffs Green Lantern.  "Understood.  I'm on it. 
Lantern out."

   As the Supercom clicks off, Kent comments, "He's jealous."

   "Superman, you've got to stop treating Angelboy like he is your prot g
," scolds Wonder Woman.

   The rear door slides open, and orange-clad Aquaman bursts into the room,
"Where the hell is Alexander?"

   "Clark," says the amazon, putting a hand on Superman's shoulder. 
"Angelboy is dangerous."

   "I'll say," Aquaman sighs, dropping into a conference chair, "he sunk
Atlantis."

   "And slaughtered the men of Paradise Island," Wonder Woman added.

   "That was his clonal father," Kent dismisses, "not the kid himself. 
He's a Superfriend now."

   "Diana and I only voted him in to keep an eye on him," Aquaman
confesses.

   "Besides, Clark, Alexander was the champion of the Sun long before you
were even born." Wonder Woman returns to the main viewer.  "Shouldn't that
make *you* jealous?"

   Superman folds up his laptop.  "I've got to get this to the Planet for
tonight's run," is all he says.

   ***

   *...To know you...*

   We last left Alexander Angel, boytoy wonder, caught in the clutches of a
couple of carnal coeds.  Let's see how he's getting on, or should we say,
getting off?

   *...Is to love you...*

   Madonna's music pours steadily over the standing-room only crowd in CLUB
ROCKET, Beach Island's only nightspot.  A frothing fog machine in the
ceiling, lancing lasers, and starry strobe effects combine to render the
dancers into a single chaotic mass of flickering gray shapes.  It surges
with life, pulsing to the rhythm.

   Near the DJ's platform, six sisters of Epsilon Zeta sorority huddle in a
circle.  They're dressed for the night out in EZ sorority's signature
skank-wear, black designer jeans and three-sizes-too-small men's v-neck
undershirts.  They shimmy to the beat to stay inconspicuous.

   Hidden in the huddle, we at last find our hero, stripped of dignity and
almost everything else.  Swim shorts tangled about his ankles, tee-shirt
pushed up into his armpits, Angelboy dangles in the vice-like grip of MCC's
star volleyball server, Jo Echo.  She has her arms wrapped around Angel's
bare chest, hands roving at whim.

   "Can you believe these abs?" she asks her companion Alice.  "I *need* to
have this boy," she groans before surrendering to a more primal language.
She hauls Angelboy up, sliding him over her body, so his sneakers just kiss
the ground.  Her shirt rides up, freeing her mocha-skinned breasts to crush
against Alexander's bare back.  With a guttural moan, she feasts wetly on
his neck.

   Alice stands inches in front of her, bending down to fix Angelboy with a
fiery gaze.  Her skintight top can't stand the strain and pops open to
display the creamy curve of cleavage.  With his supervision, Alex can make
out the simple blue-ink tattoo on the rise of her left breast:

   An infant's pacifier.

   "C'mon, baby," she whispers, "do it for mommy."

   She needs both hands to tease Angelboy's bobbing shaft.  "Your huge dick
feels so *strong*" she sighs, closing her eyes.  "Why won't you cum, baby?
Mommy's been so good to you."

   Alex, his face slick with sweat, twists against his captor's flesh. 
"You've got to help me," he whimpers falsetto.

   Who are you talking to, the nymphos or us?

   Jo drags her shuddering mouth over his ear.  "Tell us what you need,
honey," she says before sending her tongue spelunking.

   "Get me outta here," Alex begs.

   "Don't you worry," gushes one of the gawking EZ's.  "You're coming home
with *us*."

   We'll end this for you, but you've got to let mommy get you off.  The
audience demands a money shot.

   "Deal," gasps Alex, eyes rolling back in his head.

   "Yes!" hisses an EZ.

   "Oh, Alice," Jo says, "I can feel him trembling!"

   Alice gives Alex a lazy smile before slowly descending on his helpless
manhood.  One of Jo's hands follows Alice south.  "I can't even hold both
his balls at the same time," she giggles, squeezing.

   Alice sinks her mouth over Angelboy's member with a triumphant "mmmph!"

   It doesn't take long after that.

   Alice's eyes pop open as the falls flat on her ass, throwing her head
back.

   *...I looked into your eyes...*

   "Jesus Christ," Jo swears.

   The circle of EZ's crane their heads upward, mouths agape in shock, as
the money shot strikes the high ceiling.

   Angelboy slumps and slips out of his Jo's grasp, groaning quietly.

   The ambrosial angeljiz sizzles as it strikes a spotlight.

   *...And my world came tumbling down...*

   Alice crawls toward him, chewing on her fingers.  "Damn it," she coughs.
"More, damn it, I need more."

   The smeared spotlight begins to spark and wink.

   She wraps her hands around his member as it fires off again, painting
her face and hair with silver.

   *...You're the Devil in disguise...*

   She curls into a ball, massaging the stuff into her skin and working it
into her hair.  "Oh my God," she says as if lost in a dream.

   A plume of smoke puffs up from the spotlight in the ceiling.

   *...That's why I'm singing this song to you...*

   "Holy shit!" shrieks Jo, letting Angelboy fall to the floor.  "I have
*got* to see that again!"

   The heat of the smoking light reaches a fire sprinkler, which erupts
into action.  The emergency plumbing in the building hasn't been properly
cleaned in years, so the water that rains down onto the crowd is far more
solid and stinking than you'd otherwise expect.

   The music warbles and dies as the DJ booth throws off bright arcs of
static and molten plastic.  The crowd dashes toward the door, which proves
to be to small, so someone throws a heavy object d'art throw a window.

   Unnoticed by the crowd, a dark figure rises into the very air.  Its arms
hang limp and its shoulders sag.  It slowly drifts up into a corner of the
ceiling.  Colored arcs of electricity wriggle across the walls and ceiling
like a B-movie special effect.  The figure is struck dozens of time by the
energy, and the water soaking into its skin glows in tune.  Otherwise, the
figure seems unfazed by the deadly current.

   Once the club has completely emptied and a fire truck's siren wails in
the distance, Angelboy drops down into the middle-air of the club and slips
slowly into the sky above the sea.

   ***

   Sure, our story ends in a bang, but won't Supergirl notice the blaze? 
What about Green Lantern?

   What's with this article that's absorbing Superman's attention?

   And-hello!  No one answered our first question:

   Why didn't Angelboy use his superpowers?

   Stay tuned!

   ***

   So ends this first chapter in Angelboy's sloppy saga.  Believe it or
not, an entire story-arc (subplots included) unfolded in my head as I wrote
this stuff.  As always, I'd love to hear if this experiment was a success,
and if you'd like to see a second chapter.  Write me at Oblimo@aol.com.

   And to thank those earnest readers who have gotten this far, an epilogue
just for you!

   ***

   Firemen clamor wearily onto their red truck and speed home for the
night. What was once CLUB ROCKET has become a stinking, smoking black
smudge leaking water and slime.

   Nothing but the sound of the surf can be heardExcept the crunching of
something moving over broken glass disturbs the night.

   Something is moving within the ruined building, pushing through the
charred ruin.

   A hunched figure steps out the broken window.  Covered head to toe with
sludge and soot, it slowly stands erect.

   The cloud obscuring the moon moves aside, providing just enough light to
reflect the word stitched in glittering thread across the figure's chest:

   Bebe.

   "Damn," says Alice-reborn *Bebe*-in a voice far from human, "I need
more."

   <1st attachment end>

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