Supervillain, Me

by Gentry Race

  Jess squealed, feeling my slippery, and now easier to take, member within her. She kicked her legs around Hera, and I pumped faster and harder.

  I felt it coming like no other. Nothing else came to mind as the cascading crescendo of all of me began to apex. I grabbed the base of my cock, trying to stop the spasming, building up any and all come I had for that moment.

  I pulled out all of me, gripping it tight. I had a purple-headed love slinger ready to burst. Wait till they get a load of me.

  The girls broke away from each other and dropped to their knees. I shot my silky white ropes of joy all over their chests, each breast and nipple making for a perfect bulls-eye. I left no stone unturned — or in this case, breast.

  I panted in exhaustion and paused for a moment, looking at each of the beautiful women in front of me. What a team we made; we were all superheroes now, but our job wasn’t done. The infection was still out and we were only ones to stop it.

  17

  Gemini

  The night was cold and brisk compared to the mild temperatures we’d had during the bright, sunny day in San Francisco. The thick marine layer of fog rolled in. Affectionately named, Karl, making his into the city around dusk, filling in the micro climate pockets of the urban wasteland and the suburban neighborhoods.

  I’d always hated SF. Affluent skyscrapers and elites overlooking poverty just a few blocks away that was riddled with crime was not the worst of it. It was the shitty escalators. And I’m not talking mechanical errors.

  San Francisco’s homeless problem was so wretched that transients would resort to defecating in the stairwells of the BART stations. I reflected on this as I climbed the stairs, making my way out the train station.

  I watched Hera and Jess calmly taking the escalators up, as if nothing bothered them, but I knew what those escalators had on them. Shit.

  “Just make sure you don’t touch the railings,” I called out.

  Jess and Hera both shook their heads.

  “You know, it does kind of smell like shit in here,” Hera said.

  “That’s because there’s shit in here,” I said.

  “Who wants to play the game?” Jess asked.

  “No,” I said, turning my back from Civic Station.

  The capitol building’s sides and pillars shone in all its rainbow glory. The dome was a magnificent metallic gold and lit against the night sky.

  I was dressed in blue and white commando gear, as was Hera. Jess, being so consumed with cosplaying and now an actual superhero, liked her outfits a little more extravagant. This time, she was a clockpunk temptress, decked out in eighteenth-century attire. However, she was nothing to fuck with. On each stocking was a leathered strap just under her girdle that carried large cogwheel brass knuckles, ready to take on the next asshole to catcall her.

  The Wonder Convention was taking place for the first time in the subspace at the San Francisco Moscone Center. Fully encrypted, users would jack in and get to see a convention larger than any that could take place in a physical space.

  As we walked, clad in costumed attire, we just looked like regular old attendees who had fallen a bit far off the beaten path.

  “Come on, I say dog,” Jess pleaded.

  Hera smiled and played along. “I call pigeon.”

  I shook my head in disgust. The game was guess the source of shit you smelled. Dog, pigeon, horse, or — what we all knew was the truth — human.

  Hera and Jess were finally up the escalator. Jess covered her mouth, catching sight of two hobos standing guard on the grass as a third squatted, taking a shit as he held a roll of toilet paper.

  Jesus Christ this city is a slew of shit, I thought. I motioned for Hera and Jess to follow me.

  The latest tip had come from Hera. She got real hot with two lesbians in a bar on Valencia. Two-for-one drinks had these broads talking up a storm about some kind of Frisco, two-faced woman that could wet your whistle and leave it tainted. In their conversation, they mentioned that she liked to frequent a stripper dive bar in the Tenderloin.

  The Tenderloin district was ironically tucked between two extremely wealthy neighborhoods: Union Square, where all the tourists bought their overpriced SF-branded sweaters because they forgot that Mark Twain said, ’The coldest winter I spent was a summer in San Francisco’, and Nob Hill, where old money rented out small, box-sized rooms they called studios to the high tech/high paid rich elites of Silicon Valley.

  But here, in the gutter of elitism, the vile and putrid hate of people squandered about. Liquor store after mission hall repeated itself in seedy stammer. The corners were packed with wheelchaired veterans and young homeless with nowhere to go. Holding what only mattered at that time. Their next fix of happiness; a small bag of dope.

  The stripper dive bar we were headed to, The Shanghai Tunnel, was in the thick of this madness, originally a bar owned by a notorious crimp who ‘shanghaied’ drunk patrons. These poor saps would wake up in the morning with a headache, no shoes, and surrounded by broken glass. That’s when the crimper would have them snatched up and shipped out on a boat to China.

  Since these dive bars connected through an interworking of tunnels, we were going to use this to our advantage to sneak up on the dame.

  Back in an alleyway, soiled newspaper and the funk of homeless human filled my nose. About halfway down, we saw the metal grates that housed the internal elevators. San Francisco was filled with them. Meant for deliveries to have direct access into the shops and retail spaces, they sometimes connected to the tunnels. This was our way in.

  Hera stepped past me, looked back down the alley to make sure the coast was clear, and then ripped off the grating.

  “Hey, you gonna pay for that?” a voice screamed from high above.

  High alleyway windows reflected the dark night sky. Dozens of moldy clotheslines strung about from each windowsill like prayer flags on a high mountain temple. Its tattered clothes wavered in the wind like flags for the poor.

  I looked toward Jessica, already bounding with all her might upward into the sky. A cracking sound told me she’d given the heckler a taste of her clockpunk brass.

  She landed gracefully on her feet like a cat. Her slick, toned figure was hugged by a corset that was even hotter in the cool moonlight.

  Hera shook her head in disappointment. “You need to hold back on those villainous tendencies,” she scolded, jumping down the hole that led under the bar.

  She was right. Jess was still experiencing side effects from Tessa’s infection. I remembered it took a few months for me to finally start to think clearly again, even despite my temporary fits. She would get it eventually, but until then, we would have to expect a few fits of rage here and there.

  I motioned for Jess to drop in and followed after her. The small hallway, long ago frequented by crimpers and now occupied by daytime employees accepting their weekly kegs of beers and shitty bar snacks, smelled of piss and stale beer.

  Paper and trash were cluttered into the corners from a half-assed sweep job the barback had done that morning.

  Hera made her way to a single light source: a lamp that rocked to the motion of the bass sounds pounding above it. Next to that, a wooden trap door, leftover from the days of shanghaiing.

  The cold, dirt floor still sparkled with the tiny specks of glass left by crimpers long ago. Flurries of dust wafted down with each subwoofer knock. We could see, through the cracks of the rickety floorboards above, the patrons frequenting the establishment.

  Repetitive drumming music played, and the frequent, excited screams of men holding out money for another dance echoed down to us. We anxiously waited for a stripper to be called; one with the name meaning two-faced: Gemini.

  I could hear the announcer bellowing out his deep, encroaching voice.

  “All right, all right. Let’s hear it one more time for Destiny!”

  “Of course her name is Destiny,” Hera whispered.

  Jess and I smiled at her, trying not to chuckle.

&nb
sp; The announcer continued. “Now, now. We all know what you’ve been waiting for. We have the two-faced queen of San Francisco here tonight, and from dusk till dawn, she will sing you a sweet serenade.”

  The crowd of men cheered and clapped.

  The announcer continued. “Now give it up for Gemini!”

  The whooping and hollering continued for another moment, and then quieted down when the music lowered. I heard one note. As if a high-pitched guitar string was being slowly strummed with a razor blade.

  The sound grew louder, almost ear-wrenching as it climbed.

  We could see through the cracks that the lights brightened to a dull crimson. The floorboards creaked as a woman stepped out onto them. Jess ran to the other side of the room to get a better view.

  “I think it’s her,” she whispered. “She’s singing.”

  “What the hell is that terrible screech?” Hera whispered back.

  I felt enthralled and snuck over to Jess to get a peek. Through the boards, I saw the two-shaded woman. Half of her skin was blotted to a fleshy peach, the other, a dark tan, as if someone had carelessly dabbed makeup along half her body. Her figure was beautiful, fully-framed and well-toned as she moved and gyrated in circles, dancing for the manic crowd.

  She was like a hissing banshee, hypnotizing her prey with her siren-like notes. Her hair was jet black on one side and stark white on the other. She was truly a Gemini in the physical sense.

  I felt strange hearing her serenade. Like it was enveloping everything I had within me. I wanted to be with her. Take a ride on her two-seater train of ecstasy.

  Hera was watching me closely and motioned for me to get under the trap door and get ready. I stumbled over to do what I was supposed to, but my body felt numb.

  Gemini swung her legs around a pole as she danced over the patrons above. Jess held her hand up, motioning for me to get ready, as our target was about to step on the trap door.

  I felt woozy. I had a slight erection and I couldn’t feel my legs. She’s getting to me.

  “Now,” Jess whispered loudly, flailing her hands.

  I saw the motion, but I couldn’t react. I was dizzy, in a spell of some sort. I turned my head to see Hera barreling toward me.

  She checked me like a football player and pulled the trap door down. The screeching serenade stopped, and the gorgeous woman fell to the floor.

  Hera jumped back, arming herself with the strongest weapon she owned: her arms. Jess rolled into a cartwheel and clamped her legs around Gemini, shifting her weight and throwing the two-toned woman across the room. She smashed into garbage bags of empty cans and liquor bottles.

  I was on my feet now, trying to regain my composure. That’s when I heard the crowd above me rustling their way toward the trap door opening.

  “What the fuck is going on down there?” asked a patron.

  I kept my eye on Gemini as I crept into the light, coming face to face with a mix of rough hoodlums. I had to think quick.

  “Uh, everything's under control. Situation normal.”

  “Who the hell are you?” asked the bartender.

  The words were just spewing from my mouth unconsciously. “Uh, had a slight trap door malfunction. But, uh, everything's perfectly all right now. We're fine. We're all fine down here, now, thank you. How are you?”

  I heard a deadly plethora of weapons being cocked back and loaded.

  My eyes widened, and I looked back at Jess and Hera. “Get out of here!”

  A rain of gunfire came pummeling down though the wooden planks. Jess flipped back into the hallway, and Hera slid under a row of empty kegs. I felt the barrage of bullets enter into the flesh of my skin. The pain was revolting. I gritted my teeth and flexed every muscle in my body like it was going to explode. Metal sheaths grew and expanded over me, squeezing the bullets from my body and dropping them to the floor one by one.

  My eyes were fiery crimson brighter than the red light special happening in the room above. The gunfire stopped when the drunken patrons realized they were looking at a colossal, metal beast of a man. I smashed the pillar next to me, and part of the flooring above came tumbling down, as did a few patrons. I grabbed each one by the collar and slammed their heads together, knocking them out.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” a man screamed from above. The stampeding of feet leaving the venue above cascaded until there was only silence.

  I looked over to see Jess and Hera standing above the two-toned vixen as she came to. I towered over her in size. She was gorgeous, despite her odd skin condition. She looked around at us, trying to make out who we were and what we wanted.

  I knelt down slowly, never taking my eyes off her firm, two-toned, naked body. “Listen to me very carefully. You have been infected with the Super Virus.”

  I paused, waiting to see if she would fight us in a wild, crazed battle, but I only noticed her heterochromatic eyes looking my metal body slowly up and down. I could tell she’d never seen a man like me before.

  “You have two choices,” I continued. “You can join us, receive a cure for your infection, and either help us find more like yourself or go back to your normal life.”

  I waited for her to strike.

  “And the second?” she asked, her voice as soft as her skin.

  “You can die,” Hera said.

  I recognized the hate in Gemini’s eyes. The hate I once had in mine. If she resisted, it would only be a matter of time before we killed her. But if she was stronger, if she had what it took to survive long enough, she could be a heroine.

  End of Book 1

  Afterword

  This book was so much fun to write. I really hope you enjoyed the adventure I had concocted. I have been to Comic Con seven times now and it never gets old. And to be able to draw from those experiences and use them here has been a dream come true.

  In addition, I would like to thank the Quantum Universe for allowing me to use their characters to fill this world. The Bald Eagle, Captain Thunderbolt, The Mime, Green Pheonix, Dr. Awesome, Penumbra, Uncle Leon and Oliver Hawke are all intellectual properties you can read up on.

  Finally, thank you for reading and please leave an honest review on Amazon about you thought. You can even email or contact me on social media if you have suggestions of where I should take Hera, Michael, Jess and, now Gemini, on a new adventure.

  Peace fellow humans.

  About the Author

  Gentry Race has worked as a VFX artist at DreamWorks, Laika and Evil Eye Pictures. He continues to follow his passion telling wild stories and exploring the creative aspects of life by any medium that allows him to.

  Please follow me on Amazon, Goodreads, Bookbub and Facebook to know when new releases come.

  Suscribe to my mailing list

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks to Jen McDonnell, Jamie Hawke, Jesus Villarreal, Tristan Evans, Cherise Wilson, Eric Sanchez, Jesus Villareal, Ari Charny, Adam Charny, Patrick Louie, James Pina, Simon Lutrin, Form & Fiction, Chris Fox, John L. Monk, Kali & Matt Rubio, Tracy Neal, All the beta readers from Reddit, Laika, Eddie Tang, and Jordan Neal.

  Harem Lit Facebook Page

  Also by Gentry Race

  Psychonauts: A Gamelit Space Fantasy

  Shattered Dimensions: Seppukarian Anthology

  Co-authored with Chucho Jones

  Lunacy on Omega Station: Book 0 of The Shattered Cosmos

  Invaders of Tomorrow’s Sky: Book 1 of the Shattered Cosmos

  The World Ahead: Book 2 of The Shattered Cosmos

  Coming soon

  Superhero Harem Adventure

  Supervillian, Us: Book 2 of the SuperVira Series

  Artifex: A Harem Fantasy

 

 

 
moz-filter: grayscale(100%); -o-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share