He took one of the armchairs next to my couch and starting digging around in his satchel... that I hadn't noticed he'd even had. Damnit, I'm not invincible like Vicky, if I was going to be home alone answering the door I needed to be more careful about it. He took a glance at the book I'd left on the coffee table and raised an eyebrow. "Fifty Shades of Laser?" he chuckled.
I blushed red and swiped it away. "It's interesting."
"It's extremely unrealistic, even for a porn parody." he said bluntly, like it was an offhand comment.
I frowned at him as I sat down, quickly getting a clearer and clearer idea of what this guy did for a living. "I thought it was quite... imaginative."
James snorted. "For anybody who doesn't actually know BDSM I imagine you'd be right. However, since I do, I am cursed with the constant barrage of knowledge telling me 'no, you can't do that and stick your dick in it.' every other paragraph."
In response I just rolled my eyes.
"Now, I know you aren't 18 yet," he started, confirming my suspicions, "But your power and obvious mental maturity essentially makes hiding the world of pornography from you a lost cause. Plus, you know, I haven't met a kid past 16 who hasn't discovered porn." James said, putting some documents on the coffee table in front of me. "As I said, I would like to talk to you about my job and possibly a... partnership, of sorts?"
I shrugged and motioned for him to go on.
"My name is James Ironwood, and I am the Director of the porn company ParaHub." he told me, flipping over two of the documents. One of them was filled with words, and the other the much more recognizable logo. "Our site hosts all manners of porn, from professional to amateur and everything in between. We're also one of the most well known hosts of Parahuman porn, in its many forms."
I became uncomfortably aware that I wasn't wearing a bra right now. "Okay..."
James smiled warmly at me. "Before you ask, I'm not approaching you about being in anything."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding as I relaxed a little, a hidden weight coming off my chest. "Well, that's a relief. But then what do you want me for?"
James flipped over another document. This one was covered in graphs, which I took a closer look at. "We've recently noticed an upwards trend in body-modification and Case 53 searches, among Changer cape videos and such. With your power-"
"I just heal people." I interrupted.
"Yes, that is what you do." he nodded. "Your power, on the other hand, I suspect it's a lot more versatile."
I sighed and flopped back on the couch. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. What'd you have in mind?"
"Temporarily give our actors and actresses a new look. Turn our buxom blonde into half-pubescent barely legal young mistresses again." he explained. "And that's just on the relatively vanilla side of things. Weld, that Case 53 Ward with the metal biology? Gregor the Snail and Newt with Faultline's group? All of them have appearances and powers that play to very popular fetishes."
"And you want me to..." I frowned, "Turn people into monsters?"
"Only for the purpose of the set." James assured me. "Afterwards I was hoping you could restore them to their natural looks. And giving the crews an STD lookover honestly wouldn't hurt, either."
I nodded. "Okay, this honestly sounds pretty wild." I sighed. Imagining turning someone into a tentacle monster or a winged angel or... any number of well-endowed mythical and legendary beasts sounded like quite a job. "I would like to know what I'm getting out of this offer," I cautioned him. "Supposing I canactually do this, why should I do it instead of going to the hospital and healing people who desperately need medical attention?"
James sat back and looked off into the middle-distance of the wall, running a hand over his slight stubble thoughtfully. "Well, to be perfectly honest with you, I can't think of any reason to drag you away from such a noble..." he gestured with his hand, obviously unable to think of the word, "I am prepared to offer you a lot of money for your services, and as such a highly prized associate, any requests you feel like making would be put much higher on the to-do list than most people's requests ever get to."
I thought it over for a moment. "That... doesn't exactly convince me. I have an obligation to use my powers to help people."
James frowned. "Not really. From what I understand, powers are gained through trigger events, which are times of great stress and are never enjoyable. You got your powers through suffering, you don't owe anyone anything for them. They are yours to use as you please."
"But-"
"Do you have any fantasies, Amy?" he abruptly asked me, looking dead serious.
I felt my face grow hot as I thought of sticking a dick on Vicky and have her finally make love to me. "Well, I— uh— doesn't everyone?"
James nodded at me. "Yes, they do. If we work together, the sky is the limit— well, considering capes..." he grinned and shrugged. "We can achieve any fantasy you want. We can achieve any fantasy our commissioners want. Is there any, any sexual situation you would kill to watch? To be a part of?"
I stammered and stuttered as I struggled to come up with a rebuke. "I— uh— um— I— well... guh... I'm Panacea though!" I exclaimed. "If I'm known to be working a porn thing I'll never be able to show my face again!"
James smiled easily, likely thinking he'd already won. "Well, we do have a number of discrete options. Nobody ever has to know you were involved, and the processes that you'll actually be required for should be relatively quick, leaving you free for whatever you desire to do," he pulled a cellphone out of his bag and handed it to me. It looked a tad more expensive than the typical burner phone. "I know that cape schedules are impossible to predict, so you'd be paid and called for on a job-by-job basis, with as much warning as we can give you. We're quite happy to move our schedule to fit yours." he informed me, packing up everything. "If you want to discuss more, or have any questions you want to ask, my number's on the phone."
I quickly pocketed it as we got up and moved back to the door. He still smelled delicious... but it was nothing compared to the comfort Vicky could offer me. "I'll... I'll give it some thought," I promised.
"That's all I ask." James nodded, shaking my hand again. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Panacea."
I couldn't help the info my power gave me at the touch. "Indeed it was," I smirked.
Turning around and shutting the door behind me, I leaned against it and bit my lip. It was tempting as fuck... but at the same time, if anyone found out... Carol would kill me! Vicky would— would... huh. She'd probably ask me to save a job for her and Dean...
I fiddled with the phone for a moment. Maybe it'd be a good idea to know what I was getting into? Yeah, research.
I quickly searched up his name. James Ironwood...
Nice Guy
(Автор: Rahvin)
Nice Guy PoV, Taylor
* * *
I'm a nice guy. No, seriously. It's my superpower.
I should explain. I grew up in a bad place. Rough neighborhood, deadbeat parents, tough school. Everyone was either drunk or high or worse. I was smart enough to not get sucked into that rabbit-hole, but that just meant I was the odd one out. I never had friends, but I had a lot of enemies. They took my refusal to join in with their self-destruction as arrogance, that I thought I was better than them, and that translated to me getting beat on and run ragged through pretty much all my adolescent years, right up until I snapped and I triggered.
I'm not going to talk about that day. It's not a nice memory. But ever since then, I've had powers. Mine makes everyone think I'm just a nice guy. Even if I'm punching them in the face. Hah. I tried to get revenge on my childhood tormentors, obviously, but it turns out that there's not a lot of satisfaction to be had in finally punching that one prick right in the face if he just says thanks you and carries on asking you if you've had a good day.
So revenge was out, and I was finally accepted and liked by everyone around me, but it all rang hollow. I knew it was just my power at work. The two-bit weed dealer living across the street didn't smile hello to me in the morning because she actually liked me for real. Before I got my power, she used to throw firecrackers at my door at 2am just because she was off her head and bored.
I drifted a lot. I didn't have any trouble finding work wherever I ended up. My resume was mediocre at best, but I aced interviews while insulting people to their faces. Grab a job, rent a dirt-cheap room or apartment from some geriatric with too much space and not enough friends, bum around the town for a couple months before I got bored and moved on. When the human element is constant, life stops being so interesting. Drama only happens to other people.
I've been following that formula for about five years now. I try to spice life up a bit, but it's honestly proving almost impossible. I can do whatever I want to people and they'll smile at me and act like I'm just that nice neighbor they've known for years and I couldn't possibly do any wrong.
Take now, for instance. I'm sat in a bus headed through the dock of Brockton Bay, my latest haunt. The gent beside me who was happily chatting away about how he's been cheating on his wife with his boss' wife has just gotten off. The doors stay open, and a girl steps in to replace him. She's tall, young, long brown hair over a thick sweater and baggy jeans, tatty rucksack on her back. She adjusts her glasses as she does a quick scan of the bus before heading straight up to sit next to me. Another quirk of my power, there. I tend to attract the waifs and the strays. They always see me as a safe option, a non-choice.
She glances over at me as she finishes tucking her rucksack under her feet, then sits back and pulls a phone out of her pocket. I lean in for a glance — she doesn't mind, obviously — and see she's tapping out a laborious one-finger text to someone called Lisa about some meeting going on later.
I tap her on the nose. She blinks, then smiles and looks over at me. "What's your name, girl?"
"Taylor."
"Taylor. That's a nice name. Where are you going to today?"
She shrugs. "I was just going home. I live just off the docks and I've got to drop off my school things before I head out to meet Lisa and the others."
I'm feeling frisky, and that's far enough away. "Hey Taylor, you mind if I take your sweater off?"
She blinks. "Sure, I guess. It's not that cold."
"Great, thanks a lot." She smiles back at me as I twist around in my seat to face her, then grab the hem of her sweater and the shirt I feel underneath it, and hoik them both up over her chest. Under the bulky covering, she's actually thin as a rail. Narrow hips, flat stomach, bust leaves a bit to be desired, but hey, she's still young. I tug the garments further up, and she happily lifts her arms to help me remove them completely, sitting there beside me in just her bra.
She rubs her arms a bit. It's summer, but the sea air makes it still a bit brisk down at the docks, with the bus windows open.
I reach up and grab her breast through her bra, feeling the softness. She adjusts herself in her seat to be more comfortable. "Hey," she says absentmindedly, "d'you mind if I finish my text?"
"Not at all Taylor." I snake my hand down her pale stomach and under the waist of her jeans. "Please, carry on."
"Thanks mister," she says as I feel across her panties. "I just need to tell Lisa I'll be around later."
"Go right ahead. Can you just open your legs for me though?"
She complies without a thought as she goes back to her single-digit key tapping. "No problem."
With her legs spread, I have room to slip my hand beneath her panties and feel the soft hairs over her mound. I probe deeper, finding her slit and sliding my middle finger between her lips. I rub a few quick circles around her clit, and she shuffles in her seat. Her attention is still on her phone, but her mouth betrays a slight smile.
I continue my circles around her clit and I feel wetness on my finger. She exhales breathily. "Hey thanks," she says. "That feels nice. You're a nice guy, you know?"
"The nicest guy you'll ever meet, Taylor." I take my hand out from her pants and unzip my own. "Now could you suck me off real quick?"
She doesn't reply for a second as she finishes up her text, then cocks her head while she puts her phone away, thinking. "I suppose," she says after a second. "I mean, you've been nice to me, it's only fair." She adjusts her glasses and twists herself around, her small hands diving into the zip of my pants and pulling my still-soft cock out. Her fingers are warm as she gives me a couple of jerky, inexpert strokes. Probably her first time jacking someone off.
"Use your mouth, Taylor," I encourage, and she leans over me and licks her lips before taking my head in. Her breath is hot and her lips are like velvet — her tongue slithers wetly over me as I rapidly harden inside her mouth. She keeps her lips around my cock, letting it grow deeper into her mouth until she's almost deepthroating it and she gags. Not bad for an obvious amateur.
I gather up her messy brown curls while she starts bobbing up and down. One of her hands circles the base of my cock, while she slavers over the head. A few of the other passengers on the bus look over at us when the slurping sounds start, but they go back to minding their own business with a bemused smile after a second. My fingers thread through her hair and I get a grip on the back of her head as she moves up and down.
"Now, I'm just going to fuck your mouth Taylor. Is that alright?"
She mumbles something incoherent past her mouthful of cock and approximates a shrug.
I lift my hips at the same time as I push her head down hard, and she chokes as my cock spears into the back of her convulsing throat. I pull her off it by the hair, then push her back down before she can catch her breath. Her mouth is wet and hot and surprisingly free of catching teeth as I fuck her up and down my length.
"Oh good girl, Taylor." I speed up, heedless of the smacking gurgling sounds coming from her mouth and her hands now clutching tightly onto my pants. "Fucking good girl." Teen girls have always been my favourite, and this one is no disappointment. I can feel myself getting closer as I continue to face-fuck her, and I let out an involuntary groan at my impending orgasm.
I wrench her head off me as I start to approach the edge. She splutters and coughs a pair of ragged breaths and I can see tears in her eyes. "Thanks for stopping there," she says nonchalantly. "I thought I was going to pass out."
