Message-ID: <22044asstr$946494601@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: lordshon@aol.com (Shon Richards) Subject: {ASSM} The Last Case of the Night Spectre (M/F) X-Original-Message-ID: <19991229060150.02225.00003016@ng-fv1.aol.com> Date: Wed, 29 Dec 1999 14:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: Lambchop, kelly, Vulpine This is my "Y2K" story. It has M/F sex, deathtraps and heroics. Feel free to archive this story as long as you don't make any money from it and you keep this header intact. Feel free to send comments to lordshon@aol.com The Last Case of the Night Spectre Spectre Lair, December 31, 2:22 p.m. My preparations were nearly complete. Today I had probably done more physical labor than I have done the entire past decade. Exhausted, I kept working despite the screaming I felt in my joints. I had been planning for this day for nearly fifty years. My plan had a slim chance of success, but the crime-fighter known as the Night Spectre was never known for giving up. I was the terror of Chicago during the 'fortiess, 'fifties and early 'sixties, and even now that the Night Spectre was ninety-four he still felt on top of his game. I just have to break the habit of referring to myself in the third person. Spectre Lair, December 31, 3:15 p.m. I had constructed an eight-foot wide presentation for my comrades who would be joining me later. Unfortunately, I could have sworn that one of my oldest nemeses, The Red Scourge, was hiding behind the screen. I knew he had been dead since 1971, but I could smell the oil of his armor as soon as I came down the basement stairs. There was no mistaking his outline behind the screen. I immediately ran for my Spectre Gauntlets, ripping them from their display of honor. The batteries are always charged, so I was able to unleash a full blast at the Red Scourge, disintegrating my screen in the process. When I examined his remains, I remembered too late that I owned his armor. I felt stupid for destroying inactive armor on a mannequin, but I was a bit proud of myself for my quick reflexes. It only took me five minutes to run across the basement and blast an immobile target. Spectre Lair, December 31, 4:00 p.m. The delivery boy brought my supplies to the door. After I checked that he had brought everything, I tipped him a dollar. He had a suspicious look on his face, and I was worried that he might have been one of my villains in disguise. He left without any trouble, but I watched him from my window till he got back to his car. It wasn't till I was mixing the cheese dip that I realized why he was so spooked. I was still wearing my Spectre gauntlets. Oh well. I left them on. Over the years I've become more dexterous with the gloves on as opposed to not wearing them. Thank God I had remembered to put my pants on. Spectre Lair December 31, 6:31pm I didn't seriously think any of my friends from the American Legion of Crimefighters were going to show up. The team had disbanded twenty years ago, when heroes began to appear who didn't need an organization to back them up. Back then, a masked man with a trained eagle could become a superhero, but he sure as Hell would have to have three other masked eagle trainers to back him up. Teams are a thing of the past, and unfortunately for us, the past was a very long time ago. So when I heard a knock at my door I almost ignored it. I had embarrassed myself enough today with my bouts of dementia; I didn't want to make extra trips to the door. Only when I heard my name called was I willing to take a chance. My sometimes-perfect memory recognized her voice right away. "Golden Valkyrie? Is that you?" I asked. Opening the door, my guess was confirmed as a six-foot tall Nordic beauty with long, red-gold hair squeezed me into her arms. Her hard, golden armor nearly crushed me in her embrace, but I could care less. One of my friends had finally arrived for my Millennium New Year's Eve party. "Night Spectre, you're as handsome as ever," the Golden Valkyrie lied. "You haven't changed a bit," I said, and I meant it. Her skin was still a flawless, pale ivory that glowed in her golden attire. There wasn't a wrinkle on her, even around her bright blue eyes. Her bountiful bosom was still barely restrained by her golden breastplate. The power of her legs was revealed by the short metal skirt she wore, and lshe ooked as capable of kicking down buildings as ever. If I saw her for the first time, I would guess her age as no more than twenty. She claimed to be immortal, and considering that she looked the same as she did when I first encountered her in 1943, I think I'm going to believe her. I was also married to an immortal for a decade, so these things are a bit easier to believe. Besides, it's just good protocol to take your comrades at their word. Even when the Rainbow Raider told us he was a woman trapped in a man's body, we took him at his word. Heck, the Valiant Defender took him TOO seriously. Spectre Lair, December 31 7:43 p.m., The cheese dip was a huge success with Hilda, as were the ham crackers. That's a relief because she was the only one who had shown up. The weirdoes were out in force tonight, and she was the only one who wasn't up for skull cracking tonight. She had brought me some sort of goat casserole that was quite good. The wine poured freely into Hilda's lips, along with the beer, a few mixed drinks and all of the fruit punch. Hilda was always a favorite at parties for her very Norse philosophy of how to have a party. Somehow she managed to get me to have a beer or two as well. It wasn't long before I started babbling answers to any questions she had. "Whatever happened to your sidekick, Ghost Boy?" she asked. "He got married, got divorced, and got married again. His second wife threatened to leave him if he continued fighting crime. So he quit." "That was sweet of him," she said. Then she burped. I know I'm becoming a dirty old man when I notice things like how much her cleavage jiggles when she belches. I slid her another beer. "It had nothing to do with sweet," I snorted. "His first wife wiped him in the divorce, and he had no intentions of repeating that battle." She laughed and then told me some divorce stories about the people she interacts with. Since she's still an active hero, she had plenty of stories to tell about the modern heroes. We had a lot of gossip to share with our different worlds. As we grew older, The Golden Valkrie was too busy saving the world to keep up with the rest of us old-timers. This meant she had missed out on such news bits like Steel Boy's twins being born and Ms. Marvelous's bakery going national. I know some of my former American Legionnaires might have chided Hilda for not keeping in touch, but I didn't agree with them. If any of us could have been as eternally young as she was, we would have traded in our sidekicks for the opportunity to tell the old folks homes good-bye. "Is the Green Nymph still around? She always had a thing for you, you know," she asked. "Really?" I said, amused that the Golden Valkyrie was unaware of my marriage. "Why do you say that?" "Oh, she was always feigning that she was ignorant of human ways, and asking you to explain the most redundantly simple things," Hilda laughed. Damn, there went the cleavage again. Wait a minute, what did she say? "But the Green Nymph was a Dryad, she really did need help understanding our ways," I sputtered. "Oh please!" Hilda protested. "Why would a Dryad have an interest in something as stupid as commercials, if not to have it explained by a dark, handsome stranger." I started laughing harder. "We got married in 1954, but she never once told me that." Hilda's beautiful, pale face blushed a deep red, and I laughed so hard, my Spectre Respirator gave me a warning beep. Hell, in my intoxicated condition, I half suspected that she was flirting with me. "I am so glad she finally snagged you. You were such a loner!" Hilda said as her laughs subsided. "I wasn't a loner," I replied. "I was just too busy to notice when I was in love." The conversation died for a moment. Love was almost a dirty word in our profession. For every Ultra-Soldier who marries his plucky reporter girlfriend, there's dozens of heroes whose loves never could come to terms with why their husbands would rather be slugging thugs at 3 a.m. than in beds with their wives. I was damn lucky to realize I loved the Green Nymph, and I mourn her every day since she passed away on April 23, 1961. Hilda, with the wisdom of an immortal woman, changed the subject to a neutral topic. "Remember the time we had to close Pandora's box, and we couldn't figure out how to seal the lid?" she asked. Heroes can talk about deathtraps for hours. Spectre Lair, December 31, 11:30 p.m. We had almost talked about every single deadly machine/trap/ doomsday device we had encountered when Hilda innocently asked how we out-smarted Dr. Nazi's black hole computer. "Don't you remember?" I said. "It had already created the black hole, but it was in the process of shutting down the protective force fields. It was 1947, and none of us had even seen a computer before. Dr. Nazi, however, was so proud of his 'thinking machine' that he allowed us to ask one question of it before it destroyed the world. Quick Thinker gave it a riddle. I don't remember the riddle, but it was sort of nonsense about doors and jars. Well, the computer had to solve the riddle before it could finish destroying the force fields, and since it was a nonsense riddle, it never did solve it. Dr. Nazi was pissed that we gave such an unfair question, but he couldn't make the computer forget about the problem. When the Legion disbanded, I took the doomsday computer home, and made sure its batteries are always charged. Right now, it's still in my basement, trying to figure out Quick Thinker's riddle." The Golden Valkyrie shook her head in respect. Her red-gold hair moved back and forth across her bare shoulders in a hypnotic manner that told me I was stinking drunk. "You see, you always were the technical genius in the group," she said, hoisting her wine cooler to me. "I noticed even your wall clock seems to be homemade." "Not only that, but it's Y2K compliant," I laughed, finding intoxicated humor in nothing. A moment later, I stopped laughing as a horrible idea took hold. The Golden Valkrie stopped laughing as well, as we thought about the same damn thing. "Shit!" she yelled. I stood up, slowly, and looked at the clock. Barely ten minutes till midnight! "Maybe Dr. Nazi's super advanced computer was Y2K ready?" Hilda offered. "Yeah, right," I snapped. "The computer that was going to destroy the world by Monday was going to be ready for a glitch fifty years later! I need to rig something fast!" I saw the doubt in Hilda's eyes as I stood up. I don't blame her. She was looking at an ancient hero who had lost a foot of height since the days he wore a mask. I ignored her as I popped open a secret compartment on my belt buckle. Five seeds fell into my hand. I tossed one into my mouth and replaced the other four. "Will gum help you concentrate?" Hilda asked with a trace of hope. Wow, she actually believed I have a plan. That meant a lot to me. "My wife should have lived forever, but the pollution in the world killed her," I explained as I felt my back strengthen. "She still had her eternal youth when she died, and she instructed me to do something that made me sick with disgust. She told me that when she died, that her youth would be contained in her heart, and it was mine to use as I needed." The Golden Valkrie became more beautiful as my sight sharpened. I continued my story, and noted my voice deepening. "I refused, of course. There was no way I was desecrating my wife. Two weeks after her death, Gradij the Conqueror placed Chicago in a force field and was threatening to obliterate the city. No outside hero could penetrate the field, and time was running out. So, on a rainy day, I dug my wife's body up, and found a dozen seeds where her heart should have been." "Oh Peter, I'm so sorry," Hilda said. She placed her hand on my shoulder. For the first time in a long time, I didn't wince at being touched. God, I was getting strong so fast. I squeezed her hand briefly before running across the room. I snatched up my Spectre Belt on the way. Within seconds I cleared away the garbage in front of Dr. Nazi's legacy. Squatting down, I began pulling wires. "Won't you have to shut it off to work on it?" Hilda asked. My revitalized senses could smell her mixture of perfume and wine behind me. "No, I've had to make repairs in the past, and I figured out a way to keep the primitive machine running. Thankfully I had mapped out its system years ago, and I think I know a simple solution to handle it." "Then there's not a problem?" Hilda asked. I stood up and faced her, wishing I had a mask to hide behind when I told her the truth. "To be honest, I don't know," I said. "I think I disabled the clock, but we're not going to know till midnight. If I'm wrong, then the Spectre Lair is going to be ground zero for a black hole that will destroy the Earth." We faced each other in silence for about three seconds. Then Hilda reached behind her and popped something behind her armor. Her breastplate fell forward in her arms and my heart jumped. "We have ten minutes till the end of the world," Hilda said. "Let's go to Valhalla together." In times like these, superheroes learn to make snap decisions and embark on courses they would have never done if they had time to think. As abrupt as her suggestion was, I immediately analyzed it and came to a conclusion. It was the same one she came to. I completely agreed, both heart and body, and probably having something to do with the amount of alcohol we had consumed as well. My youth was playing havoc with my hormones, giving me energy and vitality that could not be ignored. Looking at this beautiful woman, I also knew that if I was to leave this world, I could think of no better way than with someone I had risked my life with a million times over. I didn't love her like I did my wife, but a kind of love was certainly there. I grabbed my cape off the hook and spread it on the floor. Hilda was dropping her armor to the ground. Her proportions were as heroic as her soul. Breasts that couldn't have been born to a mortal woman adorned her body. Faint pink nipples topped her pale mountains. Legs that have walked on the Moon were pale, long roads leading up to a fiery patch of silk. Her feet were still encased in her golden boots, but we both knew there just wasn't enough time to remove them. She walked over to me, and I held her face as I gave her lips a desperate kiss. My fingers slipped into her golden hair, miraculously not finding a single tangle as the silk of her hair engulfed my hands. There was fire in her lips. Our tongues fought and lashed at each other's mouths as we each tried to taste as much of the other before the end came. Her hands ripped my clothing from me, her superior strength never harming me as she destroyed my clothes. Our knees bent together as we dropped to my cloak on the floor. Reluctantly we broke our kiss, and even her divine body was breathing hard from our passions. Not a moment was wasted, though. Our hands and mouths explored each other in the short time that we had left. We both felt how unfair it was to have less than twenty minutes together. Pretenses of seduction were ignored as we simply sought out what we needed from each other. For me, it was simply to bury myself in her taste. Whether it was her arms around me, or my face in her breasts, I simply wanted to feel her warmth encompass me. My mouth tasted her skin, moving over her body with impatience, as I couldn't decide where I wanted to taste her first. From her neck, to her breasts, to her fearsome thighs, my mouth cloaked her with kisses. Hilda on the other hand demanded to touch me. Hands that have crushed steel, glided over my body with a delicate touch. My rejuvenated muscles were traced over by her fingernails. Her hands clenched my buttocks with a power that almost frightened me. Willingly, I let her touch me in the oddest places, from the backs of my knees to the scalp of my newly regenerated hair. I didn't care. The trust we had built over the decades fighting crime easily translated into a deeper trust in sexual matters. As far I was concerned, my body was hers to do with as she wished. "Damn, I wish we had more time," she whispered. My mouth kissed down her cleavage, grabbing a few more kisses as she shifted onto her back. As she reclined, my kisses descended further till I reached the gates of her private Valhalla. Even with our time limit present on my mind, I could bring myself only to sip her ambrosia with tiny, respectful licks. With each slow lap of my tongue, the Golden Valkyrie's body would quake and her hands would clench in my hair. I don't think I took more than four sips when her hands pulled my head up urgently. Her hips undulated as my body traversed hers and there was no mistaking the reason her legs locked themselves around my hips. Of course my body was more than ready for the task. My cock had been erect and ready since the first ten seconds after I ate the seed. With relish I penetrated Hilda, and the heat from her sex was as fiery as the red in her golden hair. I resisted the urge to look at the clock and focused entirely on Hilda's deep blue eyes and gasping lips. Time was with us as our bodies met each other, making for a nervous threesome. Hilda was restraining herself, locking her arms and legs so that she didn't involuntarily crush me with her haste to have me inside her. Fortunately, I had the body of a teenager and was more than capable of providing the motions for both of us. Like a machine I thrust into her, fueled partially by my anger at dying to a trap that was forty years old, and partially from the sheer enjoyment of being deep inside as lovely a woman as the Golden Valkyrie. My back began to be crushed as Hilda grunted with my thrusts. When my teeth clenched from the pain, she thankfully let go and spread her hands out and gripped the floor. Immediately her hands sunk into the concrete of my basement and I watched in amazement. Her fingers dug into the floor as easily as if she were gripping bedsheets. Free of her arms, I lifted myself up to ease the soreness in my back. Time always with us, I never stopped our lovemaking. Sitting up, I held onto her hips and continued. It was a gorgeous sight that greeted me in this new position. Hilda's arms were stretched out, raising her already high breasts as her back arched from the floor. Every time my member re-entered Paradise, the weight of her breasts would rotate ever so slightly from the impact. Also, from my new vantagepoint I was treated to the sight of our union as her fine red hair meshed with my dark brown hair. Dew formed on our hair as our passions churned and boiled. As well as a teenager's body, I also had a teenager's self-control. Moments after I realized what was happening, my penis exploded with a long forgotten pleasure. Time slowed as I felt every drop of my seed exit my body. Even the sensation of the tip of my penis expanding to expel my semen was like a miniature orgasm unto itself. God, it felt good. My thrusts didn't slow for a second. My body was too young to let something like ejaculation put an end to my sexual enjoyment. Plus, I was determined to bring Hilda to her crisis before our time was abruptly ended. Hilda's constant growls took on a new depth when my seed entered her, so I knew she had to be close as well. With the same fierce determination that I might use to chase down a mad scientist, I aimed my hips to the task at hand. Since her legs would never let me go, I freed my right hand from the task of holding her hip. Softly, I placed my thumb over her exposed clit, finding it easily among the silky patch of red. In sharp contrast to the slamming of our hips, my thumb gently circled her clit in a teasing motion. It was very difficult. The absolute slickness of her tiny button was turning me on even more than the grip of her sexual muscles. Uttering a battle cry that I had not heard since the 'fifties, Hilda finally climaxed. Her hands clenched and she slammed her fists down to the ground, her body quaking with the force of her bliss. We were showered in concrete fragments but neither of us hesitated at all. In fact, once she climaxed, I dropped back down on top of her. Crushing myself to her, I kissed her once more as I expelled myself into her again. Such is the advantage of youth. Right on cue, my wall clock chimed. We embraced as the bells struck the hour, half-expecting reality to be ripped away from us. Even when the bells stopped, we were both stock still, unable to beleive that the American Legion had saved the world once again. It was only when Hilda thrusted back at me softly that our tension broke. We laughed deeply, but for some reason we didn't quite untangle just yet. "You know, the thought crossed my mind that the reason you showed up tonight was to take me to Valhalla personally," I said. I thrust back once with my never-flagging teenage member. Flushed lips broke into a smile. "No, I came because I wanted to see the brave, lonely man who always had the answers to the problems of the world," she said. Her ankles dug slightly into my buttocks and pressed me into a single thrust. "Good," I said. "You had me worried. I thought perhaps I was going to die and this encounter was to provide me with an enjoyable death." To punctuate my enjoyment, I swiveled my hips just enough to fill her completely. "Oh, you don't understand," Hilda said. "When you die, I'll wait till we get to Valhalla before we have sex. That way we'll have all of eternity to frolic." Her hand massaged my neck as her hips rose to meet mine. "What I'm worried about is how long do you have before your youth wears off?" "Experience has shown that it lasts for at least twelve hours," I answered. My hand cupped her breast and squeezed slightly as I thrust. "Twelve hours?" she said. "That should be plenty of time to do it right this time." And she was right. The End. "We have a blind date with Destiny, and it looks like she's ordering the lobster."- The Shoveler My stories are kept at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ShonRichards -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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