The Reawaening of Dr. Clar

Gina Clark rolled over in bed and apologized for the fourth time in ten minutes. "I'm sorry I feel so lousy," she whimpered, noise small and nasally. She had been struck with some kind of early flu or aggressive cold that left her stuffed up and feverish and thus stuck in bed for at least the evening. This meant she could not take part in bringing her children door-to-door for Halloween with her husband, Dr. Greg Clark.

"People get sick," he reassured her, "No worries, I can handle the kids out there."

"Oh, I called Mallory to help out."

"Really?" Greg asked, a touch annoyed.

"Is that ok? I thought it'd make things easier for you."

"It's...fine. I just feel bad. She's in college, I am sure there was a party or two tonight."

"She seemed excited to come over, I promise. Don't forget when we were in college we usually didn't go out until after 10. She'll get some money helping us out and still get to go to her party."

"I guess you're right," Greg submitted. It wasn't that he wasn't thrilled to be around Mallory. It was just that being around Mallory when she was watching his kids was odd for him. Like worlds colliding. It left him uneasy, the wanting her and the employing her not being compartmentalized. He was worried he would slip up and do something the kids would catch or be too rigid and leave Mallory feeling wounded.

The doorbell rang and broke him from his overthinking. He heard Shelly open the door and giggle loudly before yelling up to the second floor to tell her parents Mallory had arrived. Greg headed out of the bedroom and down the stairs to greet her.

"Shelly," he said in an even tone, "Remember what we said about yelling with Mommy si—"

He caught sight of the blond babysitter and his voice stuck in his throat.

"Sorry, daddy," Shelly said, oblivious to what her father was concerned with now.

"It's...it's fine. Just try to take it easy on the volume. Mommy needs her rest," he stumbled, keeping his eyes firmly on Mallory.

She was wearing a Supergirl costume, tall red pleather heeled boots piped with yellow, a small blue skirt drawn tight to her with a yellow belt, a small Superman "S" shield twinkling in her belly button, a blue long-sleeved half-shirt emblazoned with the same logo, and short red cape also piped in yellow. She's playfully grabbed the corners of the skirt and curtsied slightly.

"I hope you don't mind, Dr. Clark," she said, her voice making clear she was laying it on thick for his benefit, "We had a costume contest on campus a little while ago and then there's a dance tonight so it was easier to just keep the costume on. But if it's a problem, I have a change of clothes in the car."

"No, no," he waved her off, making the naughty sign by rubbing one pointer finger over the other about waist high where she could see it but neither of his children could, "It is Halloween after all. I have to just finish the kids up and then we can go?"

"Great. I'm just going to check on your wife," Mallory agreed, making sure to brush her hand across the front of his pants as walked to the stairs. The doctor did his best not to attempt to peek up her skirt as she ascended.

Mallory was pretty pleased with her costume even before she arrived. As the only girl in a neighborhood filled with boys her age, she had come to a love of comics early on. She drifted away in her early teens as most kids do. Then, while stuck visiting relatives she did not like, she excused herself for a walk one evening and stumbled into a local store that was having a "One Dollar a Longbox Sale." She bought herself two to keep herself busy for the rest of the week and there were enough gems in the mix to reignite her interest.

Supergirl in particular was not her favorite character. She liked her fine, she supposed, but there were other heroines she liked better. When it came to trying to win that costume contest though, she knew SG was a winner. She considered Poison Ivy but she knew the costume would have to be made "fresh" and decided she did not want to run around at the last minute. Batgirl or Catwoman could've been fun but the full costume and cowls would get pretty hot pretty quick and she wanted to have a costume she could win with and then take to the dance. So Supergirl it was. Iconic. Simple. Revealing enough to get the boys votes. Perfect.

And now, with this extra duty of helping with the kids, Mallory as even more pleased with her choice. She had...plans. She had dreamed them up on the drive over and found, to her enjoyment, they made her deliciously wet.

Even if she did not get to realize them tonight though she a.) had a sexy new game to try out with the Doctor and b.) she knew the costume alone was provoking a reaction in him. It was, she thought, in his "fetish" (though she used the term lightly) wheelhouse. Sexy (if ludicrous) shoes? Check. A tight midriff exposing shirt? Yup. Plenty of exposed leg? You know it. Balancing a scrubbed clean innocent sort of sexuality with the potential for some very, very dirty stuff? Oh yes.

And now, for that extra bit of naughty garnish on top, she decided to talk to his wife.

Greg completed the makeup, took a step back, and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, kiddo, I don't know what exactly I did, but it's not what you want," he told Shelly.

"That's okay, Daddy. You're a boy...you don't use makeup. Can Mallory fix it?" Shelly chirped cheerfully.

"Yeah, let me go grab her."

He found her sitting on the edge of the bed, talking to Gina. As she noticed him, she casually spread apart her legs, giving him a glimpse at the Supergirl panties beneath without his wife's notice. She continued, "Yeah, so, I knew he liked them so I get it done. It hurt right after and it was a pain to keep clean the first week, but since then...so worth it. I really like it.

"Umm..." he cleared his throat, "Mallory, I am trying to do Shelly's makeup; she's being so sort of fairy or something. Anyway, I keep messing it up. Could you take over?"

Mallory bounced off the bed and enthusiastically agreed, "Sure thing! Feel better Ms. Clark!"

"Call me Gina," the sick woman croaked after the sprightly teen before speaking to her husband, "Still no good with the makeup, huh?"

"No. I mean, it makes sense. I can't draw a straight line on paper...there's no reason to think I can intricate patterns on people's faces."

They laughed a bit at that before Gina asked incredulously, "Can you believe what Mal's wearing?"

"Remember what you told me? She's a college kid. You remember what Halloween was like when you were in college."

"I never dressed like that!" she took umbrage.

Greg sighed and thought to himself, "Yeah, no kidding." Instead of voicing that thought he persisted, "Ok, fine. But you are aware that other college women wore sexy costumes on Halloween?"

"I guess..."

"It'll be fine. It's warm and dark out so she won't freeze to death and the neighbors won't be able to see her clearly enough to judge us. Besides, it is comic book accurate. Or was. Because of a reboot. Or something. I don't know, she explained it to me, but it sounded complicated."

She harrumphed in a way that let him know she knew he was right, still wanted to argue. He politely pretended not to hear. Bait not taken she then asked, "Did you ever want me to dress like that for Halloween?"

"Of course I did!" he was tempted to shout out her, but instead he only smiled, kissed her forehead and said, "You know I've always been in favor of you wearing as little clothes as possible."

"So that's a yes?" she prodded.

He sidestepped, "It is the answer I gave."

Another harrumph. "Why the sudden desire to argue?" Greg wondered.

"Oh, and she said she got her navel pierced for a guy. I just can't believe that! I would not risk that kind of pain just because a guy thinks it's hot," Gina espoused.

Greg clenched his fists on either side of his body once, twice, three times. He wanted to get into the time she promised she'd get a belly button piercing if he trained for a marathon with him, he did so and then she did not hold up her end of the bargain more or less admitting she never intended to follow through. He wanted desperately to do it. But he bit his tongue.

But he could only hold back so much. Instead the bitterness sprayed out in a super sarcastic stream, "Yeah, how crazy of her! Trying to do something you know your partner will think is sexy but might be a bit out of your comfort range is such a stupid, shitty thing to do. I wonder how she can look at herself in the mirror and not feel like she failed her gender."

She tried to backpedal, "No, no, that's not what I meant."

Greg ignored that comment, just saying, "Well, we are off. Get some rest."

"Wait, Greg, I didn't mean to—" she began but upon seeing him not even pause gave up mid-sentence. She couldn't believe he was still upset about that all these years later.

Trick-or-treating went off without a hitch. Shelly's Mallory done makeup conveyed her fairy-ness quite well and Martin was hit as a small, cute Frankenstein's Monster. Much candy was received. Near as Greg noticed little to no leering or judging took place regarding Mallory's outfit save two classmates of Shelly's who seemed to believe they were seeing the real Supergirl and that their parents assurances that comics were just make-believe were nothing more than lies.

The kids were each allowed one piece of candy then Greg and Mallory put them through the bedtime rituals of face and hand washing, brushing teeth, putting on pajamas, getting a story, and going to bed. As usual, they were cooperative except for one item a piece. Shelly wanted to wear her costume to bed (Greg convinced her it would ruin it) and Martin did not want to wash to his face (Mallory made a game out of it and he fell for it). In the end, it proved a relatively easy bedtime transition.

Greg flopped on the coach afterwards and Mallory curled up next to him, placing her head in his lap.

"Thanks a bunch for your help. I'm sorry Gina made you come out with all the college parties going on and all, but—"

She cut him off, "Don't be silly. You know how I love Martin and Shelly. And, you know, seeing you's not so bad either."

He chucked, "Not so bad? I'll take it. Anyway, you still have plenty of time to get back to school, pre-game it, and make the party you mentioned, so that's good. I'm going to check on the wife. Have a great night."

She moved to her knees and they shared a long kiss, followed by several smaller, quicker ones before he said good night and headed upstairs. There he found Gina in a Nyquil induced slumber and that his children were already deep in sleep as well. He looked at the time, just after 8:30, and decided to go downstairs and watch some TV to relax. After a few moments of channel surfing, he remembered tomorrow was trash day and briefly contemplating just being lazy and letting it go another week. His responsible side won out though so he threw on his shoes and began to drag the barrels out of the driveway.

As he did so he realized that Mallory's car was still parked in front of the house. That was odd... he had said goodbye to her at least a half hour ago and had not seen her inside at all. "Where could she be?" he wondered. A moment later, his cell phone seemingly buzzed the answer. "The basement," was all it said.

The doctor felt his heart rate jump and his stomach flutter a bit. It was like this almost every time Mallory pushed the envelope and he was sure she was doing it again.

At the top of the basement stairs, there was a small stack of notecards. Written on them in Mallory's large flowing script was "Supergirl Facts: Read First." And so he did as he descended the stairs. He learned her name was Kara, she was Superman's cousin, she too was susceptible to kryptonite, and a few other perhaps interesting facts about nicknames and such. Greg was less nervous now, but significantly more confused. Did Mallory really intend to give him a lesson about Supergirl and her place in comics?

He reached the final card as he hit the bottom of the stairs. On it the babysitter had written, "The safe word is 'Earth Angel.'" He looked around and initially saw nothing. No Mallory. The room was arranged the same with the dartboard in one corner, the video game and TV in the other. Then, he noticed the door that divided the finished portion of the basement from the unfinished was opened. They always kept that closed and locked because there was too much stuff his kids could end up pinned other being stored on the unfinished side.

Cautiously, he opened the door fully. By this point, he could fill his pulse from his ears to his feet. He didn't know what the heck Mallory was playing at but she certainly had his rapt attention. It was dark beyond the door and it took Greg a moment to get his eyes adjusted. It was then that he noticed a single naked lightbulb lit in the extreme back corner of the basement. A stack of boxes and a carpet steamer obscured his ability to see what was there.

"Mallory," he tentatively called.

No answer.

"Mallory?" he tried again, a bit louder.

Still nothing.

"Mallory?!" one more time.

A tiny groan escaped from that corner. Greg forced his legs to propel him towards it.

He squeezed past the steamer and entered the square space. Under the harsh light, he found Mallory. She was standing with her arms spread above her and her head down, hair in her face. As he studied her closer, he realized she was handcuffed from both wrists to the thick pipe above her head. The handcuffs were cheap plastic, something Greg vaguely remember from a police officer playset Shelly had gotten last year, played with for three days, and promptly declared not something she wanted. They appeared to have been repainted a neon greenish color.

Throat dry, he croaked, "Mallory?"

Nothing.

He tried again. And then again. Still nothing. He could see her breathing. He was scared and annoyed in equal parts. "What the hell is going on?" he thought to himself, frustration building. Then, inspiration hit him.

"Supergirl?" he offered, voice stronger.

Mallory lifted her head, shaking her blond hair back away from her face. The doctor saw that the makeup was off slightly, mascara dripping a bit below both eyes, her shiny lipstick smeared slightly. She looked roughed up. "Like sexy roughed up," Greg observed to himself.

"Luthor," she hissed.

He suppressed his natural tendency to reply, "Ooo, real creative." Years of having a shaved head meant he had heard all variations of "Hey, [Famous Bald Guy]." He sensed though that this was not the time to be himself. On the other hand, he was not sure what to do. He had never role played with Gina. Ever. So this was waaaaaaaaaay over his head. He opted to stay silent, and simply circled Mallory/Supergirl with a superior smirk on his face, inspecting her like merchandise.

"I should have known you'd behind this!" she spat angrily. Inwardly, Greg/Lex Luthor was impressed with her acting talent.

He continued to eye her with obvious lust in the way he imagined a super villain might.

"Whatever your plan is, it will never work!"

"Oh?" he replied, an air of disinterest in his voice, a subtly raised eyebrow the only expression on his face.

"People will notice I'm gone. My cousin will notice," her voice took on a nasty, mocking/threatening tone.

Greg played along, getting very close to her face and barking, "Your cousin? YOUR COUSIN?!? The alien?!"

He pretended to calm himself as she cringed and began again, "Your friends, 'super' or not have no idea where you are. How will they save you?"

The babysitter playing superhero sneered at his overconfident façade, "He's always beaten you. Always. He'll have me out of here by dawn."

Again Greg reacted quickly, grabbing her around the throat and applying a small squeeze. He looked her in the eyes and held the gaze before practically purring, "Mmm, but you are not him, are you? You haven't beaten me, have you? In fact, I seem to have beaten you."

He paused and licked the side of her face, whispering, "Delicious." She whimpered weakily on cue.

He let her go and strolled around her again, going into a monologue, "You see, Supergirl, this is no indefinite detention. I'm not planning on ransoming you or holding you prisoner or really, anything of the sort. Most likely, you'll be out of here by dawn. Before anyone, even your 'wonderful' cousin, notices you are gone."

She straightened up some and made a show of weak defiance. Again, Greg found himself marveling at her commitment. "I'll destroy you the moment I am free," she threatened.

"Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem. I think you'll feel differently soon enough. And if not," he paused behind her and came in very close, wrapping his arm around her midsection before continuing, "well, now that I know who you are, I'll make sure certain...disincentives are in place."

She bristled, "You don't know anything about—"

"Oh, but I do...Kara," he cut her off dramatically.

Mallory/Supergirl dropped her head again and let out a single sob.

Greg was surprised how easily he was getting into this. And how much he enjoyed it. The dark desires he had locked up within himself...he just had no idea. But now, freed from the need to contain them, he delighted in discovering each new one. Apparently role play power fantasies were another check on the list.

"What...what are you going to do to me?" Mallory/Supergirl whispered in her smallest voice.

Greg/Luthor drew close to her once again.

"What am I going to do? Oh, I don't know...I thought we might have a little fun to pass the time," he then grabbed her and kissed her roughly. Mallory did a nice job of responding and resisting at once; enjoying but keeping in character.

"How dare you?!" she scolded.

He smirked in her face and subtly tasted her off his lips, "I don't know...you seemed to like it."

"I...I did not!"

Greg/Luthor kept his smirk up as he ran his hands over her chest, feeling her erect nipples through the tight shirt. He enjoyed the juxtaposition of them poking out the "super-shield," contrasting a figure of goodness largely associated with children's literature and her naughty lusts.

"Are you going to...rape me?" she asked, shuddering.

"No," he promised, his voice dripping with menacing confidence, "you are going to beg me to fuck you."

She shuddered and whimpered back, "Never."

"Are you sure? Because your body is telling me otherwise," he responded, pinching her nipple hard. She jerked toward him in a gesture of aggression until the handcuffs restrained her. He laughed what he hoped was a vaguely maniacal laugh.

"What's happening to me?" she asked, voice slightly panicked.

He picked up her lead and began to spin a yarn as he walked around her, "I am sure you notice yourself feeling...unusual. Your nipples are hard, your face is flush...I'm willing to bet your sweet little super hero panties are soaked. Not at all the normal, appropriate behavior of the Teen of Steel, is it?"

She nodded, visibly rubbing her thighs together as if in response to his prompting.

"And you, of course, feel weaker than usual."

"You are using kryptonite handcuffs, Luthor. In a fair fight, you'd never be able to restrain me."

"True enough," Greg/Luthor replied, "That's why I don't fight fair with you. Anyway, points for recognizing the kryptonite. However, if you think about it, does it feel like normal kryptonite?"

"What?" Supergirl/Mallory replied, confused.

"Think about it, normal kryptonite does not stop making you weak. You die from it and often fairly quickly. But how long have you been trussed up here? How long have we been talking? And yet, you breathe. You are not dead. Curious, isn't it?"

"What...what is it?"

"Oh, it's kryptonite. Just a little something...different I cooked up in the labs. I intended it for your cousin, but we found that it seemed to not affect him. I was confused, perplexed. Then, in looking at the tape, I noticed something. While Superman was fine, you faltered a bit. Just a bit. And seemed to blush. It was odd. So I surreptitiously had an employee of mine expose you to it. He watched you from afar that night as you falter again. This time, though, we had a drone follow you. It recorded you, the sweet, fair, and trustworthy Maid of Might, fingering herself on a Metropolis rooftop with abandon. Do you remember that night?"