The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by DC Comics. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.

It had been just over two years since the chorus had first echoed through the canyons of the city. Twenty-six months during which the simple four sentence litany had become a source of unabashed pride to the people of Metropolis.

“Look, up in the sky,” someone would shout as the rush of the wind caught their attention.

“It’s a bird,” another would add as he looked upward in the direction in the direction the first man had indicated.

“It’s a plane,” a woman would loudly add, knowing full well that it wasn’t.

“It’s Superman!” numerous voices would finally chime in, their voices reflecting the admiration they had for Metropolis’s premiere resident as he swept over their heads.

A thousand sets of eyes looked skyward as the red and blue-garbed young man soared between the tall buildings of Bessolo Boulevard. Jet black hair and a flowing red cape flared in the wind as the Metropolis Marvel raced across his adopted city. The speed of his flight carried him quickly out of view. Before his admirer’s chant could totally fade from their ears, he was already miles away and dropping out of the sky.

With a casual ease, the six foot three hero set his two hundred and twenty-five pound frame down on the center of Star Lab’s helicopter pad. His cape draped over his powerful shoulders as the Man of Steel focused on the white-coated woman who had been awaiting his arrival.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Hamilton,” Superman said with a broad smile as he stepped off the pad and walked toward the redhead.

“Good afternoon, Superman,” the thirty-eight year old said as she met him halfway and extended her hand, “I’m so glad you could stop by and examine our find. I know how valuable your time must be.”

“I’m glad to do it, Doctor,” Superman replied as he shook her hand, “Especially if the artifact you’ve discovered does turn out to be Kryptonian in origin.”

“Well, that’s what we’re hoping you can tell us,” Phyllis Hamilton said as she guided him to the Institute’s side entrance, “and please, call me, Phyllis.”

As Superman walked beside the shorter woman, his enhanced senses couldn’t help but make him aware of the effect his presence was having on her. It was an effect he had grown quite used to in his life. Their brief physical contact during their handshake told him that Phyllis’s body temperature had risen almost a degree, along with an increase in both her heartbeat and respiration. Regardless of the circumstances, it was an almost involuntary response from most women.

“You said in your call to Mr. Kent that the artifact didn’t show any sigh of Kryptonite radiation?” Superman asked as they entered the building and passed through a security checkpoint.

“That’s what’s been puzzling us,” Phyllis said as she led Superman through the maze of corridors. “Almost every previous Kryptonian artifact has shown at least trace amounts. It’s almost as if, if it is Kryptonian in origin, it left the planet before it’s destruction. At least that’s the theory some of us have come up with.”

“Well, let’s see of I can settle the matter,” Superman said as they stepped through a final checkpoint and into the lab filled with Doctor Hamilton’s associates.

Spotting their distinguished visitor, the small crowd quickly parted to give him a clear path to their prize. Despite their assurances that there was no trace of radiation, the Last Son of Krypton hesitated slightly before approaching it. When he did, Superman’s first impression was that it was indeed a relic of his long dead world.

“Well, Superman?” one of the other scientists asked.

“Give him a chance, Donald,” Phyllis said as Superman effortlessly picked up the large metal fragment from the table and examined it more closely.

His blue eyes focused on the metal, examining it on a level equaled only by the most advanced equipment. The sub-atomic structure did indeed match that of the rocket that had brought him to Earth some two and a half decades before. The inscriptions on the outside also matched what he had learned of his native language. Deep within his mind, he translated the half erased words into English. The result surprised even him.

“It’s part of a spacecraft,” Superman finally said. “A ship equivalent to the space shuttle, at least in function.”

“And it’s Kryptonian?” the scientist repeated his question.

“Yes, definitely Kryptonian,” Superman said, making the scientist’s face light up. “She must’ve been in space when the end came.”

“Did the ship have a name?” Phyllis asked out of curiosity, not really expecting an answer.

“Yuda,” Superman answered with an unaccustomed tremor in his voice, “named after one of the goddesses of ancient Krypton, also one of her moons.”

“What must it have been like to have flown her,” another of the group asked, “to have been on her at the end ... to watch as your world died beneath you.”

“Martin!” Phyllis snapped at her young colleague, thinking the statement to be highly insensitive of their guest’s feelings, seeing that it had been his Homeworld as well. “Superman, I’m sorry, that was...”

But the Man Of Tomorrow was already gone.

Once more high above the city, the fragment of the long destroyed space shuttle dominated Superman’s mind. Just the discovery of the artifact would’ve interested him, but to have it been the Yuda totally shook him to the core.

His mind drifted back, sorting out memories most precious. Recollections of a world that, if fate had been more kind, might’ve been his. A life filled with people he had loved, and who had loved him in return. Loved him enough to have sacrificed all they had to give him a second chance.

Ever since his emergence as a super hero in his mid-teens, the world had known the story of his origins. Of how his father, Jor-El, one of the greatest young minds of his age, had discovered the impending death of their world. A discovery that Krypton’s ruling Science Council had refused to accept. Leaving the young scientist to labor alone to try and save his family.

In the end, he had simply run out of time. On the night that Krypton died, the full sized spacecraft with his experimental stardrive was only half completed. All he had was an unused test drone, fully functional but with only room for one. The decision for Jor-El and his wife was simple -- their son would survive.

Yes, almost anyone who heard of Superman had also heard of Jor-El. A much fewer number, however, had heard of Lara Lor-Van. And that was their loss. A remarkable student and athlete in her school years, Lara had also been one of Krypton’s first astronauts. A field of scientific endeavor that had come late to that ancient culture. Prior to her marriage to Jor-El and the birth of their son, Lara had been the commander of one of the first space shuttles. A ship she had named, Yuda.

“Mother,” Kal-El of Krypton thought as he remembered the face of the woman who had placed him in the escape rocket and sacrificed her dreams in the hope that he might find his own.

The image of the woman who set the example by which he would judge all others remained in his mind until, faster than the human eye could follow, the Man of Steel entered the Daily Planet building through the open window of a little used storeroom. A quick flash of his x-ray vision seconds before had made sure that the room was indeed empty.

A familiar transformation took place as Superman once more assumed the identity that he had lived most of his life under. That of Clark Kent, the son of Jonathan and Martha who had rescued and then raised him as their own when his lifecraft crashed outside of Smallville, Kansas. Aside from the camouflaging effects of a non-descript blue business suit, the conversion included a change of posture along with a slight voice alteration. The final touch was a pair of ordinary glasses that gave new meaning to the phrase, to hide in plain sight.

Stepping into the newsroom, Clark was greeted by a half dozen good afternoons, all of which he dutifully returned. Sitting down at his desk, he took a moment to scan his terminal for any of the keyword news alerts he had programmed into it. Thankfully, the world seemed to be quiet during his all day absence.

His attention turned to the empty desk situated across from his. The owner of which had been out all day as well. Clark didn’t need his super-senses to know when she finally entered the newsroom a quarter hour later. You could just feel her presence by the reaction of those around her.

Lois Lane had already established her reputation as a star reporter by the time Clark Kent appeared on the scene two years before. Yet it still bothered her that the story of the century had gone instead to the unknown reporter. She had no way of knowing of course that Kent would always have the inside track on any Superman story since beneath the shirt of the mild mannered reporter rested the irregular yellow and red pentagon of the Man of Steel.

The competition between the two of them had always been fierce, but it had evolved into a working relationship that Clark worked hard to make something more. Only two months before, the two of them had begun to date, if somewhat irregularly. Lois was, she quickly let him know, not ready to settle down with any one man. At least not with any ordinary man.

That lesson had been driven home to Clark in a dramatic way only the weekend before as his alter-ego decided to check in on Lois towards the end of his late night patrol. The two of them had a few words over a story and it had been his intention to have Clark show up with a peace offering. A quick x-ray check of her apartment to see if she was home quickly put an end to that idea.

Lois had indeed been home, but she hadn’t been alone. Superman recognized her guest as Jose Delgado, AKA Gangbuster, the homegrown costumed hero who was doing wonders in cleaning up the section of the city known as Suicide Slum. Not since the disappearance of the Guardian in the early 1950’s had that part of Metropolis had a hero to call their own.

Normally, he would’ve been glad to see Delgado as he greatly respected the work he was doing, both as Gangbuster and as a teacher in one of the local schools. This time, however, that admiration didn’t really apply, seeing as both Jose and Lois were nude at the time, with Lois riding his cock on the way to orgasm.

Not really wanting to watch, but yet compelled to do so at the same time, Superman watched as Lois bounced up and down on the Latino Hero. Her large breasts heaved, covered with sweat, as she called out her lover’s name along with an demand that he fuck her harder. Jose responded to her order as he grabbed her waist and pulled her down on him hard. The action was repeated again and again until Lois cried out in triumph as her body climaxed explosively.

Delgado’s orgasm was only a few moments behind hers, but it was long enough for Lois to do what she had in mind. Sliding off his cock even before the last of the tremors had faded from her flesh, she spun around and slid his cock into her mouth. Less than a heartbeat later, Jose exploded like a volcano, sending a hot white lava into her mouth. A sharp, salty magma that Lois swallowed with enthusiasm.

It was at that point that Superman finally turned away. Even in a situation like that, he thought, Lois still had to be in total control.

People who knew them, tended to think of both Clark and Superman as the world’s greatest boy scouts. They were wrong about both aspects of his personality. Either as Clark or Kal-El, he had grown up with the same urges and desires as any other man. Subject to the same temptations, possibly more so because of his amazing abilities. It was just that in most cases he’d learned to become more circumspect in their uses. At least that was the example he tried to impress on other heroes.

As a teenager, Clark had been smitten by Lana Lang, one of his classmates at Smallville High. His relationship with the redhead had been close enough for them to achieve a level of intimacy, up to and including oral sex. Yet it never progressed to a point where for the young visitor from another world was able to lose his virginity. Lana on the other hand had lost hers with Clark’s best friend, Pete Ross, whom she also dated at times.

It wasn’t until he left Smallville and was a student at Metropolis University that Clark duplicated Pete’s accomplishment. Working at a small diner while he attended classes, Clark had become close friends with an older waitress. A friendship that had ended in her bed one night, much to both of their satisfactions.

So far, his relationship with Lois hadn’t progressed much further than the one he’d had with Lana, but that wasn’t to say Clark lived a life of abstinence. During his previous cold spell with Lois, he’d had a short, somewhat fiery relationship with Cat Grant. The blond bombshell was a gossip columnist over at WGBS who also wrote a column for the Planet. The least that could be said about their nights together was that they had indeed been memorable.

A new chorus of greetings from the far end of the newsroom signaled the late arrival of Lois Lane. At least late from Clark’s perspective, but he had learned long ago that allowances had to be made for those who weren’t able to simply soar above the gridlock of midtown traffic.

By the time Lois came into view, Clark was waiting with a hot cup of her favorite flavored coffee. He had made it earlier and it only took a brief flash of his heat vision to make it steaming hot. Lois reached her desk just as Clark placed it on a clear section of it.

“Good afternoon, Lois,” he said with his patented smile, projecting all the warmth he could manage.

“Afternoon Kent,” Lois said with a noticeable frost in her voice as she all but ignored his latest peace offering.

Lois Lane stood five six with shoulder length dark brown hair and blue eyes. An army brat, she had been a take-charge type of woman since her teens, earning her reputation the hard way. Too many people had learned, to their regret, that there was a lot more to her than an attractive woman with a well-defined figure.

“Was there something you wanted, Kent?” the brunette asked as she dropped her carry bag alongside the desk and settled into her chair, turning on her computer as she did.

“No, not really,” Clark said, realizing that she was still too angry with him to accept any acts of conciliation.

“Well then some of us have work to do,” Lois said as she ignored the tall reporter standing in front of her desk and turned her attention to the story in progress that was reappearing on her screen.

Clark opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by an ultra-high frequency beeping that only he could hear. The source of the persistent sound was the belt buckle of his Superman costume, worn under his street clothes. Specifically, the signal device he wore as a member of the Justice League of America. From the pattern of the alert, he could knew it was a call for all available members to report to the group’s headquarters as soon as possible.

Seeing as Lois was already ignoring his presence, Clark backed away and closed out the files on his own computer. Just before he did, he logged himself as out checking a story in case the Chief should look for him while he was gone. Luckily the two stories he had been assigned on the previous day were already waiting on Perry White’s desk. Despite the age of technology, White was an old time editor who liked to feel paper in his hand and read hard copy.

Heading for his favorite storeroom, Clark couldn’t help but overhear his name in a discussion as he crossed the floor. In his case, it didn’t matter that the brief conversation had taken place on the far end of the room or had been in Japanese.

“I don’t understand what Miss Lane’s problem is?” the first girl’s voice, which Clark identified as belonging to Kiko Noboru, one of the copy girls. “How can anyone resist those puppy dog looks of Mr. Kent’s?”

“I think there’s a lot more to him than just being cute,” said the second voice that belonged to Susan Mizuka, a photographer. “I bet if you got under those old suits he wears you’d find something rock hard.”

“You thing that about every man in this place like that,” Miko replied.

“Well you never know until you take the time to check it out,” Susan replied.

Both girls quietly giggled at the thought as Clark reached and opened the door to the supply room, a wide smile on his face. He was surprised to almost bump into Jimmy Olsen as the freckled faced teenager stepped out of the small room.

“Jeepers, Mr. Kent, you sure seem to spend a lot of time in the supply room,” Jimmy said. “Most of the other reporters just ask me to get what they need.”

“Well, some of us appreciate the fact that you have other things to do, Jim,” Clark smiled as he stepped past the younger redhead. “Speaking of which, why don’t you ask Susan Mizuka out to lunch one of these afternoons. I have the feeling that the two of you might have a lot in common.”

“Really, Mr. Kent?” Jimmy asked, his tone showing not a small level of excitement.

“Let’s just say I have a hunch,” Clark said as he closed the door behind him and Jimmy set out in search of Susan.

The transformation from man to Superman took only a few brief moments, as Clark shed his outer garments to once more reveal a form made more of steel than rock. A running leap sent him out into the late afternoon sky, this time on a vector that had him passing high altitude jets less than a minute later. The sky around him shifted from light blue to darker shades and then finally to black. Scanning the heavens, Superman soon spotted the new Satellite home of the Justice League, resting serenely in geosynchronous orbit over the United States.

Other members of the League usually made use of the teleport tubes that had been hidden in the cities of the major members, but Superman liked to fly up under his own power. The large man-made structure looming before him was a long lifetime away from anything the major Earth powers could dream of putting into orbit. Its construction had involved the combined sciences of several alien members of the League.

As he prepared to enter the airlock, Superman caught sight of a flash of green light streaking up from the Earth’s surface, much like a meteor in reverse. The luminescent beam took on human shape as it closed on the JLA Satellite, revealing a man in green and black garb who became clearer as the bright light retreated into an emerald ring he wore on his left hand. The Kryptonian knew him as Hal Jordan, test pilot of some of the world’s most advanced aircraft, but to the world at large he was better know as the Green Lantern, a member of an interstellar police force created by the eons old race known as the Guardians of the Universe.

Together the two men entered the airlock, to be greeted by other members who had preceded them through the magic of futuristic technology. The first to welcome them was a man dressed almost head to toe in red, with yellow boots and decorative lightning bolts on the chest and wrists of his uniform. Yellow wings also adorned his cowl denoting speed, a symbol well befitting Barry Allen, the Flash. He and Hal were the best of friends and after a quick hello to Superman, the two went ahead into the conference room to catch up before the meeting.

Behind the fastest man alive had stood a tall blond haired man in orange and green. His face reflected a concern with being so far out of his natural watery environment. King of Poseidonis, he was better known to the surface world as Aquaman. Able to exist in both worlds, if only for a short time out of water, the ruggedly handsome man could also communicate telepathically with most sea life.

Standing on the shoulder of the regal member was another man just six inches tall. Clad in blue and red, Ray Palmer was a physicist who used his discovery of white dwarf matter to shrink his body in size. Able to control his size and density, he fought crime as the hard-hitting Atom.

The only female member of the impromptu reception committee was a young woman dressed in blue and white. Anyone who had spent time at any of the major hotels on the west coast might have recognized her as Zatanna, one of the country’s premiere stage magicians. Few realized that the nineteen-year-old Maid of Magic was actually a daughter of the magical race Homo Magi and could actually perform the feats she only mimicked on stage.

Together the small group moved to the main meeting room on the uppermost level of the satellite. There they caught up with the Flash and Green Lantern as well as three more members who had preceded them.

Standing alone in the shadows as seemed to befit him was a tall, athletically built man in gray and black. Without peer as the world’s greatest detective, Bruce Wayne had turned a life long obsession to avenge the murder of his parents into a personal war on the underworld of Gotham City. Many would disagree with his methods, but the Darknight had defiantly made a difference in his city that couldn’t be argued.

The second woman of the group was a blond haired young woman in her twenties who wore a black outfit that looked as if it belonged to another age. Which in fact it actually did, having been designed by her mother, the original Black Canary who had fought crime decades before. The second heroine to carry that name, she added a shattering sonic beam that she called her canary cry to the martial arts Dinah Lance had learned from her mother.

The final member of the assemblage was like Superman, born of another world. Unlike the numerous light years that the Man of Steel traveled to reach his new home, J’Onn J’Onzz’s world was less than fifty million miles away. The Martian Manhunter was one of the last survivors of the now dead planet, and had chosen to carve a new life for himself on her sister world. Six foot seven and weighing three hundred pounds, the green skinned Martian possessed among his other abilities, one that enabled him to change his physical form at will. This allowed him to blend in among human society.

“Well it looks like no one else is going to make it,” J’Onn said in his capacity as the current Chairman of the League. “So we might as well get started.”

No one objected and they all took their seats. Automatic recording devices came into play as the meeting was called to order, making a record of the proceedings for any absent member that wished to review it later.

Mundane but necessary matters took up the bulk of their discussions. They agreed on most of the important issues so they moved down the agenda rather quickly. The meeting was running so smoothly that J’Onn was about to call for a break an hour later when a new arrival entered the room. All heads turned in her direction, an action in no way related to her lateness.

The woman standing in the large entranceway stood five eleven and weighed in at a hundred and thirty-five pounds. A size that was quite deceptive when it came to the awesome power her body contained. The only daughter of Hippolyta, Queen of the legendary Amazons, Diana of Themyscira had come to man’s world only a half dozen months before. She had immediately captured the public’s imagination as Wonder Woman.

Born of the clay of the Earth and given life as a gift of the Olympian gods, Diana wore a form fitting costume that consisted of little more than a red and gold bustier atop a star spangled pair of blue briefs. A gold tiara and belt, as well as white trimmed red boots completed her outfit. Around her wrists were wrapped bracelets of an almost indestructible metal and a glowing lasso, said by some to be magical, hung by her waist.

The Amazon would have drawn the same level of attention if she had been garbed in the proverbial sackcloth instead of the quite revealing costume. Beautiful seemed such an inadequate word to fully describe her. Long black hair hung free down her back, drawing only the slightest of distraction from the deepest blue eyes any of the Leaguers had ever seen. Her face and body seemed more suited to that of a model or movie star. Not a warrior woman who could bench press a tractor trailer or fly among the air currents.

“I’m sorry to be so late,” the Princess apologized as she took one of the empty seats.

“I’m sure it was unavoidable, Diana,” J’Onn said as he waited for her to sit down. “As it was, I was about to suggest we take a short break.”

“Excellent,” Diana replied, “it will give me a chance to go over the record and catch up.”

With no objection, J’Onn called for a pause in the proceedings. Half the attending membership headed for the gallery to get some refreshments as Diana engaged a small screen by her seat and ran the computer transcribed record at high speed. Watching her, Superman was surprised that she was able to fully digest the information at that rate. He’d thought that only he, J’Onn and probably Barry could read that fast. By the time the others returned a few minutes later, she had read the record all the way through.

After J’Onn called the meeting back to order, Diana made a few comments about what she had read. Basically, she didn’t disagree with any of the decisions that had been made, but she did offer a few suggestions. Two of which so impressed other Leaguers that they called for the record to be changed to reflect her input.

“A few more items on the agenda and we can call it a day,” J’Onn announced to the accompaniment of a few comments from the gallery. “We received a request from the Daily Star in Metropolis to do a series of features about the League. In deference to our member of their distinguished competition, I was inclined to simply deny the request, but on second thought felt that it should be up to the entire membership.”

“I more than agree, J’Onn,” Superman said from his seat on the far end of the table. “Matters affecting the League shouldn’t be decided over how they might affect any individual member.”

“I thought you might feel that way,” J’Onn replied, “So I’ll leave it open to discussion.”

“Well, I’ll close the discussion,” the Flash said as his mid-western accented voice filled the room. “Wasn’t the Star the rag that did that story last year on the sex lives of superheroes?”

“I believe it was,” J’Onn said, “but we shouldn’t judge a paper based solely on a single story.”

“The hell we can’t,” Green Lantern chimed in, “I might have expected a piece of trash like that from one of those supermarket tabloids, but not from a major paper. I say we tell them no right off.”

It was quickly obvious that a majority of the members felt that way so that J’Onn accepted the inevitable and logged a rejection into the computer that would send an e-mail to the managing editor of the Star. It had been his hope, he explained, that a series of articles on the JLA might go a long way in allaying of the fears that some people still seemed to have about super powered beings.

“If that’s the case, J’Onn,” Superman interjected, aware that being the least human in appearance, J’Onn was sometimes too sensitive about such things, “I’m sure I can get the Planet to do a series like that.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a position where...” the green hued Manhunter started to say.

“Not a problem,” Superman cut him off. “If I can write about my own exploits in the third person, I doubt I’ll have any trouble with the rest of you. Besides, I didn’t want to mention it before the vote, but the Star had been lacking a certain journalistic integrity of late. We’d be much better off having them run in the Planet, and I say that without any personal bias.”

It was only then that the Man of Steel considered that after delivering what would undoubtedly be a Pulitzer Prize worthy series of articles about the JLA, it might be a very long time before Lois talked to him again. If that was the case, he told himself, well then so be it. He had been totally honest in what he had said about the Star and the way they now seemed to handle the news.

It wasn’t just that the article the Flash and Green Lantern had referred to had been so far off the mark, although it was. It was that the truth, if they had been able to discover it, which was highly unlikely, would’ve been so much more interesting.

As the Martian Manhunter went on to the last few and in his mind, unimportant matters of business, Superman allowed his mind to drift and considered what he actually knew about his fellow members around the table. At least what he knew about their sexual interests.

Two of the members sitting at the table were married, the Flash and the Atom, and as far as Superman knew, led pretty much ordinary sex lives. The same could also be said of Green Lantern who despite the fighter jock mentality of his profession, seemed to have one steady love.

Zatanna, he had once discovered inadvertently, was bisexual if not a lesbian. A fact that might be expected of someone as involved in show business as she was. He wasn’t being judgmental in any way, just taking note of the truth of the situation.