Chapter 1: The Mormon Church of the Superhero World

Frank Evans belched, then answered the ringing phone beside the bed. "Yo?"

"Hello? I'm trying to reach a Mr Evans, a Mr Frank Evans."

"Yeah, that's me. Whatcha want?"

"Mr Evans, I am Hayfever Lad. I represent the Judgemental League of America, the JLA. I understand that you are the alter ego of Meteor Man, and I was wondering if you might be interested in a membership in our organization. You've probably read in the papers about the slaughter and mayhem that the Bobbitt Club has been causing all major righteous superhero alliances lately. The JLA has not been immune to these losses, so we are currently conducting a membership drive. Do you think you might have the metal and resolve to lend your super-gifts to the forces of light in their eternal battle against the villainous forces of evil?"

"Hayfever Lad? Didn't you used to be that little buttscratch sidekick of Bend Me Over and Anally Probe Me Man?"

"Sir, I really don't think that's appropriate langu-- "

"Yeah, I'd be thrilled to join your little faggot organization. But you need to be aware of what it is you're gettin'. Yeah, I'm Meatier Man, but not like the little hot rock that flies through the sky and comes from space. I'm Meatier Man, with a prick the length and diameter of a forearm, and I make women spread their legs and beg. How many superheroines do you have in your little organization? 'Cause I want you to know that not a one of them is safe. Except, of course, the ugly ones. I won't bother them."

"I-- I think there has been some type of misunderstanding, sir. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Oh, no bother. Really." The line went dead, and Frank hung up. "Faggot."

The Crimson Blush rolled over and stretched. "Who was that, baby?"

"Wrong number. Really, REALLY wrong number."

"Oh, goooood," she smiled, reaching her arms up and around Frank's sholders and pulling him down to her. "Come back to bed, then, and DO me!"

Two hours later, Frank lay in bed with the temporarilly sated Crimson Blush, snuggling. God, he hated snuggling.

He was considering invoking his tool on last night's bed partner and having another go at her -- anything to get out of "the snuggles" -- when there was a knock at the apartment door. Saved.

Leaving her lightly dozing, he walked to the front door and opened it to reveal a large muscular man in a body stocking that was far too red for any self-respecting hetero male to wear. Over his heart, about the size of an Izod, was a white maple leaf. Beside and behind him was a snivelling toad of a man.

"Why, it's Captain Canada," Frank declared, "And his trusty sidekick Buttplug."

"Hi, Meaty."

"How is everyone's favorite Canuck?"

"Not so good. We have a problem."

"Something that a six-pack and a good set of studded tires won't fix?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Mmmm. Serious, then. Come in."

It seemed that someone had stolen Commander Quasar's testicles, the source of his powers. There was no doubt that the Bobbitt Club was behind this, and it showed the Club's growing arrogance and lack of restraint.

"Do you have a plan for retrieving the testicles?"

"That's why we're here, Meaty. We need your help."

"Why are-- " a soft voice came from the bedroom door and the three male heads turned to see the beautiful woman wrapped in a robe, standing there, "Why are the testicles so important?"

"A question only a woman would ask!" Buttplug rolled his eyes.

"Commander Quasar is currently the only thing standing between the world and the expansion of the Aurora Incident," Meaty explained.

"What is the Aurora Incident?"

Meatier Man sighed and shook his head.

"She may not have heard," Captain Canada spoke up. "We HAVE been keeping it under wraps so that noone takes advantage of it." He turned to the pretty woman. "There was a minor superhero about three years ago -- Aurora Lad. Pretty light shows, dazzle effects on his opponents, et cetera. All nickel and dime stuff. Then one night he visited a disco in New York City."

"Those things still exist?!"

"A few, underground. For the desperate junkies that still need that 70 beat a minute fix. Anyway, Aurora Lad was dancing away, doing his Travolta moves, to a disco light show, having a hell of a time, when he backed into an open electrical outlet.

"In a single moment, he drained the entire Canadian power grid, and his superpowers increased a million-fold. He de-atomized, but his powers continued to expand on their own. Commander Quasar was able to contain them with a selective super-gravitational field."

"But if he hadn't, we'd have what?" she asked. "Beautiful light shows every night?"

"Sure," Buttplug muttered, "Enjoy the light show while it devours the ozone layer."

"He's right," Captain Canada said. "It might take days, maybe weeks, certainly no more than a year. And... no more ozone layer."

"Yep. Quasar's gonads are all that stand between us and doom!"

"I see," she said. "Why was the JLA never informed?"

Meaty's mind flashed back to this morning's phone call, and he knew a moment of horror. No... he had seduced this superheroine yesterday, but she couldn't possibly be a JLA member. Could she? "What... would be the point of telling the JLA?" he tested.

"Well, we ARE the final bastion of light, the defender of those in need, the single force standing between-- "

"Oh, Christ!" Meaty cursed.

"Oh Christ, what?" the woman asked, irked.

"I just had sex with one of those JLA fanatics!"

"We are NOT fanatics!"

"Yeah, right. I CAN'T believe I DID that!"

"It's all right," Captain Canada tried to calm him. "Sometimes you just can't spot them. The most insidious thing is that they LOOK JUST LIKE US! You just didn't know."

"I should have checked!"

"And what is WRONG with the JLA?!"

"Ha!" Buttplug guffawed.

"Oh, nothing at all," Captain Canada rolled his eyes. "If you don't mind being one of the stormlords enforcing the will of the Christian puritanical hardcore on the rest of the population of the EARTH!"

"You'll have to forgive the Captain," Meaty said. "He swallows conspiracy theories the way some people eat carbohydrates. For the rest of us, you're just a bunch of soul-sucking pig-fuckers, to paraphrase a movie."

"I... see," she said stiffly, reaching up to hold the neckline of her robe closed. "And you 'gentlemen' are part of which more 'enlightened' organization, may I ask?"

"We're part of the Y-Men!" Buttplug answered.

"Yeah," Meaty smiled. "Our first thought was to call ourselves the KS-Men, 'cause that's the name that everyone thinks is cool at first. But that name was already taken."

"Good thing, too!" Buttplug put in.

"Yeah! We got to thinking. We're men! We're proud! PROUD of our Y chromosomes! Why not advertise? We should be the Y-Men!"

"Yeeeaah!" Buttplug agreed.

"And so a superhero organization was born!" Captain Canada stood up from the sofa reverentially. He reached upward toward the sky. " We don't stand for the government secret organizations! We don't stand for the puritanical bigots! We don't stand for the villainous megalomaniacs! No!"

"Amen, brother," Buttplug amenned. "Who DO we stand for?!"

"We stand for the regular joe! For the couch spud that considers the thumb exercise he gets surfing with the remote to be his aerobics! For the immortal citizen that derives his longevity from potato chip preservatives!"

"AMEN!"

"I... see," the woman said distastefully, having indeed seen much more of these men's thinking than she really cared to.

"Yeah," Meaty continued. "We aren't part of no faggot organization. The KS-Men are a bunch of pussies. Hell, the head of the KS-Men, that President Savior, is a bald-headed crippled phallic symbol himself. Not us! We're MEN!"

"That sleep with those distasteful JLA members," she reminded him.

"Rrrnghmmphthls," Meaty mumbled.

"There IS that, I guess," Captain Canada said, spreading his hands apologetically.

"Which brings up a question that has been eating at me since I stepped out of bed. Why the hell DID I ever go to bed with the likes of you?"

Meatier Man stared at the floor and smiled. "I flexed my pud," he muttered.

"You what?!"

He looked up at his bed partner. "I flexed my pud muscle. And you became... all WOMAN for me, baby."

"Oh, get REAL! That's insane! Noone can do that!"

Meaty lightly rubbed his crotch. "Spread and beg, baby," he muttered.

"You're... just... Oh!... MY!... I'll be right back!" She scurried back into the bedroom.

Meaty turned to the Captain. "If I don't miss my guess, you have the seed of a plan started to retrieve Commander Quasar's... valuables."

"Uhm..."

"You DO have a plan, don't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"And? What is it?"

"Uhm..."

"Captain Canada, I sense that there's something that you're not telling me."

"Well... you know how we were just explaining to your lady friend all about the sins of the JLA?"

"Yeah..." Meaty answered, suspicious of where this was going.

"Well... my plan... involves... sort of an... alliance-- "

"Oh, Christ!"

"Between us and-- "

"Why?! Why do you DO these things to me?!"

"Meaty, it's really the only way."