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I guess you would call me a supervillian, no point in denying that you could really. You can tell I'm different just by looking at me, my skin has been light green since I was 3 years old. My parents were no help, to be completely cliche I was found on the frontdoors of a hospital and later adopted by one of the nurses. They're nice folks, no abuse, no hitting me or calling me a freak, there's no reason at all to blame them for how I turned out.

As for how I am different exactly, it's kind of weird to explain. Best way to describe it is that I seem to be part plant. As I've already said my skin is naturally a light green. Natural sunlight and fresh water just feel so good on my skin that I can't help it, on days where the tempurature was above 50 degrees I haven't worn a shirt in years. If it weren't for security cameras, hot sidewalks, and big city winters I'd go naked everyday.

You've probably seen me too if you live in the same city as I do. I may be a bit on the thin side but I don't think I'm that bad of a male speciman if I say so myself. Keeping off unwanted pounds is surprisingly easy when you can photosynthesize if the weather is sunny enough. You'd think a half-naked good-looking green guy would stick out in your memory, wouldn't it? Not so much when you consider what city I live in exactly. You probably have heard about our local superhero. Let's just say he's one of the big ones. The ones for which saving the world is just another day at the office. I know I said I was a supervillain, but I know that my green versus his blue is no contest. Trust me.

I do however know his secret identity, and he has no idea I even exist. I know that sounds like that puts me in the big leagues with the spoiled rich guy, the metal guy, maybe even the gray boney guy that killed him a while back, but no. I do the smart thing. I stay under the radar. Sure they want to take over the world, or kill big blue, or pull off the big score, but why? I'd love to sit down and ask them that. Personally as long as I have somewhere warm to sleep when the weather goes cold, some spare change for booze, and the occassional pussy hug around my cock I'm happy.

That's where my active powers come into play. The best sounding name I've heard tossed around was Endocrinesis. Not a real famous power I know, but basically it's like I'm a telepath. The difference is that while telepaths talk to your mind I talk to all the little glands in your body. I can't cause cancer or anything, but I can definitly have a little fun with your biochemisty. This power actually led me to big blue's real identity, but as for the how I have to do a little back tracking.

You probably would think having light green skin would cause social problems. You're right, it did. Up until I was about 11 years old that is. I remember wishing with every ounce of will power that my skin would become normal but nothing going. Finally one day at school, after a history lesson about the civil rights movement no less, the bullies came for me again and I instead wished that they wouldn't care about my skin color. Amazingly enough, when they were within 4 feet of me they didn't. I was awestruck as they'd come at me to make fun of me or hit me, come within 4 feet, lose interest, turn and leave, get outside of 4 feet, turn back around, etc. for the entire recess. It never dawned on any of them what was happening but I could just barely see it under their skin. The chemicals associated with emotions becoming dormant as they got close and riling back up as they got further away. By the end of the school year I could easily make everyone in the same classroom no!
t care I was green. By the time I graduated from high school I could pretty much force everyone in the same building to not care. Now I can stand naked in the middle of the Big Apricot's answer to Times Square and nobody physically present gives a damn. I can do other emotions too, or cancel them out, as long as there some serious biochemistry associated with it but don't tell the rich guy that.

However, setting a single standard emotion for a large group is easy. It was finer control that eluded me. Smashing a rock is easier then pinning fly against a wall without crushing it when all you have is a sledgehammer. I had just turned 15 when I first figured out I could actually do anything finer then crowd control.

Being 15 I was of course in puberty. My powers were getting stronger, a few weeks before I had started seeing other people's biochemistry like you see someone's hair color, even though walls if they were thin enough. The apartment next to mine and my adopted parent's was home to Bambi (some names changed to protect the innocent) and her family. I was the 15 year old skinny freak that wore as little clothing as I could get away with. She was a raven-haired senior already getting offers from modeling agencies. Hot as hell and she knew it. There were guys at school practicly crawling over themselves to get to her. In her defense she only actually encouraged 3 or 4 but you get the idea.

An awkward teenage freak of nature and my next door neighbor was going to be the next supermodel. I think I had been masturbating to her since I figured out how. It was almost a schedule set in stone. Get home from school about 4 hours before my folks got home, hear Bambi come home, and mastubate furiously watching the biochemical profile of the goddess I lusted for though a thin apartment wall. The week before had some especially furious sessions for two reasons. First, she was nearing her ovulation and second, she had started masturbating when she got home from school as well. That day looked like it would be the most intense of them all because that was the day she was ovulating. For those of you without Endocrinesis that's like sexyness made almost tangible and visually etheral. I almost didn't make it to my room, the friction of just wearing pants and seeing her in a state beyond naked was almost enough.

What happened next almost fried my 15 year old horny brain. Bambi went into her family apartment and into her room. She didn't start masturbating however. I could see an internal arguement raging, and her horniness was definitly involved. Finally, a desicion was made. She put down her backpack, left her apartment, and started knocking on my door. I pulled my pants back on and answered, completely unsure what to expect. She looked at least as perplexed as I was and didn't say a word, just grabbed my arm, pulled me toward the back hallway, and looked in rooms until she saw my bedroom.

Pulling me inside and shutting the door she quickly began removing clothing. Under the glow of my sunlamps she then said the 4 most beautiful words any 15 year old guy can hear.

"Strip, you're getting laid."

I did with a speed that matched my delighted bewiderment, after which she physically pushed me onto my bed, pinned me underneath her, and mounted me like I was nothing more then a fleshy pole to satisfy her own lust. I came inside her just 2 bounces later but would have been hard again instantly without my special way of seeing things. I won't claim to have been an iron man but we fucked like that for hours, every time I came inside her I was hard again almost instantly from everything I could see and feel.

Then her mother came home. In her rush, Bambi didn't even lock our respective apartment doors and our fucking must have been audiable from the hallway. Bambi's mother Cassandra practiculy broke my bedroom door down and began screaming at us and I was scared about getting in trouble, but with Bambi on my cock I wasn't thinking straight. I thought about everything I had seen fucking Bambi and all the biochemical changes that took place. I looked at Cassandra who looked really good for her age, still managing to maintain her figure despite 3 kids and being close to 40. I visualized those biochemical changes occuring in her and something wonderful happened.

She stopped yelling, looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time, then shut the door and left. When Bambi and I were done fucking she got up, dressed with an expression on her face that said she was completely baffled to why we had sex but she did kind of enjoy it, and quietly left. That night Cassandra invited me to have dinner with them, we had a good meal, then Cassandra took me into the bedroom that she and her husband shared and had sex with me too. It became a weekly thing up until the day I moved out. Bambi became so addicted to my cock that she would actually leave photoshoots in the Bahamas for regular muff-stuffings. Bambi still knocks on my door about once a month or so. Oddly neither Bambi or Cassandra got pregnant from all our bareback fucking, but that also ment nobody else was ever the wiser.

As you then may have guessed, practicing my powers has been very rewarding. Yes I probably would be considered a supervillian. I don't want to take over the world, I've never killed anyone, and I actually root for Big Blue on when he's fighting for truth, justice, and all that rot. I just so happen to also rake in amazing amounts of pussy. Since I started pacing myself I've had new fuck every other weekday and 2 over the weekend. Nothing fancy about my techinque, just follow someone home, knock on her door, a few biochemical tweeks, and we're fucking like rabbits. Some would say I'm date-raping these women, I think it's more along the lines just sharing some stiff drinks before propositioning them but I do see where the arguement is coming from.

How do you know I was somewhere? I never use condoms, never had too. I can see if a woman has a disease like you can see what color her eyes are. I probably could cure myself and just maybe cure her as well if I ever got anything, but I don't take that risk. I've had a lot of practice and can influence your body chemistry, so the sex has always remembered as an earth-shattering, mind-blowing, non-stop orgasmic experience. If a lay hasn't had an orgasm so powerful she actually passed out I'm not done. As for children, our biologies are just too different. I've purposely been spuring on ovulation in all of my fucks since I was 18 and today I only have 45 maybe 50 bastard children. We're talking from a Wilt Chamberlin scale on number of conquests.

So yeah, I had a fuck picked out a few months back. Nothing unusual about that. I figured why not go for a local celebrity and there's this cute reporter for one of the big newspapers and I thought, why not? I heard she'd been married for a few years but that had never stopped me before. Hell, most of my bastards are from married women trying to have babies that were using drugs to help out. I follow her home, she's a few days before her ovulation so she's looking really nice in every sense of the word. I have my "don't care" radius on so nobody is even raising an eyebrow about her being followed by a green guy in shorts and sandals. She's not suspecting a thing as she turns into the parking lot of her apartment complex. I'm feeling really horny, but I want to give her time to settle in at home so I follow just long enough to know which door is hers and pass by.

An hour later I come back with message oil and Barry White CD's and I see her biochemical profile through the wall. She's by herself reading so I begin to approach the door but suddenly this guy just appears in the appartment. Whoever he was, he either could teleport or move very fast. The other thing about this guy was his biochemistry was all wrong. Whoever he was, he wasn't human. He was like radio static to the normal organic flowing ether I see in humans. Her however I can read and it's love, all the way. The kind that I see in newlyweds.

Naturally I change course because whatever he is I do not want to mess with him. My reporter married someone not human so I just back off completely until I figure out more. I found out that whatever static guy was, he was her husband. The final piece of the puzzle comes a week later. Her husband is a big guy, built like a tank- just like Big Blue. On a hunch a join a Big Blue Watchers group for a week and yep, he's the static guy. Sorry about not actually spilling the beans on the big guy's identity but I never said I would tell it to you, just that I know who he is.

There wasn't much I could do about that. Big Blue's saved the world quite a few times, I figure if he wants exclusive pussy rights to reporter girl then he's earned it. I wrote her off as untouchable and made up for lost time by fucking the 2 best looking blue watchers at the same time.

I'm telling you, under the radar is the best way to deal with capes. Just gotta be smart about it.