Two heroes sit in a darkened room, a single light hanging above their heads the only illumination. A young man lies on a stretcher. To his right, a young woman sits, her head resting in her hands. Heroes yes, but not right now. Right now, they are just Johnny and Melissa.
“The government created me through advanced bio-genetic hormonal manipulation to combat the Lavender Scare of homosexuality. They wanted me to hurt, maim and kill. I had no problem with that. It was the reasons they wanted me to do it for. Heterosexuality should be preserved, bisexuals must be saved, but homosexuals need not be beaten senseless simply for existing.”
“Yes, homosexuals need not be beaten at all. Straight people, on the other hand, do. All of them, just once. Queers deserve our rightful place of dominance in this world…if for no other reason than we are just cooler than other people. Breeders are so close-minded. Since we’re able to think outside of the normal range of reality, gay people are naturally inclined to have more and better ideas for improving humanity on the whole.” She pulled her knees up into her chest and stared out into space. Johnny could see her eyes, as the light reflected off of her glasses, but he couldn’t help but notice that even in her delusional rage she still exuded a powerful grace from her sleight form.
Johnny shifted uncomfortably. He gave Melissa a look of half amusement and half fear. “You’re serious aren’t you? M, gay people are not better than the rest of us. They aren’t worse either. Maybe a little misguided in their sexual preference, but no worse. The same way men aren’t better than women. We have lots of traits that are superior to women, strength, rationality, self-reliance, and natural leadership potential, but women have their traits too. They’re smarter for one thing and better at problem solving. They can work towards a common goal and promote unity when it is needed.”
Melissa looked at him suspiciously, a flash of anger crossing her face. “See, it’s exactly that type of bullshit that I’m fighting against. Nobody believes that men and women are equal. The reason I beat so many silly frat boys into comas is because they need a lesson in DykePower, which is much stronger than HorsePower of FirePower. Iron Dyke was created to teach the breeders a lesson, that queers are their superiors and Lesbians are the greatest of all. I know that as her I’m a little…aggressive…but that’s what’s needed to make people understand. Otherwise, those stupid-ass fuckheads out there would keep screwing us over and denying us rights and beating us up whenever they feel like it. When you put that suit on, even you’re a different person. You represent that breeder sexually-normative morally-superior attitude that keeps us from having equal rights to you. You’re not the Johnny Taurus I know and love; you’re Captain Hetero, the man I hate. How the fuck am I supposed to reconcile that? What am I gonna do now? It’s all fucked up now.”
Johnny looked at his friend, the love of his life, Melissa. It was her passion, her force of personality that made him love her. He was quiet for a few minutes. He sat up and closed his eyes. “I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We are going to teach them that lesson, both of us. The breeders. They can’t do that to gay folk, it’s not right, and I won’t stand for it. No real man stands idly by while injustice runs free, and those who can’t defend themselves have their rights trampled on. But the straight people aren’t the only one’s who need teaching. Feminazi’s, Frat Boys, Fags, Dykes, Cheerleaders, Jocks, Republicans, militant anti-government separatists, girls who don’t swallow, guys who don’t go down, the Klan, the entire cast of High School Musical, Katy Perry…” “Especially Katy Perry.” “Ok, especially Katy Perry, bad Indian bands, renegade Toons, foreign TA’s, and disease-ridden whores will all feel our might. M, from this point on, it’s no more Het against Dyke. It’s us against the world. Standing up for our people, Blacks, Lesbians, Black Lesbians, whoever. We beat whoever needs beating, regardless of their affiliation. We both have enough repressed anger to unleash it on an unsuspecting but increasingly deserving world.. From now on, we Frenzy together!”
Johnny made this announcement and promptly passed out. When he came to again, Melissa was there, offering him some Ramen noodles. “You’re not frenzying on anyone right now big boy. I fucked you up today remember? You’re not strong enough yet. Tonight is vacation for both of us. You trashed my armor pretty good, I have to admit that much. My next armor type will be much stronger once I analyze the battle data.”
“Well, if we’re not fighting, we’re fucking. Let’s get dressed. Pussy. It’s what’s for dinner. You haven’t had a girl in what, two months?”
Melissa turned around slowly. “Actually it’s been four and a half months. What’s it to you? I’ve been busy. Writing the EstroFrenzy Program, fine tuning War Dyke, writing my speech for Queer Appreciation week tomorrow in front of Brower….you know, busy.”
“Come on M, who’re you trying to fool? You haven’t gotten laid because you dress like a colorblind librarian. You cover all your assets up.” Johnny sized up his friend. Melissa was 5’7” 140 lb. She had short blond-ish hair, and a body Johnny dreamed of fucking every other night. “You’ve got nice toned muscles, perfectly shaped 36C breasts, a rock-hard stomach, a little waist, nice round hips, a beautiful ass (and I’m black…a black man knows a good ass) and great legs. Hm…remind me again, why am I not fucking you silly?”
“Because I’m gay, dickshit. Now stop playing, I dress fine. It’s just that girl’s around here don’t have any taste.”
“Yeah, it’s sick how woman these days require their dates to have a sense of style and not wear visually offensive color schemes. Atrocious. This isn’t the most manly thing, but woman, I’m going to dress you. I’m secure enough in my masculinity to do it. To the Mall!”
After a short but fruitful shopping spree, all paid on Melissa’s, Dad’s Black AmEx card, our lovable lesbian was transformed from a fashion unconscious misfit to a passably fashion conscious misfit.
“Check it out. Small, tight tank top; shows of your tit’s, muscles, and most importantly, your tattoo.” Melissa’s tattoo was her pride and joy, an Anvil with a Pink Triangle on it. “The best Dyke Bait ever created. Bare navel; shows off stomach…veerry sexy. Baggy pants hanging off hips…prelude to something great. Teasing is good, remember that M.” Melissa wouldn’t have admitted it, but she was taking mental notes. Everybody can stand to learn a thing or two about dating. “Shoes; Black, Always. The tougher looking the better. Nothing too girly looking. You can get away with a small bit of fashionability in this department, as long as you don’t sacrifice looks for comfort. Shoes are very important…always consult with me before buying shoes.”
Melissa was awed by his knowledge. “How do you know so much about what it takes to get a lesbian?”
“Oh M, M…I am The Man, and the Man always knows what a woman wants, even if what she wants isn’t me. I figure what a girl wants in another chick can’t be too different from what a girl wants in a guy. Two things, looks and money. You show off your body, you show off your wallet, you get pussy. After all, a woman’s a woman, and no woman’s heart is foreign to Captain Hetero.”
Melissa stood up and looked at him with a mix of disgust and awe. It was an emotion she figured she would have to get used to feeling for her friend. They had decided to walk downtown; it was a nice night, the warmth of the day carrying over to the evening. She looked at him, trying not to beam…why did this man alone have her affection when no other could? “Johnny…don’t make me shoot you... more… today….”
You’re probably wondering what happened next. Well, Johnny as usual had his choice of women, and Melisssa was a big hit with the carpet-munching crowd. They picked up a couple of Bi girls and passed them around like a couple of 40’s. Orgasms were plentiful, tension was relieved. But Johnny, once again, was denied the dream of having sex with the women he loved. But, there would be plenty of chances to vent his anger. There were plenty of assholes who could use an ass kicking, especially in