Darby sighed. “Kiwan Morgan," he said.

The tan roo's Aussie accent lingered in the air for just a moment. The stress on his final syllable betrayed the mounting frustration with his employer's tardiness. That was the third time he had called Kiwan's name. His ear twitched with the mere thought of having to call out a fourth time. As he looked around the room, Darby thought it silly that he had to call roll like a schoolteacher. Superheroes should be more reliable, or so he thought to himself.

That was the image projected by their public-facing personae. Reliability. Inclusiveness. Strength. Justice. Virtue. Yadda-yadda…but mostly reliability. And marketability. Kiwan Morgan, for all his wealth and penchant for late-night vigilantism, was remarkably unreliable as far as heroes went.

“He's late," Benjy said. 

“I can see that," Darby hissed in response. He adjusted the rims of his glasses so they sat more comfortably upon the bridge of his snout. They'd slip forward again, but that was a minor annoyance, compared to Benjy's nagging taunt.

Benjy was usually the most talkative during these little meetings. Often, it would be to offer some criticism or voice his disapproval. The slender, white rabbit sat cross-legged farthest from where Darby stood. He was near the ornate fireplace which kept the chill at bay. Dressed casually, he wore a pair of skinny jeans and a turtleneck sweater that complimented his pink eyes. He seemed to shiver, not with the cold but the typical quirk that one would associate with his type. Some would consider it a flaw for a hero to be so fidgety but Darby wasn't a stranger at turning weakness into a bit of positive media attention.

“Kiwan Morgan!"

“Yeah, yeah…I'm here just," Kiwan whined as he entered the room, yawning. “Just keep it down, will you. It's early."

“It is two in the afternoon," Darby said with a click of his tongue. “And this meeting has been scheduled for weeks."

Kiwan strutted lazily across the room. A tall, black panther, his lithe body was wrapped from head to toe in sinewy muscle that fit nicely under this smooth fur. Kiwan had the energy of a tightly-coiled spring: ready to burst forth if the need found itself. Until then, he moved slowly, with deliberate movements that made full use of the economy of his motion. His back was kept square, almost rigid, and his arms swung loosely until he slid several of his fingers into his left pocket. 

As he crossed the room, several pairs of eyes followed Kiwan's movements. He was, technically, the employer of everyone present: Abdollah, the mysterious jackal who stood almost seven feet tall and boasted a frame wrapped in bulging, ebony muscle; Chester, the young cheetah that Kiwan had recruited simply because “every team needs a speedster"; Olis, the shark-man who seemed as uncomfortable outside his element as usual - well if one could peer past his serene expression; and Hank the crocodile, whose massive size and musculature surpassed even Abdollah's. 

Benjy kept his eyes on his close friend as Kiwan collapsed on the large, leather chair that was placed next to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows and draped one leg over the armrest. “Well, now that Kiwan's here," he said. “Care to get this so-called meeting underway?"

Darby furrowed his brow. “Where's Chroma?"

“Where?" Kiwan groaned. “You know none of us can keep tabs on him. Maybe he's on the other side of the planet or another one entirely. Your meetings aren't really a high priority for resident Superman. He's hardly ever here, if you were hoping to talk to him face-to-face."

'Here' was the estate that Kiwan called home. It sat near the North-East of the United States, on many more acres of private land than anyone would expect. It was not only the mansion itself, nor the surrounding gardens and tennis courts, and pools, and all the other trappings of high-society life. Kiwan's late father had bought the nearby forest and the caves beneath. To the East, sheer cliff fell deep down to where the crashing waves beat against their feet. That, too, was under Kiwan's name. In fact, the wealth that had been left to the young, reclusive panther had included so many assets that he was never sure where it ended. His father's less public business dealing had made sure of that. 

Darby shot Kiwan a dirty look, which made the panther recoil slightly. 

“N-not that I don't enjoy your meetings," Kiwan said quickly, trying his best to maintain an uneven smile despite his tiredness. “I love them, by the way. These meetings…"

“Get your coffee, Kiwan." Darby sighed.

“Right…"

“As for the rest of you," Darby turned towards the other members of the team. Abdollah, who stood near the entrance to the room they had all gathered in, flexed his muscles as he kept his arms crossed against his own chest. “Do you remember why we formed this team?"

“We," Benjy said, “formed this team because Kiwan wanted to use his father's dirty billions to do some good in the world."

“And he hired me," Darby continued, “to make sure that every tv channel, radio station, every news source, and every social media platform looked favorably on all of you. You're not the only heroes out there, you know. There's fierce competition for public approval."

“We're aware," Abdollah growled in his typical even tone. His voice rumbled from deep within his chest and every syllable seemed to make the room tremble with power. Nothing less than what was expected of the mystical truth-speaker.

“Good," Darby muttered. “Good. That's why we have our niche: the first, all-male…"

“Been done," Benjy grumbled.

“..all GAY!" Darby spoke loudly, as though to silence Benjy's criticism. “All-male, all-gay superhero squad! That's what you all are supposed to be."

“Kind of hard to do when not everyone here's gay." Benjy's sing-song tone betrayed his sexuality and he did so on purpose. One of only two members of the team that was actually gay, his effeminate manner of speech, gait, and very, very homosexual lifestyle fit right in with what Darby wanted the team to project. For everyone else, it  wasn't as easy.

Chester, in particular, shifted uncomfortably. 

From across the room, Abdollah interjected, “So what? It's 2072." He looked at Chester, which made the cheetah feel even more put out. Especially now that he was under Abdollah's scrutinizing gaze. 

Abdollah was gay, but not exactly the stereotypical queer that Benjy represented. In fact, no one would know his proclivities as the notoriously private jackal usually kept to himself. His past and present - including the identities of his lovers - were all secrets, even to his allies. 

“So what?" Darby gasped. “Do you know how strange it seems that there are no women on this team?!"

“Not for lack of trying," Kiwan muttered. “They're all snatched up, being a side-kick or married to their city's resident protector. All the ones that are left are solo flying which," he raised a fist in the air, “women's empowerment is great and all but..point is I tried, okay?"

“Point is," Darby corrected him, “that seven dudes does not sell. It's old news. So…last millennium. 

“Like my buddy Abdollah said," Hank spoke up for the first time. “So what? We still show up and kick ass. Sign some autographs. We still save people and make sure the bad guys get what's coming to them."

“Well I'll tell you what." Darby swiped through his tablet as he stood before the crocodile whose nine-foot frame took up almost an entire couch. “I'll tell you, Mr. Destroy-four-buildings-and-an-entire-neighbourhood's-underground-infrastructure, what's up. It's expensive. Every time you all tear a city up to stop villains - criminals and maniacs alike - we get a fat bill for repairs. The time is long gone when the taxpayers were okay with footing the bill for the kind of antics you all get up to!"

“Hey!" Hank raised both scaly arms as though to absolve himself of guilt. “You know what happens when the belt comes off, baby."

He pointed downwards with both hands, to the kinetic-limiter belt fastened around his waist. An invention of Benjy's, it kept the power housed in Hank's massive muscles restrained. When it came off, he was strong enough to almost rival Chroma's limitless draconic strength. Just with significantly less control and a tendency to cause way more damage to the environment than even he intended. 

“The belt comes off and Kiwan's estate gets a bill for twelve million dollars in repairs."

“And a criminal goes behind bars," Hank grinned. He raised a hand and Olis smacked it. “Kiwan can afford it. What with all the gadgets and cool cars, I'm sure he misplaces that much and won't even miss it."

“Kiwan's family fortune, while vast," Darby frowned and smacked Hank's snout with the edge of his tablet, “is not bottomless. You'd be surprised how much of a dent his resources can take when you and Chroma do your tag-team-wombo…thing…"

“The tag-teach-dragon-gator-double-suplex?"

“Yes," Darby sighed, “that."

“Took down a crazed psycho that people said was 'unstoppable', by the way."

“Cratered a city center, wiped out many, and I do mean MANY, historical pieces of architecture and...dear God, Hank…you two took out a hospital."

“We saved the world."

“And cost Kiwan…look, we're getting sidetracked. The point is…"

“I don't mind, honestly." Kiwan said finally. “About the money. About the gay thing," he added, honestly not caring either way how they represented themselves, “I'm in this to do the right thing."

“I know," Darby pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, and I'm here to make sure you can keep doing that. That means income. Marketability. Money coming in! Preferably more than we shell out every time some new crazy freak decides downtown is where he turns his manifesto into the day's pay-per-view event."

“That'd be a good idea," Chester chimed in. “Pay-per-view superhero slugfests!"

“Leave that to the ones doing the slugging, little guy." Hank teased.

The group laughed while Darby brought up several web pages on his tablet then swiped them off-screen where they were projected into the air on holograms broadcast by projectors mounted in the corners of the room.

“Look at this," he said. “These are your social media profiles. Do you know what you all have in common?"

“We're hot?" Olis suggested. 

“Popular," Abdollah grumbled.

“I don't have as many followers as Hank," Chester said sadly, then caught himself. “Not…not that I mind."

“We're liars," Benjy said finally. “Well most of us are. Let's face it, most of our fans are young gay dudes. But only two of us are gay."

“Hey," Olis said. “I'm bisexual. I don't mind batting for one team in public while playing for the other in private. So as far as the public is concerned, that's me, Abdollah over here, and our resident femme," he pointed to Benjy. 

Hank spoke up. “I don't even manage my own page. Put whatever you want on it, I don't mind if people think I'm gay."

“Are you?" Chester asked. 

“You know what?" Hank scratched his scaly chin. “I've never given it much thought. Maybe?"

“We know Chester is straight," Kiwan said, having finished mixing his brew of coffee. 

Chester sputtered. “What?"

“Are you surprised that you're straight?" Kiwan raised an eyebrow, an expression that was difficult to track on his jet-black panther fur. His bright green eyes reflected the shocked expression that the young cheetah held on his face.

“How did you know?"

Kiwan collapsed onto the couch next to Hank, somehow not spilling a drop of his coffee. “World's greatest detective, remember?"

“Yeah, well, what about you?" Chester asked.

“I'm not really into the whole sex thing. I mean, I get turned on, I guess, but I can do without the whole messy process…more into the idea of sex. Point is, I don't mind playing a gay role."

“That just leaves Chroma," Hank said. “And I'm quite sure the dragon society from beyond the portal either transcended sexual orientation or never bothered to develop cultural norms around it. He's down for anything."

“So I'm the odd one out, huh?" Chester sighed dejectedly.

“Don't feel so down," Hank laughed. “If you want to try some cock, I'll be happy to experiment with you. I'll even keep the belt on…unless you want it off."

“Thank God I can run," the speedster whimpered.

“So what do you suggest?" Kiwan said. He stirred his coffee with the tip of a finger as his cat-like eyes drifted into narrow slits.

“Well," Darby said, straightening his posture, “I realized that there's a very specific niche not being filled."

He swiped at his tablet again and several new websites replaced the social media platforms he had shown to the group. Several explicit, adult-themed websites now showed snapshots of each of the heroes' fights. However, the pictures were all voyeuristic and perverted in nature, showing snapshots of their butts or their crotch. The skin-tight outfit that some of them opted for seemed to offer very flattering opportunities for creep shots.

“Damn," Hank said, “I look like that when I'm fighting? Looks good…"

“Very popular," Darby said. “Lots of traffic…that's why we're going to come out with private, adult fan pages for all of you. Think onlyfans, but for your closest and gayest fanboys. Showing intimate - very intimate - sides of you."

Abdollah's fur rippled.

Benjy could barely contain his laughter. “Superhero onlyfans? What a ridiculous idea. What makes you even think that would work?"

“The fact that I've already set the pages up and you each have brought in several million dollars worth of subscribers and donations for custom videos or picture sets."

“Several…million?" Hank asked, clearly impressed.

“Several million, in the five days they've been active."

“So…"

“So?" Darby asked.

Hank raised a scaly eyebrow. “You know what I'm about to ask. Who is it?"

“Who is what?"

Olis offered Darby some help. “He wants to know who is most popular. Who has the most fans?"

“Whose fans are most desperate for gay content?" Kiwan added.

“Who has the most thirsty followers?" Benjy asked, admitting defeat.

“I bet it's Chroma," Hank said.

“Probably," Olis conceded.

“Definitely Chroma," Abollah chimed in, breaking his signature silence to the surprise of everyone. “What? Dragons are popular with today's youth."

“It's Chester," Darby said. “By a long shot."

“W-what?" the cheetah sputtered.

“Mhm…" Darby swiped between the pages to double-check. “It's probably the outfit. Looks like he's naked, even in battle."

“I fight in a speedo!" Hank exclaimed. “I'm showing everything off here."

“You show too much skin." Darby explained. “ Or scales. Whatever. Chester leaves more to the imagination and that's what guys like."

“Huh," Kiwan's ears laid flat against his skull as he peered at the projections of the pages. “Would you look at that. You're a regular gay icon, buddy!"

“I don't know how to feel…" Chester seemed equal parts proud and terrified at the idea.

“So how do we keep this gravy train rolling?" Hank asked. “I'm ready to put my sweet, sweet muscles to work to help Kiwan here pay for our clean up bills."

“That's where the good news comes in: I've been in contact with a 'Mr. Badd'. I trust you all know of him?"

There was a silence that seemed to be a collective 'no' except for Benjy who raised his hand before shyly curling his fingertip around the tip of one of his ears. “I'm familiar," he said.

Darby nodded. “Mr Badd runs a company that makes…adult toys. Dildos, plugs, fleshlights molded form anal cavities and mouths. His biggest business comes from making replicas of real-life icons such as," he extended his arms towards the group, “yourselves. I've set up an exclusive contract for all of you with his company…and we're going to get a cut of every sale he makes."

“Sounds like a lot of cash," Olis mused. “If we're all as popular as you make us out to be."

“Oh, it's definitely very lucrative. People are willing to pay top dollar to be penetrated by exact replicas of whatever you guys have got going on between your legs. Or, perhaps having all the pleasure provided by your anuses in the convenience of a sleeve they can keep in the drawer of their nightstand."

Darby's last few words were spoken with a very obvious glance towards Chester, who could not hide the blushing in his cheeks.

“So, what's this process like?" Abdollah asked.

“First of all, Mr. Badd wants to meet with all of you," Darby said, but then he seemed to reevaluate the situation. “Well, as many of you as possible. Apparently we can't count on Chroma to show up.

“At any rate, after the meetings are over and the contracts are signed, you're all put through the process. Mr. Badd has some in-house facilities to make things as clinical and impersonal as possible. He understands that he's dealing with very intimate body parts."

“Will it hurt?" Chester asked.

“I'm not familiar with the process," Darby said, thinking out loud, “but I hardly think it will."

“Yeah," Hank laughed. “Don't psych yourself up. It only hurts if you tense up."

“How can you all be so okay with this?" Chester sank into his seat, shoulders slumped.

“Keep your chin up," Kiwan said, offering some words of encouragement. “You've handled scarier situations than this."

“I don't think it's the same," Chester protested.

Hank reached over, the length of his arm stretching all the way to the single-seat armchair where Chester sat. “Don't worry about it, little guy," he said. “It'll be over before you know it, plus, we get a cut of the profits. I'm sure of that."

He looked to Darby to confirm.

“That's right," the roo said.

“Yeah, but," Chester squirmed, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “Are they going to have to put things up my butt?"

Several of the heroes in attendance laughed. “Is that what you're worried about? Don't worry about it," Olis said. “Everything will be fine, trust me. Just…relax the muscle…"