The Long Game

"Please, everybody, step back! Criminal escort coming through!"

The crowd of onlookers parted down the middle as a weary, beaten-up looking crook in all black was led down the street towards the waiting police vehicle. Around his chest, pinning his arms to his sides so he couldn't wriggle free, a yellow and black striped rope wrapped him tightly five times over, from just below his shoulders and down to his waist. At the end of the rope, which was of course not a rope at all, a black clad hand gripped the man's pants waist, one finger looping through a belt loop for an extra secure grip. At the other end of the coiling limb was Longella, the up-and-coming superheroine that had been plastered across seemingly every front page in the city lately. The smirk that had almost become her signature was stuck to her face, just as it was in all those press pictures.

"Got another one for ya, chief," she said matter-of-factly as she approached the black and white sedan, lights flashing and casting her marigold and black suit in alternating red and blue overtones. "This fella thought he could get into the museum through the roof. Luckily, I was in the area and heard the alarm. Caught him in the vents over the Egyptian wing, think he was going for that nice scepter with all the rubies."

The chief shook his head at the criminal as he placed one hand on his restrained shoulder gruffly. "Hey pal, haven't ya heard? Dis lady don't take too kindly to thieves like you, and neither do we!" His thick mustache twitched as he spoke in his thick midwestern accent, and he looked back up at the heroine. "Thanks again, Longella. Course, we prolly coulda caught him ourselves, but we always appreciate the assist, yknow?"

The heroine held one hand up as she reeled her long arm back into herself and shook her head. "I'm not here to put anybody out of a job, chief. Just doin what I can to help."

The chief chuckled. "Didn't mean nothin' of the sort, miss. Just joshin' wit ya. The more we see of you, the better, in my opinion!" He slapped cuffs on the perp, who glared at Longella with pure disgust.

"Fucking freak." he spat at her with pure vitriol as he was pushed towards the open back door of the cruiser.

She feigned a sad face at him, before sticking her thumbs in her ears, wiggling her fingers, and sticking her tongue unnaturally far out of her mouth. The thief lunged back towards the elastic woman, before the cop tugged him roughly back by his cuffs and pushed his head down into the open door. "Whoa der, pal! You haven't had enough yet? Don't worry, lots of tough fellas in holding for you to take your anger out on."

Longella smirked as her tongue zipped back into her mouth and she dropped her hands back to her hips, surveying the murmuring crowd that continued to snap pictures and take video to send their friends. "All right people, show's over! Go back to your routines!" she called out, waving at her fans, who only began calling at her.

"Longella! Over here!" one woman called. "Can we get a picture please?"

"Hey, L! Look into the camera!" called a paparazzi, his flashbulb bursting like a strobe light. "Let's get a smile!"

With a sigh she hoped was convincing enough, Longella tossed her hands up in surrender, before pulling her blonde hair back behind her head, her masked eyes scanning the crowd kindly. "Okay, okay, a few pictures!" She smiled and waved towards the press gathering, before making her way over to a gaggle of fans. A mother and her children held out their phone in front of them, as the heroine stretched her left arm to lay it across the back of all four of them, but the woman with the camera couldn't seem to get them all into frame, rotating the screen back and forth to try and get the shot.

"May I?" Longella asked, before taking the phone from the woman in her free hand, and extending her arm a foot further outwards to get the whole family in the shot. The kids clapped with glee, and she high fived each one as she handed the phone back to the thankful mother. One by one, she took pictures with each fan. She couldn't say she hated this. She spent the first couple of months after she got her powers in that chemical truck crash trying to hide her elastic body from the world. However, the decision to try and use her powers for good not only validated her in a moral manner, but the attention she received wasn't totally unwelcome. She posed with each clamoring supporter, giving an elongated peace sign or extending her torso to the opposite side of the person she was standing next to to make sure they got a photo they'd never forget.

Another phone stuck itself out in front of her face, and she looked at it with a big grin, only registering the other face within the frame as the photo was being taken. Her smile twitched as she looked over the bystander's visage. A salt and pepper beard framed the young man's angular face. His high cheekbones shone in the flash of the cameras around him, his dark complexion and swooping black hair practically glowing in the evening light between each strobe. His pristine white teeth glinted beneath a set of full lips, and as he lowered the phone screen back down, she came face to face with a set of deep brown eyes she felt she would plummet into if she wasn't careful.

"Thanks, Longella!" he said excitedly. "I don't usually take selfies or anything, but, well, I dunno, I'm a big fan!" His face beamed with true eagerness, and Longella stuttered, her own face nearly blank as she attempted to break free of the surprising trance she'd fallen under solely by this stranger's face.

"Y-yeah!" she stammered, nodding and pulling her face into a slightly overeager smile. "I mean, thanks! I uh, love to help!" She continued to meet the man's gaze for another moment, as he shifted his eyes back and forth, wanting not to take up any selfie time for the other fans nearby, but the mood had clearly shifted, and his bright eyes conveyed something a little sultrier underneath them, recognizing the shift in her own visage.

"Well we, er, we love when you help!" he stuttered as he took a few steps away from the crowd, never taking his eyes away from hers. "Well, I hope... maybe I'll see you around?" He flashed a grin at her again, countering her once again slackjawed stare.

"Ah, yeah!" she stammered, quickly reeling in the long arm that she realized had stayed looped around his waist as he had walked five feet away. "Just, er, rob a bank or something!" She cursed herself internally almost immediately after making the quip, but he laughed graciously at the joke.

"Don't tempt me!" he shouted, before winking as he turned his back and began to walk away, turning to look over the shoulder of his denim jacket one more time before his high top sneakers disappeared around a street corner.

Longella stood for a few moments, staring at the corner, before snapping back to the present. "Uh, just a few more pics, guys!" she cheerfully stuttered to the group around her. She smiled for the last few pictures, again and again glancing at the street corner, hoping the man would peek his head back around the brick wall, but eventually, she stepped back from the crowd, waved once more, and extended her arms up, latching onto a streetlamp, before slingshotting herself up and away into the air to the sound of adoring cheers.

She landed, knees crouched, on the roof of the ten story building she had been standing by, and glancing around to make sure nobody was watching out their windows, she slowly rose to her feet and sat on the ledge of the building's edge, taking a deep breath. What was *that*, she thought to herself. And more importantly, *who* was that? It had been a long time since she'd felt that sort of immediate attraction to a person, and the first since she'd gotten her powers. She wasn't used to this reaction. Her body felt tense, springloaded, like she had to get long. She took a few deep breaths to center herself. Come on, Grace. Pull yourself together.

She shook her arms and legs out, dispelling some of the pins and needles that lingered from the overwhelming swoon she'd just undergone, before standing back up and jogging over to the edge of the building that overlooked the street the mystery man had walked down. She extended her neck a few feet over the edge, turning it left and right, scanning the sidewalk for any sign of him, not sure what she'd even do if she did see him. But alas, she couldn't make out any denim jackets or tall, dark, and handsome men. Probably for the best, she thought. He was just a random,just a civilian who wanted a picture. What could possibly come of that?

Retracting her neck, she turned east, and with a running start, she leapt off the edge of the building, her rubbery legs compressing and releasing as she launched herself over the street below, landing on the next building, and repeating the process along the skyline as she made her way back towards home.

She landed on her building's roof, a modest four story brownstone in a lower-income part of town, as the sun crept below the horizon. Stripping off her mask and pulling the overly stretchy neckline of her suit over her shoulders, she peeled it off of her body, and stepped out of it, clad in the spandex jogging shorts and athletic tank top she'd been jogging in when she'd heard the museum alarm go off downtown. The built in shoes of her suit acted as a pouch that zipped together to enclose the rest of her surprisingly compressible suit, hidden zippers near the soles combining to form the convincing shape of a yellow and black fanny pack she could clip to her waist in all circumstances. Obviously not the most hip disguise, but it kept her able to make quick changes on the go and assume the guise of a tourist in most circumstances.

Hopping over the edge of the roof, she landed on her fire escape, and climbed in through her slightly ajar window, feeling safe enough in the confines of the alley to let her un-costumed body elongate through the narrow gap. She closed her window before sauntering over to the old couch pushed up against her brick wall, plopping down unceremoniously into the deep cushions. Being a superhero was great and all, she thought, but she sure wished it paid better already, glancing around her somewhat shoddy one-bedroom apartment. Full of hand-me-down furniture and mismatched decor, she'd been meaning to spruce it up for some time, but until City Hall put her on a retainer, there weren't a ton of other income sources for her as a superhero. She'd had to quit her comfortable work-from-home gig because she was missing too much work, leaping into action at the sound of nearby sirens. She sighed as she willed the invasive money thoughts away, glancing back up at the sound of a gentle purring.

"Hey there, Chester," she said with a smile, seeing her cat sauntering slowly into the room, pausing to stretch after waking up from one of several naps today. She extended her arm across the room, over the coffee table and along the floor until her hand came to a rest under the feline, before gently scooping him up and retracting her arm, pulling him into her chest. Chester had certainly shown some confusion the first time she'd stretched in front of him after her accident, but it was now as commonplace to him as it was to her own eyes. He didn't really seem to care at all now, funnily enough. She stroked the cat, who pushed his head into her chest as she extended her other arm to the other side of the couch where the TV remote sat, flipping on the tube and picking something to stream.

She watched TV idly for a while, fading in and out of attentiveness to whatever she was viewing, as her mind drifted back and forth to the museum. The guy outside of it, more specifically. She could hardly believe how she'd reacted, as if she'd suddenly seen a real human man for the first time. She recalled distinctively how her body yearned, how it wanted to extend, coil, wrap around him a hundred times over. Sure, she'd gotten "excited" a few times since her powers showed up, and they certainly had allowed her some unique avenues of self-exploration, but she'd never felt them prompt her to act like that. She tugged at the strap of her athletic top, suddenly a little warmer than she was comfortable with. She was beginning to feel it again. That push, that desire, that elastic potential begging to be set free.

She gently lifted Chester (who let out a small "mrow" of protest) and turned, rotating herself on the couch and laying down on it lengthwise, nuzzling her head into the armrest on one side and trying to focus back on the TV as she placed the cat back at her side, letting him nuzzle into her soft stomach. The show was a basic hospital procedural, but much to her dismay, she only seemed to notice how much Dr. Saleh looked like an older version of her mystery man from earlier. Same deep brown skin, similar beard, and nice, thick hair. He was handsome, but not nearly as striking as the bystander. She squirmed on the couch a bit as she felt the push within her return. Kicking her legs out to get comfortable, she muttered in confusion as she felt her heels land on the opposite armrest. The couch comfortably sat three with a cushion length of 70 inches, but here she was, touching both armrests at the same time despite not trying to extend herself. Her body was simply doing it for her now.

She could feel the persistent hum of arousal kick up a notch with the realization, her belly warming as her long legs slid over one another, begging her to let them go just a bit longer. Her cheeks reddened, lips pursed as she ran her hand down the length of her subtly extended torso, her hands hot against her waist, her fingers slipping beneath the waistband of her tight shorts. How did she get so worked up? She pondered this only briefly, before granting herself a bit of leniency tonight. She'd stopped a crime and made the front pages tomorrow for sure, that call from the mayor had to be coming soon. Hadn't she earned a little bit of self indulgence?

Her arm lengthened, wrist slipping beneath her shorts, the makeup of both the fabric and herself stretching to accommodate her desires, as she felt her lengthening legs brush against the floor over the other edge of the couch. One finger slipped within her, then two, then three. Her wrist cocked downwards on the end of her telescoping forearm, and pushed her lips open wide as it continued her hand's journey into her hips. As Chester leapt off the couch to find somewhere more still to continue his slumber, Grace cocked her head on an extending neck with a smile and a gasp, imagining the handsome man from the museum pulling her, twisting her, stretching her out as long as he could, letting her own body simulate that forced extension on it's own for the moment.

*pop*

The bubblegum bubble exploded onto her lips with a timid bursting sound, before her tongue dragged around the outside of her mouth languidly, pulling the sticky sheets back into her cheeks as it too retracted behind her teeth. Grace sighed as she looked up from her phone screen over the arts district in the evening light, her legs dangling off the side of the building. They kicked gently back and forth, lazily bouncing off the concrete wall beneath alternatively.

One thing she never expected superheroine work to be was boring. Sure, it was all well and thrilling to stop an armed robbery or save somebody from a burning building, but those sorts of feats came few and far between. They required being in the right place at the right time, and without being picked up by some big budget super alliance, she couldn't just hop onto a souped up motorcycle when an alert went off, or skydive from a helicopter into the fracas. No, she had to wait, position herself strategically, follow the sound of sirens and hope for a juicy situation her specific powerset could handle. More often than not she ended up showing up at things like small domestic disputes and already abandoned crime scenes, earning her a couple of confused glances from onlookers wondering exactly what she was helping with her presence.

She looked down to her phone again and checked the time. 7:24 PM. The night was still young, but Tuesdays were usually quiet. Most weeknights were. She resolved to stick it out, "on call" as it were, until around nine before she headed out, as she often did without a heroic act to speak of. She went back to texting. a few of her group chats were overly active that night which would at least provide some distraction while she waited it out. A close friend had gotten engaged that day, and everybody was firing back and forth in excitement. Some were planning to hit a bar downtown to celebrate with the couple, and Grace texted back to say she'd love to make it if she could get out of "studying" that evening. None of her friends knew her as Longella, too dangerous she thought, in case she ever did become a high profile hero. People would be liable to talk, and losing the separation between your secret identity and your hero alter-ego really complicated things.

She frowned a little as she set her phone back to her side. Just once she'd like somebody to know Longella on a personal level. Of course, they'd still just be talking to Grace in a mask, and she would keep all her personal details private, but being a hero meant having a chance to redefine yourself, even only in a specific set of clothes. People knew her, the civilian version of her, as social if not slightly quiet, a funny and kind young woman who didn't rock the boat. Longella was a bold, outspoken, powerful cyclone of a heroine with a million dollar smile and a spunky attitude. She was very careful about not letting her friends see a shift in her personality as this new hero in town showed up, although her powers had certainly given her a much buoyed sense of confidence and self esteem. Someday, she thought, she'd be able to let that part of herself out with somebody.

She chewed her gum lazily for a few more moments, scanning the streets below out of pure boredom, when she saw a familiar figure climbing up the steps of the underground subway station to the street. Her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. There he was. He was ten floors down and the light was low, but it was him for sure. Same denim jacket, same sneakers, same thick head of dark hair shining in the glow of the just-lit streetlamps. He strolled down the sidewalk, backpack slung over one shoulder, chatting into his phone. She gripped the ledge she sat upon as she extended her neck a few feet outwards over the street to get a better angle of his face. Yep. That was him alright. Holy hell, she could cut diamonds on those cheekbones.

She reeled her neck back in and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she contemplated just what to do about it. What could she do, really? She never spoke to a civ for more than a few seconds, a rule she imposed to keep her voice unrecognized, though she did tend to speak just a little deeper, more boldly when she was Longella. She had no idea how to carry on a casual conversation as the hero. Plus, what would she even say? "Hey, remember me, the superheroine who eyefucked you to death the other day?" What if Longella did do things like that though? She was still defining who she was as a heroine, maybe she was bold in that way too.

She shook away the thought expediently. Might be a little presumptuous to leap in front of an attractive young man and exclaim her desire for him, expecting him to be interested. She'd basically just be a catcalling superhero at that point. Besides, there was every chance he had a girlfriend or something, and as much as she wanted her heroine to be bold and somewhat brash, she wasn't a homewrecker. She shouldn't do this. It would be embarrassing.

She tapped her finger against the concrete as he strolled along, passing directly beneath her as he made his way down the otherwise empty street.