The Vixen - Part One (Public)

A new adventure, starring He-Man – and his number one fan……

Well, the party has come to an end at last. Scattered bottles lie empty upon the snow (Cringer the tiger among them……) and the guests have departed on their way. 2023 is well and truly with us, and the revels are ended for another year.

But it seems that life still stirs upon the snows of Sparkieland. He-Man stands, swaying slightly, and contemplates his empty glass. Being the hero of Eternia (and also being a guest in Azziel’s dungeon) does not allow him much chance to party, and our stalwart hero is, perhaps, a little worse for wear from a couple of glasses too many. Teela seems to have gone off and Cringer is still snoring, and he feels that strange post-party lassitude in every leaden limb. Certainly he is unaware that a pair of bright hazel eyes is watching him with considerable interest, and that a pair of soft and shapely lips are framing a smile at the sight.

“You have an empty glass,” observes the girl. “And I have a full bottle. Come – join me!” He meets her smile with a sleepy one of his own – and allows her to fill his glass with iced champagne. They raise their glasses and He-Man takes a generous draft, though the girl barely sips hers – and as he drinks her eyes are upon him, watching as he drains the final drop and lowers the empty vessel with a slightly dazed expression. She may not be drinking her champagne, but the girl is most certainly drinking: every gleaming inch of that muscular young body comes under her close scrutiny, and her tongue flicks swiftly over her lips at the superlative sight. For her thirst is of another kind.

“How handsome you are!” she exclaims, “and how perfectly proportioned! It’s only right that you should wear so little when what you have to show is so splendid. But, then, of course, you are a famous hero – one known across the universe – and with countless admirers and fans. Of which I count myself one.”

She smiles to see his shy embarrassment, the blush, the awkward stance, the downturned gaze – and it allows her once again to assess the glorious potential of his body, so scantly concealed by that little leather loincloth. Her eyes take in the broad shoulders, the narrow waist, the mounded muscle of the pecs and abs and the smooth and shapely thighs, and is drawn back once more to the prominent, promising bulge between them.

“In fact,” she says with a slow smile, “I must be your number one fan…….”

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