Video Killed The Porn Star (Patreon)

Imra mixed herself another martini at the bar that Clark had set up near the smoking barbecue pit in his backyard. The party in Smallville had turned out far better than she would’ve expected from a small town primitive even by 21st century standards.

It was nearly dark and everyone had formed into small pools of animated conversation, improving on the already pleasant atmosphere of the rustic backwoods. Their stomachs were filled with thick, juicy steaks that Clark had grilled to perfection, along with sweet potatoes and fresh-baked bread and green salad and wine, all delicious.

Lois was a delightful host and easy to converse with; despite the centuries that separated their life experiences, Imra had quickly fallen into a comfortable sort of sorority with her. They discussed all sorts of things… timeless and very current, from the politics that would become ancient history to Imra… all the way to Lois’s speculation of the future, which was often dead on.

Imra swallowed her drink and made a face. It was stronger than she’d thought it would be, but that didn’t matter. She was having a wonderful time and even if she did get herself drunk, where would she be safer than with Superman, in the middle of Smallville? Everything was going so smoothly that she wondered why she ever left this time period. There was a reason why these small, provincial visits were such a godsend.

Standing at the bar, Imra surveyed the other guests. Clark and Querl and Garth were in a small circle by the fence, apparently discussing their glory days—not so long ago for the Legioneers, but a lifetime ago for the former Superboy. Luorno hovered near Lyle, holding a tall frosty glass that she’d definitely spiked with something from the 30thcentury. Lois and Salu chatted about future fashions at a wrought iron lawn bench and everyone seemed relaxed and peaceful in the Kansas sunset.

Imra thought of how contented it all was—a real respite from all the hustle and bustle of superheroing in the 3000s. It was wholesome, simple, genuinely sweet. Imra took another drink. She went to join Clark and the boys, giving a frivolous toss of her glittering blonde hair.

***

“It’s getting chilly out. How about I light a fire in the fireplace and we gather round to watch some home movies?”

Tinya, who’d been sitting on Lyle’s lap with her arm around his neck, giggled charmingly. “You don’t mean stag movies, do you Kal?”

“You mean like hunting deer?” Clark asked. “No, I never go hunting. Well, unless it’s for Metallo or the Kryptonite Man. And they keep me too busy to work a camera.”

“Sorry, Kal, count me out,” Lyle said.

“Oh, Lyle, don’t you want to see where Superman went on vacation? Or how he grew up?” Tinya asked him.

“I could just take a time-bubble back to then, as long as Querl says it’s okay. I know history is fascinating and griff, but there’s history and then there’s history. I think I should make sure the future is still what it used to be.”

“Grammar aside, that goes for me as well,” Querl said.

“Well, I’m staying,” Luorno said, eying Clark. “I bet you were cute as a baby. Almost as much as you are now.”

“I’ll, ah, check to see if there are any videos of me as a baby in there, but I don’t think they survived—” Clark gestured indistinctly.

For such a vintage-looking house, the farm had been destroyed and rebuilt countless times even before he became Superman. What little had made it reliably through the adventures of Superboy, he’d been sure to store at the Fortress of Solitude for posterity. Most of the furnishings were new, or at least recently sourced from antique stores and lawn sales to fit with the rest of his inheritance.

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch whatever you had to show me,” Luorno promised.

In short order, it was decided. The male Legioneers would return to their own time, along with all the females save for Saturn Girl, Phantom Girl, and Triplicate Girl. Supergirl would probably be interested, but she’d been called away to an emergency in National City, which she’d been adamant she could handle on her own.

Gathered around the couch and easy chairs of the living room, with a fire blazing thanks to Clark’s heatvision, they all waited while Lois slid a tape into the VCR. The TV screen flashed with static, which then barreled into a more cohesive image of Supergirl’s bedroom door.

“Are you ready?” Clark called from behind the recording camera.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Linda said through the door.

“Alright, I’ve got the camera rolling, let’s see how you’re going to the prom.”

Linda opened the door. She wore a dress that seemed too small for her lissome frame, with her flawless breasts pressing boldly through the thin garment, showing off how little she needed a bra.

The camera swung to Lois, standing alongside Clark in the hallway outside Linda’s room, and she seemed overcome with awe, her hands covering her mouth. “Linda, you look so amazing! You look wonderful! Clark, get the camera back on her—Linda, give us a spin.”

Linda pirouetted around, showing off that the skirt of her dress was high, almost to the swelling cheeks of her perky ass.

“She looks gorgeous,” Imra said, and Clark reached over to pat her on the shoulder.

“You’d look just as pretty,” he reassured her.

Imra blushed. She couldn’t imagine wearing an outfit like that around Superman. Why, all she’d have to do was bend over and that was it, there wouldn’t be a thing hidden from him. She knew Clark could always use his X-ray vision for that, but this was practically daring him, inviting him to get an even better look than the one so overtly offered.

The video ended with Linda’s date arriving and taking her off in a limo. By the time it ran out, Clark was already up with the next video ready to be slotted in.

“And this is from Halloween,” he said. “It’s weird, I never much was one for dressing up, but with Lois and Linda in my life, they really press-ganged me into it.”

“C’mon, Smallville, it’s a crime you only show off that body when you’re saving lives.” Lois nudged Imra in the ribs. “Imagine, only a mook like Metallo getting to see those muscles. Thank God for Linda and her skirt so people know how much sex appeal Kryptonians have. Otherwise, you future people would think I’m crazy for dating outside my species.”

The next video started. It was in Supergirl’s room as she went through her closet and Lois was holding the camera, because she immediately said “So, what are we thinking?”

Linda brought out a two-piece cotton ensemble, with a softly pleated skirt and a contrasting tuck-in blouse. “I think this’ll do for starters. Can you find me a leather belt?”

“Yeah, I think I saw one—” Lois’s POV through the camera whirled around the room. “If you cleaned this place up once in a while—here!” She went up to the bathroom door, which had an array of belts hanging from the top. “I think this one’ll be nice.”

She took one and brought it back to Linda, who now had a matching bra and panty set. White translucent nylon, iced in lace and ribbons, that she held over her body. “How about these?”

“Who’s going to see them?” Lois wondered aloud.

“Well, you never know.”

“Go for it.”

And to Imra’s surprise, Linda pulled off the dress she had on right there and then. The camera stayed right on her naked body as she wiggled into the panties, then encased her breasts in the bra, reaching down into each cup to adjust her breasts comfortably into place. Then she picked up the skirt and dropped it over her shoulders.

Imra was so shocked that she slipped off the sofa. Clark reached over to help her up.

“Would you be more comfortable on my lap? There’s more room and the view would be better.”

“Y-yes,” Imra stammered, abashed but excited by the proposal. “I suppose that’d be best…”

She lowered herself onto Clark’s knee… on the video, now Linda was putting on her make-up in the mirror… crimson paint for her plump lips… a dab of rouge to break up the porcelain perfection of her cheeks… a faint touch of mascara on her eyelids to turn up the temperature on her icy blue eyes. Linda looked at her hair for a moment as though it was missing something…

“Here,” Lois said, her hand reaching into view with a black ribbon. Linda tied her hair behind her ears, which accentuated the loveliness of her face. A touch of perfume behind each ear was next, finishing the job.

The camera focused on Linda’s legs as she pulled sheer nylon stockings up their creamy flesh. “Do you ever worry someone will recognize you by those gams?” Lois teased.

“We’ll just have to risk it,” Linda said, securing her stockings with two frilly black garters. “I couldn’t live if I had to wear pants every day. No offense.”

“None taken. I didn’t become Mrs. Kent by wearing a pantsuit all the time.”

Linda looked in the mirror to adjust the seams, then slipped her feet into high heels and buckled the straps. “And now some earrings?”

“I have the perfect set.” Lois held out an open jewelry case and Linda cooed over the glittering contents.

“Oh! They’re lovely!”

“They have to be to live up to you.”

Linda put them on, then stood to examine the entire effect in the mirror. Her blouse was soft and frilly, fitting tight to her chest to display the perfect contour of her cleavage. She tucked it in at the waist, then pulled up her skirt and tugged the blouse firmly into place.

“You look incredible,” Lois said, recording over Linda’s shoulder as she looked into the mirror. “What are you going as?”

“A nymphomaniac,” Linda answered teasingly. She turned to face the camera. “We look so innocent until you get us alone, don’t we?”