It was just another morning in Titans Tower, the shiny, blue glassed teen superheroes' headquarters on a small island in Jump City bay.

It being 8:30 A.M., the Titans' leader, Robin, had alread been up nearly three hours, worked out for half that time and scoured Interpol, NSA, FBI, Jump City Police Department, Justice League, Doom Patrol and Titans East web traffic and communiques for any information related to ongoing or past cases or action items requiring that the Titans lend a hand. He was busily typing a case file when Raven wandered by his seat at the communications center around the corner from the kitchen and dining area on the 14th floor.

He shifted in his seat to try and subtly hide what he was typing. The others made fun of him so much for his case files obsession and the format had a distinctive look with the way the lines were spaced to allow for two sentence responses but no more. He could do a little more to shield the screen now that he had grown to five ten, still the shortest guy but, at last, taller than Raven and Jinx. He hadn't expected Raven to walk by but her schedule was completely unpredictable. She was always doing . . whatever it was she was doing. His inability to help in any way with magic left him just leaving her alone more then he did the other Titans, even when things happened like her trying to cure Beast Boy of being green and doing so . . but leaving him with the face and tail of a jackass as part of his human base form. That hadn't been a fun week till he reverted to his previous color and shape. But she might come by for breakfast at 9 P.M. or dinner at 7 A.M. She was usually something of a night owl but unpredictable.

She shuffled a few steps past and he relaxed. Maybe she didn't see.

"It's called obsessive compulsive disorder, Robin. Disorders are bad."

He fumed as he heard her pour a cup of tea.

Elsewhere, on the 13th floor, Starfire was moving her collection of Tamaranian stuffed animals, 53 strong, to a corner of her room, talking to each one as she did so.

"I shall sit you next to the Zelthorg, little Friznop. But, don't worry. Though he preys upon you in the forests of Prelnofo, back on Tamaran, he will not get you here in my room. Here in Titans Tower, you are safe little one."

Then, Starfire carefully arranged her collection of throw pillows, large and soft with intricate patterns in their fabric in a rainbow of colors. She put some next to one chair others beside another, several near her bed. It was important for the room to be just so. Titans East and some other auxiliary Titans were going to be at the Tower that night and all the Titan girls were going to have a night of "the socializing and the sleepover".

They'd had two of these so far, both using Jinx's room. Her husband, Kid Flash had had to sleep in another room. They'd been huge successes. As they'd explained it to Starfire, the sleepover was a cherished ritual for earth girls but because of the danger and demands of being a superheroine, many of them had not had one. It seemed to involve their all dressing in lingerie or other sleep wear and speaking to each other as females with no worries that the boys would hear any of what was said or stare at them in their small lacy undergarments. The atmosphere was fun and social and hugs were quite common. Starfire loved this earth ritual! She wanted to make the one she hosted as good as those two that had been held in Jinx and Wally's room. The pillows had to be just right!

Three doors down, Beast Boy was just waking. He first groaned but then smiled at the feeling of his huge morning erection. His growth spurt from five foot three to six feet and change had not only left Garfield Logan looking like a male model but had been very kind in the dong department.

Very kind.

And while he was still frustratingly without girlfriend, today was the day of the big girl Titan sleepover. He rolled over onto his back with a mental image of Wonder Girl filling his head as he started to stroke his big green penis. She'd bent over in front of him to get something from a cabinet under the counter in the Tower kitchen a couple weeks ago.

Oh, yeah.

Stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke.

That high water booty in that tight red uniform.

Oh, yeah.

Stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke.

That rack! What a perfect pair of C cups she had! Almost D's!

Oh, yeah.

Stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke.

That tiny little waist! That . . ! He pictured her coming home to him at the Tower, the two of them married, like Wally and Jinx. He was beside the pool in a speedo and wearing his italian film director sunglasses. She waved from the T-Jet window and ran up to him as soon as the bay door opened. She couldn't wait to get to him and couldn't keep her hands off him. He kissed her and then they started doing it in the pool.

Oh, yeah.

Stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-stroke-str-

Beast Boy gasped. The green volcano was about to erupt!

He ran for his bathroom and just barely grabbed a handful of toilet paper to hold over his huge green penis before he shot a load. He sighed in satisfaction at his orgasm and relief that he hadn't shot off the ceiling again. As euphoria washed over him, he wondered if he should pay special attention to Arrowette. Maybe Mary Marvel? Or Argent? Or . . .

Elsewhere, four doors down, Cyborg stared at the shoulder joint of his right arm, the inside of the shoulder joint. He had no right arm any more, not one of flesh. His mechanical arm had been giving him trouble, well, not actual trouble. It was approaching trouble. Mechanical body parts didn't start to get sore or feel stiff or give signs that a minor injury or minor problem had taken place the way muscles, tendons and ligaments did. Things might fail before any trouble at all was was noticed. So, Cyborg kept tab on all his mechanical parts through efficiency monitoring. He spent a massive amount of his computing and circuitry on continuous, rigorous monitoring of all his functions. Deteriorations of even a half percent from optimal levels of strength, structural integrity, shape, circuitry transmission or any of 307 parameters was cause for him to get a signal in his brain that this or that part of him was suffering breakdown. In the course of a fight, the beeping would be continuous if he didn't mentally signal that the warnings be dampened or held in abeyance until the fight was over.

The shoulder had been acting up. Zero point 8 percent reduction of circuitry transmission speed measured at his fingers. Unacceptable and hard to figure. Everything looked good. He stared and stared. Nothing jumped out. Finally, with a roll of the eyes, he muttered, "Of course." There had been that whacko they'd stopped out in Silicon Valley two weeks before. Tights and a cape and everything. Ugh. He recalled the sight. There should be some kind of law, he thought. Unless you're like orange haired skinny ass, do not go with tights. Please, bitch. But that dude was checking off every box in the villain how to guide, wasn't he? Soon I will be . . invincible! The dude actually said it! Anti-matter gun, he'd said. But it didn't seem to fire anything, not a single muon, despite the guy's mad genius ranting. But maybe it did.

"Computer," Cyborg spoke aloud. He didn't have to speak at all. He could just think these things and the neural interface would translate it into commands for his room's computer system. But this made him feel different from the computer, separate from it, more human.

"Conduct a coordinate by coordinate assay on a centimeter square basis of upper arm circuitry channels looking for covalent energry overloads on a nano scale level consistent with an anti-matter projectile pass through."

The computer answered with a beep and black coated stainless steel robot appendages whisked his stainless steel surfaced arm to the side of the room where a bright blue light passed slowly over it. The unadorned beep was quite intentional. Cyborg could have had it speak back with a voice in cases like that, any voice from a high pitched opera singer to James Earl Jones's Darth Vader. He didn't want it to. The computer was programmed to not respond with a voice unless absolutely necessary. It was not human. It was not like him. And that meant he was not like it.

His next thought was completely unlike a computer. For some reason, he thought of Jinx. Maybe it was the blue of the light. It matched a sweater she'd worn the other day. Damn, the girl had style. He considered how she'd looked in it and his mouth watered. That sorceress is fine. Curving up juuuust perfect now.

But finally he sighed. Any chance to tap that ass was gone. She was with KF, period. She'd only been interested cuz of the illusion. The cloaking ring had made her think that I'm a real guy and not half guy half fucking terminator or something. What girl could ever want to deal with a freak like me?

The computer beeped and a display that he could see in his red mechanical eye gave the precise coordinates where a particle of anti-matter had passed through a minor circuitry junction weakening some connections. He replaced a chip, tested the repaired arm and got a 100 percent efficiency reading. He sighed. Real people have their own systems. Except for massive injuries, they heal on their own. They can just live and not think about things like this. They can . .

He sighed thinking of Jinx walking away down the hall the other day in that light blue sweater, sorceress hips swaying gently. Oh yeah, curving up just perfect.

Four doors down, a naked sorceress got up from her bed where she was spooning, as usual, with a naked speedster. But this time, the sorceress was behind the speedster, holding him. She yawned and blinked and reached under the covers and rubbed one gray skinned hand over speedster buns.

The sorceress got up from the bed and stepped, uncertainly, toward their bathroom groaning about Tamaranian wine and barely opening pink cat eyes.

The sorceress continued into the bathroom hitting her hand on the door below the knob and just pushing it open then stopping in a standing position in front of the bowl. Then, this beautiful gray skinned, pink haired girl did something most unlikely for a girl of any sort and reached back and forth between her legs searching for something that no girl was ever going to find between her own.

Pink cat eyes shot wide open and the sorceress stared in shock at the image in the mirror. For, this was no typical girl, beyond just her having light gray skin, a stunning, slender hourglass shape and long pink hair and pink, cat eyes. Because this girl was actually Wally West, usually known to the world as the teen super speedster, Kid Flash, but right now five feet eight inches and 120 pounds of gorgeous sorceress.

"Eeeeep!"