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Groped on the Grandstand For Sanmer by Draconicon

Waiting for an award wasn't something that Hardrock usually had to put up with. Normally, the dragon superhero did his job, delivered the criminals - or victims, in the case of natural disasters - to the appropriate authorities, and then left. He was awarded in absentia, rather than in person, and most cities put a little bit of money aside every year to keep him 'paid' as a civil servant, something which made his life a great deal easier.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want the fame, per se. Hardrock just didn't want the problems that came with it. Photographers and such were one thing, but the dragon knew what other heroes that came into the limelight had to deal with. Citizens started stalking them, villains started pursuing them more personally, and up-and-coming people felt that they had to prove their worth against him, from both sides. It was better, generally, to get the job done and go home before the photos started coming out en masse.

"Trust my biggest 'employer' to hold my paycheck hostage if I don't actually show up."

He shook his head, leaning against the backstage wall right next to the curtain. It wouldn't be long until they called him out on stage, and then he could get the award and go home. He'd probably take off from the stage and lose anyone that was following him before heading back home, rather than walking off stage.

This had better be some award.

"Mr. Hardrock?"

The green dragon looked up, glancing over to the curtain. Someone he'd seen running around backstage with all the other officials - an olinguito, if he remembered right - was waving him over.

"Hmm? What?"

"They're about ready to call you out, sir. Are you ready?"

"Yeah yeah, I am. I just want to get this over with."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, just...Eh, forget about it. Thanks for letting me know."

"Happily, Mr. Hardrock, happily."

"Just -"

He turned, but the little guy was already gone. The dragon shook his head; must have been one hell of a fan, and one nervous guy to run up and then off like that. Turning his attention back to the stage, he caught the edge of his name.

"That'll be my cue...let's get this over with."

The green scaled dragon stepped onto the stage, the curtain rippling like the cape he didn't have. The mayor - a horse female he barely knew - turned to him with a smile and a bunch of applause. The audience, a crowd thousands strong, did the same, welcoming him to the front of the stage. Hardrock moved up to the microphone and paused.

His award was next to the microphone, some golden trinket that he barely recognized. It looked vaguely like a key, but it was so ornamental that he knew that it would never actually be used for anything. The dragon also saw the scattered notes of the mayor's speech, and saw that he had interrupted her by his presence, coming out before he was supposed to.

Heh, well credit to her for being such a good actress. Pity she didn't leave me any notes to use.

Muttering to himself, Hardrock flipped through some of the different pages, wondering if he would stumble on something useful, when he suddenly felt something very unexpected. His suit was...tightening...around his crotch.

The dragon paused in what he was doing, glancing around for any sign of another super. It wasn't a natural function of his suit to do anything, nor was it something he could do to himself. It had to be someone else in the crowd.

Despite that knowledge, even a rudimentary sweep didn't pick up anything. Nobody was staring at him harder than anyone else, and he couldn't see any of the usual glows that came with telekinesis or other manipulations from a distance. Whoever was doing this was either very good or had picked a good hiding place.

"Thank you for the award. I'll be leaving now."

Let's just get out of here.

Before he could spread his wings, however, the mayor grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned in annoyance.

"What is the matter?"

"The crowd...they've gathered here for a question and answer session with a hero. You don't want to disappoint them, do you?"

I don't want to get molested while standing up here, either. But he had to go with it; there was a certain amount of give and take between heroes and politicians. He sighed, nodding and turning back to the crowd.

"Alright, so, I'm told I have to answer questions. What do you want to know?"

As the hands went up, the tightness came back, and he barely suppressed a grimace as his costume started groping his crotch. It was crude and not quite like what he felt when a hand went down there, but it gave him unwilling pleasure all the same. The smooth interior of his costume was running up and down his cock, squeezing it and rubbing it constantly.

"You!"

He pointed to a wolf in the front row, needing a distraction more than actually wanting to answer a question. The wolf jumped, but grinned as he shouted back.

"What was your most difficult fight?"

"That would have been against the White Tail four years ago. And I label it the most difficult because the fox got away, and is still at large."

And was still very much a danger. The technology that the white fox had at his disposal was beyond belief. During their fight, Hardrock had barely been able to do some damage to the machines that he had. If they'd been improved since, the next fight might not be entirely winnable.

Clenching his teeth as the milking feeling returned, Hardrock pressed himself closer to the podium, trying to keep his discomfort from being seen either by the crowd or by the officials behind him. He was regretting the costume, now; it might be his trademark, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore his erection through it. More than that, if he stepped anywhere around the podium, everyone was going to see it.

The fabric pressed tight to his cock, and he ground his teeth together as it started pulling, stroking at him. It was like his costume was possessed, controlled to such a fine tuned way. He closed his eyes, shaking his head to try and look like he was thinking of something else.

"Next question, next question. You, the panda in the back."

"Me?"

"Yes, yes, you! Question!"

"Uh, I wanted to know, uh, I mean, if you don't mind -"

"Ask your question already!"

"Ah! Are you dating anyone?"

Now that's a new one, he thought as he stared at the panda for a few seconds. He wasn't the only one, as most of the guys that were around the bear were looking at him like he was nuts.

"I'm gonna ignore that one. Anything I say about my 'relations' with another is just gonna make it easier for people to figure out who I am."

Though if this keeps up, I'm going to have to fuck someone to get this damn erection out of my system. It was getting harder and harder to keep his focus as it kept stroking him, squeezing him. The costume was getting wet in the front already, and Hardrock knew that once he started leaking, he wasn't going to stop until he blew his load. He just hoped he could avoid that.

An idea hit him. If he could cut down the number of questions -

"Everyone that has a question about my alter ego, or my relationships with others, or about any sort of life advice, put your hands down. They aren't questions I'm willing to answer today."

To both his shock and relief, almost all the hands in the crowd went down. He smiled at the three that were left.

"Now we're getting somewhere..."

"...And so...you see...that's how...I beat...General Rossburn."

"Mr. Hardrock, are you alright?"

"Never better, mayor..."

Like hell I'm doing alright. His cock was harder than it had been in years, edged for the long stories that he'd had to tell to the last three people. He was so horny now that the mayor - who had to be approaching her sixties - looked hotter than the twenty year olds down in the strip clubs. He had to get out of here, and flying off was no longer an option.

Grabbing his award, Hardrock waved at the crowd.

"That's all I have time for. Thank you and good-by-aaaah!"

He slumped forward on the podium, panting hard as he suddenly was pushed over the edge. The front of his costume was a soaking mess in seconds, and his cock was framed by a pool of white that bubbled through the material. Worst of all, the staff of the city government - having run up to help him - could see it clearly. Not the crowd - at least he hoped not - but they could.

As they stared at him, the crowd erupted with more questions, and Hardrock groaned as he dragged himself back to the microphone.

"No...comment..."

He turned around as fast as he could, running off the stage and keeping his back to the audience. He didn't know how many had seen his 'accident', but he had to start working on damage control. There was a shower, at least, in the back; he could use that to soak his costume all the way through and look like it was a simple clumsy accident rather than a teenager on too many hormones had just had a different accident.

Whoever did that is going to pay, he thought. He'd never been so humiliated like that in his life.

As he reached the washroom, he stepped in to find the same guy that had talked to him earlier. The olinguito was wrapped in a towel, and blushed as he was walked in.

"Ah, Hardrock, sir, I was just -"

"I need the shower."

"I, uh, I understand. Can I -"

"Out. Now."

"...Yes sir."

Good riddance. Grow a spine, why don't you? And why does this place reek of cum?!

The End