Last Name ?
By Thomas Mc

Rated: M for obvious reasons

Author's Notes : This is a sequel to my story 'Birthday Surprise'. The premise of this story isn't particularly new. The Fan Fiction universe is littered with similar plots. Part of the inspiration for this story comes from the similar stories 'Pheromone' and 'The Newlywed Game' by Nan Smith. (Both of which are very good and worth the read) The other half of the inspiration is from the song 'Last Name' by Carrie Underwood. The rest of the blame can be laid at the feet of my very warped muse who decided to kick in as the song was playing on the radio while I was driving home from work.(08/27/16) At the request of several readers, after nealy a year, this story is being expanded. With the exception of one tiny WHAM, This story is mostly WAFFy fluff.

Surprise!

Martha Ellen Kent, daughter of Clark Kent and Lois Lane, slowly forced her way out of the drowsy haze that had enveloped her. She spent a moment to enjoy the languor of contentment that seemed to have settled over her. Then she became aware that her pillow was warm and slowly moving up and down. It also had a clearly audible heartbeat. The next instant she became very aware that she was halfway wrapped around a distinctly warm body and there most definitely did not seem to be any clothing involved in this very intimate situation.

'Oh God, no, no, no!' She cried out in her mind as she felt a moment of blind paralyzing panic. She forced down the panic with the iron determination that she had inherited from her mother. 'What would Lois Lane do?' She asked herself. Keeping her eyes closed, she cast back through her hazy memory looking for anything to explain her apparent predicament. Her last clear memory was the post graduation party that she had attended with her two best friends, Roxanne and Janet.

She had no idea how she ended up here or who her companion might be. She had no serious boyfriends, (her family heritage made any possible romantic relationship too complicated), and she had gone to the party unescorted, with the exception of her two friends.

Being very careful not to make any sudden movements that might alert anyone to her state of consciousness, Martha listened for any sign of others in the room. There seemed to be only her and her unknown companion. A cool breeze passed momentarily over the bare skin of her back and shoulders and she could hear the sound of ocean surf. She cracked open one eye to see her hand resting on an impressive expanse of chest and abdomen. Just beyond that was a brightly colored sheet that currently only covered them both from the waist down.

She started to lift her hand and her attention was drawn to bright flash and sparkle from her third finger, which resolved itself into an unfamiliar shiny gold band with a single small diamond. "Oh, no, what have I done!" She muttered softly as she lifted her head and turned it to see who her companion in this disaster might be. The next instant she found herself looking at the very handsome face of a total stranger.

She felt the stranger's hand move on the bare skin of her back sending a shiver up her spine. She had to fight the almost overwhelming desire to fly away from here as fast as her super speed would allow.

The stranger frowned and groaned then his eyes blinked open and he stared blearily up at her a moment. Then he closed them again with another groan. Martha held her breath as he grimaced, took a deep breath, swallowed, groaned again, then opened his eyes for the second time. This time he managed to, almost, focus on her face and frowned, a hint of confusion in his still slightly unfocused eyes. He blinked again and his frown deepened then he closed his eyes and mumbled. "What the hell was I drinking last night?" He seemed to be addressing the universe in general rather than anyone in particular.

Martha felt like she was trapped, frozen in place, like one of those nightmares where she could see the approaching disaster but could not make her body follow her orders to move out of the way.

Her companion opened his eyes again. His eyes flicked, momentarily, downward and widened significantly, causing Martha to blush, then his gaze hastily returned to her face. His brows furrowed in confusion and uncertainty. "I, umm . . ." He paused, closed his eyes, swallowed once then reopened his eyes. "I know this sounds pretty bad considering, our . . . ahh . . . current situation, but, ah, well . . ." There was a long pause as he tried to find a delicate way to say it. "Who, are you?"

His face and voice seemed to trigger a memory; an image flashed through her mind of this same guy walking up to her with an exaggerated, slightly lopsided, grin on his face and she heard him addressing her with the most ludicrous pickup line "Hey Cutie where ya from." The memory drew a groan from her.

Martha's paralysis finally broke and she managed to regain control of her own body. She immediately grabbed the edge of the colorful sheet and pulled it up in a belated attempt to cover up while backing as far away from the stranger as the large bed would allow. "Who are You?" She inquired, frowning at him.

"Uh George . . . my name is George." He started to sit up. The movement sent a sharp pain through his head and he dropped back down. He closed his eyes, rubbed his aching brow, and groaned. "My head feels like it's clamped in a vice."

Martha looked around at the room. Then her ears picked up the strains of Hawaiian music. A quick glance through the outer walls of the building confirmed her growing suspicion. "Oh God, how did you get me here?" She exclaimed.

She had been speaking more to herself but, apparently, he took it as a direct inquiry. After a second, he opened his eyes and glanced around then looked at her. "I'm not even sure where we are, much less how we got here." He rubbed the side of his head as hazy memories began to fade in and out of focus. "Don't you remember anything?"

Martha shook her head as another absurd image popped into her mind. "I have this image of several guys dressed as Elvis Presley . . . and Elvis music playing in the background." She looked intently at George and for the first time noticed a simple gold band on the third finger of the hand that he was using to hold on to his side of the bed spread. She had a sudden dreadful suspicion about what had happened. "And you were there?"

George could feel the pounding in his head fading as more images began to take shape. "I . . . I remember . . . flying . . ." His brows furrowed in puzzlement as one series of images among those chasing each other around in his head became clearer. "We were flying . . . no . . ." The look of confusion deepened as he looked back up at her. "You were flying, and you were carrying me." He looked closer at her and his eyes got huge with surprise as the images in his mind got sharper. "You're Supergirl aren't you?"

A lump of lead seemed to form in her gut as her heart pounded with surprise and fear. For the first time she became aware that she was not wearing her short dark wig as her long red hair caught her peripheral vision. How much did he know? Did he know her true name?

Another hazy memory forced its way to the surface of his mind repeating over and over. It was of her saying something to some indistinct person in a white fringed outfit. What he could make out sounded suspiciously like wedding vows. His eyes narrowed in thought for a second as her words started to become clear then he spoke. "Ellen . . . Your name is . . . Martha Ellen, aaahh, Kent. Your middle name is the same as my mother's name." He glanced down at the ring on his finger, apparently confirming his growing suspicions. He was about to say something about it then changed his mind. "Uh, my name is George Kennedy . . . no relation to the actor." He looked into her face searching for clues to what she was thinking.

Martha felt the horror of a nightmare come true as dozens of terrifying scenarios raced through her mind at near super speed. 'He knows!' She tried to open her mouth to deny it but she seemed to be unable to make herself speak. The nightmare just kept getting worse each time he opened his mouth.

As the panicked look on her face registered in his mind, a flash of fear crossed his face. "Oh, God, what have I done?" He glanced around as though looking for some avenue of escape then he looked back at Martha "I am so sorry for whatever I've done to you." He looked down at the bed. "Whatever it takes, I'll do anything to make this right."

After a moment, to get her fear under control, Martha responded. "I need to call father." She looked down at the bed sheet that was the only thing covering them both. "No, I think the first thing to do is to get dressed." She caught a whiff of something very indicative of their situation and shook her head. "Better yet showers then dress then housekeeping then I'll call Dad." She suspected that the time between a call home and the arrival of a very irate father in this room would be very short, so they had better be ready when she made that call.

"Do you want the shower first?" George inquired timidly.

She glanced down again at the sheet that was currently the only thing covering them both then looked around to find that there was not a single article of clothing within reach of either of them. 'Damn.' She knew that she could just use her super speed to vanish into the bathroom but considering the rate at which they both seemed to be regaining their memories it soon wouldn't make any difference what he saw. And it seemed a bit ludicrous to indulge in a fit of embarrassment now.

"Aw to hell with it!" She exclaimed as she tossed aside her half of the sheet, catching a glimpse of wide-open eyes in a surprised face, and made her way to the bathroom. She made a concerted effort to maintain what dignity she had left and not shift into super speed. She clearly heard his heart rate accelerate and, in the bathroom mirror, she saw that his eyes had locked in low on her back like a homing beacon. Then he noticed her looking back at him through the mirror and looked down while blushing bright red all the way down to the bed sheet.

~ o ~

Martha turned on the hot water as high as it would go then tried vainly to wash away the feeling of embarrassment that seemed to pervade her mind as she washed away the smell of sex. All she could think about is how badly she had messed up. From her very first appearance as Supergirl, it seemed like she was plagued by unintentional scandal.

She thought back to that first appearance a little over two years ago.

A news bulletin had popped up on the radio about a vacation cruise ship that had been damaged by an explosion and was rapidly sinking in the cold water five miles off the coast of Alaska. The bulletin also stated that the explosion had caused a fire on one side of the ship destroying half of the lifeboats before the crew had managed to put it out. The nearest real aid was eight hours away, making it more than six hours too late.

Dad and Jon were both dealing with a volcano eruption in South America and probably had no idea what was happening in Alaska. Time was short and Martha realized that if those people were to have any chance it would be up to her to save them. She was only eighteen and still a senior in high school. She had not really planned to jump into the family 'hobby' this soon so she had not yet come up with a costume. Only a few months ago she had started wearing short dark wigs over hair that was now died red in preparation for Supergirl's eventual debut . . . once she finished junior college. In a sudden panic, she had quickly riffled through her closet and dresser trying to come up with some kind of last-minute costume.

Supergirl showed up at the location of the crippled cruise ship ten minutes later in a common Superman t-shirt, a blue and yellow cheerleader skirt from an old Halloween costume and red shorts. She wore no shoes since nothing she had would have survived emersion in the ocean. She floated above the ship, her long red hair blown back by the cold breeze and scanned the ship with her x-ray vision to assess the extent of the damage. She quickly located the ragged hole well below the waterline. With time and lifeboats both in short supply, her only viable option was to stop the ship from sinking until help could arrive.

The obvious solution was to lift the ship out of the water and fly it to the nearest port. However, the ship was so large that she didn't think she could lift it completely out of the water without it breaking in half. Her father or possibly her brother could have done it, but her aura was not yet strong enough to completely envelop something this massive. However, she thought that she might be able to lift it just enough to get the damaged area above the surface.

She dived into the water and centered herself under the hull then lifted until the hole was just barely above water level. She held the ship there until most of the water had drained out of the hull. She then set it back down and quickly bent the torn edges of the hole back into place and used her heat vision to weld the seams together before too much water could flow back in.

She had been proud of her handiwork as she inspected it to make sure the welds would hold. She broke the surface and checked to make sure that everyone aboard the ship was safe. She reveled momentarily in the realization that she had saved the cruise ship. Then she moved to the stern of the ship near the water level and began pushing the disabled ship toward the nearest port. Even at the speed that she had been able push it, which was much faster than the ship could normally travel, it took nearly two and a half hours before she reached the small fleet of approaching rescue vessels.

The one thing that Martha had not considered during this entire episode was the effect that getting wet would have on the t-shirt she had grabbed in her haste to get to the site of the developing disaster.

As she had risen out of the water, after patching the hole, somebody had managed to get four pictures of her in that soaking wet t-shirt that was clinging to her body like semi transparent paint. Two days later those pictures showed up on the internet.

She had been mortified when her mother had brought them to her attention. They proliferated so fast that it was impossible to eliminate them. As soon as the Superman Foundation eliminated the images from one site, they would pop up somewhere else. Those pictures fueled the fantasies of just about every young male on the planet as well as providing plenty of fodder for half of the world's comedians. Several uptight groups took every opportunity to publicly lambast her while pushing their own agendas at her expense.

Two months later Grandmother Kent had finished a brand-new suit for her made of that special fabric that Jonathon's wife's father had manufactured for the family of Superman. But the damage had already been done.

Martha leaned her head against the wall of the shower. Why her? Why did it always have to be her that screwed up so spectacularly? If word of this latest disaster ever got out the whole family would die of embarrassment and the world would blame her for the downfall of the Super dynasty.

~ o ~

George sat there on the bed stunned for several seconds after the beautiful (naked) Supergirl disappeared into the bathroom. He suspected that the sight would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Then he thought about who her father was and wondered just how long that life would be.

Finally, he got out of bed and located his clothes. When he lifted his shirt from the chair, something fluttered to the floor. His first impression was a piece of paper with a lot of fancy printing on it. He picked it up to examine it. It was a marriage certificate for George Hubert Kennedy and Martha Ellen Kent in the state of Nevada at the Church of Blue Suede Deliverance. He groaned shaking his head. How much worse could this possibly get? *A tacky 'Elvis' wedding in Las Vegas?*

The date on the marriage certificate was the same day that his Fraternity brother ('May he fry in the seventh level of hell'), had dragged him to that damn party to celebrate his brand-new Journalism degree. He glanced at the wall clock that also displayed the date. Three days! It had been three days and two nights since that double damned party. They appeared to have been married for more than forty hours. That, combined with their state of undress this morning, pretty much eliminated the possibility of a simple annulment.

He reread the document more carefully. He sighed. At least they had not listed her as Supergirl. That was one major disaster averted. The media would have had a field day with that. He realized that the biggest story of the century had just fallen into his lap and it could make his career . . . but he also knew that there was no way he would ever write that story. That thought reminded him of her last name. There was a moment when he wondered if she was any relation to the famous reporting team of Lois and Clark. He dismissed that idea as being too ludicrous to contemplate. Even his luck couldn't be that spectacularly bad.

He held up his left hand and contemplated the plain gold ring that resided there. The image of the two of them standing before an Elvis impersonator in a glittering white outfit and giggling at each other passed through his mind and he groaned. When she remembered that image, she would surely kill him if her father hadn't already put him out of his misery.

After he quickly got dressed, he tried to straighten up the room and make up the bed. Next, he picked up her clothes and laid them out, relatively neatly, on the bed. By now, isolated memories of a sex-crazed evening were coming back at an increasing rate causing him to blush almost continually as he continued to straighten up the room.

While checking out the room he located a short dark-haired wig and a pair of glasses in one of the nightstands. That brought up images of a very pretty, dark haired girl in the middle of a group of dancing teenagers. A quick glance through the glasses showed that they did not function for vision correction. After a pause, to contemplate the new images, he returned to his search of the room and found her Supergirl costume under the bed. The memories that the suit raised made him pause and take a deep breath as he glanced over at the door to the bathroom. He was in soooo much trouble.

Then a rebellious part of his mind jumped in. 'But it was soooo worth it, even if Superman squashed him like a bug.'

He caressed the unusual fabric of the suit a moment. Images of helping her remove the suit one piece at a time filtered through his mind making him feel distinctly warm. As he stood there holding the suit, memories of hot wild sex pervaded his mind then, little by little, they were interspersed with images of quiet gentle lovemaking. He shook himself out of his overheated daze and carefully folded the suit then looked for a good place to hide it from any prying eyes.

He checked the drawers and discovered both of their cell phones. Both phones appeared to be dead.

~ o ~

As she let the hot water sluice over her body Martha was hit by multiple images of rather uninhibited sex. Her skin tingled with the sensory echoes from the fragmented images that weaved their way through her mind. In one, she was wearing nothing but the cape and floating a couple of feet above the bed as they engaged in their very energetic sexual activity. Soon she was blushing all the way down to her toes. Her breathing increased and her heart was beating a fast tempo as she could feel herself getting very hot in reaction to that memory.

She dropped her head into her hands. "No! No! No!" This was so bad. She could just imagine the kinds of things that guy would be telling his friends after they got back to Metropolis. She, momentarily, contemplated dropping him in the middle of the Pacific and hoping nobody missed him. She quickly squashed that idea along with the idea of marooning him on a deserted island.

More images of sexual escapades flashed through her mind. She shifted the water temperature to maximum cold.

It didn't help.

Then other memories surfaced. In these new ones, he had been so tender, so considerate, as he gently roused her to a fever pitch until he finally drove her over the edge. More such memories of gentle lovemaking followed, including simply cuddling in each other's arms, arousing her even more than she already was. Then as the memories rushed in, she realized something. Yesterday and the last two nights had been about much more than wild hot sex. They had been making love!

As the memories rushed in, her emotions continued to vary wildly, and her mind began to shift gears from 'How do I get out of this?' to 'How do I salvage what has happened between us?' The realization of how her thoughts were shifting hit her like a ton of bricks. Did she really want to have anything to do with this stranger? This was ridiculous. She did not even know this guy. She shook her head in an effort to banish those disquieting thoughts from her mind.

What was she going to do?

~ o ~

Seemingly out of nowhere, as he held the folded super suit and contemplated the two dead cell phones, George remembered seeing a Hawaiian clothing store in the hotel lobby. He looked over at her clothes laid out on the bed then glanced down at the condition of his own cloths and made a quick decision.

Well, there was at least one way that he might get a start at making up for what he had done. He set the folded Supergirl suit in the drawer and covered it with the wig. He set the two cell phones and the glasses on top of the dresser. He quickly checked out the sizes of her clothes then grabbed his wallet and went out of the room heading to the elevators.

George rode the elevator down to the lobby as memories of last night continued rushing through his mind at an increasing rate. As the elevator doors opened, he again fought to regain control of his overworked libido. He headed across the lobby to the shop he had remembered seeing.

~ o ~

Continued in Part 2

NOTE: For those that have never heard the song, here is a 'slightly altered' excerpt from 'Last Name' by Carrie Underwood.

Last night I got served a little bit too much of that poising
And I got a little crazy
Last night I met a guy on the dance floor
And I let him call me Baby

It started off "Hey Cutie where you from?"
And turned into "Oh, no, what have I done?"

We left the club about 1 in the morning
I had no idea what I was getting myself into
It must have been the kryptonite mixed with the Quervo

And I don't even know my last name
My momma would be so ashamed
It started off "Hey Cutie where you from?"
And turned into "Oh, no, what have I done?"

( rev 300317 )

Disclaimer: This story is based on the television series "Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman." The recognizable characters and settings in this story are the property of D.C. Comics, Warner Bros., December 3rd Productions, and anyone else with a legal right to them, and I have no claim on them whatsoever, nor am I profiting by their use. The story, however, is a product of my own imagination. No infringement on copyrights is intended. This story is presented merely for the enjoyment of fans.