The Telemachus Story Archive

The Extermination of Superman
Part 11 - The Ultimate Degradation
By Rick Henry

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By Rick Henry

Chapter Eleven: The Ultimate Degradation –

It must have been Saturday noon; Jack realized Superman had not had anything to eat or drink for twenty-four hours. His massive body must be in super need of nourishment, at least water, to keep him from dehydrating. He had napped sporadically after the last zapping of the superhero, not wanting to leave him unobserved. He was growing more and more concerned that Luthor had more diabolical plans than had previously been revealed. Something about Luthor’s expanded sense of superiority that frightened Jack, made him wonder how safe he, himself, might be. After a light breakfast, served to him in the observation deck at Lex’s thoughtful consideration, once he saw his boss had returned, Jack buzzed him on the intercom.

“Mr. Luthor, uhhh... do you think maybe we should feed him something? He must be pretty drained inside.”

“That’s the object of captivity, Jack. Subduing one’s prey, keeping him that way.”

“But—you don’t want to kill him. He’s not quite like us. Probably needs a lot of fuel to keep his systems going.”

“Kill him? Now, Jack, how could I do that? He is Superman. Invincible, right?”

“I... I guess so. You said—”

“I wanted to teach him a lesson. Show him some humiliation. Respect for his “human” superiors.”

“Yeah, you said.”

“Ahh, he’s coming around now. Took off the mask hours ago. Just letting the lab space receive normal oxygenated air.” Lex had earlier removed the earphones before Jack awoke.

Both Jack and Lex could see the bound hero slowly coming back to consciousness. He raised his head valiantly, looked around, trying to determine his surroundings... evaluate any possibility of escape. But, oh, his head... his mind felt so remote, his body as if it were disconnected from his brain. Had the Kryptonite been that effective? There couldn’t be a great amount of it in the shackles, or the cock ring. It would normally take a lump the size of huge fist to truly knock him down and keep him there. Still, a continued mild exposure over time could render its insidious effects. He worried that that might be what was happening. He honestly didn’t know what could occur, having never been contained like this for so many hours. The mineral might be more potent than he’d ever feared. He’d been under so long, so long....

“Good morning, Cow-boy,” Lex greeted him. The bound hero was instantly alert and on guard. Lex entered the lab, positioned himself in front of the scaffolding. He had a pocket knife in his hands. “How are we feeling? Still strong as an ox? Invulnerable?”

“I... I...” Superman’s mind did not know how to respond. He tried to think, but somehow couldn’t. He couldn’t help himself, his eyes searched the chamber for Jack. Finally spotted him, as the young man stood anxiously glued to his side of the glass, looking in. It rather gave him a warm feeling; at least Jack was okay. Only—what the hell?!!

Four burly men were suddenly behind Jack, and overpowered him with simple ease: the assault had been unexpected. The young man had hardly known what was happening. They carried Jack, futilely struggling between them—dang, his ribs were still sore—and brought him into the same area where Luthor and Superman both were. With a sense of shock, Jack saw another smaller scaffold had been placed a few feet away from Superman’s. In even greater shock, the men ripped most of his clothes off, and began to fasten him to the frame.

“Lex, Lex—! No, what are you doing?!” The young blond was suddenly more than alarmed. The men secured his arms and legs, even a leather waist belt to hold him firmly in place. Then, further stripped him completely naked. His young endowment, yes, quite noticeable, slightly shriveled at the cool atmosphere.

“Damn,” Luthor muttered. “No wonder you toppled him. Hung flaccid almost as large as I am, erect. Damn!!” A trace of envy, admiration, and anger all in one retort.

“So, Superman, you and your lover are rejoined. Hmmmm. Does the sight of him still arouse you, like it did in the hot tub?”

“Luthor, you’re evil,” Kal growled. “Leave him alone! It’s me you want. And you have me. Don’t hurt him.”

“Oh! Have you, do I? With Jack as bait. And now, as reinforcement.... Yes, I do have you, Superman. Or is it, Clark? Or, what—Cow-Tits?”

Kal flushed red again at the reference to his unusual assets, though proud of them, and greatly treasured, being unrighteously used against him, one of his major vulnerabilities... and would undoubtedly be re-used to humble him.

“Got what you wanted?” he managed to fire back.

“Just a tad. More milk to come, fear not. When you’re stronger.”

The muscled captive gritted his teeth, lowered his head.

“Kal—don’t give up!” Jack tried to reach him, bolster him. He could only imagine how beaten down the man he had helped overpower could feel, the one who had trusted him with his whole being and all his secrets. And he, the only one who had been given that confidence, and had betrayed him by it. He felt awful. Superman, idol of millions. Almost destroyed.

Luthor was on it immediately.

“What’s this ‘Kal,’ shit? KAL? !!”

Jack had to think fast. He was the only one who had been privileged to learn Superman’s real Kryptonian name. It seemed even to him a desecration for Luthor to utter it!

“Cal,” Jack quickly piped up. “A nickname I gave him. He said he was going to take me to California this weekend. A little jaunt. Show me around, where others couldn’t go. I joked with him about it, called him my California Express Man. Cal.”

“Sure,” Lex chuckled. “Hollyweird and the Oscars. Just the place for big tits, and queers in capes. Cal! Hah!!” He thought it was very funny.

“Well, Mr. Cal -ifornia. We’ve got another agenda this weekend. Sorry.” And he gave the superhero a very strange smile, walked up to him and said, “How weak are you now?” And with the knife, he placed it alongside the line of Superman’s throat, and made a nicely impressive slash.

Jack, in shock, gasped, howled: “NO!!”

But the blade did not penetrate the alien’s skin.

“So, not yet. Not yet. Well, maybe a few more days. No food. Less semen, less milk. Oh, the Kryptonite. Soon that shell will begin to disintegrate.... We’ll try again. But,” and he turned towards Jack, the knife still wielded in his hand, “Jack isn’t as tough. A few quick slashes, some of his equipment might not be much good any longer. Hung bastard!”

Luthor strolled closer to Jack, held the knife up against Jack’s penis and balls. Superman was about to go crazy. He pulled and tugged, struggled and writhed—which Luthor immediately noticed with great satisfaction. “Still dressed, and in costume, aren’t we? Will make for terrific photos.”

He moved away from Jack, motioning to two of his henchmen to enter the lab. They knew exactly where to go, on either side of Superman.

“Superman, something I need you to do.” Then, to his two men: “Release him!”

Stunned, Superman found himself freed of his restraints. Stood there amazed, trying to gather his thoughts.

Luthor stepped back from the caped hero a few feet, found a nice leather chair, seated himself comfortably. Nodding to his henchmen, who then went to either side of Jack, after taking Luthor’s pocket knife from him.

“Suck my cock! Superfag,” unzipping his trousers, allowing his thick meat to fall forth, waving it in his hands as he motioned Superman closer.

The Man of Steel stiffened. Wondered how to flee, burst out of there. His chest swelled, he raised his arms as if for flight.

“You tried that yesterday, Lady-Tits. Didn’t work. You’re much too weak.”

The uniformed hero paused, stopped. Beaten, his arms fell to his sides.

“Damn you, Luthor,” caving in, psychologically. Was it true? The voices in his head, all night long... told him it was. Convinced him. He belonged to Luthor now, his strength gone.

“You like dick. We’ve proved that. An insatiable self-sucker.”

Superman turning dark red, angry again, embarrassed beyond control.

“Jack’s, too. He fucked shit out of you. And you begged for more.”

Kal-El could hardly breathe. So angry. So humiliated.

“On your knees. Suck my cock.”

“NO! I am not a cock-sucker!! Nor your faggot!!”

“Then, I guess you can have Jack’s balls for dinner. Gentlemen...” he nodded to those near Jack. One of them had already grasped Jack by his testicles. Jack nearly screamed.

Superman dropped to his knees, and said. “Give it to me. Please.”

He gingerly took Luthor’s uncut penis in his hands, looked at it with near disgust.

“Come on, you can do better than that. Lick, lick!”

Superman complied, his breath strangling in his throat, his heart pounding. But then, Luthor disarmed him. Leaned forwards, and began to rub Superman’s nipples very seductively, through and under his uniform. “No, nooohhhhh...!” He tried to resist, but too quickly, the caped crusader felt the rush into his brain. Oh, God, no, he was being overpowered again! His own body betraying him, overruling his mind, his senses! Piercing into his groin. It didn’t take long. His cock was hard in his cup, urgent to break forth. His will crumbling, need overwhelming....

His mouth hungrily took Luthor’s flaccid thickness, and stroked him sensually into a raging hard-on. Lex, continuing his manipulations, could feel the sudden thrust of his victim’s cock-nipples hardening. An involuntary purr emitted from his enslaved captive; the captive now captivated. Then, Luthor was gasping, as Kal gave him a superb and thorough sucking, more wondrous than Marsden ever could have. Even when Luthor ejaculated, Kal drank every drop of him. Luthor couldn’t help himself, he clasped Superman’s dark hair and head almost lovingly against his crotch... kept him there, as Kal’s mouth sought to drain every droplet from him, nearly devouring his huge balls in the process. Luthor thoroughly climaxed again, rapidly.

Having Superman on his knees, his bursting cock in his mouth, made Lex Emperor of the Universe ! He’d won! Round Four.

Disgusted with himself, spirit-beaten, that he’d needed his enemy’s semen for even a token remnant of his own strength, Kal accepted it. Knowing in his heart, Luthor was going to destroy him. He knew it. Would never let him go. Would never be able to save himself. But at least, maybe he could save Jack... offering himself as the traded sacrifice.

“And pictures they will be, my “hero!”” Luthor gloated. “All on film. The world- renowned Superman. A total cock-sucking, cum-eating maniac.”

Superman remained kneeling on the floor, after he had pulled away from Luthor’s cock... who had lovingly slapped the sticky thing all over his face, after. His torso drooped forwards, his forehead was pressed to the tiles in mortal shame. He had needed Luthor’s seed as desperately as he now needed his own. Or he could never escape. He was doomed. And Luthor had taken him to the lowest pit of all. He was his toy, his captive.

Jack was sobbing softly, in partial relief, still terrified out of his skull he was going to be castrated. And now, having seen Kal willingly and hungrily suck Luthor’s cock, with barely any resistance... heartbroken that he had caused Kal’s humiliation, and now so much in love with him, for having given of himself so simply to save Jack. Jack vowed he was going to get revenge. The money didn’t matter. He had to save Superman.

There was a great silence. Luthor nodded for his men to release Jack, give him back his clothes, and get him out of there. Jack wanted to go to his lover, but didn’t dare. He was lucky enough to be going out in one piece. Knew there had to be a way to thwart Lex, being kept as a semi-equal prisoner in the same custody. How?

“Think you can still fly, Cow-boy? Get up. Let’s see. Hover a little for me.”

The pissed-off, mortified superhero rose to his feet. Closed his eyes... managed to raise himself several feet in the air. Surprised, and happy that he could. Amazed, actually.

“Got a job for you, faggot. A little power goes a long way, even if you’re not quite up to snuff. I need the Mona Lisa for my private collection....”


“I don’t steal,” came the disgusted, determined reply.

“It doesn’t belong to anybody.”

“Perhaps the people of France. The people of the world.”

“And... Jack’s balls, once belonged to him. Maybe?”

Superman glared at him so hard, Lex could have sworn he saw steam.

“You’re free to go. Be back in two days. Or the photographs, and Jack’s balls... will be displayed elsewhere.”

The superhero frowned, nodded reluctantly.

“Don’t forget. Try to remove the cock ring, and your balls come off, too! Secret clasp. See you!”

With a swirl of his cape, the mighty Superman, defeated and in despair, was led to an outer door, and waved off into the night sky. He had no choice. No options. No help.

* * *

Of course, as Luthor knew he would, once set free, he had to quickly re-resource himself. He’d never have made it to Paris. Or hardly across town. Even so, if he took himself a dozen times in two days, it wouldn’t be enough. The on-going erosion of the Kryptonite, his already depleted supply... Jack hopelessly awaiting his return: Superman was as bound as if he were still strapped to the scaffold. He thought desperately for a solution. Raced to his Fortress for a clue... came up with nothing. In despair, broke into the Louvre.

The continuing voice in his head telling him how weak he was, and getting weaker.

An urgent, coded message to Batman, never acknowledged. Several times.

And beyond all his character of before, he quickly sought out, singly kidnapped, bound and gagged three massive bodybuilders, and sucked them dry. They, never having had a clue it was him, or what had happened to them. Mouth-raped, and left exhausted. It only helped a little....

* * *

After his return, he was forced to take selfies of himself in front of the mirror, holding his purloined prize. No doubt about it later, who had stolen one of the world’s masterpieces. To be included in the “collection,” to be sent to the Smithsonian—. Only he’d never know that.

“Thank you for the gift, Superman. She’s lovely, indeed. Though,” and he added rather nonchalantly, “... it would have been wiser not to return.”

“Is Jack alright?” the hero demanded.

“Fine. Right as rain. A little soggy.”

“I want to see him.”

“Demands are no longer in your realm.”

Luthor had successfully reinforced his trap, he knew. Now, to begin the final phase and breakdown, ownership of the greatest being in the universe. He slanted his head. “Back to your scaffold, young man. While we refasten you to your home. Jack has the privilege to watch from the Observation Deck, subdued, of course.”

With no choice but to comply, the caped hero allowed himself to once more be backed into the upright beams, raised his arms in subjugation. His heart was pounding with dread and anticipation. At least, Jack was still alive. He willingly was doing this, submitting himself to Luthor’s control. A pang of fear, however, could not be erased from his guts. Luthor calmly began to secure him by one wrist, then suddenly stopped.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” tapping himself mildly on the forehead with an absent hand. He released Superman and stepped back. “While you’re still dressed—drop your briefs, let me see that mighty organ of yours again.”


“No what’s, Cow-boy! Just do it!”

Clark did have to grit his teeth very hard. And complied. His massive endowment was once more exposed to public view, not proudly—though he was—but like a compliant slave awaiting his Master’s instruction. He swallowed uncomfortably.

“No doubt you used it very well while away. Yes?”

The superhero tightened his jaw.

“You’d have been a fool not to. Grab a good meal, maybe a few quarts of liquid to restoke your strength? Of course, of course. Only natural.”

Luthor paused. Then moved aside to scoop up, present his captive with a lucite cylinder.

“But to make sure you didn’t get too strong, I need a pint of your essence. Take as long as you like.”

“You’re not serious!”

“We wanted to make sure you were observed, while still in your uniform, doing it.”

“YOU—!!” and he had no words to contain his rage, his impending humiliation.

“Remember, it’s for Jack. To keep him healthy. And... for further analysis of your genetic components.” Lex paused, knowing the torment he was inflicting. “Questions?”

Superman said nothing.

“Play with your nipples, whatever you like. A full pint! Enjoy!”

Lex turned on his heel, and left the chagrined and embarrassed superhero with his pants down, nakedly and heavily hung, holding the empty, to be filled tube in his hands. Superman almost crying, closed his eyes. Rubbed his hand over the ridges of his abdomen. Began slowly to masturbate as commanded. The lights mercifully dimmed, but not by much. He didn’t know how he could stand this.

He was, he knew, being purposely robbed of his strength, as Luthor had now surmised the source of his powers. All he had gained in his brief escape, now being re-drained from him before being able to be processed back into his system. He was in mortal dread. It was being seared into his brain, he was being exterminated. Luthor would never let him go. He had had his last chance, and not used it.

Oh, God! Oh, God, no! Not this way. Not to be murdered... slowly, gradually, milked to extinction. Even by his own hands. No, no, no!! This can’t be!

But for love, one will do most anything. A ghost of a chance, a desperate hope—.

Saving Jack.

* * *

He was now more than tired and exhausted. Reclining back at the base of the scaffold, laying on the tiles. He had done it. Watched with horror, the salvation of his own jism, now sealed in a container by his own hands... unable to be taken, ingested, or used... except to destroy him. Ironic. He thought for sure he would die with the despair of it, the impossibility of the situation. There was no way out, what could he do...?

Before he knew it, and with a yet hazed mind, Jack’s arms were around him, kissing him, holding him, helping him to his feet. He clung to the young man as if he were drowning. He was, actually, in his spirit; his emotions shot to hell. And his physical strength ebbed so low, he couldn’t ever recall feeling so weak.

Luthor’s voice came over the intercom. “Hey, Superman, you’ve done very well. To show you I’m not all that terribly ruthless and unfeeling, I’ve arranged a little surprise for you. Since you care so much for young Jack, here, I’ve arranged that the two of you may spend the night together. All alone. No outside prying eyes, in a special cubicle with a nice comfortable bed. Would you like that?”

“Are... you... telling the truth?” Kal managed to ask back. He had his arms so tight around Jack, the handsome blond found it hard to breathe, pressed against him. But enjoying every moment. Though he knew it was only part of the game.

“I am a man of my word. I never lie.”

“Why so generous, for what reason?”

“Shouldn’t a condemned man have a last moment of reprieve?”

“Who has condemned me; and for what?”

“For being! Remember, you aren’t really a man. You are an alien from another star system. You have no part with us.... Except for poor Jack, who raped you. Things like you should not be allowed to spread.”

“He’s worse than I thought,” Jack murmured. “But we have to take the advantage. It may be our last chance.”

“I heard that!” Luthor snorted. “Anyway, you know the rules, Jack. Know what you have to do. Then, we can let you go, I think. Wherever you want. Your bank account is full, and there isn’t much more to do here that we can’t handle alone.”

Superman looked up towards the Observation Console Deck, from where Luthor gloated down at them.

“Go ahead, Jack. Strip him.”

The two men looked at each other. Jack’s eyes were sad. Reluctantly, without further ado, the great Superman began to peel off his clothes. Jack motioned to the side, where a rack had been placed earlier. Superman was to hang his uniform on it. He did. It hung limply on a large clothing hook, on a single stand by itself. The hero, once more totally naked, more than incredible to look upon, noted the last vestige of his identity being stripped away.

“Something to look at later, once you are back on the scaffold, Cow-boy. Just a vague reminder of who you were. Just hanging there, limp as spaghetti.”

“There’s more,” Jack winced. “I’m so sorry. I have no choice, either.” His pained eyes searched, reaching into Kal’s blues, wanting to unite with him, inside him, as much as he could.

“Okay, girls, that’s it! You know the stipulation, Jack. You two may shower together. Be sure to give him a thorough enema, clean him out real good. Enjoy yourselves. Fuck all you want. But neither is allowed to exchange your juice with the other in any way. Nope, we need to have it all. Another pint, Superman. Fill my cupboard. And don’t try mixing yours with his, Jack. Our machines know the difference, the compositions, the DNA. If you do, you will lose your balls. I assure you. No cheating, now.... See you in the morning.”

Superman could not believe what he was hearing. He was almost staggered in pure frustration and total hatred of what was being done to the both of them.

Jack came up to him, and hugged in as close as he could. “Even so, we have a few moments. Let’s truly make love. Forget this. Just let me love you.”

“Oh, Jack, Jack. How much I need you. Even to touch.”

The sliding door to the lab opened. They were led down the hall to a modest dinner, and then to the showers. And then back to their room. Kal kissed him until he had no breath of his own, gave each to each into themselves, of themselves... it would be their last uniting, and they knew it.

* * *

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