(This story contains gay erotic/bondage material not suitable for minors. If you would be offended, please do not read.)
Dr. Tentacle glared down at this desk with a snarl. The latest edition of the New York Times lay open on its surface, with a picture of the proud hero, SuperiorMan, plastered all over the front page. In a moment of frustration, he ripped the paper off the desk, crumpled it into a ball and hurled it across his office. How he hated that do-gooder superhero! SuperiorMan was the only obstacle between him and his plans for world domination. But despite his best efforts, the hero had managed to thwart him at every single turn. The doctor had spent years researching all possible angles to uncover the key source of SuperiorMan’s unusual powers. He knew he did not have the brawn nor wherewithal to effectively defeat his nemesis, but his intellectual prowess alone was going to prove more than a match for the bubbling superhero. His current hypothesis was that SuperiorMan’s strength and abilities must somehow be directly related to or influenced by his sex drive or reproductive nature. Something extraordinarily unusual in his genetic code had to give this alien his innate superiority. No being could be that invincible!
Thus, Dr. Tentacle suspected that if the hero could somehow be sexually ensnared, enticed, stimulated, or controlled, then his super-strength might be pared away. Like a Samson shorn of his vulnerable locks by Delilah? The woman who could drain his semen might then be the one to capture the stud! So the doctor had sent scores of sexy, skilled nymphos to try to seduce the hero… without creating the slightest interest, result, or twitch of the hero’s notably large basket. (His endowment, obvious as the size of his arms—surely, he must enjoy using it?!) Though neither sort nor kind of any human species had ever been known to share his assets. The doctor even offered a huge bounty for whoever could entice SuperiorMan by possibly sexually stimulating him, and luring him into a compromising situation: to thus extract his semen for further analysis, or just as an outright “embarrassment” to later shame him into simple blackmail. It was a well-publicized item throughout the underground to those concerned—and a great challenge and reward for any woman to dare attempt or collect. No doubt some plucky dame could do the job. It was just a matter of time, the right situation, the right secluded place.
(SuperiorMan, of course, was well aware of all this, and basically had no end of amusement thinking this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Also… woefully recognizing the darker hidden truth of the matter. God help him, if it happened. He was NOT made of steel—.)
Yet, all who had tried had failed. Damn, was the man that resistant to sex? Or was he merely “a-sexual?” Could be? But with a body like that, how could he even stand to look at himself in the bathroom mirror shaving, or showering, without being turned on? Maybe it was he just chose to pleasure himself only to kingdom come, had no desire for a partner—a totally complete, capable, self-sustaining narcissist?! Or, being alien… was sexually dead?
With a quick adjustment to his thick glasses, Dr. Tentacle stood to his feet and left his office. He stalked down the hall, and went into his laboratory to begin experiments for his latest endeavor. He had to find a way to defeat SuperiorMan once and for all. Perhaps a new form of aphrodisiac gas? That might do it. He had thrown every weapon against him and none of them had had the slightest effect. The only chink in his powers he could think of to link onto was the sexual enticement one, and that seemed impossible to crack. Or perhaps, the creature had no earthly sexual nature that could be stirred or touched after all? (Funny, the others had been such fair game. Most of them eunuchs, now. Lure them in, turn them on—switch them off! Kaput!! Relatively simple, how even the “mightiest” can fall.)
Oh, how he wanted that damn hero out of his way! He had to find a method to overpower him. His scalp began to itch, just thinking of it.
“Uh, boss?” A deep voice boomed behind him.
The doctor turned. It was one of his bodyguards at the door. “What is it?”
“There is someone here to see about the bounty. I think you better come right away. It appears… he has SuperiorMan with him. And yours for the taking.”
Dr. Tentacle gasped, nearly dropped the beaker in his hands, set it down quickly—and rushed past his bodyguard, down the hall, past a blur of artworks, and back into his office. And there!! His mouth fell open at the sight of SuperiorMan on his knees, in the middle of the floor. A blanket and blindfold were heaped to his side, the superhero’s wrists behind his back, bound with a thin, token rope… a studded, leather dog collar firmly affixed around his thick neck. His handsome head was bowed humbly, facing downward. His normally pristine blue, red, and yellow uniform was stained with sweat, blood, grease, and dirt… and stretching against the fabric of his notably-sized crotch was a mounded, well-contained erection, that looked on the verge of ripping through his tight red briefs. But his skin, what he could see of it, looked oddly purple and brownish-blue, as if he’d been run over by a truck! Two trucks!!
The mad villain could hardly contain his rancorous glee. Had he been right? He looked around for the woman who had managed to break SuperiorMan. But all he saw was a devilishly handsome young stalwart, with model good looks, a rash of glorious blond hair, grinning at him. The youth was also obviously nicely, but leanly muscled, athletic-looking in a college-frat sort of way, not even six feet tall… weaving a leather strap loosely back and forth, the leash in his hand, that was connected to the hero’s bowed neck. He was sitting back, relaxed on the plush couch. Nonchalant as if waiting for a beer.
“I’m here for the bounty!” the young man spoke confidently. “Ten million, wasn’t it?”
Dr. Tentacle’s jaw dropped. He stared in astonishment at the subdued, massively muscled, but bashfully turned-on hero at his feet, and then to the trim, but not really effeminate, mod-cultured, young man holding his leash: the man in charge! Then it hit him. SuperiorMan was gay!? Had to be! The Dr.’s thoughts jumped wildly. Bingo!! No wonder he’d never gotten the hero snared by throwing women at him. (Even naked women with 42” breasts and 26” waists, in distress, stranded on a deserted beach. SuperiorMan had merely wrapped them in his cape and carried them off to safety or home—without the slightest flicker of a kiss or care; his iron-resistance never failing, nor self-control cracked. Amazing!)
“He’s a fag!!” the doctor gasped.
“Easy on the language, doc. Some men just like men,” the young man raised an eyebrow, tilted his head to the side.
“I’m sorry. My apologies. No matter. The term justifies the “fact,” wouldn’t you say?” he rubbed his hands together, beside himself. Then looking down at the subject at his feet, “Right, Superior-Fag?!”
The broken hero flushed furiously, and lowered his head further in shame. It was still torture for him to know his fabled muscle and powers had been stripped down so easily, and by a younger, much lesser man…(no matter how much he had nearly begged for it to be so, inside). And now, to be displayed like a hapless piece of meat—practically gelded, and ripe for the grinding. His spirit was crushed.
“So, tell me how did you do it? How did you capture our once SuperiorMan?”
The doctor was all ears, urgent to hear, seating himself at his desk. After all, it had been his personal quest for years! This was bound to be a good story.
The young man grinned widely. “It happened just last week, actually. I had him so powered down he couldn’t function, until today. Sorry for the delay.”
The preppie went on, uncrossing his legs, tugged on the leash a moment, getting his captive to look towards him… relishing the despair, the plaintive look for release from the anguished eyes of the bound hero’s into his. He nodded, pursing his lips towards his trophy, teasing him. “Gotta keep that cock up, baby. Just waiting for me, right?” His hand dropped to his crotch, indicating the joy being held there for the dispirited, captive stud.If maybe…? He saw the hero’s eyes momentarily brighten, then dim, realizing the deception… as he took in a dejected, uncomfortable breath.
“Please,” SuperiorMan murmured, begging softly. “Don’t! Let me go. You don’t have to—all the money you want, I can get you. Only you can save me, restore me. Don’t do this!”
He was whipped, defeated. Nearly paralyzed by his bulk-throbbing erection, and the overwhelming knowledge his superior strength was gone, as long as this man held him… his once powerful body too useless to come to his defense. Unable to do a single thing about it, his brain nearly vacuumed into oblivion with the truth: his sexual, personal ruination. The weakness that had ensnared him.
As Doctor Tentacle listened voraciously, he was swept up with the new and exciting possibilities suddenly opened to him. The capture of the most magnificent being on the planet, who could neither harm, hinder, nor thwart him anymore. The world itself would soon be his to rule…. It was only a matter of time.
And when the young man spoke, SuperiorMan recalled it all. Relived it over and over: how he had been captured, restructured, engulfed by his failure to be who he was, could never be again. How it had happened. His eyes watering; and the words rekindling, resealing the flaw of his alien sexuality. Reinforcing his defeat.
* * *
Late, Seven Harrowing Nights Ago —
SuperiorMan was flying easily through the air over the tall buildings of Manhattan. It had been a typical night of fighting petty thieves and stopping crimes. The hero hovered briefly in the air, running his fingers through his wavy black hair, scanning the city below for any signs of evil in progress. His red-caped, skin-tight blue, nylo-spandex uniform clung neatly against his wondrously muscled body. His costume was a symbol of hope and strength for the good people of New York, and he went out every night patrolling the streets to help keep them safe. His keen senses picked up a heated skirmish happening a few blocks away. In a streak of red, blue, and yellow, he hastened off to save the day.
Landing softly in the back of the alley, SuperiorMan saw that a group of thugs were in the process of mugging a handsome young man. The young man seemed to be tousling with one of the robbers, locked in a rough, struggling combat. The hero straightened himself, and moved stealthily forwards. Then closer, halting, going into his most famous, heroic pose, his hands firmly resting on his hips, he called out: “You need to stop NOW, and go about some other business! Or to jail!” His voice rang with authority, and potent warning.
The gang robbers turned and cursed, seeing it was no less than New York’s most famous protector and hero. There was a brief second when SuperiorMan thought they might actually be foolish enough to try and fight him. A short pause, then they all turned tail and ran as fast as their legs could carry them. He was being easy on them, giving them a chance to straighten out—not go to prison.
“Thank you, thank you,” the rescued man rushed over, and lunged into him with a grateful hug. The young man clung to him for a few moments, holding on, pressing into his solid, powerful physique, more than grateful for the rescue. He was obviously shaking with relief and in subsiding shock. He blurted out that they had pulled a gun—threatened to shoot if he didn’t hand over his wallet, and his prized Rolex watch. That , he could not surrender! A college graduation present, from a dearly departed uncle. There had been a struggle to keep it. Though they had stripped his wallet empty of his paycheck cash. Still, he had feared for his life, three against one. It was only pure luck SuperiorMan had been coasting nearby.
“You’re a God-send,” the young blond said. His face was still marked with concern, a few dark smudges on his cheek.
Smiling, SuperiorMan patted him on the shoulder, trying to disengage himself, and let him know everything would be alright. The young man was slight and thin, compared to his own 270 lb. mass, but the hardness of the younger’s body pressing tight against him suggested a well-developed muscularity, as well as a fine, possibly very beautiful symmetry which he might possess. The young blond looked up at him, and the hero found himself looking into a pair of stunningly beautiful blue eyes, much like his own, that almost pierced him right into his groin. Startled, he had to catch his breath, and break it off. Not what he’d expected.
The young fellow’s flaxen hair was slightly disheveled, his face like an ad from GQ, but on the more masculine side. “Thanks again, for saving me!” letting his hands sink into the hard richness of SuperiorMan’s incomparable arms. The both of them feeling the heightened contact. The blond’s eyes held him. Each of them, appreciating the beauty of the other. And somehow locked into it.
The superhero felt a strange twinge. He had to let go, not think. SuperiorMan grinned back, disarmingly. He was used to the gratitude from people he had saved, but looking into those absorbing blue eyes, he felt a ripple shiver through his entire body. Stepping back, the hero smiled easily. “Be safe,” he said heroically, a slight bend to his knees, beginning to slow thrust upward, jettison himself into the night sky.
He wanted to be quick in his retreat. Some danger brewing, here? The young man had triggered something he didn’t wish to deal with, or confront. He had better— “Wait! Please! The young man cried out, stopping him in mid-rise. “Would you, could you—do you think you could take me home? It’s only a block or two. I’m really shook, and I need some medication fast. I have a dangerously crazy heart rate. I might not be able to make it on my own.”
The hero looked down at the young man trying to decide if he should honor the request. It seemed legitimate enough. Not something he normally did, regardless. And he was very wary of close physical contact. All his life, he’d always distanced himself from others. It was his nemesis, and his salvation. He couldn’t allow certain things to happen.
* * *
(Once before, he had rescued a construction worker at a dam, in the upper part of the state. A scaffolding had broken, and the man was desperately clinging to the rig, before it might well be pitched 200 feet down to a rocky death, no way of rescue. He had called on his cellphone for Emergency Help, but that might be way too late till they could get there. Miraculously, SuperiorMan had heard of his plight and hastened to his aid. SuperiorMan’s arms solid around him, he had grasped the man, and carried him to a safer spot… feeling yes, the man was indeed a massive bodybuilder, the power of his hard physique against him nearly overwhelming him. SuperiorMan got a little groggy, the feel of their bodies so warmly bold and close. And when they landed, the man had continued to hold onto him in an impossible bear-hug, breathing out, “My God—your body! Let’s have a little man to man, hey guy?”
SuperiorMan was stunned, tried to pull back.
“Come on, it’s only natural—men built like us.”
The hero had to take a sharp breath, instinctively breaking free of the man’s grasp. For him, it could be fatal. With a sad look, he’d pulled back… reluctant, and sped away. An impossible stirring within—how the man’s muscled bulk had pressed in hard against his chest, their pecs melding.
But the more he flew, he could not help but remember the warmth… the male’s huge, muscular body in his arms. His own body unnervingly began to tingle. He found himself breathing raggedly, his cock began to stiffen; he ached, he yearned… he almost fell from the sky. He had to take a swift dive into a nearby lake to snap back into his senses.
If he ever allowed himself—no, he would not think! Every sexual thought had to be dismissed, in whatever way possible! He could not allow it! Because once begun, it would get into his semen-sensitive brain, threaten his whole existence, disabling him from using his strength—his mind overwhelmed with the need for Superior-release, and nothing else: consuming him, all his strength, his focus, his reason. With only the desire to come and come and come. Which if he did… could paralyze him for hours, or even days after. Drain him to extinction. Maybe once in a while, it would be okay. But regularly, no way. He had to be careful.
Simple: his semen was his strength. Had to be retained. And if released, it could only be in a dream, a nighttime occurrence, most usually. He could hardly allow to even pleasure himself, any longer. It took too much out of him. For if he indulged too often, he’d no longer be a superhero.)
* * *
He brought his mind back into focus. No, this was a kid, not some huge bodybuilder.(Though nice...!) He scanned the area with his super-sensory powers; no other crimes at the moment needed his attention. He nodded, and floated back to the ground. He smiled, opened his arms. The young man eagerly pressed up and in close to him; and holding tightly onto the man he’d just saved, they took off into the air. The subtle heat of the youthful body felt firm against his own manly physique. Comforting. Then, unexpectedly, that special tingling he’d felt before ran through him. For a staggering moment, he thought he was going to lose his balance in the air.
The blond, still somewhat quivering against him, gave him directions to his apartment. As they flew to the rooftop of the designated apartment, SuperiorMan began to feel a tad lightheaded. A strangeness for his super body. He felt a brief wave of relief when they finally landed on the roof of the building. Yet he was somehow “intoxicated,” realizing his groin was flushed, his penis had slightly stirred. Aware suddenly, his big nipples, too, had begun to harden and throb. Ache! A trace of panic drifted through him. He still had to fly—.
SuperiorMan was politely on the verge of speeding away, but the young man grabbed for his hand suddenly, not letting go, and pulled him in close. “Is there nothing I can do… to repay you, for your help?”
It was the way he said it, those wondrous blue eyes, the heat of his breath. SuperiorMan felt suddenly weaker, sensing danger. The invitation was among the most intriguing, enticing things he’d ever heard or felt. He had to leave, and leave now!
But he hesitated just a moment too long—then fully gasped, as his hand was taken, pressed in against the crotch of the young blond—whose other hand now boldly cupped down over the rising mound of his own. Thunderstruck, the superhero could only go, “Oouh-aaahhh!” His whole system froze.
How dare he—how dare this kid to even think or do such a thing!! No one in all his life had ever made such an attempt: so brash, so bold! In total shock, he stood motionless. This was definitely inappropriate—even under the most furtive of circumstances! But the heat of their surging genitals within each of their hands pushed into, and through him, stirring SuperiorMan into a semi-paralysis. The kid was also obviously more than well-hung. He could feel him … his need sparking, flaring. The lightheaded feeling returned; the hero flushed a furious crimson. He could hardly breathe. He literally could not move/help himself, being compromised into allowing the continued pressure on the curve of the younger’s endowment, who was also pressuring his. Imminent warning signs blasted through his brain. Stop, now!!
He swallowed, shyly. Fiercely. More than alarmed.
“I, I don’t need a reward… for being a hero,” he mustered; feigning more confidence into his voice than he felt, as he tried to remove his hand. He was so dizzy he could hardly stand. And he knew the youth knew it.
Taking his time, the boy just smiled. “I thought so. I was right.”
“Right…?” SuperiorMan echoed, like a hollow toy.
The young man then released him, and suddenly flicked lightly with the back of his fingernails, up across and against the raging hardness of the hero’s big nipples. They were still standing nearly chest to chest. SuperiorMan shocked, gasped audibly. “Uunn-uuhhh! N-nooo!! ” Stricken. No one had ever—!
The blond smiled confidently as he ran his hands across SuperiorMan’s broad chest, and deeply into, savoring his mighty pecs, now pliable in his hands. The superhero was staggered with unbelief. Pure panic rose within. His brain! He was being consumed! Failing. His sexual arousal overcoming him, falling prey to his own inner alien physiology. He was desperately trying to get a grip on his senses. This was going way too far. He had to go! Or he wouldn’t—
“I’m sure we know some way to repay you, don’t we, big guy?” The young man was much too close, staring him down. The hero’s insides were beginning to unravel. The boy told him, “I know…. Figured it out a long time ago. What you need, want—.”
“No….” A desperate, soft plea.
SuperiorMan knew his last chance had come, he must fly away! But the young man’s hand once again latched firmly into his swollen crotch. The boy was incredibly intoxicating, attractive. And he remembered, unwillingly, the largeness of him he’d felt in his hands. How it felt so good to touch, be touched, wanted this way. His brain was ragging away from him. Reality was hazing. “I, I’m sorry. I have to… should— must go.” His words barely coherent.
With the waning vestiges of his strength, he valiantly turned to lift himself into the air. SuperiorMan then gasped, and stumbled—the young man had grabbed his cape, grounding him. Stunned, he plunged forward in his fall, and felt next a sharp slap on his costumed buttocks. It startled him. How dare this young man! He was a superhero, a man among men! This kid—he couldn’t have!! Pulled him down…?! Slapped his ass?!
“It’s kinda rude to leave before I can properly thank you,” the young man said sharply.
He was suddenly stronger, more strident. Commanding. Before the hero could react, the youth knelt down where he lay, grasped him roughly by his head, and kissed him passionately.
SuperiorMan tried to pull free, escape the grasp, but the tingling in his whole system had turned into an impossible, disarming foil, waves of “something” swept through… had spread across, and deep into his body, paralyzing him. His limbs were weak, all of them! A floodgate was starting to open. For the first time in ages, SuperiorMan felt his cock rapidly filling to full mast. It threatened to break through his clothing. He had to adjust himself, the rise of it, burgeoning many inches higher than his navel. For indeed, he was well-endowed, and always tried to hide it. Lest others were to come onto him, taken advantage of his alien weakness.
The hero barely managed to twist free from the kiss, rolled, breath laboring, felt at, and stared down at his massive erection threatening all of his sanity. He was being rendered helpless. In terror, now, at being at the whim of another. He felt both a surging warmth, and an inexplicable relaxedness course throughout his entire body, unlike anything he’d ever quite felt before—somehow strengthening him, and yet sapping away that very same strength into nothingness. SuperiorMan knew he had to get away before his powers totally deserted him. This could be fatal. If anyone ever—
The young man was all over him, keeping him down.
The young man smiled slyly, and reaching down started to re-fondle the hero’s genitals. Rubbing, stroking. “It looks like our mighty SuperiorMan does want to be paid for his services?” he teased. He breathed possessively tight against him, the hero’s stoked cock tremoring: an uncontrollable oak in his one hand, while he deftly massaged deep into his captive’s larger than golf ball sized testicles lodged within the confines of his briefs with the other.
The superhero was heated beyond redemption. Totally consumed with his need to come ,to come, to come... be taken . He looked skyward, desperately.
SuperiorMan moaned as he felt his powers being sifted from his body. His carefully guarded secret was now exposed. He had paid little attention to the endless women sent by Doctor Tentacle trying to stupidly compromise his powers, because he was not attracted to them! The hero, instead, had had a strong attraction to other built, or handsome men, which he had always managed to suppress and bring under control. Now, all those years of restraint had been exploded loose by the skillful manipulations of this one young man. His heart was pounding more than loud enough to be heard, he was sure, trying to breathe more calmly. Focus. But his pulsing nipples ached fiercely with insane piercings, reaching deep inside his groin with every beat of his heart.
The surprised, mounted yearning within “to be taken,” staggered him. No! Oh, no!!
He was mesmerized. His nipples, now rigid acorns, more than three-fourths the size of most men’s thumbs—no!! Oh, God, no!! The blond’s mouth was now savoring over them, teasing, chewing into them through the tight fabric stretched across his bursting pecs! This can’t be! The kid was taking him down! His mouth slacked open, his eyes rolled upwards. The blond was playing him like a well-used instrument, perfected by years of practice. He was literally struggling for breath, control. He knew he was losing. His mind, no longer his. His brain, fried.
“Please, d-don’t—!” He begged futilely, trying to keep the young man’s insistent hands from rubbing over his massive cock, push the eager mouth away from his anxious, surge-hungry nipples… near-ready beginning to cream. But his own large hands were too easily moved away and restrained, as his body was being played, manipulated into full containment.
The youth whispered in his ear, relishing his control. “You’re starting to look a little stressed, worn out, SuperiorMan. We need to go to my apartment, so you can relax.”
“N-n-no! No. I c-can’t.” The hero shook his head, using the last of his determined might to rise, push the young man away. He barely succeeded. He knew if the man got him into his apartment, he would not be able to escape, no matter what might happen. He was woozy, dizzy. In a mindless haze, he struggled to his feet on wobbly legs. Staggered a moment.
“Must—must... go! Now! ” He made a desperate, but weak leap, tried once more to launch himself upward for his escape, to flee, to fly… but fell heavily to the ground, instead. Flat on his face. He was now thoroughly frightened, realizing his powers had indeed waned away. The raging hardness of his cock had betrayed him, already oozing his precious juices from him. The surging sexual stimuli within his brain, irrevocably at work, overpowering his senses, his control of them—his self. He was lost.
“Wow!” the young blond sighed. “The all-powerful mighty man, mighty no more,” observing his foundered confusion. The kid knew then he was totally subdued.
The youth smirked down at him as he struggled, trying to regain his feet. “Not so tough now, are we?” He then crudely grabbed the fallen hero by his hair, yanking his head up to look at him. “It’s time, big boy. Little hero. You belong to me, now. All mine. Forever .”
Nose to nose.
The look on SuperiorMan’s face was priceless… blank, yet terrified—helpless. The younger man’s words had chilled him to the bone. His eyes widened, fearfully.
* *
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