The Telemachus Story Archive

Superman - Wildcat Drillers
Part 2 - Conquest
By Rick Henry
Email: strawbridge88@att.net

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WILDCAT DRILLERS

Chapter Two — Conquest.

Their sturdy legs spread wide, bridged slightly behind them, leaning into a tight clench, shoulders towards shoulders, arms spread wide, hands locked… two stags in close-up tension, each testing the other, ever seeking a weak point. Rico, of course, not stupid, and full of himself. The game was never to be outside your opponent, but always in close… and thus in control. Something Superman was not aware of per se, but soon would learn.

Tensing, pushing, straining. Remarkable muscle against muscle, in near equal dominance. As the minutes dragged, no less the pressuring power of each against each, as in any match… is going to “wind” the opponent, slowly wear his endurance. Superman was acutely aware of the warmth of the sun also powering into him, giving him hope; the heat on his broad shoulders, the fan of his lats, burgeoning triceps. Having seen Rico at work otherwise, he knew he could not allow any disadvantages, slip-ups. Both of them, the veins of their foreheads stressed into view, their magnificent bodies surging against each other.

Knowing his super-muscled foe was already tiring, Rico cleverly allowed for their equally huge arms to begin to drop, lower and lower, still maintaining their mutually enforced pressures. When he had them at waist level, he managed to reverse his hand grips over and onto Superman’s wrists, giving him the scored, ultimate control. He then coolly butt-cracked the side of his head hard into Superman’s left temple, an unexpected jolt—again rock-headed him harder into his right. The alien’s eyes seemed to go out of focus.Dazed . Rico’s grip on the powerfully muscled hero’s wrists was giving him the perfect advantage, drawing the superhero into him closer and closer, woozy and off-guard, then knee-powered him sharply—striking his testicles.

Kal shocked, gasped loudly… completely struck to his core, already dazed beyond sense, and nearly new-paralyzed with the horrifying pain, which almost dropped him like a stone. Rico then further kneed him when his torso involuntarily curled forwards—a thunderous jolt to the chin. Superman’s head snapped backwards. Rico let go of his wrists momentarily, watching how El Supremo was now immobilized, more than staggering, about to completely collapse, practically unconscious on his feet.

He knew he had struck a near death blow; Superman’s mind blown out of comprehension. His strength rendered into nothing. Helpless. Unable to barely breathe.

Rico wanted the hero to absorb how quickly and near to defeat he was, delighting in the way the alien was acknowledging his impending failure to even be able to fight like a man: man to man. With his advantage more than gaining the noted superiority, Rico advanced to the struggling hero, closing the gap between them once more. With dread Superman saw him nearing. Before he realized what was happening, Rico had ensnared his wrists once more… playing, enticing him to again try to resist him. His brain still stunned. Balls throbbing with fire.

Then, seeing the truly expressed worry etched on Kal’s face, after a few more pressured struggles, neither giving nor relenting, but sensing his partner’s waning power, Rico made the simplest of moves, jerking the hero into him again, nearly chest to chest—and suddenly drop-sat before him, tossing Superman over his head. Another move of complete surprise. The breath knocked-out-of-him, the demoralized hero floundered. Sprawled on his back.

Yet Rico had never let go of his left arm, had his wrist still locked—swiveled, and was atop him in seconds. The hero’s lats sealed to the hard ground, it worse than unnerved him. He was down! Kal groped for more than breath, trying to undo the hands imprisoning his ability to use his arms effectively. Ahh, a classic ploy. One that could break a normal man’s forearm and quickly stop the fight, or further, his humerus. No bicep left. Or rip out his shoulder, dislocate it. Somehow he twisted free, rolled off. Once more regained his feet. No —a terrible mistake!!

Rico’s foot nailed laterally into his ribcage, he lunged sideways, another foot into his lower back, kidneys, he staggered, bent slightly forwards. Good God, a knee to the center of his chest, he was thrust backwards—the man was everywhere!! Rocky on his feet, Rico watched him. The crowd of men hooted, their champion they knew was in fine form.

A running leap, and Rico’s both feet crashed into his upper chest, again he was down. The men cheered. Superman knew the outcome was drawing to a close. So soon?! His skills woefully insufficient. Rico let him get up again. Wanted to tease him, re-impress him with his impending downfall….

Superman had to admit to a deep, unearthly frantic-ness rushing through him. He can’t be defeated! Not him—the most powerful being in the universe—having his ass beaten by some tanned, streetwise Latin, some warped criminal! Who just may very well be able to kill him! His strength nearly gone, now. Certainly not skilled enough to defend himself against such an onslaught! He’d seen other men fall at Rico’s hands. But he was further weakening his own self now, to allow the thought … on the way to being conquered by a mere earthling! He, who had forever had the advantage over every planet-enemy his whole life! In shock, that he had become so easily a staggering, dirt-weak, tiring mortal.

Had he really thought he would live forever?

But the sun, he could tell, was re-charging his cells. He took a deep breath. He was not going to fail. He had a mission. To protect and help the people of the earth. His pre-planned destiny. Not to expire in a scrungy jungle! As if he had never existed!

He frantically did look for escape. He desperately needed the time to heal, restore. He spotted a wider opening between some of the men gathered in their circle. He feinted a move towards Rico, their muscular dancing around each other, closer to the rim of the circle, then he bolted through the opening, knocking two men aside quicker than they could cry out—his strong arms sweeping out and wide, a fist of each hand connecting with each of their temples. Still, it looked like a “cowardly” way out of the fight.

But alas, another was quicker. The crook of a crowbar snared his ankle, and he was on his face before he knew it, flight aborted. The men closed in.

“… tried to run like a girl!”

“Some fucking “Super ” man!”

“… a scared pussy!”

“El Superior maricon, for sure!”

In his rolling out from their grasps, trying to ward off their kicks, Kal was unaware that a lightly noosed rope had been looped around his left ankle and drawn tight, a rope twenty feet long. Never really felt it.

Rico railed his crew off of him, told them to stand back. It was still his fight, not theirs. Both pissed and amused “the mighty one” had tried to run like a scared rabbit. He knew he had the fucker, was going to finish him off. El Supremo, no more! What a cunt for a hero!

Rico’s disdain was almost boiling. His near-twin, matching muscleman, whom he once could almost have worshipped and admired on his own, had proven himself to be a woman…. So, he would treat him as one.

He got up close to the heavily labored and breathing hard superhero. Superman still wary of what to expect, his guts churning, so deeply embarrassed at his failed attempt—not to run from a fight, but literally to save his life, or the chance of it—but unduly caught. He couldn’t allow these men to destroy what he had been, was. But it appeared that’s what would be happening, and he was practically helpless to stop it. Rico gloated.

With a smile then, unexpected, Rico threw his arms around him… being shorter… the lower part of his ribcage, and began to squeeze. Instantly, Superman knew what was up—a lethal fucking bear hug, designed to crush his ribs, cancel his breathing, take him into unconsciousness. The alien tried urgently to grasp a lungful of air, and expand his chest; his hands desperate to undo the crush of his enemy’s massive, mighty arms. His own suddenly seemed too weak. Could not undo the lock of Rico’s thick wrists. Fingers could not get under them.

Rico whispered into him harshly, mouth under his chin, only he could hear. “I sucked your cock—oh, “mighty cunt.” Now… you suck mine!”

The air was going out of Superman’s lungs. He struggled, was failing. Rico raised him up off of his feet, the shorter man’s strength amazing him, bending him backwards.

“Maybe break your girly back, too! No running then!”

Kal knew he was not strong enough, his brain blanking out in dark splotches. Oh, damn, the sun, the sun, where was his help! Rico gave him a final squeeze, seeing his victim near fainting. He whirled, and tossed him down again. Superman lay gasping on his back, stunned—Rico was on top of him in moments. Rico’s pelvis and butt firmly across his pecs, knees thrust up tight and strong under his armpits, freezing the use of his before very powerful arms upwards and back. Now useless. Rico, pulling then his massive genitals out of his sling. His impossible balls. Practically onto his face.

“If I thought you could, I’d stuff them in your mouth!” Rico smirked. “Instead, you take my cock—and die, El Superior!! Too big for any man, once in his throat—! No escape. Strangle your fucking ass. Know you wanted it… first time you saw it. Even so. All yours, now. All… yours!!

Superman, desperate to avoid Rico’s thickening member. Tried valiantly to toss his head, back and forth… prevent—but, he had to breathe … and the monster was plunging into him, past his lips, his teeth, thrusting into his throat, filling him. His eyes rolled, desperate, and in shock. His huge, muscled arms, powerless to save him. Rico’s enormous cock going further and further down into him, choking his air. Holy God, he couldn’t breathe. The man was snuffing him out. Irrevocably. He moaned, for mercy. For release. Eyes pleading. Rico’s absorbing his—saw his unrestrained panic. Wow, oh, wheeee!! The great and mighty Superman conquered at last—simply strangled by an earthling’s superior cock?!

No Kryptonite or oil needed—if he couldn’t breathe!

No, no, this couldn’t be! Can’t be! NOT ME! No—not me, SUPERMAN!! No, no— NOOooohhHHH!!!! Breath failing. Kal’s great torso arching, his neck, his arms trying; hands clenching futily. Face choking red.

Rico, riding him like a bronc, holding his wavering, thrashing head tight and in place. Plunging his proud meat into him as far and deep as he could go. Enjoying the MOS’s terror—inevitable expiration. But, God, this alien was so beautiful ! Pussy or no… such a shame to meet his mighty, muscular end this way.

Finally, and begging all the gods of Krypton or of earth (in his spirit), demanding the sun to do its work—it must, it must —his cells tingling, feeling it—casting aside any thoughts of fear, terror—determined , and suddenly, incredibly beyond anger and angry, enraged—with a surge of near impossible might—using his innate, recharged Kryptonian strength, and near miraculous flexibility… Superman was able to tuck in his waist, curl, lift his legs up, hook his ankles under Rico’s chin—and jerk the sonofabitch off of him!! Rico screaming, as he felt his cock being torn and ripped by Superman’s teeth as it was pulled free from the alien’s dying throat. More than caught off guard, and in total pain and surprise… found himself violently thrust away, and rolling stupidly across the ground.

The alien couldn’t!—but he had!! Rico’s undefeated alarm, stunned and worsening.

Superman rose in a super-natural rage, gaining his feet. No going back!! He advanced upon the still amazed Rico, who stared up at him as if some dinosaur had suddenly emerged from the jungle. Even the men were backing up, starting to scatter.

Damn you, damn you, damn you!” Superman howled.

Almost uncontrollable, and never one to swear—but his humiliation had been beyond endurance—he, the most magnificent being in the universe !—having been publicly forced to suck some asshole’s, low-life, fly-by-night criminal’s cock—it was nearly more than he could bear. Having been almost killed in the process!!

Scooping down, he grasped hold of the frozen-gaping Rico by his balls—one huge orb in each hand, and lifted the man high into the air. The screaming Rico, floundering, thrashing, now his mighty own skills and muscles powerless, suspended in mid-air by his incredible genitals, his head and neck and torso dangling backwards, his arms and legs useless writhing pythons. And holding him by his testicles alone, lifting him up and down as if he were doing barbell curls, or drilling for oil, Kal began to pound the hapless Brazilian’s head into the ground, over and over and over and over… nearly crushing his skull, breaking his neck.

Rico, screaming horribly all the while. The pain—his treasured, wondrous testicles being destroyed—his head and life being pounded to near oblivion. The men in unalterable terror.

Finally, Superman came to his senses. His heart overwhelming him with shame, having allowed himself such an uncontrollable rage, (as if he were an ordinary low-scum, himself). And Rico’s unparalleled beauty he could not deny, had no desire to harm him; truly . Did not want to kill him—regardless. Still knowing his strength was not yet anywhere near peaking, and rapidly tiring from his uncharacteristic display of anger, and the exertion thereof… in his heart, he relented. Paused, and simply tossed Rico aside, a few feet from him like trash.

The Brazilian was moaning, in obvious hurt, but glared over at him: green eyes full of anger, and an almost fear and respect, as equally still full of vindictive daggers.

Superman knew his chance had come. Somewhat still winded, and taking deep breaths, he quickly scanned the area; half the men had seemed to disappear. In a flash, he decided his best hope lay to go along the edge of the mineral-soaked pool several yards away, skirt it, and head off into the jungle, before the men could regroup or plan anything, and while Rico was still with the stuffing knocked out of him. No time to think.

He started in a swift lope towards the pool, entirely forgetting the rope still fastened onto his ankle, so intent was he on escape. He nearly reached the edge of the depressed area, when lightning struck from behind.

With an animal cry, an impossible jolt, the skilled Rico’s feet stabbed into the upper center of his widely muscled back—at the same instant the rope on his ankle also pulled taunt. Rico, a rearward, unexpected, unthought-of missile… launched from nowhere.

As if power-line tasered, Superman plunged face forward, hurtled helplessly into the murky oil. Arms uselessly outstretched to break his fall into the dark, ensnaring, welcoming death. Though it was shallow, only maybe a foot deep at the edge, his roped ankle also preventing him, and the horror of the searing liquid now quenching the remnants of his strength… he flailed.

Rico, a roiling, solid mass upon his back, a mounded, rock-muscled bicep under his throat, riding him to his doom… cursing, choking.

Superman’s panic re-established, his terror complete. He had lost. Was going to die.

* *

His muscular weight firmly onto his back, legs pinioning round his waist and hips, one arm throat-choking him, Rico rode the mighty one, who thrashed helplessly beneath him. Gurgling cries escaped the alien’s lips, more than desperate. With another arm he continuously dunked and fought to keep Superman’s face and head below the line of the pool’s murky liquid, raising and lowering him by his hair, down and up, up and down… to continually keep the alien’s panic on full edge, knowing he was going to drown him. And Superman had no power to stop him, bucking wildly, worse than frantic. Every cell of his body weakening, breath going, mind warping, and his wondrously muscled, massive limbs futilely struggling.

Then, hard as a sledgehammer’s handle, the unthinkable : Rico managed to also plunge his huge, oil-slickened cock easily past Superman’s defenses, impaling him—the alien screamed! Fucking him to death, the ultimate conquest, while drowning him. Superman could not escape. And now worse, the giant cock of his enemy was penetrating deep inside him, the lethal oil searing his inside cavities beyond hope or rescue. He was dying, both from without and within.

Only seconds left: the impossible pain of his foe’s greater than normal phallus ripping through him, forcing the irradiated black-death deeper and deeper inside him. Rico, then, with now only a half-nelson from up and under Kal’s armpit, and crushing down on top of the back of his desperate-to-be-freed neck—fucking him viciously, cruelly—Superman’s lights were going out.

The mighty Man of Steel’s great body began to lose its tension, his life-power waning, he bucked… fainter and fainter, his attempts to save himself, fading… Rico keeping his face down, beneath but a few simple inches of the dark liquid, hardly deep enough to even fully cover his ears, the back of his head… until Superman’s body went completely limp beneath him, a few involuntary shudders jolting through his mighty shoulders, his frame, a few air bubbles reaching the surface. His alien body, at last stilled.

Angry, that he had again not yet even come, yet gloating at his handiwork, he pulled his slowly diminishing member from within and out of Superman’s pierced ass. Just lay atop him a few moments more, to make sure he was dead. Then arose, with a shout. And dragged the lifeless body with him by his hair, out of the murk, and onto the bank. He stood tall and proud, some of his men had returned, were gathered around him. Looking at the expired El Supremo in amazement.

“Fucked the bastard to death!” Rico grinned. “Knew I could—once he was less than full powered.”

But when they rolled over the extinguished oil-slicked body, all were in astonishment; the alien’s cock was at full mast, and began to spontaneously shoot out the last remnants of his rich, gloried life-source. A post mortem wonderment, a strange gushing to watch. Not superbly forceful, more like a weakening hydrant, but nonetheless impressive.

“Damn, he still has some juice in him?!” Salvo wondered. “Maybe he’s not dead…?”

“No, fuck, he’s dead. Or will be!”

Rico ordered them to power-hose the both of them off, clean them each from the rancid petroleum. He still had a plan, wondering … after the spew of the dead Superman’s sperm he had seen, his mind churning. Then, once done, he checked him again. Nope, Superman was not breathing. No movement of his pecs, lungs. Straining at the weight of him, he still was able to hoist the limp form up, and sling him proudly like a bagged trophy over his shoulder. The tiny tucked waist of the superhero, easily folded the body onto him, the great V-shape of his torso and lifelessly loose arms, dangling down his back side, the expired limp, sculpted legs down his front. He carried his prize to a more grassy-like clearing near a few of their tents. Had his men spread a few blankets, dropped the naked, impressively still built and hung Superman onto them. And had to admit, the superhero had also been endearingly handsome. Not unlike himself.

“Hmmmm,” Rico said to himself. “I need a drink.”

“What’re ya gonna do with the body, boss? He is… was Superman. Can’t keep him hanging around. What if somebody come’s looking—. Bound to know he was here.”

“Chop him up for jaguar food. Simple. Nothing left.”

That problem solved, Rico relaxed, Sank into his camp chair, and began to chug his liquor. Still, oddly anguished inside, to see the staggeringly beautiful body of his once enemy, lying in full glory in front of him What a horribly ignoble end for such a creature, not unlike his own magnificence…. Didn’t sit well with him, really. Still disturbed hell out of him.

Damn, if willing, the extinguished alien would have made the most magnificent fuck one could imagine . The two of them, wondrously enjoined.

He took another drink.

But when one of his men tried to behead him, and still couldn’t—he sat up. Re-pondered. Even dead… they couldn’t dispose of the body??!!

* *

Then, with a sudden strange thought, Rico roused himself, stood over the supine form of the hugely muscled alien. And without much ado, lifted himself in a leap, both feet wild and hard, down and deep into the inert body’s abdomen beneath him.

In shock, the form almost jerked forwards and up, as if trying to rise—a great expulsion of compressed air and bile and dark fluid erupted from it—an unearthly loud groan. And without truly thinking, Rico rolled the limp body over, and began to pound, pummel, and assault the soon tremoring torso, whose nasty contents kept spewing from its throat and mouth onto the ground.

“FUCK! He’s still alive!!”

The men were stupefied. Couldn’t be. And as Rico then astutely began to compress his torso again, rerolled it onto his back, even started to resuscitate the Kryptonian, mouth to mouth.

An impossible groan, a wavering of the hands, reaching up, begging almost… the alien came alive. Eyes blinking. But mind-shot, obviously. Had been entered into a dark cavern of incomprehension for how long? Lights slowly re-flickering back on.

Rico was both elated, confused, and defiantly angry. This God-damned creature, that couldn’t be killed??!! Well, he’d see about that. This time for sure. His hands closed tight around the alien’s throat and began to choke him into oblivion again. Was going to finish the job! Only Kal’s blue, frantic eyes struck him to his core. Was desperately pleading up at him—Kal’s weakened, no-strength fingers, wanly trying to close over, undo the death of Rico’s choking wrists. But Rico couldn’t do it. Anymore. Stopped. The imprint of the superhero’s mouth against his was still seared fresh into his consciousness. He saw the alien founder, struggle—and take in deep, deep breaths once more, his glorious, big arms still sprawled helpless beside him.

But Rico couldn’t let his men see him get pussy-soft , be merciful!! Not now!! He had to have a plan. Ahhh, of course. Just what he’d said he would do. Fuck the bastard to his death, rupture his wells, extinguish him!

While Superman lay still helpless, Rico dropped down on top of him again, began to slip out of his sling, rub himself erotically all over him, their muscles mating, though one was being forceful, the other mindlessly uncaring.

“Told you I was going to fuck you out! Didn’t even come, those other times. Now, I will! Your ass Superman… is no longer yours. Butmine—our s! Until you never breathe again….”

The little left of Kal’s thought life was sheared. Knew Rico would finish him. He gave a somewhat croaking groan, felt Rico’s hard member once more at his male entrance, his feet, his knees being raised… had not a drop of strength to resist him. The Latin’s cock pushed in, and again, Kal screamed. It pleased Rico to no end. And began to plunder the alien’s treasure. Kal was gasping, oh, God, that huge, huge rod scoring him, coring him, killing him….!!

But after only a few horrible, grinding and ruthless minutes, something near miraculous happened: and Kal, both shocked and relieved, became suddenly then thankful for his own sexuality, the sudden flow of his own wetness from within him, easing the assault, making it not so terrible, so rough. Was it Rico’s pre-cum abundance, or his own anal tract fluids easing the pain? Didn’t matter… both of them surprised, and dually, actually grateful.

What had been a rough, stubborn attack, began to ease, smooth out.

“Man, I can tell, though—this isn’t your first rodeo! Bet like I thought—taking your own... for years, and years, and years. Even sucking your own rod, hey? Right, Supes? Right! You can tell me. Who the fuck cares? You’re dead anyway….”

Kal nodded; tears of agony, humiliation—yet dryly. Still in pain, the Latin-huge cock filling him to bursting, every centimeter, nonetheless. A bare whisper, defeated. “Yes… yes, I have. Did…. My, my only—no, no one else. Ever. No… no choice. Couldn’t—.” Nearly incoherent.

Only the other men kept watching, destroyed any sense of intimacy. Oh, hell. It was a death sentence, wasn’t it? Why be nice?

And then, it happened. Kal was beyond pain, and incredibly… began to moan far differently. Rico knew this was not a fighting resistance; he was hearing ecstasy!! The tone of the alien’s sounds waning, soothing, yet more intense. Suddenly, Superman cried out, “Rico , my nipples… please! Ohh—unnnhhh, suck! Chew—chew them! Plee-eassee ….”

Rico almost staggered. My God, the insides of the alien were now gripping onto his cock, unlike anything he’d ever known. Actually massaging his huge member, as he fucked him—it was not possible!! And, as he also wanted, he did, took Kal’s nipples in his teeth, sucked, chewed, bit, savored… the rush of Superman’s juices into his mouth, an enormous shock… and a wondrous, beyond wondrous delight, or compare. The same as the superhero was literally devouring, suctioning his big cock from inside him, so richly, so sweetly.

But Superman was in complete nirvana, barely aware of anything happening. His own super-sexuality had taken over. Automatically . His own physiology—a part of himself not even he had ever experienced or known. Now in process, in control. Realizing, though he had fucked himself before… the curving into himself with his own cock had never allowed penetrating himself that deep, as deep as Rico was reaming him. Rico, touching, triggering something else he never knew he’d really had. Oh, yes, ravaging his prostate to high heaven. But this, this other! … of which he had only read about, never known: a second gland even three times more interiorly sensitive. Which only another very well-endowed male could reach, or… a Kryptonian brother (were one existent: equally as hung as he), the two of them, finally able to be enjoined, as men on his home planet might have done, become at one with.

Kal’s cries rose, intensifying, as Rico’s male fleshly weapon of destruction was bringing him to an unalterable climax. Though Rico normally would have been sucking the alien’s near to bursting cock, while indeed reaming him… Rico’s own was mounted too deep into explosion, and cut loose within his submissive partner, ripping loose a massive load into Superman’s depths, whose own equally responded, a true manly scream of pure rapture—rupturing.

Rico, Rico-oohh. You—you’ve mated me, mated me… m-aay-ted me…!”

A gusher of super white, hot rich sperm, an incredible torrent, exploded from his super-cock, his depths, blasting forth from between them, out and over Superman’s chest and head and beyond, drench-spraying Rico’s face, and his own. As they bucked into stillness. Kal severely near to fainting again. Lay gasping, and gasping. His mighty arms crushing around, ever clinging to his Latin-conqueror’s muscled form, holding him tight as he could, close to him.

The big muscled alien quivered and spasmed, as did Rico, still in him.

But after five minutes, Rico who had collapsed atop him in stunned surprise, and desirably lapped some of his warm alien essence into his mouth. Felt as if every cell in his body had disintegrated and been put back together again. Knew he had to end this. Got up, could almost not retain his feet, and staggered off to collapse again on the side small rise of a nearby slope.

Panting. Doing what he must, a smeared wide smile on his face. Beyond sated. Lay back, waved his arm… languidly. His men, knowing the permissive gesture. Who, with howls of delight, and wicked cruelty, descended upon, and began to devour the helpless, depleted Superman, still stunned… but now in worse than horrified shock.

Rico, no, no… help me, God!—please no, not this, not this...!” he sobbed. Wailed in terror, from the roots of his soul. “No, Rico, no—mercy, my God…!!”

They set upon him, in an angered, fomenting sexual heat. Raped him mercilessly. In less than twenty minutes, there were no more cries…. An occasional, piercing shriek. A moan cut-off. Punctuated by strong manly and equally unmanly weepings. But soon it stopped. Lower and lesser sounds only able to be made, or heard. His mind and will, going. Ego disintegrating. The inevitable destruction of the once mighty Superman had come into being: a cruel reality. As promised.

As agreed.

Rico fell into a fitful sleep. Exhausted.

* *

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