An old, original and incomplete story by Pat, an unknown author. Retitled, enhanced/adjusted, and completed by Rick Henry, 06-2021. Revised again , and further expanded 06-2023 thru 01-2024. strawbridge88@att.net.
(Characters within are properties of DC Comics. This is a work of fan-fiction for adult, mature readers.)
Part One: Preparing “The Catch.”
It was very simple: primitive really, Lex Luthor thought, as he handled the object in his hand, weighing and spinning it in his palm. Extraordinarily heavy, considering its size. He then carefully redeposited it in its container. Slipped it smoothly into his vest pocket, exhaling a sigh of relaxed satisfaction. The great Superman truly did not have long now, did he...? Moments, seconds, minutes? The famed, power-housed inhuman miracle known as the “invincible Man of Steel” had at last fallen into his hands! Could not escape, regardless of all his touted muscle and assets. Nothing would be able to save him. (Neither himself, Lois Lane; Batman; or God.)
Alexander Luthor smiled as he heard the crashes from the other room. His ploy had worked, although not so happily for some of his men—pawns of properly staged management, of course—knowing that the massive MOS had broken through his phony, albeit expensive fortress. Small price to pay for the grand scheme about to unfold and who was now rough-housing it with his so-called “decoy defenders”... behind the well-set, lead-lined walls of his very cleverly designed, newest but deviant lair. The place much more, in a sense, to become Superman’s tomb. Or at least, his temporary containment center, if necessary. Should anything go wrong. Until the truer finale could be carried out. And his execution—expedient as possible.
He could hear Superman making short work of his henchmen, the audible sounds of punches and gruntings, crashes and howls, echoing through the cold, neighboring walls. Lex’s men, all six of them, built and seasoned fighters, no match for the extraordinarily muscled, blue-suited, red-caped, booted alien on a mission. All of them in the dark about what was going on—as Lex had failed to give them any clue about their unexpected visitor, or why he should be there. And no less would have resisted his intrusion into their illegal, high stakes poker game, anyway. Knowing he was not there to join for “the deal.”
There was a notable pause in the ruckus. Lex cocked his head, waiting. Failing to get the information he sought (as he knew he wouldn’t), none other than “the Man” himself suddenly emerged through an unsecured portal as planned. He appeared agitated, impatient, not the slightest bit exhausted. Glaring and out of sorts.
Luthor looked up from his desk as the hero entered.
“Well, if it isn’t Super-shit, himself,” he grinned cordially. “To what do we owe this honor? Or is it Super-stud—about to be made “stud-less?””
“Hmph!” grunted the figure before him. “Always the wise-mouth, eh, Lex?”
Every time Luthor saw Superman the sight could nearly take his breath away (as it did for many others). It never became common place or less awe inspiring to see the bulk of all that 6'4", now older, slightly heavier 270 lbs. of muscle make his entrance. (And how as he had aged, seemed to have become even “larger.” At least asset-wise. But certainly not fatter: his stomach still ridged and flat. Remarkable! ) The confident and graceful stance which Superman always possessed, so masculine and fearless. Movie-star handsome, his large hands gripping the sides of his trim waist, his over-sized chest prow-ed up and out, stretching the yellow “S” on his spandex suit to its full elasticity. His sinewy, marmoreal muscles, bulging through his skin-tight costume, perfectly shelved and sculpted, and the protrusion of his large alien nipples outstanding from them, breath-taking! (Strange looking, almost oblong—making one to wonder... bordering on the obscene, yet discreetly padded.)
But what was probably most impressive was the enormous bulge massed heavy and long between his powerful legs. The pendulous apple-bag that Superman lugged around in front of where his zipper was supposed to be, covered by a flimsy, silky pair of red briefs with loop holes in the waistband where he strapped in his yellow belt—no less an “every-man’s” envy. It was obvious he wore a cup, not so much for protection as for modesty; however, because his assets were so huge the heft below his pubis formed a large, protrusive mound. And had seemingly increased more so than when younger. (Unless in his older-aged vanity he had taken to stuffing himself with some extra material, to reassure everyone of his unfailing machismo and virility?) The sight made Lex feel light in the head; his own reputable enough as it were. Such a shame he was going to destroy all that… his time had arrived.
The thing amazing Lex most was that Superman seemed oblivious to the general effect his revelatory assets had on anyone. He admired Superman's courage to display his large, beautiful body with such pride, and was perplexed that Superman showed no arrogance about it, but a mere nonchalance. He was not ashamed of his beauty and was not squeamish about his masculinity. Surely he was not immune to ignoring the lure of his own wonderments at home—if stripped, ready to bathe or dress? Or perhaps he was so narcissistically self-satisfied, he gave no thought to either sharing himself with anyone else, hoping to attract a similar other (which would have been next to impossible), nor wanted to? For none had been known to confess to having had partnership with him, or intimacy of any kind. Ever a mystery. His truths well-cloaked and never revealed. Secret as his Fortress of Solitude. But of little matter, soon enough.
As much as Lex admired the physique and qualities of the Man of Steel, they also created an innate rage within him. How come Superman was so perfect, and Lex wasn't?! Especially with Lex’s intelligence on the Mensa scale. How could this hero be so kind, intelligent, strong, built, and confident, without being petty, arrogant, selfish, mean, and vapid? Superman was perfect in every way—and that perfection rankled Lex to no end! He must dominate Superman, and prove himself the better, more powerful man. Finish his rule once and for all! And let him know while doing it, who had, and how simple it was....
"Where are the hostages, Lex? You know I can't see through lead, so I might have to tear down this lair one wall at a time, unless you make it easier. Just tell me now," Superman said.
“Oh, dear. How rude! A bit out of sorts, are we?”
“Where, Lex, where ? Or I’ll start with this room.”
“Hmmmn. Is that part of your Boy Scout training? Destroying other’s property for no good reason?” satisfied his ploy had worked. “There are no hostages, Superman. Except for you —.”
“Some joke!” the MOS exhaled. Annoyed. Hands on hips, monster pecs thrust forwards.
Lex gaped at his imposing form with some trepidation. But with no desire other than to knock the alien off his feet, jackhammer those outrageous pectorals through his big chest and into the floor. Flatly stomp those carved abdominals into his backbone. Smash his flagrant bulge into jello. Could imagine him screaming defenseless while doing so. Maybe he would, later? Getting a hard-on thinking about it.
“No. No hostages. Just you. Been expecting you to drop by, though. “Hostages” always a great way to jerk your leash, pull you in. No worry there. Just you. The one to be worried, that is.”
“Lex, your evil traps are legendary, so I won’t take your threat as empty,” Superman sighed. “What have you got planned for me this time?”
“Have a seat, please. We can discuss.”
“No, I’d rather stand.”
“Oh, please. Relax. You’re my guest. Drink? Brandy, coffee—Pepsi?”
“I’m not thirsty. And I don’t have the time.” But he did make his move, eyeing things carefully; then seated himself in a soft leather armchair opposite Luthor’s desk, gathering his cape to one side. Luthor never ceased to amaze him with his schemes. Plots, deals, or proposals.
“Why would I need hostages, when I have the “biggest enchilada” here?” directing a finger towards him.
Superman pursed his lips, “Indeed!” And rolled his eyes.
“As you know, Superman, I’ve been trying for the longest time to figure how to stop you, bring you down. Curtail our mutual antagonisms. Rather exhausting, when you think of it.”
“So, stop trying. We can’t let evil like yours prevail.”
“My, my—evil, am I? Not a nice thing to say. Just trying to feather my nest.”
“At others’ expense, usually.”
“Isn’t it, “All’s fair in love and war,” the way the saying goes?”
“But who started the ‘war’? Haven’t seen any ‘love’ here, lately. And war of some sort seems to be your specialty.”
“With you—in particular, yes. Blame me?”
“But I’m the one who seeks truth and justice, right from wrong.”
“Spoken like a nice Boy Scout. But you do get in my way.”
“Didn’t you learn anything, your last four years in confinement...?”
“Yes, and no. That you helped put me there, did not sit well, no . And yes , that you’re about to cease being a thorn in my side. Even more sure now, you won’t be... anymore! ”
The MOS raised his eyebrows, piqued at Luthor’s bravado.
Lex smiled and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a small metal container about twice the size of a pack of cigarettes. “I think I’ve finally figured my way out, this time. And your way down....”
Superman, intuitively uncomfortable, tried to see into the box with his x-ray vision, but was thwarted by its lead covering. Sensing danger, he started to rise; his red clad feet firmly under him. He was no fool.
“Not so fast, Superman. We’re not finished…”
“What’s that in your hand, Luthor?” he interrupted.
“Oh, this little thing?” Luthor teased, as he showed Superman the object. A dull, grayish box. “The weapon that killed the giant. Have you never read the Bible, Superman?”
“I’m not interested in Bible study with you, Luthor. Time for me to be going—” but was cut short. “Unnhhhh!” his breath suddenly sharp-gasped. The two men’s eyes locked momentarily.
Lex had calmly flicked open the box with a sly grin. Superman’s eyes jolted wide. The green glow emanating from the container unmistakable—its immediate lethality presented. Superman’s entire being shuddered. Stiffened. Fingers curled defensively, claw-like. His mouth going dry. Frozen and statuesque.
“Where..?!” Superman managed, incredulous. Kryptonite, the one thing that could do him in. Rare as hen’s teeth to acquire; the government on his behalf having secured all such known of the element in a vault at Star Labs, more secure than Fort Knox. And there it was! And it looked like a fair-sized rock.
Lex pulled it out of the box, fitted it into his palm... admiring it. Shaken to his core, the startled MOS fell back a few steps. His breathing already labored. A certain swirl of doom swept through his guts. This was no toy!
“It doesn’t matter where I got it, Superman. Beautiful, isn’t it? Heavy, too,” Lex laughed as he looked over at his distressed guest. He could tell the radiation from the mineral was already affecting the “invulnerable” Man of Steel from halfway across the room. Beads of sweat had appeared on the imposing alien’s furrowed brow.
“Luthor, you—you deceived me!” the hero blurted. He was slowly, desperately trying to back up towards the portal through which he had entered. One of his large outstretched hands in front of him, plaintively gesturing to hold Lex at bay... the other urgent, feeling behind for the doorway.
“But we haven’t formally said goodbye... not so fast, please!” Luthor quickly pushing a button on his desk console. “We haven’t concluded our negotiations!”
The door behind Superman slid shut just as he reached it. His huge back bumped against it, confirming his confinement. With undue alarm he twisted, searching for a handle, a knob. His sense of exigency all through him. Knowing he could not in this state break through the enclosing steel. “What the—no, noohhh!! ” he exclaimed, turning back to face Luthor.
“Trapped! You’ve fallen into my trap, Superman,” Lex chortled. “No escape! Imagine—a bug in a bottle. All that muscle wimpy as mud, now. No flying away this time.”
“Tricked , you mean. I should’ve known that hostage routine was phony. What could you use them for, that wouldn’t end badly for you? You can’t keep me here. An excuse to lure me in for something weird.”
“Since cordial invitations wouldn’t have done it, how else to bring you around? You’re an adept pupil, Super-slug . Or shall be. And getting there....”
Superman glared at him, jaws tightened. More than aware that if Lex got too close, he might be near helpless to defend himself. An easy conquest, or whatever his foe had in mind. The truth of the matter too real. His strength and powers already compromised, waning. He was in dire straits. Practically a prisoner. Even his heartbeats rapid and irregular. Feeling light-headed and faint.
“Now back to my history lesson,” Luthor continued. “You remember the story of David and Goliath?” Casting aside the gray metallic box, he roll-played the piece of Kryptonite he coyly held in his hand. “One little pebble... about the density of a medium-sized lime. Oh, dear,” he waved it at him. “And giantsy goes “poof!” ”
Knowing he now was the hostage. Or worse—Superman could feel the sapping of his great strength, his legs a bit rubbery. Stomach churning. The glow from the green mineral already affecting his vision, squinting his eyes he replied, “What do you want, Luther?” Could they “negotiate”—wasn’t that what Luthor had mentioned earlier? Some kind of deal? He had to get out of there, stall for time. Figure a strategy. This rock could kill him. He had a right to fear.
Ignoring Superman's question, Luthor went on. “The small boy, David—hardly fifteen, and two hundred plus pounds lighter—beat the much larger giant, Goliath... with but one shot,” Lex said, as he raised his hand; and then grabbed up a Y-shaped object which had been lying atop of his desk all along.
Superman’s stomach gave a discernable flip.
“A slingshot?!” Superman retorted disdainfully, no less recognizing the primitive weapon, knowing its purpose. But he had to maintain a brave front. “Really Lex, you have sunk to a new low,” he adjured. Nevertheless, he began to slow-grope his way counter-clockwise along the hard wall of the room. Must somehow get to the other side of it, shield himself from the potency of the debilitating K.
Lex, aware of Superman's movements, rose from his desk, and countered by moving, too. The enormous alien in skin-clinging blue and red spandex was an implacable sight, and his presence still intimidating even when he had been noticeably rattled, and no doubt weakened, as well. But one could not tell yet by how little or how much. They circled each other warily.
"Yes, a dweeby slingshot!" Lex declared. "One shot into the skull of the great Goliath, and “boom” all his lights went out! Permanently! No matter how much bigger, stronger, more powerful he was. Or thought he was.... ” Lex, preparing to insert the Kryptonite rock into the carriage of the slingshot.
Teasing his foe was such great fun. He could well see the concern furrowing on his victim’s brow. He took his time positioning the rock—both men eagle eyeing each other and their movements. Lex, casually raising his arms, slowly pulled the elastic strings taut.
“No! No, Lex! Don’t! ” Both of Superman’s hands rising in front of him.
It was pure delight to hear the MOS expressing distress. Each of them jockeying for a suitable position; Lex aiming for Superman’s head. (He’d practiced for weeks—he was not going to miss.)
"Wait! Hold it, Lex! You know I'm faster than a speeding bullet. You only get one shot, and you know I'll stop it. You should’ve thought this through better," Superman moving defensively along the wall, forcing Lex to counter. “Then, you’re done.”
Lex now by the doorway, and Superman closer to the other button to open the door. “Who’s done, Blue Boy? The Kryptonite should already be weakening, slowing you down enough by now. I wonder whose speed is the more effective?” Lex mused—while pulling the sling tighter with intent to release. His plan seemed to be working.
The MOS actually seemed afraid. The alarm on his face evident.
“Even if I miss, you still have to get past me. Strong enough, fast enough?”
"Don't be so sure!" Superman warned, extending one huge hand in front of him, the other as if trying to cover his entire face and skull. He knew it would burn to catch or deflect it, but he really had no choice. If Luthor released the Kryptonite from its cradle, any part of it striking him would be more than serious.
“Were, maybe. But no more!” Luthor paused.
Superman seized his chance and used his remaining reserves to turn, lunge, reach for and push the button to the door. Lex slightly adjusted his aim simultaneously—allowed the Kryptonite rock to launch free. As the door of the room slid open, the rock flew through the air with blinding speed. Superman back-reached to catch the deadly projectile and...
It never reached his hand. Superman had assumed Lex was aiming for his skull, but the quick adjustment Lex had made in his aim, when Superman was busy reaching to open the door, proved his undoing.
The sound of the impact was the first thing that registered to Lex. It sounded like a bat hitting a home run at a major league game—a crack of lightning hitting a tree. And then the explosive “pop” which Lex knew must be Superman's protective cup shattering into myriad pieces.
The unbelievable had happened—the instantaneous destruction of his padded graphene, micro-latticed cup: (only the weight of his own four-pound genitals any problem, balance-wise, when fast-moving)—now their defenses effectively overcome, with properties Kryptonite had never been known to have.
The funny thing was the silence afterwards. Lex stared at Superman, and Superman stared at Lex—his huge palm still outstretched before him, ready to catch the rock he was sure was intended for his head, his eyes registering shock and confusion. His arm then dropped, sudden and slack. Lex took an apprehensive intake of breath and waited for what seemed like hours.
In reality, it was mere seconds: Superman's eyes suddenly rolled up into his head and his lips released a deep, low-pitched sound. Almost as if in slow motion, the 6'4" hero twist-crumpled to his knees. The room shook from his fall. His head arched up and back, one hand still protectively to his forehead, the other futilely rushing to save his invaded bulge—then he toppled like a mighty tree to his side. A penetrating “Uuoo-aahhhh!!” throatily ripped out of him.
It took a few seconds for it to sink in for Lex. But he quickly realized that he had no need to hurry. Superman was in a felled, benumbed fetal position on his side, tremoring slowly back and forth, both of his hands seeking to assuage his wound... gasping, disoriented and disarmed, emitting deep-rooted moans. (The pain in his testicles crushingly sharp—the larger left one most specifically; as well as the jolt seared into his brain—a shock worse than debilitating. His main power and thought sources assaulted!!)
Lex hadn't been sure his plan would work, but apparently Superman's manly assets were beyond an easy, perfect target. Now that he looked back on it, he was reassured he would have a far easier time hitting Superman's alien-large bulge with his slingshot, rather than the superhero's head. After all, at the proper angle, it was too well-displayed in front of his body... an extraordinary, susceptible bull's eye. (And he had practiced over a month getting ready.)
Superman had anticipated Lex was aiming for his forehead, when he was really going for his true head-quarters. Lex wondered if he’d caught any of Superman's notable penis in the impact as he walked around the downed superhero. He knew he’d scored into Superman's balls because the big lug was still keening, knees curled towards his chest and his red boots vibrantly shaking.
Lex saw the Kryptonite rock lying on the floor a few feet from the whimpering Man of Steel and went to retrieve it. He laughed as he circled Superman's prostrate body, waving it around in the air over him.
"Poor Superman, those ponderous, sorry genitals always in the way. I must have hit those bad boys dead on, hunh—Supes, you okay? " Lex asked as he bent, grabbed at Superman' perfect cleft chin and squeezed it between his fingers, rubbed the wicked mineral through the sweat on his forehead, trying to make eye contact with the fragged hero. He could see tears coming out of Superman's eyes, and his unfocused blue orbs were practically insensate and uncomprehending.
"Aww, man—I really hit the jackpot! When I heard your cup shatter, I knew it couldn't be good for you," Lex joked. “Goliath meeting his doom!” Letting him go, he shrugged his shoulders. Stood up.
“You, you... didn’t... play fair,” Superman stammered. Trying to straighten himself out a bit. Then partially sitting up, thighs curled under him, “... caught me, one third down. My cock: the shield shattered.”
“Wondered about that,” Lex huffed. Disappointed not as much damage as expected. Yet no less pleased. An indirect strike better than none at all.
Taking a hand not shyly into his briefs, the hero carefully extracted as many of the pieces as possible, pulling them out, looking at them with concerned surprise. “Don’t need to be cutting myself—your nasty games,” tossing the jagged remnants aside. “But near killed me, just the same. Satisfied...!? ” A cross between anger, embarrassment, and dismay. Caution and a realized fear. His voice quavery, unsteady.
“Now, really,” Lex countered. “Why would I want to do that?” cooly juggling the green rock from hand to hand watching its sparkle, going to reseat himself and gaze at his defeated accomplishment still on the carpet. “If you were a simple Earthling, with such limited powers—what would you have done? Faced with such a force as yourself? Just protecting myself.”
The MOS swallowed hard, tried to rise unsuccessfully, their eyes meeting. Lex laid the missile aside near the discarded sling. Superman taking it as a brief sign of reprieve. The open doorway still there behind him. A hope clicked on in his brain. If he could.... But he’d need to be fast.
“But I wasn’t threatening you—.”
“Oh?! Hmmmn... but remember what I said, the ‘love and war’ bit. Maybe I was being hasty. Just in case. Though I suppose I’ve proved my point, and you’ve had your Bible lesson for today.” A potent pause. “Go ahead. Whenever you’re ready you can leave.”
Lex watched carefully how his nemesis was still trying to right himself, but couldn’t seem to rise or gain his legs. Must really have done a number on him; maybe damaged that fire-hose cock of his, if nothing else. Able to use it again? Fractured his ego? Smirking to himself, seeing how the alien still hand rubbed over that ridiculously large mound of his. What a joke that wonderment had turned out to be! And all those muscles?! Must seriously have harmed him. Momentarily, anyway, the way he still winced.
With a calculated sigh, “Go on, now. Get out of here,” Lex scoffed. “Just letting you know, I’m the “superior one” from here on out. Always will be, Big Boy! Why I called you in. To let you know I can dominate you any time I wish, or if you interfere in my plans again. Oops, big trouble for you! Another shot or two? Won’t be so “cocky” then, will you, I get more of this stuff—further developed weapons.... No matter how presentably you like to preen yourself. Especially not to me.”
(Having obtained a small cache of K. fragments from a heretofore unclassified meteor strike in Siberia. Black market dealings far more effective than big government negotiations, when properly handled. Although his threat really held little water. He had barely obtained a tiny handful of the stuff.)
For Superman, the warning grinding in like stone. To be in Luthor’s presence again might be fatal. Would have to avoid him at all costs. His wings permanently clipped. It took a few more minutes for him to recover some motor skills, found he was still not able to get to his feet. It was hellishly embarrassing. To be that weak!
Above him, Luthor once more grabbed up the Kryptonite, waved the rock towards him with raised eyebrows. “Going, or staying—perhaps a shot of brandy would help?” he offered.
Superman grunted and turned away. He knew he couldn't win this battle, but if he could get away, some part of his pride intact, he could return to win another day. He decided to turn the other cheek despite the painful blow that Lex had delivered to him. Which had been truly near fatal. He gritted his teeth, conceding Luthor had the upper hand.
Superman slowly lifted his huge body up to all fours and began to sheepishly crawl out of the lead-lined room. Not yet facile enough to get to his feet, he knew if he were to save his life and strength, he had to get away NOW. And the open door was a merciful invitation, his only chance. No less in shame, he crawled embarrassedly towards it.
Lex watched amused from his chair. Superman's cape was tossed over to one side as he crawled away from Lex. From this view, Lex could see Superman's perfectly shaped, muscular ass stretching his red briefs. He could also see the hefty, desirable mound of flesh slung between Superman's legs from behind. Something that had inspired many with lust, if not outright worship (not to mention the continuing wonder of his overall manly physique). Now that Superman's protective-modesty cup had been shattered, Lex could even make out the definition of both testicles. He noted that the left hung much lower than the right, as usual with most men. Susceptible, weighty avocados.
But it was their size which was their glory. Envy of an army. Could probably have bred one, too! Wondering, whatever did he use them for—only his own narcissistic pleasure? Probably. As such “hugely hung” men were invariably known to do.... The opportunity had been too great to pass. What a set this creature had. Scoring into them, big-time. Why not? And that such a built, endowed “do-gooder” existed: no less an ever-eroding insult! (Like a Fairy Godfather for all of mankind.) He’d thus shown Superman the prelude to his demise. Striking him where, how, and when least expected. Unnerved him with true fear. Able to depower him completely. Then causing him to be filled with false hope—a merciful reprieve? But not so. Not today. Or ever.
Time now to “fairy” him down for good. Extinguish him like the worrisome gnat he had become. And let him know while doing it, he was the one who could! Hadn’t it been mano-a-mano all along, and he had proven to prevail?! Rendering the famed MOS helpless, at long last. That paragon of “unconquerable” manly muscle, conquered!
Deciding further, Lex stood up, could not stop himself, and took a running start. He imagined Superman's exposed, massive gonads as the game winning football that he needed to kick between a set of paired field posts. He swung his leg far back, then followed through with a devastating kick; the blunt toe-point of his shoe making perfect contact, centered below and into the lower portion of Superman's softly-slung, enormous nuts. "GOAL!" Lex shouted in triumph.
Superman’s scream, instantaneous.
His cry was heart-stopping, his own caught in electric pause. Head up-flung, spine arcing—his sudden shriek the sound of a wounded bull, a yowling bear. His massive body then lurched forwards, twisted, roll-curled into a knot. Practically murdered on the spot!! AGAIN!! Spasmed like a fish out of water. Hands frantically gripping at his scrotum. Lightning bolts of anguish piercing deep into his core, great jolts of jagged light behind his eyes. His brain and senses as if sparking wild with ripped-out wires. Mortally wounded.
He roiled horrified on the floor, wanting to escape his own body—the searing pain he was experiencing. Big thighs tense-writhing tightly; his keening pitiful. For such a big man... wail-whimpered like a deflowered girl.
Lex's snide chortle was evil and humiliating, adding salt to an already exposed wound. The legendary Kal-El had been beyond surprised by Luthor's insidious, brutal attacks, was truly in great pain. The most shocking aspect of this encounter was Lex's success! Twice Lex had viciously struck Superman’s private parts, and twice he had succeeded with the greatest of ease. Attacks sudden and unexpected, catching the muscular superhero off-guard, thrusting him into uncharted chasms of an abject horror never before experienced, rendering him completely helpless at the feet of his arch-nemesis. Literally had him by the balls!!
For his tantamount survival, he had to escape this hellish situation—and quickly!! But his major problem was the mind-boggling agony lodged in the core of his being, crushed lightning-spasms in the treasury of his testicles... erasing all processing of his thoughts. His functionality impaired, inability to concentrate. Only the pain. Arrows struck fatally into his Achilles’ Heel.
His once mighty body now a broken machine: like a defused robot… weak, warped, tremoring—clank-sparking desperately out of use or control.
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