Part Seven
“Who the hell is this?”
“Uhh, Raleigh Baker, from your Westlake Rehab & Therapy/Massage Center , sir.”
“Well, this better be good. I’m in the middle of my favorite steakhouse dinner. What is your emergency, young man?”
“Sir, uhh, Mr. Luthor, I’m calling about the reward.”
“What reward? Did you rob a bank?”
“No, no sir. The reward, the 20 million—for the identity of “Superman,” who he is.”
“Are you out of your mind? Twenty million?!!”
“Wasn’t that what you said? Dead or alive. Or valid information?”
“This better be good. Or you’ll be dog-meat, interrupting my dinner to give me false shit!”
“I, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the real deal. And he’s here. Getting a massage. And, and he’s
pretty much out of it. Really de-powered, and... and rather, uhh, just not with it.”
“Are you crazy? Superman doesn’t go out and get naked and get massages. Stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You want to keep your nuts, boy? Shit like this will get them removed!”
“True, sir. He’s here. I, I... uh, serviced him. Got him to blow his load so many times, he’s... he’s weak as a kitten now. Got him here taking a shower, in the sauna now.”
“Well, what’s his name, Bozo? Give me that.”
“It’s uhh... that reporter. Clark Kent. And boy is he built. Hung like a horse....”
“I’ll be damned! Always wondered. You’re sure?! ”
“He, he has his name tattooed right around his cock. Said it was put there when he was a baby, Kal-El. I remember once some years ago, when Superman gave a rare interview, he told that Lois Lane person his real alien’s name was Kal-El. Never heard that before from anyone else. Or anywhere else. And that’s what I saw. Right in his skin.”
“Where is he now?”
“In the showers. Going to get him into the sauna, then the hot tub. But he’ll still be pretty fagged out. Lost a lot of strength, can hardly stand up. I milked him down good.”
“You keep him there—at all costs! I’ll be there within the hour. And this better be real. Or you just lost more than your nuts, kid. I don’t take jokes.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Luthor. I’ll keep him down. Twenty million, right?”
“Right! In your account tomorrow. If this is real. Hold him, we’re on the way!”
And the phone went dead.
Raleigh took a deep breath. Wrung his hands. What had he done? The most beautiful, most powerful man in the universe... and he’d turned him over like a cheap criminal to one of the most ruthless men in the world. For twenty million dollars?? He’d be rich now, forever. What had he done?! His conscience began to struggle within him. Damn, Superman. What a fucking stud!! And he, the instrument of his downfall. How could he?!
And what could or would they do to him , if he really was the famed MOS? And if he wasn’t—dear God, maybe he himself didn’t have that long to live.
Since he knew he was going to take the man down, and keep him down, improbable as it seemed, and he must —his puny skills against the incredible, invulnerable superhero?! He hurriedly went into the snack/kitchen area and prepared their drinks. Popping off the lid of a large bottle of innocuous Icy Blue Frost Gatorade , he poured out the contents into two tall tumblers, and then added in the fatal extra. For himself he crushed in two, for his prey he crushed in four. The Viagra would be tasteless in the mix. Superman, if already able to be rendered helpless by the inexplicable working of his alien sexuality, would be even worse than helpless if kept continually aroused, and continually depleted of his necessary life-forces.... Simple. No Kryptonite needed. His own assets his own destruction; or at least leading him into his own never expected captivity.
The timers had gone off. The showering done, the sauna over. Still dripping wet from the hot tub, Raleigh helped towel the muscle man off. Still utterly in awe of his beauty, the perfection of his stunning physique. This time he did not refrain from savoring over Clark’s magnificent, hard curved gluteals, oddly smooth and unhaired as a baby’s butt: and his touch seemed very, very welcome... soft murmurings from the big man’s throat... as his terry cloth covered hands, then his purely bare hands on his bared flesh continued the savoring.... What a pliable pussy this guy had turned out to be! Raleigh grinned quietly to himself. Those big suction knobs still attached to his proud hairy chest like obscene door handles or something. Amazing they had stayed on, but they had served the purpose Raleigh was sure.
The big man was become more than weary now, almost wearier than before. Just as Raleigh knew and had planned. Sure, the shower would have cleaned and perked him up a bit—but the sauna would have re-depleted his strength, and the hot relaxing assault by the whirlpool bath on his entire musculature would have further fagged him out beyond what any hugely muscled man could have expected (or been aware of). How many stories he’d heard of the dangers of big muscled men, having had a few alcoholic drinks with their girlfriends, suddenly slipping under the lethally warm waters, never to be revived again. Their hearts stopped, brains gone. With practically also no body fat whatsoever, to bolster his needed reserves of strength to draw from, Clark’s fate was sealed. Or at least, temporarily. Thus, so cleverly having been mentored directly into his demise, Clark found himself barely able to stand steady on his feet, weaving a little. Wanted so much to lay down, take a nap.
Then Raleigh offered him the refreshing drink, as he partook of his own. Clark took it as simply as much needed water for his rehydration. “Some Gatorade,” he offered him. “Helps with the depletion of your electrolytes you’ve experienced—should perk you up.”
“Yeah, need that. For sure,” the wobbly monolith mumbled, and drank his down quickly. Then, “These, these things ...?” he questioned. “Still need them?” indicating the intoxicating bulbs on his broad pecs.
“No. Here, let me take them.” Raleigh went up to him, grasped them, squeezed lightly: Clark winced, as he force-jerked them off of him.
“Ahhhhhhh!!” the MOS gasped. And Raleigh looked. Just as he had suspected—Superman’s alien teats had increased 40% more in length and thickness, were truly “udderly astounding.” Even Clark gaped in wonderment. Had to touch them, could hardly believe their increased size and sensitivity, barely flicked at them. Mouth half open.
Then holding up the bulbs, Raleigh said, “Just what I thought. Full of your juice, wow!” raised one of them to his lips, and downed it in a swift, long draught. What he didn’t expect was the tingle and vibe that rushed through his whole body, as if suddenly receiving an inexplicable jolt of strange power and stimulation into every single one of his cells. A super-secret, at last exposed!
“NO!! NO!! DON’T—I NEED THAT!! My milk—my strength . Nooo!! Please!!”
The look on Clark’s face, truly desperate—so urgent to partake of what he needed—continually always daily needed—had been shocked to lose so much of, by the manipulation of Raleigh’s skilled hands. Now more than frantic to recycle into himself. Be restrengthened.
“Then, it’s true. You are Kal-El . Of Krypton...” Raleigh stated. Suddenly understanding.
A very quiet moment.
Stunned, and still disoriented, something he might never otherwise have admitted to anyone under different circumstances—the weakened Clark whispered, “Yes.” Eyes pleading towards Raleigh. Who relented, gave him the other bulb to drink from, which with a great sigh, Clark downed hungrily. “Thank you.... Thank you. You don’t know, how much. How much I need that. And more.”
Then, deceptively, Raleigh led him on. Easily grasped him by his big cock, leading him with no resistance like the horse he was, towards the massage table again. “Maybe you need to lay down a while longer.”
“Yes, I think... so. A little while—”
Only suddenly Raleigh spun him around, and grasped hard and strongly over and into his more than now hugely swollen tits—Clark cried out in startled shock, pain, and instant arousal—crumbling before him. The younger’s fists securely wrapped around and onto those impossible appendages. Melting him, as they began their stimulated alien flow. His wetness, and now weakness, overwhelming him, his brain. MOS, now Man of Putty.
“Raleigh, no—Raleigh; please, please—NO!!” as if terrified—now more than sharply and suddenly realizing he was under an irreversible conquest. How easily he was failing. His might no longer his. Knowing he had no power whatsoever to stop the young man, whatever he wanted to do to him. Was his....
Only Raleigh stepped back, let go of him, watching him as he stood tremoring before him, the muscled hulk’s phallus already thickening and beginning again to rise to the tower it was. A very surrendered and hopeless look in his gorgeous blue eyes. Unlike anything he’d ever offered to anyone. And the young red knew he was the one in control completely, for sure.
Raleigh then began to slowly shuck off his clothes in front of the heaving, pulse-breasted Clark. Who to Clark, looked like he’d been sent a redeeming angel straight from heaven. The youth’s body wondrously rashed over with light freckling, small-waisted, well-toned and trimly muscular; his chest, arms, legs lightly covered with beautifully colored ginger hair... though his nipples were hardly quarter-size around, not budded strongly at all but flat... and his bold young arousal was just slightly larger than average, though nicely thick and ready, thrusting from a sweet bush of encircling red hair. Clark swallowed, tried to back up, the posterior of his big thighs and under-curve of his buttocks pressed tight into the massage table.
Raleigh’s clothes dropped away without preamble.
“This is what you’ve been waiting for. Isn’t it, sir? What you wanted from the beginning,” Raleigh advanced closer to him. Innocent as a cherub, lethal as a demon. Held out his hand.
Clark extended his own, wordlessly. Encased the youth’s completely in his without question.
“You, you told me what you need. I’m here to help you. Restore. On your knees, Superman . Suck my cock. Receive my life-giving serum... my young seed. What you crave—.”
Then his fine fingers firmly enclosed the alien’s big nipples, relishing their crowned tips in his hands, pulled, squeezed, held... ever so lightly scraped his forefingers’ hard nails over the corrugated ends, which immediately rushed wet with their nectars.
“UUNNNHHHH... aaahhhhh!” completely his, buckling.
The bigger man caved, moaning. Dropped forwards. Downed. Opened his mouth, unhesitatingly sucked him in. Drank him in so sweetly and completely. Even beyond his cock root, over and completely. His big hands pulling his hips into him, swallowing his whole scrotum and balls as simply and easily as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Never what Raleigh could have expected.
The suction power and artful manipulation of the MOS’s mouth and lips and throat took the young man in so richly, with such surprise, with such astonishment, Raleigh was more than staggered. Oh, my God, my God, my God! He was almost nearly screaming with ecstasy. Instantly taken to peaks he never dreamed.
Clark Kent was the most magnificent, wonderful cocksucker one could have imagined. And literally withdrew from him all the bounty of his semen. In less than ten minutes, load after load after load. Raleigh could not believe he had had that much in him—what this man had triggered him to give.
They were both breathless, after. The MOS still on his knees, and having relaxed his grip, rather almost fallen forwards onto his hands, and bent over. His own big cock having discharged again, across the tiles of the floor, leaving him with little strength. Though the youth’s syrup he had relished wonderfully. Craved more. Oh, so much more!
“Raleigh. Thank you, thank you... thank you. So much—how I needed that. You... have no idea. But, but, still... weak, so weak .” And he raised his head, to look at the still tremoring youth above him. “Help me, help me, please .” A strange expression on his unalterably handsome face. The lines of his forehead etched into his countenance. “More. Need to... so, so... much more.”
Raleigh felt a strange again stir in his groin; a surprising surge into his abdomen, his heart.... A piercing into him like pure love. This wondrous creature, massive and helpless before him. Whom he wanted to shelter, comfort, protect, give him his all—and yet feed from eternally, be held by forever.
Only he had work to do—. Had already betrayed him, his trust; hadn’t he?
The MOS’s cock was still fully erect; primed and ready, hungry indeed for more, more, more. Jesus, what a horse!
Part Eight
The Viagra still empowering him—both of them—Raleigh knew what he had to do. Going around behind this guy Kent, he got his hands under his shoulders, into his now very damp, fully haired armpits and lifted, helping him to his feet. The giant struggled up again, wondering and pliable. And doing what he hadn’t yet done before, clutching himself hard against him... swallowed into his mouth one of Superman’s monster nipples: a truly as if well-sized young boy’s firm penis, leaking his wetness.
The alien, as if electrocuted bolted upright, then miraculously curled a huge arm around the younger man’s neck, holding him close... sighing uncontrollably. Overcome, and eager to give him his breast to nurse from, knowing it was himself who needed the flow of his nectar, not the one taking his. Yet... truly owned by him. Willing offered the suckling from and by his adored and adoring young conqueror.
The taste of him, and his closeness, nearly unglued the young man. Clark’s tit-juice was no less than inebriating. But Raleigh cleverly backed off, reinstating his control, and said simply: “I know exactly what you need, now. Come on.”
He led the still brain-addled MOS towards the low-slung brown leather chaise lounge in the far corner of the room. Initially installed as a presentable piece of furniture to underscore the relaxed luxury of the surroundings, which almost no one ever settled down on. It was full length, curve-raised slightly at the behind the knees part, with a long slightly slanted back rest, and no sides. The upholstery was firm, and cobble-surfaced by design; though on naked skin it could be more than cool to the touch. Wide enough for a big man, and even large enough for another if pressed tight alongside him.
“I have an idea, and this is the perfect set-up,” he gazed hypnotically into Clark’s accepting eyes. “You need to be reinfused, as you mentioned. So I believe if you relax here, and take from your own, it will surely help restore your powers... while I also give you another infusion of mine. The curvature of this chair is perfect for that. And when doing so, sir—knowing you do this at home when alone, normally, large as you are, as any man would... there need be no embarrassment between us.”
“You, you don’t think this is... strange? ” the hesitant Clark asked. Good God, he’d never sucked his own cock in someone else’s presence, it would have been obscene! But then he’d never sucked another someone else’s cock either, until minutes ago. Someone young enough to have been his very own son—he, the mature father-man. And it was that same one now with him reassuring him of what is natural between men who are appreciative and needful of and with each other. Nothing truly taboo when discretion is maintained, and mutually desired. Father, son, equal, or friend.
“I think we’ve already crossed that bridge, “Superman,” knowing who you are. I want only what you need, to be fulfilled. Why you came here, really. To feel like the man you need to be: serviced, and fulfilled. Nothing strange at all, when one lacks a true companion. Has needs.”
“And, you will never ... a word of this?! To anyone.”
“And let others know, I’m a fag, too—?”
“But I’M NOT—a ‘fag!’”
“Didn’t say that. Just a self-sucker—who no less fucks himself, too—who, with such a big cock couldn’t help but do, naturally. And desires, enjoys that sharing with another, so inclined.”
“And, you... too ? Take yourself?”
“Since I was a kid. Small waist, good flexibility. Like you, but less to work with.”
“I, I’d love to see that... really hot. Only have on the internet.”
“Sure, later. ’Nother time. But sir, it’s you we need to take care of.”
Clark again disarmed, snared in his web. “Oh, God. How you play my nipples—no one ever. Not even me... ohhhhhh! Milk me, milk me. Only you. Want you to have my milk, yes. Yes... oh-ohhhhhhhhhh . Offer my juice... only... to you.”
As Raleigh had already begun to do, the MOS slantedly lain back in a nearly inert pile of muscle, hard cock already crested between his huge pecs... as the young man urged him: “Curl that waist, roll those hips forwards, now lower your chin, while I milk you.” The alien accepting his own cock between his own lips, and surging forwards, more and more to take of himself. While Raleigh noted how Clark’s thighs naturally began to lift, widen, rise... welcoming him, as he rested heavily atop him between them, both of them naked and erect.
Inevitable.
His young bold member entered the mighty muscle man almost before either knew it, only a slight resistance at the entrance... accepting the fact he no doubt would not be that tight , if he was so used to plowing himself with that monster dick of his (who could blame him?). Only Raleigh’s shorter, thick member was a perfect instant rapture into the MOS’s very large and notably filled prostate, who’s cream production was surely on over-drive, in the depths of his main power center. The testicles his driving transmission engine, root home of his seed factory; yes, his great sperm capacity generated there... but his prostate and seminal vesicles the mighty reservoir of it. (Only no one except the MOS knew he had two prostates. Another lodged super deep within him, which only another huge hung Kryptonian might have reached or raptured... and where the truer, and truest of matings might have occurred, each for each, taking each other, their DNAs irrevocably to be blended and wed. But with an earthling, never possible. Though the great MOS’s reality had been vanquished, his love being erupted by the much lesser, younger man, whose ownering conquest was being seared into all his mind, heart, body, brain and desire... infused into his being by his rich, sweet cum. A fluke of happenstance. Expected by neither one.)
Raleigh on his nipples driving him berserk; Raleigh’s cock’s thickness soft-caressing and hard-ramming his prostate, taking him where he’d never been at any time.... Clark’s strong lips now beyond over his own flow-rivering glans, and half-way down his sizeable shaft deep-throating himself—well, minutes was all it would take. Combined with the urgency of his need, the power-aid of their Viagras ingested, the actual ecstasy of the whole process—still it was a shock to his whole system. When Raleigh saw how large and swollen Clark’s big cock had more so become, heard the keening pitch of his orgasmic peak rising, and noted the instant overflow and coursing of his hot, rich whiteness starting to escape the sides of his mouth—Raleigh, as he’d determined he must— literally ripped the MOS’s spewing penis from his mouth, and capped the erupting glans slit with his own. And drank fervently of Superman’s geysering life-force.
The terror-stricken MOS screamed aloud, “NO, NO, NO!! What are you doing?! NO, NO, I-I NEED THAT—need that. You don’t understand. Oh, Rah-lee!! NO, NO, NOOO-HHHHH!! ” Alternately wailing and crying, trembling—while Raleigh’s young cock juice exploded into his ass, and he struggled, and twisted beneath him... and in seconds went completely limp. Passed out in pure shock.
Yet Raleigh, feeling as if jolts of electricity sparked throughout every cell of his being, the MOS’s powerful jizz invigorating him. Half-stunned, finally relaxed. But suddenly alarmed at the mass of inert muscle under him began to slap his cheeks, shake him into consciousness. Good Lord, what had he done? Never meant to hurt him! Just doing what he must.
Moans of coming back into comprehension greeted him. The handsome Clark Kent blinking his eyes, still wondering where he was, what had happened. Hands trying to rub at his forehead, his eyes, the sides of his head, fondling at his completely wet nipples, his partially subsided cock. His alien physiology in complete disarray. Looking to his young companion for help, for clarity.
“Must, must get up,” he said. “Must... must get out of here.” He swept the young man aside, slid his legs with some effort around, trying to get his feet to the floor. “What time is it?”
“Nine forty-five, sir.”
“Why, why are you naked...?”
“You wanted me to be, sir. For your pleasure.”
“My, my pleasure...?”
“To suck my cock, Mr. Kent. Have me to fuck you.”
It took a few moments to register, Raleigh could see the thought processes being sorted through on the hazed man’s face. Amazing, the incredible Superman... as if totally unplugged from all reality. And he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of love for him, wanted to help him return to who he was. Arms around him, almost sorry he had turned him in.
Only time was getting short. Luthor and his men could be here at any moment.
Raleigh walked him slowly over to the massage table, the big man threatening to buckle and collapse any second, leaning heavily onto him—actually endearing him to him further. What they had shared....
“Weak, too weak. Raleigh, you’ve—I’ve... unloaded too much of my powers, my strength. I, I need your help. My milk, major source of my strength. Must have... my, my big tits—”
“In your mouth...?”
“Yes , oh, yes. Please .” And he half fell across the massage table, desperately seeking support.
“Then, maybe I can help.” And he rummaged through a few drawers nearby, looking for some fine mesh gauze, but only found a sturdy roll of string, like thin rawhide... and astutely began to apply it for his purposes, rolling the large man over.
In alarm, Clark begged him, “What, what are you doing—my great, my big male udders—? No, no, no!! ”
As Raleigh worked at them, his huge pecs upthrust and heaving, with some resistance sort of half laying backwards across the massage table. With slip knots, Raleigh encircled each one of those still, overly large and swollen chest appendages at their bold bases, then finally looped, and pulled them together, flush across the straining MOS’s chest... till they met, and he could tie them together side by side. Clark was slightly having to hunch forwards, his pectorals so massive and wide, but the teats stretched together, indeed they did. Aligned perfectly, with the slightest pain, yet absolutely triggering his arousal, the strain on them. (Actually nothing he hadn’t ever been able to do himself, crush those big hard yet pliable plates of muscle together, so he could take both nipples in his mouth at the same time—suck and chew them crazy till he came.)
“Now, roll over, lean against the table, hold on with your arms outstretched, tuck your shoulders and your chin, get your mouth onto those babies. While I give you another infusion deep inside you.... How about that, Clark? Take your own milk, while I seed you—what you need.”
“Yes, yes, if you will. Oh, yes, Raleigh... save me . Before it’s too late....” Clark mumbled.
And complied. The staggered, and desperate MOS once again did as ordered. Knowing this might be the best solution to his previous depletion. He would at least be gaining more of his muscular strength back, even if he might not be able to yet fly, or burn laser beams through steel. Turning his great weight over, feet wide-planted on the floor, his head tucked downwards to his chest, shoulders into the edge of the table, his hands anchoring him forward. To help him, Raleigh from behind, though it was nearly impossible, reached around and across the broad lat-sheath of his back, up and under his arms, so he could both push those burgeoning teats up into his man’s yearn-groping mouth, as well as help jack-milk them vigorously. And entered his captive’s ass with a firm, conquering jolt.
The compliant giant under him was groaning and moaning as if truly in another world. Combined with each of their naturally spiked libidos, and the drug the young red had fed the two of them, it was not a prolonged transaction. Raleigh was himself so excited he blew his load twice, unexpectedly: each within moments of the other. And minutes later, even Superman himself howled aloud, lost his grip on the table, fell down forwards over his knees, while his super-cock unloaded another fateful volley, surge after surge after surge.
He dropped in a quivering mass all hunched over, even was trying to scoop up the richness of his expenditure into his hands to put into his mouth from the floor—completely embarrassed at his actions in view of another—as if he were a dog, not a respectable man, some kind of true pervert, relishing his own sauce. A fucking alien freak, inordinately desperate for his own seed?! Which in truth he was.... Raleigh draped himself over him, trying to soothe and reassure him it would be alright. “Rest, rest,” was all he needed. He’d be good as new in a few hours. Surely.
Then with a shock almost, as if he himself had become a Superman, Raleigh was astonishedly able to get the still weakened huge MOS up from the floor, and onto the massage table in his own arms, as if he’d tapped into some kind of new un-earthly strength. Wow! This guy’s jizz had done a number on him. He truly MUST be Superman! Which then both again shocked and alarmed him. And he was suddenly fearful. What had he done?!
Luthor could be popping through the doors in minutes.
His heart in his throat, he lay himself down up close and against the naked, tremoring Clark Kent, their skins as if adhering, his emotions running rampant, his arms sheltering around the mighty muscle man as if a child he wanted to protect. The bigger man’s monumental cock and genitals at last slack, and non-interfering. Though his tits were still bound tight between them.
Yet something was brewing within each, neither one had dreamed nor expected. Certainly Superman, in beyond astonishment, how he had become so easily subservient to a much lesser man, had given up his bold machismo almost willingly, letting go of all his steely control, though his own inner physiology had been like an implanted nuclear weapon being used against him, over which he had never before experienced nor could stop. The explosion of his both acutely desired, yet pent-up emotions and sexual needs inexplicably relished and released... practically taking him over; aided by the desirability of such an engaging, attractive, and assertive younger man cleverly working him, giving him pleasure beyond anything he’d thought possible. And in such an acceptable, non-distasteful way. Very above board, even-keeled, so seemingly natural for both. Even more surprising, that the young red was so much lesser built, cocked, endowed and developed than he was. But had now by his actions and person claimed a spot deep into the startled Clark’s gentle psyche, and his Superman’s definite manly hunger.
“You, you... you’ve almost destroyed me,” the alien softly whispered. “Although you’ve given me such joy—yet, too much. Depleted my powers, unhinged me. Raleigh, you... you’ll have to take me home. I can’t, on my own. Only you can help me. Must, must rest... at least 48 hours. Must, also... lay in the sun. To, to restore, renew. Properly. Only you know this. Can help me. My life—in your... hands.”
“You’ll be alright then, won’t you? I was so afraid I did something wrong. Though I have, and I’m sorry.”
Without hesitation, Clark then said, “No. You’ve actually saved me. Given me a life I feared I’d never know. And if you’ll accept... I don’t want to be without you. Need you more than I know how to say.”
“You... mean for keeps? Just like that?”
“Anything you want. A Rolex, a Corvette. Trip to Australia. Yours—name it. Stay with me. I don’t expect you to give up your life, things you like. But be with me . Though I can’t always be there, either.”
“But, hey, even physically. How can I please you? Want really to take you, have you inside me—but you’re beyond possible, for hardly anyone.”
“That will happen, over time. The same as when our DNAs become mingled... you will increase, believe it or not. Gain more than you expected, just from our mating. If you are willing... think... you could care for me? I know—I, I’m... kind of strange .”
“Lord, God,” Raleigh whispered. “Me, have a guy like you? And me, being able to increase, be a complement, and companion with you?”
“I don’t expect miracles. Just be yourself. And me, me.”
“But, but you don’t know what I’ve done—” wanting urgently to tell him.
Only Clark didn’t let him finish. “I don’t care, I don’t care.”
They were laying there glued together, faces next to each other... and as the younger man’s arms clung to his neck and shoulders, Kal felt as if his soul had merged with another being for the first time in his life—a mutual transmission for each—they strove to kiss each other, both at the same time. As rapturously as any two persons ever could. Melded together. Their breaths and blood, saliva and senses flowing into each other far deeper than any, as if fated or wed.
The door to the room suddenly burst open. Lex Luthor and his cohorts surged in surrounding them.
“Holy fuck!” “Two happy fags, if I ever saw any!” came the retorts.
Luthor was more accommodating, as his eight men spread around.
“Good work, kid. Get your clothes on.”
Part Nine
Raleigh’s stomach did a horrible flip—disengaged himself reluctantly, and hastily grabbed for his clothes.
“Damn, hardly one third his size, and took the sonofabitch down,” the bald-headed Lex smiled. “Quite a feat!”
“Jesus, look at the cock on him!” someone crooned.
“Balls, too. Some bull! ” another said.
“Fuck! —Those TITS!!” sneered someone else. “Playing fun and games with them, too!”
“Can’t help it, if you got the equipment,” snapped another. “Lotta good it’ll do him, now.”
Lex had brought eight men with him, not a one on the puny side. Most of them muscled big, if not what one would call “built.” But surely strong, hefty weight-lifter types, not exactly pretty.
Relatively still grogged, yet very much aware, Clark tried to sit up, but was not successful. He fell back, keenly aware of his danger. But could do nothing. Raleigh had destroyed him.... Though he felt no remorse nor blame towards him. He, himself, had done himself in—. Had asked for it, hadn’t he? His own weakness. Wanting someone to jack him off.
Luthor stepped close to the prone man on the table. And indicated to someone, anyone, “Cover the fucker. I don’t need to see his shit.”
Raleigh, having just slipped on his pants, still barefooted and no shirt, complied, grabbing up a clean sheet, covering his friend halfway up over his pectorals, bound mountainous teats still poking upwards... Clark caught his eyes with a sad look, yet a thankful one.
He, for a moment, stared back into those fogged, deep blues, his soul craving to be able to stop what might be going to happen. Clark, even as a hugely muscled man, had been rendered nearly weak as a kitten—had now no defense against anything... not to mention being the world’s ultimate superhero, reduced to being able to be beaten to hell by a ten-year-old boy, probably.
“So, Mr. Clark Fucking Kent of the Daily Planet... are you really the “Big Blue Fairy,” the kid says you are? More or less told him so?” Lex probed.
“Clark Kent, yes. Told him, no one, anything. You think I’d be that stupid-crazy?”
“Told him you were Kal-El . A name no one around here knows.”
“That was a joke, for fun. To get him... to... to want to service me....”
“Really? Some fetish you have, maybe? All those, big, BIG muscles, for such a wimpy-do reporter? Such big, BIG genitals, rivaling beyond those of most porn stars—? Just happened to get them in Smallville, Kansas, hoeing corn? Playing with yourself in the barn with a few other boys? And those colossal, otherworldly tits... just popped out there?! Hard to believe. Couldn’t get those at any gym I know of, or twenty years’ worth of suction devices, and a freight train full of Hopeful Day breast cream? Maybe you take those tranny injections—still keeping your big cock, but gaining some giant tits to suck on, too? Oh, dear. You are a mess, Miss Kent. No less a fag, as well. Which we surely know about. So... what’s your super-secret? Hey, Kally-Belle? Wondered about you for years. No women, no nothing. Now we know... slyly coercing good looking, susceptible young men to play with your huge dong. For pay! Must have had you flying around all over the country to find them, hunh? So addicted to sucking yourself off, you also did them, too—though often a much smaller disappointment. But never dared approach the really big ones, because they’re so well-known, and surely would have ratted you out.... Right, Fruitsie-Boy?”
“No secrets, Luthor. Just tired. Worn out. Needed a good massage. And, admittedly, a good jack-off “Happy Ending.” So, I’m well endowed. Take steroids for a lung condition; muscles grow. Nothing new. Promised to pay the guy double. To be discreet. Only he apparently decided something otherwise. Be easy. He’s just a kid. Impressionable.”
“Well, I’m not. Nor stupid.” He stared hard into Clark’s face. “The jig’s up, Superman. You’re dead.”
He turned to Raleigh, now with his shirt on, still no shoes. “Show me.”
Raleigh turned pale as a ghost. Came over to them. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Kent. I couldn’t help it. Didn’t mean any harm.” And he slowly pulled down the sheet to the curved based of Clark’s wondrous groin, where the rectus abdominus/pyramidalis muscles co-joined, his fingers parting the pubic hair at the bony crest, revealed the very broad arc of the letters tattooed into his flesh: KAL-EL . “Said they were done as a baby.” The young man practically strangling on the words. His betrayal complete.
“Which makes sense,” Luthor chuckled. “On earth, his skin couldn’t have been inked. Probably same time he was cut. Couldn’t have done that here, either.”
Luthor straightened. “But I didn’t bring my needles with me. Anyway, I think that cock has served its purposes. Knife, Yorgo.” And held out his hand.
One of his men plopped a sizeable weapon in his hand. “Cuts paper like a razor,” he offered.
Raleigh blanched. Luthor whipped the sheet down further, grasped his hand around the flaccid shaft of Superman’s mighty cock, though he could not for the life of him get his hand around it completely, only half—gripped it tightly as he could, and pulled—even Clark suddenly sat partially upright in protest, stricken in acute defense—as the blade was viciously crossed across the thick beauty of his manly flesh at the base of his pubis.
Clark screamed, as did Raleigh, both at the same time. “NOOOOO-OOO-OOOOHHHHHHH!!”
But nothing happened. No severance, no blood, no nothing. Only a faint red mark. Though Luthor sawed and sawed and sawed. And in disgust threw the knife aside on the floor.
Straightening, Lex Luthor stood very tall. Then with two fingers pressed against Clark’s forehead, pushed the propped, failed muscle man backwards and down, back onto the bed. Clark had not the strength to resist him. And was breathing more than hard and harrowedly.
“So, Proof Number Two! Properly tagged. Invulnerable to simple weaponry. Skin too dense. What do you say, Superman? Still got your cock. But not your life.... As if that huge thing is really going to save you. Could probably even tie it around your neck and strangle you with it, for all the good it will do you. Anymore.”
“Really, sir! Can’t we let him go? He’s harmless.” Raleigh was desperately trying to think of some ploy of rescue, undo the terrible thing he had done.
“Twenty million dollars, and you want to call it quits, now?” Luthor queried, amazed.
“But you only wanted to know who he was—.”
“What good’s ‘knowing,’ if he’s loose and uncaged? Just a better target. Now that he’s down, we finish him. How you win the game, kid.”
“Really, sir. Not what I planned.”
“What you planned was for the money. But—my money. My plan. Capiche?”
What could he say? And feared he was about to see a heinous murder take place right before his eyes, of the most wonderful being in the universe... whom he’d fallen in love with. This was impossible!! He was starting to get really sick and queasy within him.
“Give me that knife!”
Hesitantly Raleigh scooped it up from the floor, handed it back to him. Then in shock, saw Luthor purposely take it, go over to Clark, grasp him roughly by the hair of his head—who weakly raised one of his huge arms in futile protest, hands clawing—jerked Clark’s head up and sideways, and viciously slashed his throat.
Nothing happened. Clark grunted sharply, Luthor cursed loudly, Raleigh nearly fainted.
“Tough fucker, isn’t he!” someone concurred.
They all stood around looking bewildered. Their great enemy and subdued prey a rather hapless, hopeless pile of gorgeous, but weakened muscle on an “altared” table before them—and what could they do? Finally one of them pulled out his gun, looked to Lex for approval, who nodded... walked over to the knowing, eye-widening Clark, pressed the barrel to the center of his forehead.
“But not tough enough!” he sneered. And fired.
The gun practically back-fired out of his hand, flew out of his grip, and the thug stood there wringing and shaking his damaged hand, with a look of stupefaction on his face.
Luthor laughed as if it were the funniest thing he’d seen all year. Then sighed, rolled his eyes, and mentioned smugly.
“Once more.”
He pulled a squared, lead-lined, but velvet-surfaced box out of his breast pocket. “Had to stop by the office safe, just to be sure. Was told if I wore this, could cause cancer. To be used in dire emergencies. You know, one’s back to the wall?”
He opened the box. Even from four feet away, Superman flinched. The miniscule glow from the vibrant green stone of the ring somewhat enervating.
Clark knew it spelled his doom. Small as it was. They would win.
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