"Clark is Superman… and… he kissed me…"
Jimmy's thoughts were a whirlwind, his mind unable to grasp how quickly everything had spiralled into chaos and despair.
Earlier tonight, he had stumbled upon the truth—that Clark Kent, his clumsy, kind-hearted friend, was actually Superman.
Superman! The realization had been the most surreal, jaw-dropping moment of Jimmy's life. Just hours ago, he had shared an intimate moment with Clark, their first kiss—a moment so tender and sweet it made his heart race just thinking about it. Yes, he had kissed Superman. It was everything he could have ever dreamed of, the start of a life with the greatest man he could possibly imagine.
But now, he faced the terrifying possibility of losing him forever.
Jimmy found himself tied up alongside Jonathan in the corner of the half-destroyed barn, bruised and bloodied. The taste of blood on his lips and the drops trickling from the corner of his mouth were cruel reminders of just how powerless they were against this nightmarish intruder, while Superman was out cold, offering no chance of rescue.
Jimmy's eyes shifted to Jonathan, slumped against the wall beside him, unconscious. The poor old guy had endured brutal beatings as the black-clad man demanded answers about whatever it was inside Superman's body that had hurt him.
But how could they possibly know?
Jimmy's own body ached from the earlier beatings, his wrists raw from the ropes that bit into his skin. He couldn't decide what hurt more—his body or the fact that he might witness the death of his love.
This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined spending his night on the Kent farm.
In the centre of the half-destroyed barn, Superman's limp, unconscious body hung suspended in mid-air, a most humiliating torture position, made to break the hero, to oblige him to tell the truth
His arms and legs were bound by thick and heavy ropes, to the upper and lower corners of the barn, forcing his body into an X-shaped position. His once-pristine suit was in tatters, blood seeping through the fabric, mingling with dirt and sweat.
The unmistakable stains, the cruel mixture of his urine and precum had spread all over his briefs and blue-clad thighs. His massive erection from thirty minutes ago had subsided, leaving only a modest bulge in the red briefs. (His cock ring stopped shrinking a while ago, and the rubber exterior of that alien ring had rewrapped its Kryptonite core, halting the release of that lethal radiation.) Meanwhile, a stream of transparent yellowish liquid still dripping down from his soaked crotch, like a broken necklace of shining crystals, only deepened the heartbreak and humiliation of the scene.
"Even the mightiest heroes had their limits."
Jimmy winced as he started at the filth running down Superman's legs. "But why did he cum? Was he aroused by the humiliating torture? That monster said Superman enjoyed it? Is that true?"
Before Jimmy could wrestle with the cruel questions swirling in his mind, the black-clad intruder reappeared, floating through the shattered barn gate.
Holding a giant bucket, its surface marked with bold red letters reading "Kent Farm," the man hovered menacingly toward Superman's limp, motionless body. His rubbery black suit gleamed in the moonlight streaming through the barn's broken roof, adding to his eerie presence.
"Let's wake up our star, shall we?" he sneered as he passed by Jimmy, casually raising a hand crackling with electricity.
Jimmy's stomach churned. "Oh, come on," he muttered under his breath. "Can't you just leave him alone for five minutes?"
But the man either didn't hear him or didn't care. He went on and placed that giant bucket underneath Superman's suspended body, right beneath his crotch.
Is he trying to collect his bodily fluids?
The answer could not be clearer. The air inside the barn thickened with static, the sharp tang of ozone stinging Jimmy's nose and making him flinch.
Superman's head hung low, his hair plastered to his face. He looked utterly defeated, yet Jimmy couldn't shake the hope that the hero still had something left in him.
"Come on, Clark", Jimmy thought, squeezing his eyes shut in desperation. "You've got this. You always do. You're Superman, for crying out loud. Save the day... or at least wake up before this guy fries you again."
The black-clad man's smirk widened as the crackling sparks danced more furiously around his fingers.
"Rise and shine, Superman."
He thrust his hand forward, aiming directly at the fallen hero.
In the blink of an eye, the barn erupted with a blinding flash of light as the black-clad man unleashed a surge of electricity, striking Superman's suspended body.
The jolt coursed through him, illuminating his entire frame like a glowing starburst. His muscles tensed, veins standing out like cords beneath his skin. Superman's blue eyes bolt open wide eyed; his scream tore through the night, raw and guttural, echoing across the ruined Kent farm.
Jimmy was almost certain he could see Superman's entire body seemingly ignite under the surge of powerful electricity. The pain Superman was enduring was probably the most terrifying kind in the universe.
And indeed it was.
The pain radiated through every fibre of his being, like fire searing him from the inside out. His head snapped back, and his fists clenched instinctively, the restraints biting into his wrists and ankles as he struggled against the overwhelming force, his broad back arched causing the thick rope across the barn tighten.
But the man didn't relent.
Another bolt of electricity ripped into Superman, sending his body into more violent convulsions. His iconic cape, now tattered, fluttered weakly as the energy surged. Every nerve in his body screamed in protest, and tears pricked his eyes.
Finally, the black-clad man let the charge subside.
Superman's body slumped against the bindings, smoke curling from his suit. The sharp, acrid scent of burnt fabric and singed skin filled the air. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his head hanging low.
A continuous stream of clear yellow liquid once again flowed from Superman's already soiled crotch. The pungent bodily fluids trailed down his inner thighs, spreading until gravity turned them into a small waterfall, dripping steadily into the wooden barrel beneath him.
Yes, under the relentless electric shocks, Superman had wet himself again—this was the second time tonight, but it would certainly not be the last.
"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" the man sneered, hovering closer. His voice dripped with mockery as he examined the broken hero before him. "But this could all stop if you just tell me one little thing: What's the deal with the thing, that hurt me before when you were leaking precum."
Superman raised his head weakly, his eyes filled with defiance. His jaw tightened, and he said nothing.
"Hurt him? Did he mean that Kryptonite hurt him as well? How could it be? He got my powers, even my weakness?" Superman's mind racing.
The black-clad man sighed, shaking his head. "Still playing the hero, are we? Fine, let's see how much fight you've got left."
Another crackling surge erupted from his fingertips, brighter and larger than before, slamming into Superman once more. The hero barely managed to let out a choked groan this time, his body twitching. His blue eyes were riveted open and his face madly squirmed. His strength, once legendary, was being drained away with every jolt, every bright yellow spark.
For a brief moment, the entire barn seemed brighter than day, the electric crackle reverberating like thunder.
Jimmy watched in horror, his fists clenched uselessly against the ropes binding him. "Come on, Clark," he whispered under his breath. "You can take this… You're Superman…"
But Jimmy didn't know that Superman had already hit his limit.
By the time the man finally stopped, the barn was eerily quiet, save for the faint sizzling sound of dissipating energy. Superman's stiff body relaxed limply, his head drooping forward, his breaths shallow and uneven.
A sob broke through Superman's trembling lips, unbidden and raw. It started small, just a quiver in his chest, but quickly grew into something uncontrollable. He couldn't stop it—couldn't hold it back any longer. The sobs came in waves, wracking his battered body, each one louder and more desperate than the last. Soon, his entire frame shook in sync with the sounds of his crying. His lips quivered, and tears streamed down his dirtied face.
Stripped of his strength, his dignity, and his pride, Superman couldn't stop sobbing, like an eight-year-old child who had just been harshly scolded for wetting their pants.
"Pathetic," the black-clad man sneered, his tone cutting like a blade. He hovered closer, relishing the sight of his handiwork. With a mocking grip, he tilted Superman's tear-streaked face upward, forcing the hero to meet his cold, merciless gaze shot from that horrifying rubber-clad face.
He saw the defeat in Superman's eyes, the glimmer of resistance snuffed out.
"You know what?" the man said, his voice a venomous purr. "I think I like you better this way. The mighty Man of Steel… reduced to a sobbing mess. Or should I say, the Man of Jello?" He laughed cruelly.
Superman's chest tightened, the insult stinging more than he wanted to admit. The pain, the humiliation, the weight of everything—he couldn't fight it anymore.
"Now," the man said, his voice suddenly sharp and commanding. "Let's cut to the chase. What's the thing in your body that hurt me earlier? Don't make me ask again."
Superman's voice caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't bring himself to answer. But then he felt the man's grip tighten, a silent threat of more pain to come. His sobs didn't stop as he finally choked out the words. "It's… in my red briefs... on my…penis…"
The man leaned closer, pretending not to have heard. "What was that?" he asked, his tone mockingly polite. "I didn't quite catch it. Say it again. And louder this time."
Superman's stomach churned. He knew the man had heard him perfectly—super hearing, just like his own. The monster was playing a cruel game to him. Superman's hands balled into weak fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled against the wave of despair threatening to swallow him whole.
"It's…" he began, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard and then raised his voice, trembling with anguish as he finally screamed, "It's in my RED BRIEFS! It's in my… my Superman panties! It's…on my PENIS! MY PENIS…"
The words were filled with a despair so profound it seemed to hang in the air. Superman's cry was like that of a man at his breaking point, a desperate plea that seemed to strip away the last shreds of his resolve.
"Well, let's see if you are lying."
With one swift motion, the man ripped the yellow belt free and tore the red briefs apart, the sound of the fabric shredding like cutting through Superman's chest. He didn't expect it at all.
"N-nno…" In that moment, Superman cast a helpless glance toward Jimmy in the distance. His eyes begged, pleading for Jimmy to understand that he was no longer in control of what was going to reveal.
As those tattered and damp garments fell into the half-filled piss bucket with a wet slap, his genitals popped out through a hole about the size of a fist in his soiled blue tights, exposing—for the first time to everyone else except his fathers—his hung uncut manhood, and that humiliating cock ring.
"Well, there it is," he said with mock satisfaction, stepping back slightly to take in the full sight. "The truth at last. You really are pathetic, aren't you?"
If anyone claimed this was a small penis, they'd be lying. Even without being fully erect, it measured 5 inches — far beyond the average for an adult human male. But compared to Superman at his most powerful, there was none of the confident vigour you'd expect. It hung limp, dejected, drooping between his legs. It looked diminished, suppressed, weakened.
His uncut foreskin clung to the head of his penis, the wrinkled tip like a damp, deflated dark brown little balloon, still dripping residual urine. Though the earlier intense electric shocks might have had the potential to stimulate his desire, the pain was so overwhelming that any arousal was out of the question.
Some sparse, curved pubic hairs scattered, poking out messily from the hole in his clothes. His damp scrotum sagged loosely between the blue-clad legs, no lower than that limp shaft, with his two slightly swollen balls pulling down the wrinkled skin like two worn-out pendulums. You could almost see the tiny goosebumps raised from the sudden exposure, made even more noticeable by the drying urine.
The most remarkable thing in his crotch was that red cock ring, fastened tightly at the base of his semi-erect genitals, both jarring and absurd. It's not a symbol of hope for a hero like Superman—it's a reminder that its wearer might be someone who had some twisted fetish, someone who probably got a thrill from being dominated and punished, someone who identified themselves as nothing more than a helpless, hopeless pervert.
Superman writhed helplessly in his restraints, moaning through his tears, desperate to avoid the eyes fixed on him. But all his efforts only made him look like a dying fish flailing on a chopping board—struggling but utterly futile.
"Oh what would Jimmy think of me?! He saw my penis ring… He must think I'm a freak…I'm an alien sex freak…" Kal's mind was racing. He had just confessed his love and revealed his true identity to Jimmy. Yet just a few hours later, on the same night, his darkest secret was laid bare. And somehow, the sudden exposure of his manhood and the new type of humiliation stirred a fresh wave of sexual excitement within him. He couldn't help it. His penis started to rise and grow again.
"You see, Superfreak, I have already seen through your monkey suit and figured it out by myself before. " The black-clad man leaned in closer, his gaze mocking as it lingered on Superman's seemingly growing dick, "But hearing you admit it? That's much more fun, don't you think?"
"You're sick... twisted... How... how could you do this to me..." Superman closed his eyes, tears sliding down his face as his lips trembled.
"Now tell me, Superfreak. Why are you wearing this ridiculous thing on your dick?" Crackling sparks flickered at his fingertips, warning Superman that if he avoided the question again, a new round of pain would follow.
Superman knew he had no choice but to tell the truth, unless he was willing to endure the torment of incontinence again. He lowered his head, closed his eyes tightly, and began to speak in a trembling voice, choked with tears, telling the story of the ring's origin.
He spoke of his shameful, uncontrollable sexual urges, the desires he could never control, the harsh reprimands and punishments from his Kryptonian father, and the helpless pain and erection that consumed him wearing the ring. As he continued, the tears flowed more freely, his voice trembling more with every word. When he reached the part about that day in the Fortress of Solitude, the agony overtook him so deeply that he couldn't even finish a sentence.
"So, you're telling me that you can't even touch your dick?" The man let out a wicked laugh.
"No... I... can't... Sometimes it would just activate... and start shrinking... other times it... didn't... I don't know... if it..." Superman paused, swallowing back his tears. "It... I don't know if it can tell... if I'm... playing with it... or not. But I'm too scared to take the risk..."
"Can it let others touch your dick? I mean, when others play with it, does the ring activate?"
"I'm afraid not…I tried… I rubbed it against…against the mirror… the floor…and on my bed… so I could get hard… without activating it… It's now… my only way… to masturb… Yes… my only way…" As Superman spoke, his voice gradually grew softer and weaker, and shame once again swept over him. Yes, he had rubbed it against Jimmy tonight, but he didn't tell.
Meanwhile, with every word he spoke, Superman realized he was growing more and more turned on by what he was saying, his miserable sex life.
His penis twitched and grew little by little. And now, it has become thicker and longer than before. Even though it didn't stand completely upright, it no longer drooped between his thighs. Instead, it has raised its head, forming a 40-degree angle with Superman's body, and it trembles up and down, in waves as Superman's story unfolds.
Superman's last psychological defenses were crumbling, and it was all because of the words coming out of his own mouth. How ironic, how pathetic!
The black-clad man gazed at that simulated Super dong, nodding his head with satisfaction. The hormones in his body were also continuously secreting, stimulating that monstrous bulge.
"Just now, I noticed a quite interesting phenomenon, Superman. When my foot was on your little red briefs, just a while before, I found that you started to get hard. Not only hard, but it was throbbing and twitching, like crazy."
"No. N-n-no," whimpered Superman, "it's not true!"
The man extended a hand, running his terrifyingly long nails across the already tattered S symbol on Superman's chest. "It seems like you want my touch, am I right? Superfreak?"
"S-ssss-stay back," Superman stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "D-dddd-don't... don't touch me!" He heard his voice... so weak and unfamiliar, sounded utterly pathetic and frightened.
But the black-clad man ignored the fallen hero's plea, as he moved closer and grasped that semi-erect shaft, holding it tightly in his palm. And to his own amazement, Superman did not resist! It was more like his body instinctively leaned forward, welcoming that touch.
"Ssh!" said the man, taking hold of the Man of Steel and stroking his helpless erection. For a second, he tried to grab the dick ring and rip it off from Superman's penis. But it was too tight, almost like a tumor, deeply embedded into his skin.
"Uhhhh….sss-stop…" That reckless act of forcibly removing the ring seemed to have hurt the hero; he slowly murmured under his breath, pleading for it all to stop immediately. "D-dddon't touch me…"
"Don't touch you? But that's what you want, isn't it, Superman? You want me to touch you. You need it. You ache for it. That's why you acted that way tonight. Don't worry, Superman – I know."
The man stopped trying to pull off the ring—not because he couldn't, but because he feared it might tear off the entire organ along with it.
Instead, he continued to toy with the helpless Man of Steel, curious to see how far things would go.
As his hand slowly pushed MOS's foreskin down, that trembling pinky mushroom tip was left entirely bare, exposed to the open air with nothing to shield them. Then he gently pressed his other hand against it, his fingertip perfectly blocking that still leaking peehole.
Suddenly, Superman's senses exploded within him in an instant, like a trapped beast inside his chest suddenly breaking free and beginning to howl and roar.
"Uh!" gasped the Man of Steel, "Uhhh! Oh... oh... your hand..."
"Tell me Superman, you like it, don't you?" breathed the black-clad man. "Come on - I'm right, aren't I... Man of Jello?"
"I've got to lie... I have to! No... I can't tell him the truth." Superman tried to focus, but his eyes were wide open, staring vacantly, his mouth half open, and his tongue slightly curled upward. He looked dazed, almost like a fool—his face twisted in helpless humiliation. He knew he was acting foolishly, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it, couldn't let himself think it... not with Jimmy here, watching... Jimmy...
Looking at Superman with no response, the man silently released a burst of electric current from his fingertips, directly entering into Superman's urethra.
"AAAAAAAHHH!!!!"
Though a hundred times weaker than his usual attacks, the current tore Superman's thoughts apart. Suddenly, everything went blank before his eyes, and a tingling yet deadly sensation surged through every inch of his nerves. His whole body began uncontrollably shaking violently. His veins popped out, his mouth opened wider, and his tongue shamelessly reached forward.
Everything was too crazy, too fast. He could no longer think; his mind went blank, leaving only one voice.
"CUM!"
Superman's once impenetrable defenses finally crumbled with a loud crash. The truth and justice he had guarded, the responsibility he bore, Jor-El's teachings, his dignity, Jonathan, Jimmy—none of it mattered anymore. In his heart, there was only one thought.
"SAY IT!" The black-clad monster released his grip on Superman's growing dick but keeping that torment of peehole going on with another hand. "This is what you want, isn't it? I said, isn't it! You Superfreak! "
He raised that free hand and the shattered red briefs floated up from the piss bucket. Under the powerful magic, that soaking wet filthy fabric began to rub across the hero's face on its own, smearing his cheeks and lips with his own urine. Briefly, it went entirely into Superman's wide opened mouth, before withdrawing itself again.
"You're not a hero anymore, am I right!? You are the biggest sex chump of Krypton. You're the Metropolis moron now, aren't you, Superman! Answer me!! ANSWER ME!! RIGHT NOW!!"
The ropes trapping Superman suddenly went taut, almost on the verge of snapping. His entire body bent forward into an almost impossible bow-like shape. A sound escaped him—a wail disturbingly similar to that of a pig about to be slaughtered—as white foam spilled from his mouth.
"Y-yyyes…I…want….I want…it…I'm…hard in…my…pants…" Superman's voice trembled and was incoherent.
The man was clearly displeased with the answer, "Speak louder! I can't hear you!"
An even stronger current surged up from beneath his groin, tearing through his insides. Superman was completely consumed by the maddening mix of pain and pleasure. It felt as if his body had been thrown into a meat grinder, pulverized into mush, and beneath the grinder lay an endless abyss of darkness and nothingness.
He was utterly broken and finally shouted out the words that occupied his mind and soul
"Aaaaaah! Yes! Yes! You are RIGHT! I am the Mmmmm-mmmm-Metropolis M-mmmm-moron! I am a SEX MORON!!! "
Superman's body spasmed like crazy as he screamed out the most humiliating monologue.
"I am the biggest sex c-ccccc-chump of K-kkkkk-Krypton! I'm a ddddd-disgrace of my home planet!! I'm a disgrace of the eeee-earth!!! I'm not…NOT A HHHHH-HERO….any more…I'm a dirty little SUPER WHORE!!! "
White foam continued to spew from his mouth, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. Yet none of this could stop Superman from continuing his speech.
"You touched me!! You…bbbb-broke me!!And I like it!!! I, SUPERMAN, I LIKE IT!!!! I'm ttttt-telling you the truth!! THE TRUTH!!! This is what I want!!! I admit it!!!! I lllll-love it!!! I'm going to be your sex MORON!!!! I am your SEX SLAVE!!!! Yes, YES!!! I said it!!! I want you to make me cum!!! Please!! P-pppppp-please!!! Make me your slave!!! I…D-dddd-don't care if the ring will...k-kkkkkill me!! I DON'T CARE!!! Just make me cum!!! JUST MAKE ME CUM!!!!!! "
The man in black began roaring as well, almost as if he were commanding a disobedient dog. "TELL ME!! This is the best thing you ever had!!! Tell me my touch is the only thing you want!!!"
"Y-yeeeee-yesss!! YES!! This is the best!!!THE BEST THING I'VE EVER HAD!!!No one can com-mmmmm-compare with it!! NO ONE!!! I SAID IT!!! This is the touch of m-mmmmm-my kind!!! MY KIND!!!! This is what I been cccc-craving for years!!!! This is the only thing I want!!! Please!!! DON'T STOP!!!! PLAY ME!!! TOY ME!!! KEEP IT GOING!!! MAKE ME!!!! MAKE ME CUM!!!!"
From a distance, Jimmy watched it all unfold—watched Superman gradually fall, exposing his true color. Tears of betrayal filled his eyes. He realized that Superman was no longer the embodiment of light; he had fallen into something grotesque, a disgrace. Jimmy could almost be certain that every word coming out of Superman's mouth was the truth. And that truth, sharp as a dagger, tore apart any visions of a future he had once imagined with Superman and Clark.
Superman was no longer a hero. The kind, simple farm boy Clark was gone forever. All that remained was a horrifying sex freak in a skin-tight suit, with his shameful erection and balls hanging out.
Just as everything seemed to be spiraling toward an irreversible tragedy, the man suddenly stopped. He released his finger and floated backward; his hands still coated with a sticky residue.
It's the most horrible thing that had ever been done to Superman: snapping him right out of the climax as he was about to finally reach it.
As he let go, Superman's massive wooden-stiff phallus suddenly snapped back against his abdomen with a forceful rebound due to its extreme rigidity and length. It had grown to an astonishing 10 inches, so thick it was almost impossible to grasp with one hand.
With veins bulged along its surface, it was flushed a deep, furious red, like a beast driven mad with bloodlust. At its base, the dick ring had shrunk to its absolute limit, clamping down tightly around the entire shaft, nearly halving its diameter.
The pain must have been unimaginable—something no ordinary person could endure. And yet, in Superman's mind, desire had completely overtaken the searing, piercing agony. He continued muttering the words he had been saying moments ago, as if oblivious to the torment on his own erect penis.
"Make…..make…me…cc-ccccum… Pppp-please…"
The black-clad man knew he couldn't go any further—he couldn't take the risk again. Even if he could push Superman to the limit, making him leak that precum, doing so would also reactivate the ring, exposing its kryptonite core again. In the worst-case scenario, that thing could end Superman immediately and hurt himself as well.
But even if Superman could just cum, releasing his Super sperm for the first time of his life, the risk was too great. Whether it was Superman's own memories or the monologue he'd just heard, everything seemed to suggest one undeniable truth: if Superman were to cum, he would die almost instantly. No, this wasn't the sustainable outcome Lex Luthor wanted. They had to harvest as much as possible before the final extermination of Superman.
The right approach was to first remove the dick ring from Superman's body. (What an annoying thing!) Then, to ensure he could only release the pre-ejaculation in a controlled manner. That would be the best outcome, as losing precum seemed to only be capable of draining Superman's energy, without killing him outright, obviously, since the hero had been doing it countless times.
Yes, that was the plan.
But the first challenge was: how to remove the ring?