Dedication: to Jack who joined me in this chapter. Honestly, I’d say his majority contributions definably turbo charged the sexuality of this chapter, as well as taking Henry in an unexpected direction. The surprise “guest” at the end was his idea too. Kyle
When Last We Left Our Superhero…
With the Doctor fixated solely on breaking young Grayson to his will, Henry was pretty much left to his own devices.
While Kumar had no interest in the broken Superman, the same could not be said for his assistant. Henry, the man he used to prepare, breed and tame so many of his slave-boys, had grown board of Bruce Wayne for now. He wanted something more exotic. Something more powerful.
Henry, born a weak nerd and subjected to bullying by classmates, street toughs, and even his own family, growled with need. Though the champion of the weak and oppressed, to Henry, watching Superman get milked, seeing him strapped naked to the operating table, his muscular body glistening with sweat…his big, manly cock pumping so much alien cum…was the epitome of the type of guy that it always put him down. And Henry needed to put him in place just like he did Wayne and the others before him.
Conquering Superman and making him a true beta bitch was something that Henry not only psychologically desired along with a compelling sexual craving.
Kumar was in with Grayson, his new, favorite toy. Henry saw Dr. Kumar fucking dick Grayson in the ass while making him watch video of old ‘Flying Grayson’ specials, getting off thrusting into the ass of such a sexy aerialist.
Henry slipped into the room where the gooning, mind-burnt Superman was blissfully masturbating into a tube that was collecting his sperm. As Superman abused himself like a drone, another machine behind him as energetically thrusting a dildo in and out of his ass. Superman's deep-set eyes, which had once burned with a steely resolve, now held only desperation and arousal. His hulking chest heaved with each ragged breath as he tried in vain to break free from his restraints
“Yes. Fuck yes. Oh, Rao deeper,” the once boy scout superhero grunted as he shot load after load. He was feeling like a whore while making his master, Dr. Kumar rich off his endless, alien spunk.
Henry knew that Dr. Kumar was keeping the bots attached to Superman’s prostate on full power to keep up production. Seeing that defined torso, dripping with sweat accentuating every single powerful muscle. He was more than any man had ever been. Now, he was Dr. Kumar’s whore, all because he wanted to set a good example.
Henry decided to go for it. He knew that the Doctor was going to take a lot of time with young Grayson. That tight ass, in nothing but green booty shorts, barking and begging for Dr. Kumar’s tasty, Indian cock was too much for even the hyper-focused doctor to resist.
Even zoned out, Superman was still a sight to behold. His powerful chest with those chiseled pectorals, each topped by a brownish quarter sized nipple that had responded so well to touch. Henry’s eyes took that well-defined, muscular body with its hard ribbed eight pack leading down to a thick, long uncut cock set off by a set of hefty balls that seemed to be a never-ending source of jism. Henry had always had a thing for muscular legs and Superman’s were the epitome of perfection with their long-tapered muscles. Lying there in front of him, Henry recalled the sight of the hero's well-formed, dimpled rump. Twin rounded cheeks that, when splayed, revealed the rosy, pink anal hole whose ringed muscled ring had seemed to open up like a flower to take in the good Doctor's device. Henry slightly stiffened as he visualized his own manhood thrusting in and out of that entryway’s body.
Henry wanted him to be fully aware of what was about to come, and especially what it was like to get fucked by a dorky, weak nerd. So, Henry turned down the anal bots that were sexually keeping the Man of Steel in a permanent state of heat. He then turned off the machine that was plunging in and out of Superman ‘s ravaged hole. A brain fried hero, mindlessly jerking off, had no interest to him. Unlike his master, Dr. Kumar, Henry liked them willing, eager and unbound by anything other than their lust to get taken and fucked.
“Thanks be to Rao,” Superman sighed as he, after months of captivity, slowed his masturbations.
Henry took Superman’s hand off his cock. It had been so long since the Man of Steel had been able to let go of it. The alien Adonis felt both relief at the reprieve, but also a fear that his conquered ass would soon cause him such pain at having no way to relive himself of his needs.
“Hey there, Sup’s” Henry looked Superman in the eye. His warm hands touched Kal-El’s chest for the first time, “How’s that itch been treating ya?”
“Just please…please, young man…help get me out of here…It’s not too late…I need…need to set things right…” Superman moaned out. Henry hated to admit it, but he was impressed. Even after all this time, after Dr. Kumar tamed, broke and milked Superman, that goodness was still there. That need to fight, to right the wrongs Dr. Kumar had done to men like him was still there, even if the Kryptonian had become a debased and used ass-slut and sperm-bank.
“That’s it, Superman…” Henry growled at the broken, boy-scout, “come with me…time to give you and that tight ass of yours the REAL medicine…”
Henry led him out of the room that had been lined with Kryptonite. He guided the wobbly hero into a room Dr. Kumar’s minions had soundproofed it and lined with lead. With Superman no longer exposed to Kryptonite, Henry theorized that the hero’s body and, critically his brain cells, would heal. The lead would protect him from the other rooms filled with the stuff. It would also make it impossible for Superman to be seen or heard from the outside.
Henry watched the goofy looking, smiling hero, trying to recover his senses. The naked man always inspired such grandeur. No longer plugged in as a sperm-breeding slut, he was trying to find that strength again. Instead of an exam table, Henry’s room had a large couch, a bed, and large, retractable chairs, all of which had straps, should the need arise, to keep men in place.
Seeing the muscled hunk lying there, Henry couldn’t resist. He let his right-hand drift along the chiseled chest muscles of the alien. Savoring how the overhead lights showed off Superman’s impressive pectorals he let his fingers graze through the chest hairs that nicely covered them.
“Damn you are built,” he said as he drifted his hand down the thin honey trail that ended in the pubic bush which framed the alien’s family jewels.
Superman lay there as Henry fondled the thick, long uncut cock that the Man of Steel possessed. As he played with the hero’s large nuts, he imagined how he would soon dominate his prize. As he playfully rolled, jiggled, and slapped the low hangers, he heard Superman give off a distinct moan of, ‘yes.’. He felt thrilled knowing that he had just made the most powerful man in the world moan from his touch.
“Ah, sensitive balls…who would have guessed,” he teased as he gave them a few slaps that had the crimefighter mewing with pleasure. As he playfully jiggled the hefty sack up and down in the palm of his hand Superman’s torso twitched with delight.
“Ah fuck yes…Oh my nuts…more,” Superman grunted as he slightly raised his hips giving Henry more room for the ball play.
Quickly looking up from the pouch, Henry saw Superman’s eyes were slowly coming into focus. Clearly, he had been right, Superman’s fried brain cells were healing.
“What’s…happened to me?” the groggy Superman, slurred. “I feel so weak.”
Deep down, Henry was nervous, but he wanted Superman mentally aware. He always wanted his bitches to beg him, to know what they’ve lost as they fucked them.
“You came to Dr. Kumar for treatment,” Henry quickly said. “Your ass…it was so, so sensitive. You begged the great Dr. Kumar to get that thick, meaty ass under control. I believe our treatment was successful. You don’t feel that prior sexual compulsion anymore, do you?”
Superman tried to focus on Henry. “No…other than a slight headache, I think I’m…I’m finally okay.”
Henry gazed at the powerful being lying on the table in front of him. I’ll give him a few more minutes for his brain to fully heal before I take him in a whole, new, fucking way , he thought.
Superman tried to raise his upper torso from the table. “Why am I lying here, naked?” he said with a hint of anger in his voice.
“It’s all part of the treatment. Please lay back. We’re almost done,” Henry replied as he placed his hands were on Superman’s chest and pushed him back down onto the table.
Superman was still feeling weak and dizzy. He was surprised that Henry had managed to push him back down onto his back.
“What’s going on?” He asked as more as more of his brain functions returned, “Please, help me find my uniform…”
“And besides, handsome…you don’t need clothes…boys like you, so eager for cock, should always be ready to take it up the ass.” Henry took int the sight of Clark’s god-like body, a spectacle of raw power and beauty, is stripped bare and bound.
For the first time Superman experienced this sensation of being vulnerable and exposed yet though uneasy he had not given way to fear.
“What’s…what’s your name?” Superman weakly asked.
“Call me Henry.”
"Henry," Superman replied. Slowly he recalled what had been done to him. He could also sense the man was sexually attracted to him. Hoping to gain an ally, he decided to play on that emotion. “Henry,” he softly repeated saying it with a certain intimacy that sends shivers down the young man's spine. "Whatever has happened on here…whatever Dr. Kumar is doing to me and others…It's not too late for you."
He paused for a moment, letting his words hang heavy in the air like ripe fruit ready to be plucked. He watched as Henry swallowed hard, eyes darting from Superman's face to his sculpted body.
Henry was no fool. However, listening to the hero’s obvious attempts at seduction pleased him. Superman might be playing him, but Henry would use this attempt to turn the tables and play the player. He listened w even as he prepared something with his hands.
“No matter your involvement, just do the right thing. Help me…set this right…” the crimefighter stated. He decided to assert his superiority by using of his powers. In the past such smug posing had always intimidated and cowed others. He tried to fly up. From the table, to take his usual superior stance of floating in the air, towering over the man, arms akimbo….in a position showing his authority to his entreaty. The attempt totally failed. Still too weak, he crashed back onto the floor. He tried to rise and was only able it to achieve a kneeling position before the slim man in the lab coat.
“Please Henry, I'm not just something to be used …not just something to milk and exploit,” the now humiliated Man of Steel asked. Gone was any effort now to seduce Henry to his side. He realized how pathetic he looked on his knees before Henry. He was naked and in a supplicant position for the first time in his life. At this precise moment there was no question in his mind who is the more dominant in this encounter. “Look past my nudity...past whatever someone once taught you to objectify," he said in a tone of voice that was a far cry from its normal heavily, masculine, sensual quality. He could hear that he felt he now sounded more like a pathetic loser. "You're better than this...better than reducing me to something less, than a man.”
As his powers slowly returned, he began to feel like the powerful and righteous man the world had counted on, so many times. Yet, he knew that he would need more time to heal, and he still had a faint hope that the sexual heat he was feeling off Henry could be used to his advantage. A part of him despised himself for taking this tactic but his natural instinct to survive made him continue this shameless activity. “Remember who I am,” Superman implored. “I’m not just any man tied up before you; I’m Kal-El of Krypton…a symbol of hope, justice, and truth. I’m Superman. Let me…let me help you.” His voice assumed a more human quality.
Henry found it sexy watching as Superman, who had once been so all powerful, debase himself like some cheap tart.
. "Let me go, Henry. It’s not too late, you don't have to be a villain here," he pled with a quiet desperation. "You still have a chance...to do the right thing…to be my hero…" A normal man would have been moved by the humility that Superman was displaying.
Superman didn't realize that his debasing actions were having the opposite effect upon his captor. His debasing actions only intensified Henry’s craving to establish his dominant position. The assistant reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle with a latex nipple cap.
“Trust me, this’ll all feel so, fucking right in a lil’ bit, Superman. Now, time to take your meds, baby…open wide…take what the big, bad, supervillain gives you.”
The bottle contained water, and of course a trace amount of Kryptonite dust mixed with a bit of the superhero’s seamen. Henry had observed tasting his own spunk seemed to be a powerful aphrodisiac for the alien. It also contained a few other chemicals which were designed to work on the hero's mind. Moving swiftly, he brought it up close to Superman’s face.
“What’s that?” Superman asked as he struggled to rise again.
“Something the Doctor taught me to use, to get my bitches ready for it,” Henry shot back as he thrust the nipple into the man’s mouth.
“Cough…cough…what are you doing?” Superman sputtered as Henry squeezed the bottle to shoot into the prostrate hunk’s throat a dose of the mixture. “Rao,’ he gurgled at it slipping down his throat. Seconds later, the Man of Steel’s eyes rolled up in their sockets. He began to suck on the nipple to get more of the liquid. As he did, he collapsed back onto the table. “Mmm…mmm…mmm,” he murmured as he slurped on the nipple and sucked. His cock began to bone.
A now grinning Henry happily fed the rest of the Kryptonite to him. “That’s right. Suck on your bottle,” he teased. He pulled the nipple from between Superman’s lips
“What are you doing?” The out-of-it superhero moaned even as he tried to lift his head to ‘take the bottle’.
"Henry, you've got to stop this," Superman pleaded, his voice thick with desire and shame savoring every hypnotic drop of this new formula. Henry activated Dr. Kumar’s nanobots to get the Kryptonian’s into greater heat. "I…we… can help you end this…together!"
Henry smirked. Still trying to act like the macho hero and trick me , he thought while running a teasing finger down the length of Superman's impressive shaft causing the crimefighter’s powerful torso to twitch, gasp in pleasure, and his erection to leak more precum "Oh, I'm afraid it's too late for that, my friend,” Henry rasped. “You see, this formula doesn't just make you horny, it also makes you want to please me." He chuckled, malice dripping from each word. "And right now, your sole purpose is to serve me."
Superman groaned, his mighty form trembling as Henry's finger dipped lower, teasing his anal entrance. "No, please, you don't understand, I-"
"Shh," Henry purred, pressing a digit inside Superman's resisting hole, knowing how easily it would make Superman yearn to be owned. "I understand perfectly. Now, you're going to submit to me, and even though it’ll make you feel like a sick fuck, you're going to like it. Just like you liked Dr. Kumar’s nanobots dominating your asshole. Just like how you liked it when Dr. Kumar made you cum over and over again creaming like some loser into his milking machine."
“No…no please…you can’t be…no one could be this…this wrong…” Superman whined even as he slowly gave way to the sensations.
Henry circled him like a predator, his eyes dark with memories that have festered into something twisted. "You don't get it, do you?" he replied, his voice rising. "I was nothing, less than nothing. A Moxon by name, but a disgrace in my father's eyes. Weak. Broken. The world's bullies chewed me up, spat me out, and there you were... flying high above it all."
Superman squirmed uncomfortably; the chill of the lab unable to cool the heat within him. He lay there stoked by Dr. Kumar’s formula. He felt ensnared, not just by growing lust, but by the raw bitterness spilling from Henry's lips.
"Every night," Henry continues, his voice taking on a feverish pitch, "I'd watch the news, see you saving the day. I begged, I fucking pleaded for you to swoop in, to crush those who made my life hell. My own family laughed, sneered at my weakness. And you? You never came."
The lab seems to close in around them, the walls echoing Henry's tale of woe. His fists clenched at his sides as if grasping at specters of his past. "It was then that my father saw an opportunity, not in me, but in Dr. Kumar's work. Advanced eugenics, they called it. A chance to mold me into something resembling a 'man'. Can you imagine, Superman? One of Gotham’s worst Crime Boss’s, bankrolling the brilliant man that would transform you and make you a bottle-burping slut."
A stunned Superman watched the man before him unravel, piece by piece, laying bare a soul tormented by resentment not just for the villains he faced but for heroes like himself. Henry's words are laced with venom, baring his soul as Superman’s mind succumbed from his feedings. His cravings for more of the liquid unexpectedly went into overdrive.
“Bottle…. more…want more,” he whimpered. When Henry brought the nipple to his lips, the compliant hero began vigorously suckling again. At one point he reached up to take it from Henry’s hand. To Henry’s delight, the once proud crime fighter who symbolized manhood to many, lay passively on the table. Holding the bottle to his mouth, he began to passively nurse on it.
"Pathetic, aren’t you? Weak. I know what that’s like, Superman." Henry sneered; his expression contorted in a grotesque mockery of a smile. "I was weakling resenting both the iron fist and the helping hand because neither would deign to lift me from the dirt. But now..." His voice trails off, leaving the threat hanging between them, as palpable as the electric tension that crackles through the room.
"Look at me now, Superman," he boasted, voice thick with undisguised contempt. "Dr. Kumar's genius didn't just free me from my feeble past—it reversed the polarity. His nano bytes? They were meant to control, to dominate, but in my veins, they became creators." He hit a button. “See how the ones in me can transform my body!”
A delighted Henry watched the macho hero, now fully under the influence of the formula, feeding himself his ‘bottle’. A dull eyed Superman merely gazed at Henry. Slurping on his bottle he was holding with one hand, he reached to caress his erect shaft with the other. His only response was a soft gurgling in-between the gulps of liquid he was consuming. Superman's gaze, clouded by the cocktail and the relentless surge of desires it created within him, watched as Henry's torso transformed into a chiseled physique. Muscle upon muscle rippled beneath skin. Where once there might have been only the softness of defeat now Henry stood before the hero in muscular triumph.
"Can you feel it?" Henry taunted, flexing an arm, the sinews standing out like steel cables. "The power that courses through me? It's more than just physical—it's the essence of true manhood. The kind that makes weaklings like you bow and scrape."
A cruel sneer twisted Henry's lips. As he stepped closer, the air between them was charged with the raw force of his newfound supremacy. "My father wanted a man," he sneers, "but Dr. Kumar—he made a monster."
With a move deliberate and brimming with arrogance, Henry unzipped his trousers, releasing a beast that had been caged within it. It sprang forth, a testament to the vile alchemy of science and ego, thick and veined and monstrous in its grandeur.
"Look at it, Superman," Henry commanded, voice dripping with malice. "This is what perfection looks like. This is the pinnacle of Dr. Kumar's work—my cock, the ultimate tool for conquest."
Superman, shocked by what he saw, let the bottle fall out of his mouth to crash onto the ground. Now fully trapped in the snare of his own arousals, and Henry's overwhelming presence, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. It loomed before him; an obelisk of flesh that embodied every dark fantasy Dr. Kumar's twisted mind could concoct.
"Imagine," Henry whispered as if he was the Devil promising the sweetest of sins, "imagine the power I wield with this cock. The destruction. The pleasure. This is the bull's weapon, and with it, I'll breed an empire."
Henry's display of raw, unharnessed virility caused the very air to thicken with power. The room filled with a pungent mix of sweat and metal. Superman's gaze, heavy with desire and chemicals pulsing through his veins, discovered he could not escape the commanding presence before him.
"Compare them," Henry growls, his voice a low rumble of authority as he aligned his member alongside Superman's own impressive erection. The juxtaposition was humiliatingly stark; Henry's dick was one of an undeniable conqueror, dwarfing Superman's in both girth and length.
Superman, once a paragon of virtue, with his mind clouded by the primal urges the formula stirred within him. Felt his throat dry up "It's... it's massive," he croaked, the words scraping against his throat tasting like defeat.
"Say it clearer, say how much bigger I am. Admit who is the real man," demanded Henry. He reached out to grab Superman's chin with a firmness that brooked no argument.
"Yours is bigger, so much bigger," Superman. He took a deep breath as a shudder coursed through his body. “You’re the real man,” he sobbed. The humiliation burned hotter than any sun. Yet the concoction flowing through Superman's system rendered him pliant, eager for the cruel touch of domination. Henry's silhouette loomed over him, exuding a masculinity so potent it seems to warp the very fabric of the room.
"Who am I, baby boy?" Henry taunted his voice a velvet menace that wrapped around Superman's mind, tightening its grip. “Tell Daddy. Say it!”
"Daddy," Superman gasped, the word slipping from his lips with an ease that terrified him. They both realized that his reply was an acknowledgment of his fall from grace. A confirmation of his newfound place in this hierarchy of corruption and lust.
"Again," Henry commanded his breath hot against Superman's ear as he reveled in the sweet capitulation of his once untouchable foe.
"Daddy," Superman repeated frantically as his cock lurched and leaked. “Daddy. Daddy,” he yelled in a mantra that seals his fate, binding him to the service of the man who has stripped him of everything but this new fevered need to submit.
Henry's thick, veined shaft cast a shadow over Superman's own proud member, the difference stark and undeniable. The air is thick with the scent of power, the tang of sweat mingling with the musk of male dominance.
"Look at it," Henry growled, his voice dripping with derision. "It's not just bigger; it's superior in every way."
Superman shivered, the sight igniting a coil of shame and unwanted arousal deep within him. "Yes, daddy," he murmured in surrender, eyes fixed on the physical manifestation of his downfall.
"Let me tell you about my conquests thanks to the Doctor’s formula and my implants," Henry boasted while stroking himself with an arrogance born of complete control. "The first one Dr. Kumar had me fuck was a state senator. I had him pleading on his knees for a taste. I got the good Doc all the fucking government approval he needed, and I got that old fucker to lick my nuts for hours. Well, not as long as the CEO of Kord Industries did. That fucking nerd offered his fortune to Kumar for one night beneath me. One look, that’s all it took. You think anyone could resist one, fucking look at my big cock?"
Superman's chest heaved as each confession drew a moan from his lips, "No, daddy," he whispered. By now every cell in his body was quivering you know robotic stimulation. The heady sensual musk that Henry was giving off was also driving him crazy.
"Daddy is so, so big..." Superman's groaned as his need for an ejaculation, tore at him even as it fed the twisted bond between them.
Henry chuckled, his confidence soaring with each utterance of the degrading words. "That's right, my little slut," he purrs. "Now, prepare yourself. Daddy's going in."
With a primal growl, Henry grabbed Superman’s legs, spread them wide, and pushed his hips forward, past the outer rings of the hero’s hole, driving his colossal girth into the Kryptonian's entrance. Superman's screams fill the room, a cacophony of pain and pleasure as Henry's cock ruthlessly invaded his depths.
"Fuck, your alien ass is so fucking tight," Henry groaned in pleasure ignoring the squirming Superman squealing protest to go slower. His screwing rhythm was brutal and relentless. "None of those other men-sluts felt half as good as this," he grunts, punctuating each word with a savage thrust.
Superman's muscles strained against Henry's iron grip. His body was a symphony of agony and ecstasy as his Kryptonian physiology struggled to adjust to the unprecedented intrusion. "Please Daddy!" he repeatedly bawled.
Henry only laughed, his grip on Superman's hips tightening as he mercilessly slammed into him. "That's it, bitch. Feel your invincibility crumble around you."
Superman's cries of torment and pleasure quickly became a chorus in the small room. The relentless pounding threatened to shatter his sanity. Henry's cock probed deeper into his depths, scraping against a spot deep within him that sent him over the edge. His torso arched upward against the larger man to permit a deeper fuck.
"That's it, Superwhore," Henry snarled as his thrusts became even more frenzied. "Squeeze Daddy's dick with that alien pussy of yours."
As Henry's cock plunged deeper and deeper into Superman's quivering body, the Man of Steel could not contain his both his sense of humiliation and ecstasy. Screaming into submission, he splayed his twin rear globes further apart and backward, his meaty ass needing more of Henry Moxon’s amazing cock to rape him.
Henry followed suit, groaning and clenching his teeth as he pumped with unrelenting force. "God, this is the most satisfying fuck I've ever had," he panted. His grip on Superman's hips tightened. Superman is so powerful. There is so much ass to fuck, he thought.
The rhythm of domination pulsed through the lab, a symphony of flesh and power. Henry's hands gripped Superman's hips with the certainty of ownership.
The Man of Steel was reduced to nothing more than a vessel for pleasure, a canvas upon which Henry paints his dark desires. "So good, daddy…daddy Henry fucks me sooooo good!" Superman gasped out. The words are a chorus of defeat and frenzy, torn from his throat by the relentless force of Henry's thrusts. Each syllable dripped submission, a testament to the twisted bond that now defined them. Superman, a proud symbol of masculinity and superiority, had been fucked into submission. Every cell in his brain was now wired with one purpose to give Henry pleasure.
"Say you're a Supercunt!" Henry commanded, his voice a blade slicing through the heated sexual fog circulating within Superman's mind. He was determined to strips away the last vestiges of the hero's pride, reducing him to the sum of his basest functions.
Superman's chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged bursts as an ever-shrinking part of his mind fought against fully succumbing even as his body betrayed him, seeking more of the punishing intrusion. "I..." He faltered, the word sticking in his throat like a betrayal.
"Say it!" Henry demands punctuated by a particularly vicious thrust, one that sends sparks of unwanted pleasure cascading through Superman's nerve endings.
"I'm... I'm a Supercunt!" Superman finally bellowed. His declaration echoed throughout the lab, a victory cry for the man who has conquered the unconquerable. "I'm... I'm a Supercunt!"
Henry's response was a predatory growl, a low rumbling sound deep in his chest that sent a shiver down Superman's spine. "Oh, you're not just any Supercunt, are you? You're my fucking..." He paused waiting for his turned-out beta tbitch o say it.
"I'm... I'm your fucking... Fucking... Supercunt!" Superman's sobbed. He knew now that there was no escaping the truth. His cock, engorged and leaking, was a testament to his newfound desires, to the man who has turned him inside out.
"Yes!" Henry triumphantly shouted while his hand connected with Superman's arse with a resounding smack.
“Eow,’ the crushed hero yelped as Henry rained down more slaps till his cheeks burned.
"Say it again! You're my fucking Supercunt!" Henry commanded.
"Yes, daddy! I'm your fucking Supercunt!" Superman wailed, the humiliation only serving to stoke the fire within him. He'd never felt more alive than now. begging for more of Henry's twisted affections.
Henry laughed with a low, satisfied sound that set Superman's blood on fire. "That's right, my little Supercunt. Take it like the fuck-toy you were born to be. You belong to Daddy Henry now, don't you?"
"Y-yes, daddy! I-I belong to you," Superman stammered, ashamed and aroused at his own words. He'd become nothing but a cock-hungry slut in this man's hands, desperate for more of his Alpha's attention.
Henry grabbed hold of Superman's hips, his nails digging into the pale skin as he ramped up his thrusts. "You're mine! All mine!" With every word, he slammed his hips forward, sliding deeper into the Kryptonian's tight, quivering passage.
Superman's moans echoed throughout the room, mingling with the wet, obscene sounds of Henry's cock working in and out of him. "Oh, fuck! Yes, daddy! Fuck your little Supercunt! Make me yours forever!"
"Mine!" Henry roared while spanking Superman's red arse again and again. "You're mine, aren't you, Supercunt?"
Superman can feel the pressure building in his loins, the fire in his belly threatening to consume him. "Yes, daddy! Yours!"
"Say it!" Henry growls, his thrusts becoming even more frenzied, driving Superman to the brink of madness.
"I'm your Supercunt!" Superman's hollered. As he said it, his body convulsed, the crescendo of his release imminent. Veins stood out on his neck, a roadmap of strain as he bucked against the iron grip that Henry had on his hips. The lab, once cold and sterile, now filled with the heat of their primal coupling, the air thick with the scent of sweat and sex.
"Fuck, yes... come for Daddy, show me that alien power," Henry growled into Superman's ear, his voice a dark melody of control and satisfaction. With a loud yell he shot into Superman’s ass and bred him.
And then it happened. As Henry’s spunk seared into him, an explosion of white-hot pleasure exploded inside of Superman. “Great Roa,” he wailed as he too had a climax tearing through him like a cosmic storm. His eyes, once a vivid blue, glow red as dawn, and his heat vision bursts forth. It cut across the lab in twin beams of destruction, incinerating equipment and scorching walls, but curiously, almost reverently, arced around Henry. Superman's most destructive force had now instinctively recognized the sovereignty of the man behind him.
"Such a good boy..." Henry chuckled, unfazed by the chaos, his hands steadying the trembling hero. To their mutual surprise, Superman's alien physiology, having accepted his newly created submissive role suddenly began shedding all the hair on his body from his neck down. What Henry had not known was that on Krypton certain men were alphas. They were so dominant that they stifled other Kryptonian men’s development of masculinity. For those other men, the symbols of manhood, like body hair, never developed. Superman having been bred with Henry’s seed, had been sexually and biologically castrated. True to his alien nature, his body instinctively began to shed the outward symbols of his prior masculinity. The loss of hair was quickly followed by a clear shrinking of his impressive build. It was as if the air was being let out of the Man of Steel massive musculature. Though still chiseled, he soon displayed a shorter height along with the leaner defined torso as befitting a beta Kryptonian. Even his once impressive cock began to diminish in size. Luckily, Kryptonian beta men’s nuts did not shrink, thus were still able to produce copious amounts of their aphrodisiac inducing spunk. Superman, now hairless from the neck down & smaller in build, had beta-bonded to Henry, his alpha.
“What just happened?” A shocked Superman asked in a voice that, unlike his prior deeply masculine tenor, was now distinctly lighter in its tone. He gazed at his shrunken manhood made to look even more pathetic framed against his still normal looking nut-pouch. He gazed slaw jawed at the sight of his smaller, less massively muscled frame in a wall mirror. For the first time in his life, he felt weak and frail. He looked at Henry. A sense of awe came over him combined with an uncontrollable craving to service his sexual needs.
“Who the fuck cares,” a giddy Henry answered taking in the sight of the diminished superhero. He felt the thrill of triumph. He had not only bitched the most alpha man on the planet, but he had also clearly unmanned him and turned him into a sort of Kryptonian twink. His revenge against a lifetime of bullies had finally been achieved.
He reached for a bell on a nearby charred table and rang it sending a clear, piercing sound amidst the crackling fires. The door swung open, and Bruce Wayne entered, his pride erased by the collar around his neck. He dropped to his knees.
"Look at you, Brucey. Enjoy your time in Arkon? You’re here courtesy of me. How does it feel to be transformed from billionaire to Moxon cocksucker," Henry taunted, his words as sharp as the debris littering the floor. "Your parents would be so proud, knowing their end was orchestrated by my granddad... and now their legacy kneels before me."
Bruce didn't flinch at the insult; he simply crawled forward, eyes downcast, moving toward Henry's backside. Henry, once again erect, thrust his cock into a mewing Superman, his rhythm unbroken by the new arrival.
"Make yourself useful, Wayne. Kumar Inc. will rise from the ashes of your pathetic company, and you will serve at its foundation," Henry boasted, each word he spoke was punctuated by the slap of flesh against flesh, “So go on…taste your new owners…make me feel like a fucking king!”
Without hesitation, a similarly mind-fucked Bruce Wayne quickly complied. He used his tongue along the contours of Henry's butthole, tasting him with an eagerness borne of a broken will. Each lap was a silent testament to his submission, to the depths of degradation to which he had sunk.
"Good... That's it, taste every inch," Henry commanded. He smirked looking down at the two figures beneath him—the world's mightiest heroes reduced to mere playthings, serving his every whim.
The room crackled with the energy of domination, the balance of power irrevocably shifted as Henry Moxon cemented his place atop the hierarchy, reveling in the dark symphony he conducted with every thrust. With one final, animalistic grunt, Henry Moxon once more sent his seed spurting into the depths of Superman's abused channel. The Kryptonian's ass muscles clenched around his shaft, an involuntary response to the overwhelming sensation. Milking every drop Henry wanted to give.
As Henry's orgasmic shudders subsided, he pulled out, his cock glistening with evidence of his conquest. "Clean my ass up, Wayne," he sneered, gesturing towards the broken billionaire. "And make sure it's spotless."
Bruce crawled closer, trying to ignore the sight and smell of his one true friend—the Man of Steel—now nothing more than a cum-soaked plaything. He took Moxon's cock in his mouth, swallowing every last drop, determined to please his new master by cleaning it, hoping the man would want another round before he was summoned away on business for the great Dr. Kumar.
The room fell silent save for the wet, sloppy sounds of Bruce's desperate ministrations and the shallow pants of the defeated Kryptonian.
The End