In the bustling heart of X City, a sleek, silver-white tower pierced the clouds, its futuristic design radiating power. Streaks of light zipped in and out of its summit, marking it as the headquarters of the Superhero Association—the bastion of order and justice in the world.
Inside the headquarters' training arena, a group of youthful, muscular heroes toiled through their workouts, their chiseled bodies drenched in sweat from the intense exertion.
At the front of the group stood a towering figure clad in a silver-white bodysuit, his rugged, masculine frame exuding authority. His hawk-like eyes scanned the young heroes, scrutinizing their every move. This was Steelhawk, a 32-year-old, 195-centimeter-tall powerhouse with a buzzed crop of coarse hair, piercing eyes, and a stern, chiseled face that embodied the raw charisma of a prime, mature alpha.
Despite his relatively young age, Steelhawk ranked among the top three heroes in the Association. His disciplined, no-nonsense demeanor and awe-inspiring strength made him the natural choice to lead and temper the new recruits, a task he took on with unrelenting rigor.
"Alright," Steelhawk announced, his voice cutting through the grunts of effort. "You've done well today. Training's over early."
The low-tier heroes, struggling through their exercises and visibly drained, let out a collective sigh of relief.
They'd heard tales of Steelhawk's brutal reputation as the "Demon Muscle Captain," but even with mental preparation, the past few months of grueling physical training had pushed them to their limits. The chance to rest early sparked silent cheers in the hearts of the exhausted rookies.
"Thanks, Captain!"
"See ya, Captain!"
The sweat-soaked young heroes shouted their gratitude, their earlier exhaustion replaced by a sudden burst of energy. They bolted from the training arena toward the showers, desperate to avoid any chance of Steelhawk changing his mind.
Watching the rookies scatter like a routed army, Steelhawk scratched his stubbled jaw, a rare moment of doubt creeping in.
*Am I really that harsh?*
After the last of the young heroes vanished, Steelhawk didn't follow. Instead, he stayed behind in the empty arena, launching into another round of grueling muscle training.
His chiseled, muscular frame pulsed with raw, masculine energy during intense workouts, exuding an irresistible allure. Under the lights, his robust physique glistened faintly with sweat, captivatingly seductive. Though Steelhawk was relentlessly strict in physical training, few young heroes dared challenge him—not only because he outworked them all with unmatched discipline, but also because he pushed himself further, diving into grueling, hellish muscle training long after they were done.
"…Ninety-nine, one hundred!"
Steelhawk's sculpted frame executed textbook-perfect reps, a sight wasted on the deserted arena. Completing his final set, he released the overhead bar and dropped nimbly to the ground. Breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, he readied himself for a shower.
But just then, his communicator blared with an urgent alert—monsters were attacking. Steelhawk paused, then strode toward the exit without hesitation. The shower would have to wait. Justice came first.
-
"Heehee! What's wrong, hero hunks? Didn't eat your breakfast? Your attacks feel like tickles!"
The once-thriving city streets lay in ruins, reduced to rubble. A humanoid, female-shaped monster cackled with eerie glee, swinging a whip-like appendage that tore through the surroundings, shattering everything in its path.
"Damn it! This thing's too strong—our attacks aren't even scratching it!"
A handful of mid- and low-tier heroes struggled to hold the monster at bay, desperate to curb its rampage. But their efforts were futile. The creature's power likely rivaled or surpassed high-tier strength, rendering their strikes useless. Each blow sank into its body like mud, failing to leave a mark.
Worse still, what filled them with despair was—
"Aaahhh! Mistress Monster! Please, whip me more!"
"Ohhh, fuck—I'm gonna… gonna cum! Aaaahhh!"
Behind the female monster, a group of mid- and low-tier heroes writhed on the ground, their dignity shattered. Their cocks stood rigid, spurting creamy bursts of energy-laced semen. Beyond its devastating force, the monster's whip-like tentacles carried a potent aphrodisiac and mind-breaking effect. A few lashes were enough to overwhelm weaker-willed heroes, forcing them to ejaculate uncontrollably before succumbing as enthralled sex slaves to the whip's intoxicating pleasure.
"Shit! Can't dodge—! No! Ngh… I… aaahhh! More! Please, Mistress, whip me harder!"
Another mid-tier hero fell to the whip's hypnotic power, collapsing in ecstasy. The monster threw back its head, laughing triumphantly.
*Looks like these heroes aren't all that impressive! Nowhere near as terrifying as the other creatures in the Monster Alliance made them out to be.*
But just then, a blinding silver flash cut through the air, followed by the monster's pained shriek. Green blood sprayed as its whip-like tentacle was severed at the root.
A towering, rugged figure emerged from the far end of the street, his muscular frame radiating unyielding power. With hawk-like eyes and a stern, commanding presence, it was none other than the high-tier hero Steelhawk.
*Damn it, why'd it have to be this guy?*
The female monster's confidence faltered. Despite its earlier bravado, it deeply feared the Association's elite high-tier heroes—especially Steelhawk, the renowned captain whose opening strike had just effortlessly dismembered its tentacle. The display of raw strength sent a chill through its core.
As Steelhawk drew closer, his imposing aura pressed down on the creature. It instinctively retreated a few steps, unable to withstand the weight of his righteous intensity. Finally, it broke, blurting out, "Alright, hero stud, how about a deal? I'll release your buddies, and you, being the magnanimous hero, pretend I was never here. Sound good?"
Steelhawk seemed deaf to its words, his steady advance unbroken. His piercing gaze swept over the mid- and low-tier heroes sprawled behind the monster, their bodies twitching in shameful ecstasy. Only then did his eyes lazily settle on the creature, cold and unyielding.
"They'll be saved," he said, voice low and deliberate. "But you're not going anywhere."
"Damn hero!" the monster hissed, its fear giving way to fury. "You'll regret spurning my offer!"
"You'll pay for this!" the female monster snarled, its bravado tinged with desperation. Though fear gnawed at its core, knowing the hero wouldn't let it escape, it steeled itself for a final stand. Channeling all its energy to the severed wound, it sprouted two new whip-like tentacles in an instant.
"Die!" it screamed, lashing a whip across Steelhawk's rock-hard pecs.
For reasons unknown, Steelhawk didn't dodge. The monster's heart leapt with wild glee, its whips raining down in a frenzy, striking his chiseled chest and six-pack abs, leaving lurid red welts. If Steelhawk underestimated its power, he was in for a rude awakening. While its lashes couldn't inflict physical harm, their aphrodisiac and mind-breaking effects ignored rank or gender. Even the mightiest superhero, with the slightest spark of lust, would have it fanned into a blaze, consumed and enslaved by the whip's seductive dominion.
But as the seconds ticked by, the whips' hypnotic power failed to take hold. The monster's confidence wavered, and it finally noticed the anomaly: Steelhawk's eyes remained sharp and unclouded. In disbelief, its gaze dropped to his crotch. Despite the impressive bulge, there was no hint of arousal—no trace of an erection.
"How… how is this possible?" the monster stammered, despair creeping in. "Don't you have *any* sexual desire?!"
This muscle-bound hero was a nightmare. Its resolve shattered, the creature turned to flee.
Steelhawk watched its panicked retreat but didn't pursue. In his hand, a blazing silver light coalesced, stretching into an arrow-like form, aimed at the monster's back. Just as he prepared to fire, the brainwashed heroes—previously writhing and moaning, endlessly spurting cum—suddenly jerked upright as if triggered by a signal. They surged forward, blocking the monster's path and rushing toward Steelhawk. Frowning, he halted his attack.
*These kids are pathetic,* he thought, irritation flaring. *Can't let them slack off like this. Starting next week, I'm doubling their muscle training.*
-
Another week of muscle training kicked off, and Steelhawk was in no mood for leniency. Disgusted by the new heroes' pitiful performance during the recent monster attack, he scrapped the slightly softened regimen and reinstated a hellish training gauntlet—harsher than ever. The grueling intensity proved too much for some, with a handful of low-tier heroes buckling under the pressure and quitting the Hero Association altogether.
Among them, a low-tier hero named Wu Yi gritted his teeth through the exercises, his resolve teetering on the edge.
Unlike his peers, driven by noble ideals of justice and peace, Wu Yi had joined the Association for shallow reasons: the glamorous lifestyle, the adulation, the spotlight. His selfish motives crumbled under the brutal reality of Steelhawk's relentless training, far from the heroic fantasy he'd envisioned. The thought of bailing gnawed at him.
…But maybe there was another way out?
When the torturous session finally ended, Wu Yi slipped away from the Association, sneaking into a shadowy corner of the city. His heart wavered, torn over whether this was the right move.
But when a figure emerged before him, the chaotic storm in his mind stilled, replaced by a cold clarity.
*What's done is done. No turning back now.* His gaze hardened with ruthless determination.
"Heehee, not bad!" a voice chirped. "That look in your eyes—it's got a certain… edge. Makes you even hotter."
It was the female monster from the attack, the one Steelhawk had sent fleeing in terror. Now, it stood before Wu Yi, eyeing him with a sly, amused grin.
"So, you've made up your mind, haven't you?" the female monster purred, its voice dripping with anticipation.
It turned out that, although Steelhawk had rescued all the heroes attacked by the monsters and brought them back to Hero Headquarters last week, everyone had been promptly saved and cured of the monsters' brainwashing effects. However, Wu Yi was the exception. His sense of justice had always been shaky, and during the incident, he was the only one who, after a single lash, immediately climaxed explosively. Throughout the ordeal, he was also the one who ejaculated the most and moaned the loudest. Even after treatment, it was no surprise that a faint trace of the monsters' brainwashing lingered in his mind, which was why the creatures had come for him again.
"Yes, Mistress," Wu Yi said, bowing respectfully. "Tell me what to do."
"Well…"
The monster's thoughts drifted to Steelhawk, that unbreakable wall of muscle and righteousness. A mix of fear and fury flashed through it as it gnashed its teeth and produced a small pouch.
"It's simple. This bag contains special pills. Get him to swallow one every day. After a month, you'll see a change."
"Remember: one pill a day. No more, no less. Too many, and he'll notice something's off. Miss a day, and his body might resist or even develop immunity."
"But once the month is up…" It sneered, a wicked glint in its eye. "I refuse to believe that sanctimonious, desire-free hero will stay so pure and noble. We'll drag that muscle-bound stud into a bottomless pit of lust!" It cackled gleefully.
Back at Hero Headquarters, Wu Yi followed the monster's instructions, slipping a pill into Steelhawk's meals or his training water bottle each day. By some twist of fate, Steelhawk remained oblivious, never suspecting he was being drugged. The monster's plan, it seemed, was unfolding perfectly.
-
A month later.
In the hero training arena, mid- and low-tier heroes exchanged uneasy glances. Steelhawk, always the first to arrive and the strictest of captains, was inexplicably late—by half an hour, a first in his impeccable record.
"Did something urgent come up at the captain's place?" they murmured, grasping for explanations.
But the truth was far from their guesses. Inside Steelhawk's private quarters, the air was thick with low, masculine moans laced with raw lust.
"Fuck… ngh… I'm late already… ohhh!" Steelhawk groaned. "Gotta… finish this load… then I'm heading to training… ohhh, fuck yes!"
The once-pristine room reeked of musky semen and pungent male sweat. Hero uniforms and casual clothes lay strewn across the floor, unwashed and filthy. An overflowing trash can, long neglected, spilled its contents. Crumpled tissue balls littered the ground, desk, and bed.
The disciplined, abstinent hero Steelhawk lay naked on his sheets, gasping heavily. His right hand furiously worked his erect cock, while his left kneaded his pecs and teased a nipple. His sweat-drenched face flushed red with the throes of pleasure.
Since the battle with the female monster a month ago, Steelhawk had noticed unsettling changes. His once-clear mind and body, free of desire, now burned with sudden, searing heat—an urge that grew stronger with each passing day, centered unmistakably on his cock.
-
Rewind to the first week.
At first, Steelhawk only noticed his morning wood was more frequent, his erections lingering longer than usual. By the second or third day, his cock began to harden at random, regardless of time or place, leaking precum uncontrollably.
Initially, he brushed it off. Despite his strict regimen of abstinence and muscle training, he was still a virile, red-blooded man. He chalked it up to natural male urges.
*Maybe I've been pent up too long? The medical team checked me out and found nothing wrong…*
Unbeknownst to the naive hero captain, the female monster's pills were designed to rewrite human DNA, forcibly transforming even the most disciplined man into a lust-crazed sex slave at the genetic level. The changes left no detectable trace, making them impossible to identify through any examination.
By the second week, the problem escalated. Steelhawk's massive cock was now erect from the moment he woke, staying rock-hard all day and even through the night—a relentless, 24-hour erection.
During training, low-tier heroes couldn't help but steal glances at the glaring bulge in his pants, their eyes drawn to it. After sessions, their idle chatter often included awed remarks about the captain's "impressive package" or "insane stamina." Overhearing these comments, Steelhawk's face burned with embarrassment, though a faint flicker of pride stirred within. As the Association's paragon of righteousness, he couldn't stomach being reduced to a symbol of raw sexuality, yet his blatantly aroused cock offered no defense.
That evening, Steelhawk, who always slept naked, sat on the edge of his bed, his expression grim. After a long hesitation, he made a choice. His constant erections were disrupting his daily life and heroic duties.
Breaking his decades-long vow of abstinence, he decided to relieve himself just once, hoping to quell the endless hard-ons. His hand, unpracticed after years without masturbation, moved awkwardly as he began to stroke his throbbing cock.
"Aahhh! …Fuck… ohhh!"
In his younger days, Steelhawk had indulged in moments of self-pleasure, but as he matured, his heart filled with weightier priorities—like the unyielding conviction of a righteous hero. Over time, he suppressed, ignored, and buried this basic male urge: masturbation.
Now, as his hand pumped his cock, waves of pleasure crashed over him like a tidal surge, overwhelming the stoic, stone-hard hero. The sensation drowned the long-abstinent muscle stud in a flood of ecstasy.
"Aaahhh! …Gonna… gonna cum! …Ohhh, fuck!"
In less than thirty seconds, thick streams of creamy cum erupted from his slit like a geyser, spraying wildly as Steelhawk gasped and roared, his eyes glazed and unfocused.
*Hah… hah… is jerking off… this… fucking good?*
Sprawled on the bed, drenched in sweat and panting, Steelhawk basked in the aftershocks of his climax. Warm cum coated his massive pecs and chiseled six-pack, an astonishing volume that surpassed even his most virile youthful days.
He was puzzled by how quickly he'd climaxed. Even in his prime, it took at least fifteen minutes to get off, yet now he'd blown his load in under thirty seconds.
Though curious, he didn't dwell on it, assuming his long abstinence had primed him for such an explosive release. Seeing his cock finally soften, he wiped the cum from his body, satisfied, and drifted into sleep with a sense of relief.
But as he slumbered, Steelhawk didn't notice that, mere seconds after his orgasm, his softened cock swelled back to full, throbbing hardness.
The next day, the relentless erections and leaking precum persisted, unchanged. By afternoon, the familiar heat surged in his groin, fiercer than ever.
*No way… I just jerked off yesterday… can't do it again today…*
That night, Steelhawk forced himself to lie in bed, eyes shut, determined to sleep. But sleep never came. His cock stayed rock-hard all night, soaking the sheets with a steady stream of precum.
By the third day, Steelhawk was in agony, barely holding back the urge to cum. From the moment he woke, a relentless need to climax churned in his groin, tormenting him.
He somehow endured the morning's muscle training, but by afternoon, the desire to release felt like a feral beast clawing at his ironclad abstinence.
It took every ounce of strength and willpower to resist ejaculating until nightfall. Lying naked in bed, eyes squeezed shut, the muscle-bound hero let out a resigned sigh. His rough hands slipped beneath the covers, quietly seeking relief. The frenzied motion didn't stop until the first light of dawn.
"…Last time today…" Steelhawk muttered to himself. "No more tomorrow night…"
But the words of the usually sharp and resolute hero captain came out weak, almost a moan, betraying his faltering resolve.
-
By the third week, morning light filtered into the room as Steelhawk panted heavily, a low, rugged groan escaping his lips. A musky, scalding heat rose from below.
With practiced ease, he grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the bedside, wrapped up a thick glob of cum, and tossed it into the overflowing trash can.
Glancing at the clock, he realized he was running late. No time to shave his stubbled jaw, Steelhawk threw on an unwashed bodysuit, reeking of post-training sweat, and bolted out the door, his cock still rigidly erect.
In just under three weeks, Captain Hero had fully embraced masturbation as a core part of his daily life, even finding pleasure in it. Jerking off consumed most of his time, far surpassing the hours he spent training his muscles.
The disciplined, abstinent lifestyle he'd maintained for over a decade now felt like a distant memory, as if centuries had passed in mere weeks. His desire to cum was like a breached dam—uncontrollable, ready to overflow at any moment.
-
Time rewinds to the fourth week.
Just this morning, Steelhawk had already masturbated to climax five times, each release surging with over fifteen powerful spurts. And this was after he'd spent the previous night teasing his cock, ejaculating repeatedly until three in the morning, with more than ten intense orgasms.
"Ah! Fuck… gonna cum again! …Ohhh!"
A breathless, lust-fueled moan filled the room as a sweltering, lewd heat saturated the air. But the urge to cum didn't fade with each climax—it burned hotter, like a wildfire raging out of control.
Panting heavily, Steelhawk forced his swollen, throbbing cock into his tight bodysuit. He was already drastically late for the low-tier heroes' muscle training. Though every fiber of his body screamed to keep jerking off and cumming, the last shred of his rational mind forced him to grit his teeth and hold back.
*…I'll jerk off as much as I want after training's done…*
-
"Hey! What's this? Get lower! You! Yeah, you—don't slack off!"
In the training arena, Steelhawk barked at the group of mid- and low-tier heroes.
His unquenched need to cum left the usually composed captain unusually volatile. Every imperfect move sparked a torrent of scathing reprimands.
The recruits endured in silence, grimacing under the pressure but cowed by the captain's longstanding authority.
If they'd dared to look up, though, they'd have witnessed a shocking sight: their stern, commanding captain, mid-tirade, with a lewd, exaggerated bulge straining his bodysuit. As he berated them, Steelhawk's hand drifted to his cock, slowly stroking.
*Fuck… can't hold back… need to cum so bad…*
Steelhawk didn't know what was wrong with him. Abandoning abstinence was already a massive lapse, but he'd at least been able to restrain his urges somewhat.
Now, as training progressed, the sight of the recruits' bare, bulging muscles, sculpted by exertion, and the musky scent of their sweat-soaked bodies filled the air. His need to cum surged like a roaring river, unstoppable.
*…They're all looking down. They won't see… might as well…*
With that thought, Steelhawk's hand moved faster, his strokes growing bolder. A shuddering jolt of pleasure shot up his spine.
"…Captain?"
The rookies, puzzled by the lack of new orders, murmured uncertainly. Heads bowed, they remained frozen, not daring to move without Steelhawk's command.
A strange, muffled squelch broke the silence. After a long pause, Steelhawk's hoarse voice rasped out, "N-Nothing… keep… keep going with the next move… ngh…"
-
Hiding in the shadows, Wu Yi could hardly believe his eyes, witnessing the usually stern and composed hero captain pleasuring himself to climax during a muscle training session.
The shocking scene nearly made him scream aloud. He hadn't dared to believe the female monster's plan to corrupt Steelhawk could actually succeed. Fortunately, the captain, lost in his lust, hadn't noticed him.
Glancing to his side, Wu Yi saw the other mid- and low-tier heroes absorbed in their training, eyes fixed downward, oblivious to their captain's brazen behavior.
It was time to move to the next phase of the hero corruption plan. Wu Yi stealthily raised his phone, discreetly recording Steelhawk as he stroked himself to orgasm.
-
That night, as Steelhawk feverishly tended to his aching cock, a sharp knock at his door shattered the haze.
"Who's there?" he growled, his voice hoarse and edged with irritation from the interruption.
Silence answered. After a moment, he swiped a hand across his face, yanked on a pair of briefs, and stomped to the door, scowling.
The hallway was empty. On the floor sat a white envelope and a large box.
"What the hell?"
Frowning, Steelhawk hauled the items into his room and tore open the envelope.
His pupils constricted the moment he saw its contents.
Photos spilled across the floor—images of him in the training arena, blatantly masturbating. The stern, righteous hero captain was nowhere to be seen; instead, the pictures captured a depraved, lust-drunk figure.
Trembling, Steelhawk pushed the photos aside and read the letter:
*Dear Captain Steelhawk,
You've truly surprised me! Who'd have thought the strict, disciplined hero captain hides such a lewd, wanton side? I got off multiple times today just thinking about your performance in training.
Don't worry—I won't tell a soul. But in exchange, wear the little gift in the box to tomorrow's training. I know you'll love it. After all, you're the muscle stud bold enough to jerk off in public!
You must crave the thrill, the fresh rush of it, don't you, you naughty muscle slut?*
Steelhawk sank to his knees, clutching his face as the letter's words snapped him out of his lustful fog. For the first time, he realized the depth of his actions. But it was too late to turn back. After a long, shaky pause, he reached for the box with trembling hands.
Inside were just two items.
-
The next day, in the hero training arena, the recruits watched Steelhawk demonstrate exercises with rapt attention.
The image of the Hero Captain had changed drastically from a month ago. His once-clean-shaven face now sported a scruffy, unkempt beard.
His chiseled, muscular frame still exuded raw masculinity, but his silver-white hero suit was marred by yellowish sweat stains at the edges. His pecs strained the fabric, two prominent nipples constantly asserting their presence. Most striking was his groin—a 23-centimeter erection jutted shamelessly, making the righteous, commanding hero look more like a brazen exhibitionist.
Naturally, the heroes had grown accustomed to it over the past few weeks. Or rather, even if they found something odd, they didn't dare question it. After all, this was the third-ranked high-tier muscular hero of the Hero Association!
If even a powerhouse of this caliber had issues, what would become of the Hero Association?
Thankfully, Steelhawk's training movements remained crisp and precise, and his responses to questions were mostly normal. The only oddities were his now-daily tardiness and the absence of his usual solo extra training sessions—small deviations from his former disciplined self.
The heroes chalked it up to pent-up urges or lingering effects from a monster's attack, a common enough issue among muscle-bound heroes.
But today, something was off. Steelhawk struggled with even the simplest exercises. He'd pause mid-motion, letting out a low groan before faltering, or tremble violently while lifting dumbbells that even low-tier heroes could hoist with ease.
"Captain? You okay?" a recruit ventured. "Are you sick? Maybe you should rest."
"Ngh… I… ugh… I'm fine," Steelhawk stammered, forcing a laugh. "Hah, what could be wrong with me? Just… a bit thirsty, that's all. Don't worry."
Unseen by the others, a vibrating egg was lodged deep in Steelhawk's tight, furry ass, pressed right against his prostate.
Each time he exerted himself, the egg buzzed violently, shattering his focus with a surge of intense pleasure. He'd stifle a groan, eyes rolling back, barely holding himself together.
Glancing down at his throbbing cock, Steelhawk recalled the letter's chilling words:
*Hope you enjoy my little toy. Oh, and this sounding rod is just for you. Make sure to slide it into your cock—unless you want to make a messy, cum-soaked spectacle in front of the recruits.*
The rod stuffed in his urethra was anything but pleasant. It blocked his cum, forcing it to backflow painfully. During climax, the pressure even dislodged the rod slightly, making it bulge noticeably under his bodysuit. Panicked, Steelhawk shoved it back in, glancing around. No one had noticed—yet.
*Damn it! Who's behind this? It has to be one of the mid- or low-tier heroes to get those photos. But who?*
Determined to unmask the culprit, Steelhawk scanned the recruits, searching for the one controlling the egg. He'd checked the surveillance footage yesterday, but the recordings were tampered with, showing nothing out of the ordinary.
As if sensing his intent, the egg's controller struck back. It buzzed with vicious intensity, forcing a loud, involuntary howl from Steelhawk. The recruits turned, eyeing him curiously. His face strained, veins bulging as he fought to maintain composure. He overheard their whispers:
"Hey, you hear that buzzing sound?"
"What? You're imagining things. Don't slack off, or the captain'll chew you out."
"But… I swear I heard it…"
The rookie mumbled, but thankfully didn't press further.
Another month passed.
Each night, Steelhawk received a new batch of bizarre sex toys, accompanied by an anonymous letter coercing him to wear them during muscle training.
Over the month, every erogenous zone on his body had been thoroughly awakened and exploited.
To his own despair, Steelhawk couldn't deny the truth: he was reveling in the intense pleasure, the raw sexual thrill, the electric rush. Deep down, a part of him even began to anticipate what perverse "surprise" the next day's delivery would bring.
*Am I… really the muscle pervert those letters claim? …No! That's not true! I'm being forced into this… yeah, forced…*
Yet, the seed of his ironclad righteousness was on the verge of blooming into the most depraved, lascivious flower of desire.
-
That evening, Steelhawk stood dutifully by his door, awaiting the nightly knock.
He knew the routine: each knock heralded an anonymous letter from some unseen fiend, paired with a Pandora's box of perverse sex toys. But tonight dragged on, unusually quiet. Even as dawn broke, the knock that had arrived without fail for a month never came.
*Is it… over? Have they let me off? …Or…*
Steelhawk's thoughts wandered aimlessly. Only when training time loomed did he realize he might truly be free.
Dazed, he slipped into his bodysuit. Months of relentless sensitization had transformed his chiseled, masculine body into a finely tuned instrument of pleasure. Even without toys, the mere friction of fabric against his skin sparked intense, electric sensations.
*Ngh… so empty…*
Yet, it wasn't enough. Without a device strapped to him, his body felt wrong, incomplete.
Finally, he hesitated, then dragged a box from under his bed, filled with every sex toy delivered over the past month.
Normally, per the silent agreement with his tormentor, he'd wear whatever arrived that night for the next day's training.
But today, there were no instructions. Steelhawk swallowed hard, his gaze settling on a thick, black vibrating dildo, a pair of nipple clamps, and a textured sounding rod studded with nubs. One by one, he applied them to himself.
That day, despite the absence of the letter, Steelhawk dutifully wore the sex toys through an entire day of muscle training. The sensations overwhelmed him, forcing him to slip away to the restroom mid-session to secretly relieve himself.
Astonishingly, he climaxed more times than ever before, each orgasm producing a record-breaking flood of cum.
During training, he couldn't suppress lewd moans, louder and more unrestrained than any prior lapse. Some mid- and low-tier heroes cast suspicious glances his way.
"Captain Steelhawk… are you… okay lately?"
A young rookie, eyes brimming with earnest concern, approached him after training.
"I know it's bold of me, but you've been so different this month—almost comical, honestly. I became a hero because I saw you on TV, crushing monsters, inspiring me to chase justice. I don't know what's going on with you, but if there's anything I can do to help, please tell me!"
The young hero's voice trembled with fear, but his gaze burned with determination.
Steelhawk's breath hitched as he faced the rookie hero's unwavering admiration.
*What am I doing? Wearing a dildo, nipple clamps, and a sounding rod—how can I deserve this kid's reverence?*
Just then, his waist-mounted communicator blared—the piercing alert of a monster attack.
Steelhawk locked eyes with the young hero, who spoke first, his voice brimming with encouragement: "Go, Captain! No matter what's happened, I believe you'll rise again and handle this crisis perfectly."
In that moment, a long-dormant spark of justice flared within Steelhawk's chest.
He said nothing, but his presence shifted. The dull haze in his eyes sharpened to a piercing glint. With a curt nod, carrying the rookie's hopes, the hero captain sped toward the incident site.
-
On the city streets, a familiar cackle echoed as the female monster, wielding its whip-like tentacles, toyed with a group of mid- and low-tier heroes. Outmatched, they were helpless, mere playthings in its grasp.
"Heehee! Let's see how long you last… six, seven, eight… oops! There you go, cumming already! Too bad, now you're my muscle slave!"
"And you, little cutie? Let's test you… oh? Only six lashes before you break? Hah!"
"Hmm, not bad—you held out for twenty. But once you cum, you're mine, muscle slut."
The monster gleefully lashed the heroes, its excitement mounting. Weaker ones succumbed after a few strikes, spraying cum and falling under its mind control. Even those with stronger wills rarely lasted past a dozen lashes before erupting and joining the enemy.
As despair gripped the heroes, a silver-white arrow of light streaked before the monster.
"Time to stop," Steelhawk declared, his icy gaze fixed on the female demon, radiating righteous authority.
"It's Captain Steelhawk! He's here!"
"Hah! The tables have turned, demon! You're done for!"
"She whipped him hundreds of times last time, and it did nothing. She's finished!"
The heroes, moments ago hopeless, surged with renewed vigor. The female monster faltered, retreating two steps in unease.
By her calculations, Steelhawk should have been utterly consumed by lust, a slave to his desires. Yet, his clear, commanding gaze defied her expectations.
*How? Where did my plan go wrong?*
But Steelhawk gave her no time to ponder. A blazing white light gathered in his hand, growing brighter, its sharp silver spearhead aimed at the female monster.
"Let's end this—ngh! No! Wait, aahhh!"
To the heroes' eager anticipation, the silver arrow didn't launch. Instead, Steelhawk let out a wild, uncontrollable howl, the light fizzling out midair. His muscular frame shuddered violently as he collapsed to the ground.
"What the—?!"
The sudden turn left the heroes stunned.
"Hah! Allow me to enlighten you," the female monster said, her composure restored, a gleeful smirk spreading as if she'd discovered a new toy.
"I thought I'd test it out before my final moments," it purred, "but I never imagined your Steelhawk captain would actually wear those things..."
With a flourish, she brandished a small remote, and, meeting the captain's frantic gaze, cranked it to the maximum.
"Feast your eyes! This is the hero you idolize."
She tore open Steelhawk's bodysuit with a vicious rip. In front of the gobsmacked heroes, the buzzing of the toys echoed through the air. Without the suit's cover, Steelhawk's chiseled, masculine body—and the lewd array of sex devices adorning it—was laid bare for all to see.
"Are those… nipple clamps?"
"No way… this is a lie!"
"It can't be!"
"This is fake! Captain Steelhawk would never be… some depraved pervert!"
The heroes recoiled in disbelief, but the undeniable truth stared them down. Their admiration for Steelhawk crumbled into crushing disappointment and fury.
"So… all this time he's been acting weird… it was because of these sex toys?"
"That's disgusting! Wearing that stuff during muscle training?!"
The barrage of accusations left Steelhawk's mind blank, reeling.
*It's over… everything's ruined…*
In that moment, the fragile flame of justice he'd rekindled flickered out completely.
"Heehee! Time to see how many lashes it takes to brainwash the mighty hero captain!"
The female monster grinned, cracking her whip across Steelhawk's nipple.
"Aaahhh! S-Stop… nghhh!"
The muscle-bound hero's mouth gaped, a lewd scream tearing from his throat. His six-pack clenched, his fully erect cock quivered, and the sounding rod shot out of his urethra, followed by torrents of creamy cum spraying wildly.
"…What?! Just one whip?!" the monster exclaimed, delighted. "Even the urethral rod's was being shot out! Captain Steelhawk, worst score yet! No wonder you trained such a pathetic useless batch of heroes, hah!"