The Telemachus Story Archive

A Super Superhero is Crowned
Part 6 - The Taking of a Hero
By Rick Henry

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Part V. –- The Taking of A Hero.

Batman swirled away Superman’s robe with an easy flourish... let it drop to the side with a plop, revealing the bold nudity of his companion. While his own muscularity was more than jaw-droppingly notable, as if somewhat protectively, shyly, he did not remove his thong... and still wearing it, closely standing near to Superman’s side, who seemed still unsteady, reached over, one hand at the titan’s waist, the other to adjust the shower knobs, which quickly began a quiet, but forceful soothing spray of warmth engulfing the both of them. His eyes hardly able to comprehend, or merely just gaze in wonder at the mass of so much more greatly sculpted, giftedly-endowed and huge-breasted, tiny-assed, giant-armed muscle next to him—swallowing tightly, his thong instantly pushing forward, the cannon of his own largeness worse than aroused. No, he hadn’t climaxed earlier. But he was choosing to take it slowly, not rush things along too fast. Wanted to lull his man into an undeniable failing, irrevocable surrender. Knew he had been severely traumatized, mentally and physically, and was struggling to deal with it—also knowing he was on the wane... and wanted to bolster his pride and ego, give him some dignity.

“Dear God, you’re so beautiful, Bruce,” Superman could not help saying. With very slow, considerate breaths. “I guessed, but never knew how much. Why the thong?”

“As if you weren’t even more so—?” Bruce managed to stammer. “Later,” indicating his still unrevealed genitals, which could hardly be contained, his erect rod-sheath curved outwards protrusively, shaft already partially visible and Superman eyed with obvious longing. And each, as if hesitant, resisting the drawing-in of each other into themselves. Bruce then slipped a bar of soap into his starting to reach forth hand, and said coolly, with some authoritative command, “Turn around. Face the wall.... Soap up.”

Superman paused with some surprise, hardening, aching to suck the berry-like nubs of Batman’s nipples, but complied, allowing the welcome warmth to drench his front, face, hair, head. Batman, in total astonishment, even more than before... near gasping at the barn-wide mass of shoulders and lats of the incredible alien’s smooth, slick back now presented to him, and how it was tapered down into the tiniest waist imaginable for such an astoundingly built man... with the tightest, round, hard and ultra-smooth buttocks one could dream of, set above such densely powerful, yet still tapered hairy and very muscular thighs, with calves near big as Batman’s own impressive arms. Unbelievable for a man in his mid-forties, skin silk-fine, youthful as a teen’s.

Bruce’s lips quivered, never having been one to be enchanted with another man’s ass—but knew he was going to claim this one. And indeed, mouth first! But was content to begin lathering his partner’s rippled back more than strongly, yet very lovingly—his touch not unnoted by the man he was caressing so assiduously. Who was definitely absorbing the way he was being treasured by the other. Giving up mild murmurs of lion-like contentment.

Though he was not as tall, could not do as he wished with him, massaging once again over the broad melon-ish mounds of his shoulders, Bruce then had to be content to slide his hands from behind and up under the alien’s huge arms to reach forward over his massive, armor-plated pecs. Which were both hard as granite, and yet pliably dense... being obviously milk-loaded as well as muscularly hard and tight. It didn’t take long before he found the man’s huge udders, caressed softly over them. The giant in his hands shuddered noticeably, moaned deeply. His body tightening with a slight arch. And Bruce pressed his thong-packed genitals into the hero’s cleft firmly, forcing it apart as much as possible... adjusting himself to make it more than obvious he was going to seek entry....

Uhhh, uhhhhh, Uhnnnnnhhhhhh!” Superman began to man-mewl. “No, please... not yet, love. Need more time, to, to rest, re...coou-p—” couldn’t finish, his arousal too strong.

The Bat, carefully, slowly priming the Kryptonian for conquest. His fingers soft, feather-fisting over Kal’s huge teats, up and down their turgid growing lengths, their filling shafts, savoring the corrugation of them ever so lightly as they hardened, erected swiftly forwards and broadly even larger to their left and right sides. Then his forefingers found the crowned ends of their largeness and held there... ever so gently pressing, rubbing, swirling over their inch and a half wide breadths. Driving the alien crazy with rapture, knowing he would climax him if he kept on. Superman wanting to resist, but helpless to do so. Caught and captive. Even leaned forwards a bit, adjusting his legs and rear, tucking his waist, expected, willing to be taken. But instead, suddenly overcome... started to straighten.

“Those wonder-tits of yours do you in every time, don’t they, big guy? Make you so easy... hard; and fast,” Wayne whispered into the side of his ear. Knowing his man was wilting like a fucking pansy, about to blow out more of his power sources. Which would weaken him further, if not replenished.

Bruce, Bruce... oh, yes, yessss!! Ahh-ooohhh!! I-I-I—UH-AHHH—OHHHHHHHH!!!!

The greatly muscled Superman tightened, arched further backwards into him, and came. His giant nipples spurting forth in spasmodic jets, and his incredibly long and heavy cock, down-slanted below his thighs, erupting in jerk-like surges, unable to rise, nor could his seed be captured. Breath heaving in great jolts, he fell back into Batman’s sheltering arms, who held onto him... worn as if he might collapse at any moment. Trying desperately to maintain his senses, keep from blacking out—shuddered in monumental tremors.

Not exactly as Bruce had planned, was even startled. But was willing to adjust to accomplish his mission. Holding onto the huge near-failing titan, he savored the mass of him within his arms and kissed the back of his neck and shoulders incessantly, reassuring him things would be alright. Just take slow deep breaths, allow him to take control. Ease himself down from the intensity of his triple orgasms. “That’s it. Take it easy, easy. Slow, deep breaths.”

“Way-wasted, wasted too much. So tired, Bruce. Hold me, hold me. Hold....” the big man turned into him frontally, and weakly clung against him like a man drowning, desperate to be rescued by his savior. Who was indeed Bruce, then and there. It took a good three or so minutes before he could finally speak. Straighten, and seemed to compose himself. The warm shower still covering them, soothing.

“I, I’m so sorry. Depleted, have been depleted too much, I guess. What’s happened. Now this. Not at all usual. Only, only Tarzan... could do, touch me like you have. Make me erupt so quick, so completely. No one since. He treasured me, like you do.... Thor, Aquaman—all they wanted was to use me. Aquaman... nearly killed me . So, so you see, how different you are. How special. But, but I feel so weak... so wanting to surrender—with you. Completely. Hard even to think.... Help me, Bruce. My, my huge man-tits, indeed, my “Achilles Heel.” Still tender. Yet so wonderful, wonderful. Must be careful... who I allow, to-to take, use them. Take me....”

Getting him to where he wanted him, more and more. “Ahh, our boy, “King of the Jungle.” Wasn’t that some ten, twelve years ago?” Wayne asked, concerned.

“Have—not disregarding you... missed him terribly. Terribly. Yes,” Clark sighed.

“Sounds like an interesting story. Tarzan. Care to tell me?”

“Let’s... get some towels, wipe off. Sit down a bit. Sure, I’ll tell you. No shame, nothing to hide. Best wonderment of my life. Till you— .”

* * *

Batman guided his still unsteady partner towards a nearby highbacked lounge chair close to the couch. The man seemed yes, unusually worn out, exhausted. As expected....

“Better put on my robe, or something,” the MOS muttered. “Don’t care for the chilled air.” Batman helped him into the soft, but thin, silky-dark blue velour robe which had been presented to him immediately after his win, not ever having noted there was some embossed writing across the back in yellowish gold. Which Bruce did with a certain smile as he helped ease him into it, smoothing it over his gargantuan shoulders, and led him to his refuge in the highbacked chair.

Bruce found one for himself, a comfortable white terrycloth hanging from a wall hook. Looking around, scanning the area more intently. The front door they had entered and locked; another in the rear to a back hallway. Secured, also. “How about a drink, brought some cognac with me? Hennessy, VSOP, nice and smooth. Will brace you up a bit. Ease your nerves.”

Superman looked a little hesitant. “You know, Bruce, stuff like that gets me high really fast. My, uhh... physiology. Don’t indulge.”

“Ahh, this is a special occasion. You’ve had a bad shock—also turned out a big winner! Tired, sure. But it’ll mellow you out... help you relax.” Knowing it would knock him silly. Make things easier. Got the bottle from his bag, two plastic cups. Poured them out.

Dark sapphire eyes into his, taking it. “Sure, why not? Knowing I’m in good hands. Yours here, the best.” And downed a huge slug, hardly thinking about it after they’d clicked glasses. Loving the warm taste, the surge in his throat, held out his cup for more. Which was filled much fuller than before. The so-much more warmth he felt in the solid, comforting presence of the Bat, what they had shared. Knew they yet would.

Bruce, pleased, the bigger pack-muscled Kal—one he could never overcome—monster-breasted, giant armed, but demure Clark... tiny waisted, huge genitaled, sterling-built Superman... taking the bait. Then sat near facing him, as his friend seemed still trying to catch his breath, tell his story. Intrigued, he leaned back—staring up at the sturdy, exposed steel girders of the eight-foot-high ceiling above them, with no little amusement. Absorbed, listening. Alternately calculating over them, and the arced, shell-covered ceiling lights... his paramour alien’s very handsome, but slightly marred face. One eye modestly swollen, nose and cheeks showing scuffed scratches. Nothing a little time wouldn’t fix.

No doubt about it, even so, they were a desirable pair. And separately, staggering men to look upon. At last, Superman leaned back, sighed, also as if searching the ceiling, began his recollections. Occasionally sipping his brandy, finding it was soothing. Intoxicating. Wanted more, helped him fuzz out the events of the past hours or so.

“I guess I should have been more careful, scanning, and making a slow drift through the early morning jungle—mists rising from everywhere, small pockets here and there, in very unfamiliar territory. The dawn sun barely piercing the cover of the brush. While I was well expecting to come across a cadre of skillful diamond poachers, which I had been asked to search for by one the biggest firms from the Netherlands. They said trespassers were robbing them blind, and sought my help to put a stop to it, on the fringes of their leased territory. I had heard some of what I thought was human-voice activity, and made an easy descent. But I was unwisely dropping myself into an unrecognized bog, my feet sank surprisingly into it up to my knees.

“In some consternation, I tried to pull myself out, but shockingly began to sink further the more I struggled. I even tried to lift, propel myself upwards, but my powers of flight had been curtailed. I began to feel more than woozy, nauseous suddenly. And more than afraid. I realized I was in quicksand ! I looked frantically to the right and left, to reach for something, anything to grab onto. Even my laser vision was useless.... Then I perceived, due to the crater-like area around me, I must be in a depression where a small meteorite had hit the earth—an object containing fragments of Kryptonite, which were rendering me and my strength useless. I began to panic. The voices I thought I had heard were silent, nothing stirred. Must have been monkey chatter. The weight of my body as I moved seemed to draw me further and further into an inescapable, approaching doom. Inevitable extermination. I, the “great Superman,” about to be swallowed alive in this murky pit!! And no one anywhere would have a clue what had happened—or where I’d disappeared to. Nor was there to help. I frantically floundered trying to get free. All I seemed to do was hasten the process of my murder, as the bog was soon at my waist, sucking me down further.

“I uncharacteristically began to cry out for help as loud as I could. Truly terrified for once in my life. Here I am, the most incredible, invincible man on the planet, powerful beyond comprehension—and being eaten alive by simple mud and water at the prime age of 32, from which I could not, even with my normal earthly strength, have been able to escape. It was not only ironic, but horrifying. I would drown, be smothered to death slowly. And eventually decay and dissolve into nothing... as if I had never been.

“As the muck rose higher to the base of my ribcage, I heard a noise. A swoosh in the air. In surprise I looked up, and in amazement saw a human figure gliding towards me. He was lean and muscular and nearly naked, swinging from a vine out of nowhere. Suddenly he slammed into me, his fine, strong legs wrapped around my torso, under my arms, and fastened firmly. He was trying to desperately pull me upwards. A savior from heaven had arrived. Only in shock, as he managed to lift me but inches, the vine broke from our combined weights, and he fell backwards, hopelessly, helplessly into the bog beside me. I gasped in true fear, but could do nothing. His fate would be as mine.

“But miraculously, agile as he was, he had managed to twist himself in his fall, and landed with a splat in a horizontal position. And in miraculous moments more, he roll-manipulated his body across and over, out of the muck and to safety on firmer ground. Grasping foliage at the edge of the bog he pulled himself to his feet. He looked sternly at me, and said: ‘No move. Stay still. Me help.’

“It seemed to take forever as I felt myself sinking further. But he then had managed to quickly find a smaller, more flexible vine, and tossed it to me. ‘Under arms,’ he commanded. ‘Tie, me pull!’ And impossible as it seemed, I did so, and he pulled with all his might, and began to gradually ease me free from my prison. Once released from my deathly plight, I lay collapsed and more than exhausted on some solid ground, heaving.

“‘You weak,’ he observed. ‘So big, huge. Need clean. Follow me.’ But seeing I could barely move, he assisted me to my feet. I fell against him desperate for support. He was surprised, but his arms closed to hold me. ‘You very weak. How come? So big muscles—?’

“‘I, I’m Superman,’ I told him. ‘Kryptonite. There must be Kryptonite in the bog,’ I stammered, seeing he did not understand, and looking at my strange costume with a genuine frown. ‘Later. I will tell you later,’ I continued. ‘Yes, must get clean.’

“He shrugged, we walked a little. Soon I was able to feel some strength in my legs, was able to navigate wobbly on my own. He observed me with great curiosity, and obvious concern. Finally led me to a calm, refreshing and sheltered pool of much clearer, cleaner water, and right into it. We were both dirty, mud-smeared and indeed, a mess. He helped me remove my cape. Swirled it in the water to cleanse it, then tossed it aside to dry spread on some bushes. Came back to face me, both of us thigh-deep in the water.

“‘Must take clothes,’ he said. ‘Off. I help,’ noticed his nostrils flare as he drew close, taking deep breaths. I turned so he could get at the zipper behind my neck, pulled it down to my buttocks. Then he turned me to face him. I literally was still in a daze, trying to get my brain to work and the rest of me. The Kryptonite had knocked me for a loop. Facing him, standing like a statue. He reached up, grasped my suit from behind my shoulders, very close to me, and pulled it slowly down over my skin... revealing my massive shoulders, beyond incredible arms, heavy, falling-forwards pectorals, covered with hair, all the impossible ridges of my perfect abs... to my waist. And stared. Could not believe what he was seeing. My humongous nipples, which had never been revealed to any other on the planet. His mouth fell open at the nude sight of my torso... wondering what more there might be, I’m sure. As I observed him, my tits began filling, became naturally surge-loaded, almost quivering; my udders, at last nakedly revealed to another... pendulous, but tightening as they involuntarily began to erect. I, too, finding him near, and the way he looked at me—my pulses surged, had to take deeper breaths. My balls stirred.

“He was no less also gloriously muscular, with a wide-built chest: saucer-broad, finely large, dark areolae, nicely nippled like large olives... tight and lean, must have weighed 60 pounds less than me, just over six feet—trim, well-cobbled waist also; narrow hips. His genitals still covered, but I could see his loin cloth had filled, swelled more forwards. And he was roughly very handsome. A bit barbaric but not savage, with somewhat unkempt, dark, wavy, shoulder-length hair, piercing dark, yet welcoming eyes, strong brows... smooth-skinned all over like a baby’s, no less hard and firm. Definitely a looker, yet oddly a bit of a man-child with a certain stern, innocent-softness, and yet well-honed strength and confidence. I was enthralled. I surely was unlike any creature he’d ever seen before, as was he to me.

“‘You, so big . Great muscles,’ he gaped. ‘And more big than woman tits... yet so much, very much man!’ In obvious wonderment. ‘No seen, before.’

“‘Me, either,’ I couldn’t help saying. ‘A bit of a freak, I guess. All in all.’

“‘No,’ he murmured, ‘so much. Beautiful... ’ As if he wanted to reach out and touch me. I sensed it. The two of us alone, almost completely naked in the jungle. Knowing what was coming, that I had to go further. He let go, I continued to tug at my suit. Pulled it further down and below my hips, finally stepping out of it, my huge genitals also on full display, and never seen by any earthling. The wonder of my largeness, staggering. Though I knew blacks in the jungles were reputedly of great size also. My balls weighted like avocados, my flaccid cock thick as a young girl’s arm, two thirds to my knees. I knew he would stare, and he did.

“‘You... bigger than even Chief Nerwana, village some distance. Wonderful. But me, not so much. Pigmy, compare.’ With that, with no hesitation, removing his loin covering, stepping out of his sling, tossing it shoreward... presenting himself, not shyly.

“I could see he had a wonderfully long, marvelously thick, nine-plus uncut member, the glans well-retracted, and on the verge of full erection to over ten. His testicles low slung like kiwi’s, and withdrawing. His pecs he flexed, abs tightened. Moved closer. With a simple inevitability... he reached out not the slightest bit coy. Touched the stone-granite of my shoulder, slid one hand down one of my arms in pure wondering worship.

“‘Chief, half-hand bigger than mine. We meet, join, couple times month. Suck. Has wife, too. Three boys, two girls. Great friends... natural. Six years, we know, since young. Good joy.... Me want. You want...?’

“And with that, his bold member, high-angled, pressed firm into my belly, going above my navel... with the slightest touch, began to finger caress the very ends of my nipples, locking eyes with each other... (they were then not quite cresting 4 inches, but thick). I moaned, wilting instantly as he kept on and on, savoring my pleasure, my excitement barely able to be contained, getting weaker and weaker, surrendering to him, as my giant manhood rose near instantly—having never been touched before by anyone, stunned at the wonder he was eliciting from me—even greater than I had ever been able to give myself.... My chest heaved forwards, completely under his control, offering my male breasts to the man who had dared claim them, without qualm or shame—at last being freed from years of pent-up denial and frustration. No one near to see us or judge. My heart thumping like a drum. He did not have far to bend, nor even need to kneel... the so greater length of me high into my pecs, he slowly sucked me in, both my ridged cock glans, and my nipples... going from one to the other to both, while I groaned... arched, writhed. His sounds of pleasure no less. I was more than undone. All his in a flash.

“In no time, we found ourselves soon laid back on the pool bank, each other’s cocks deep in our mouths, drinking rapturously. Me able to take him fully in, including his balls; while he was barely able to take a third of my shaft, being not only so long, but so impossibly thick. He was also a profusive comer, though I must have near drowned him in surprise with mine. But we kept on, and each came four times. Before we at last were able to rise and wash each other off. And made love again till the afternoon. While he depleted both my great strength, my jizz and my breast-milks... in pure amazement that I was so profusive. Yet I, too, was also confused at how weak I became the more I unloaded...! Thinking for sure, away from the Kryptonite I would quickly recover. But he kept me helpless and exhausted taking so much of me. It was difficult, but I was later able to explain a lot of things. Who I was, how I came to be; and even demonstrate some of my incredible powers eventually. But by the time it was over, I was completely his in all ways. And deeply in love, as he was with me. Literally, having sucked and fucked each other into and out of ourselves... for and with each other, our souls traded, unceremoniously mated.

“It truly broke my heart to have to depart from him. We both wept like crazy. Having found something so unalterably wonderful. But realized we came from two different worlds, had two very different destinies, and could not abandon them. Or allow ourselves to surrender to just our emotions and the ecstasy of our physical passions, even if we were not exactly all that well-matched... but knew how to give each other pleasure neither had ever known before or dreamed was possible. Dear God, and the way he could play my teats was astonishing. Could cause me to come several times in a row, doing nothing else but them. And was overjoyed that he could give me such helplessness at his hands and mouth, as well as such fulfillment. I gave him some tips on how to enlarge his own upper and lower decks, which could be done if he were serious and consistently desiring such increase. (From the crystals that had been secreted, enclosed in the craft that had brought me to earth as a baby, not discovered really until I was almost twenty.)

“I’ve flown back only a few times since. And once he had managed to find and mate with Jane... I saw him less and less. It actually was more difficult than ever before, each time we separated, until we agreed it would be best if we nevermore engaged, than to create such a continual conflict between us. I don’t believe in sharing; one should be loyal and committed to one partner only—so it was against my values to violate those principles and continue. By the time I eventually left, he had gained one and a half inches more in his cock, and the nubs on his pecs had increased up to nearly one and a half inches as well. He was delighted. Because it gave not only himself but his wife great pleasure equally. And his Chieftain friend, beyond amazed, whom he also saw rarely, once he had settled in with Jane. I’ve missed him terribly, and try not to remember.... He’s been the dearest thing I’ve ever known. Except possibly for you... who touches me with the same near sense-reverence as he did, beyond any others. Which have been few indeed.”

Finally after several minutes of silence, letting him relax in his reverie and reminiscences, Batman smiled, and offered a mere “Thank you” for the compliment he’d been paid. Superman telling him already he was a very cherished lover, although they had barely begun. Content that he’d successfully lulled the great MOS into a very disarmed and satisfactory containment. Urging him on, refilling his cup... noticed his eyes soft-glazing. Even he feeling the heat.

“So what about Thor? And Aquaman? Yet rarely seen,” he asked. “About the two greatest others in our League, and wonderments in their own rights. I’d hate to come against any of them, physically. Or even intimately. They’re pretty much very “other worldly.” Like you. Which astonishes me that I could be favored by you, really. Being so much lesser.”

“Remember the old saying,” Superman retorted. “‘It’s not the size or the power of the weapon, but how you use it.’ Sometimes swiftly, or more cleverly—or more subtly. Can win the day. Or the match.”

“I couldn’t agree more. As we have seen. Or shall...?

Superman took a deep breath, looked at him askance, and frowned. Ignoring any thoughts to the contrary. Resumed his revelations, still feeling so very strange, overly exhausted. Almost queasy in his stomach. No less chalking it up to his mishandling by Cappy earlier, and the lingering effects of that gold K. cock ring—his shattering, demoralizing defeat in that one stunning round, an embarrassment to his very core!! (As well as his near fatal downing in the third! Had he not force-risen himself to strike as he did.) Not to mention his further strength-source depletions recently on the couch Batman was sitting on, and how he’d been again diffused so skillfully in the showers.... It was natural, he assumed, his system still trying to recover. Like it had in the jungle with Tarzan, after his near fatal experience in the bog. Even though the two of them had exchanged their essences in great abundance thereafter. Each of them incredibly potent. Remembering the wondrous taste and smell of him to this very day, years gone by. He was now forty-four.

In a bit of a haze, Superman was still finding it almost difficult to breathe or think properly, the closer he and Bruce were becoming. But he didn’t want to speak of it, held it in. Aided with the balm of the cognac.

Batman relaxed back, pleased. Considering Round One had been more than brought to completion.

* * *

“Thor and I met at the first meeting of the League, before it became officially known as such. Instigated by Wonder Woman, who had thought a good deal about it, and called for a conference of those she thought might be inclined into co-joining our forces more collectively—not be spread so far apart, making each one of us actually way more vulnerable and independent. If we formed a mutual confederation, organized crime could be dealt with more efficiently, and nations could appeal to us for help in a much more effective way if necessary. As you know, she was right, although we still often remain scattered, but have managed to establish a useful headquarters, and it’s worked rather well.”

“Yes, it has. Except there seems to still be some headstrong egos who don’t like to conform.”

“Let me guess....”

“Believe you’ve already met him,” with a shrug, and a larger smile. “And prevailed.”

Superman returned the grin. But then paused to wipe at his forehead, seemingly a little fogged. Batman curled his toes, cramped his knuckles... took a deep breath. The MOS went on.

“You weren’t there at the first meeting, Bruce. It went well, and there was another scheduled for two weeks further on, after we’d agreed to think the matter over. Thor had catapulted in from Asgard (I don’t know how), not all that familiar with things there. We happened to be at a small island conclave in the Caribbean, and the resort had been booked secretly, so no outsiders were around.... Thor invited me to his quarters, staying solo, and wanted to get to know me further. Our attraction to each other was instantaneous, but I was aware he had a few women back home. I went in stupidly alone, expecting a few cordial drinks and a late dinner. Told me to drop in at ten p.m.

“I knocked, and he answered the door fully naked. He noticed the startlement on my face, grinned widely, and said ‘I knew you’d be interested... to see it all. Come in.’ He was a hulking huge fellow, three inches taller than me, and heavier by a good forty pounds, and gaspingly well endowed, though not as long as me. More than built, hairy as a mountaineer, with largely big nipples, too—but never large as mine, as few exist—but he wasn’t hiding anything. Bold and proud. ‘Wanted to see you, too. Go ahead. Strip.’

“I said, ‘Wha—?!’ and he gave me that outrageous, sunny smile of his. ‘You weren’t looking at my pecs half the day or my arms or my loins... just to compare. Though you do have more than a few “sets” on you that rocks more than most I’ve seen. And you’re shorter. Cool! Told you I wanted to know you.’

“Guess my mouth was hanging open. Staring at this blond muscle god, more than ready to close in without preamble and simply engage. I said, ‘I’m not like that. Appreciate the invitation, and you do have a lot to offer’— my face getting flush, and I could see he was starting to thicken a bit with anticipation. While my own member surged like crazy, surprising me.

“‘They say you’re the strongest man on the planet. Even invincible—’ he kind of teased at me. ‘Match these...?’ And powered up a set of arms even Cappy would have gaped at. Like a nut I took the bait, couldn’t keep my eyes off him, then turned to admire my own boys as I flexed and raised my proudly huge cannons. To show him I certainly wasn’t small, either! But I’d been had. Swifter than lightning he struck, grabbed up his hammer from nowhere, and hit me dead center in the forehead. I was out like a light. Instantly collapsed in his arms... which had been waiting for me.

“I came to. Was completely stripped. His mouth suck-drawing the milk from my breasts, both at the same time, his huge cock inside of me... soft ramming into me like an intoxicated bull, yet gently... and I was moaning like six whores taken in pure, but willing surprise. He was truly huge, only twelve inches, but massively ten around! A true wonder I could take him; but I am extraordinarily flexible. Never imagined anything like that could ever be. Tarzan, much smaller in comparison. Yet, barbarian natured as he was, Thor was still very kind and easy with me. ‘Know I gave you a shock. Didn’t want to hurt you. But knew you wanted me, and we were wasting too much time. Knew you were one built, hung fucker. But those tits—never dreamed they could be so fine. A pair of bold young cocks, so loaded, loaded, loaded. Wow! Making me drunk as a loon.... Between them, and those huge loads of jizz you’ve been shooting me. Fuck of the ages, for sure! Tasty as all hell. Couldn’t be called “Superman” for nothing. Now I know!!’

“‘You, you—unfair —raped, are raping me! Deceived, downed me. Took me out,’ me, trying desperately to comprehend what had happened. My head ringing, aching like blazes. Then our eyes, crazy close together, him still in me... filling me like half a universe, he kissed me over and over and over; pulled back, and asked... ‘Do you want me to stop ? Sucking your tits, your cock, fucking you? As much as you craved, wanted—still want me to—?’

“I, I, I... guess, partially in shock, and on the edge of Valhalla, more enraptured than I’d ever physically known before, I stammered, wavered, tremored... told him: ‘No... no, please. Never stop! Take me, take me, as much as you want. I’m yours....’ And meant it. He’d made me more pliable and submissive than I ever could have imagined. Such a man as he was, and in his arms, I’d found a true haven.... Dominated—and I loved it. Though later I did take him , and he was near screaming how far I’d gotten into him. And then begging me to go deeper if I could. He’d never had such a fine cock, nor known any the way I moved, or pleased him... could suck him, too, while deep inside him. His hard, big nipples that gave no milk, but I writhed him near senseless, me on them. His cock I could barely, barely could get my mouth around; and he was grateful, because he’d never met anyone who could. And that was a true blessing for each of us. (Something only his own mouth had ever pleasured him with.)

“Until at last, after three days and nights of never-ending sucking and fucking, and him draining most of my strength to almost nothing, I was urgent to leave. Could hardly walk. He didn’t want to let me go, wanted me as his forever fuck buddy, to plunder, plunder, plunder... until I was near dizzy, and becoming totally disoriented. He truly was one helluva fuck and fucker, but it was impractical. It made no sense. He swore he’d treat me like a prince, if I’d only go to Asgard with him and we could be royal brothers, and he’d be able to fuck me daily, forever, if I’d only say yes. But I had to say no. He was angry, pouted. But after a few hours realized I was right. Asked to ride my 13-er one more time, and leave him while he slept. Didn’t ever want to say goodbye. And said he would not engage with me again.

“So I did. Fucked him crazy one last time, till he at last was asleep. And haven’t seen him since “in close quarters.” Though we still give each other longing stares, and wry, wilting grins... across crowded rooms. Have been tempted out of my mind so many times to enjoin with him again.”

“And so ‘the mighty are fallen?’ Or learn to be mournful, and contrite. Ah, memory can be a bitch, I imagine. Coming so close to something so wonderful. Losing it. Or knowing you have to.” Bruce was more than sympathetic.

Testing to see how well he was really doing, the confident Wayne slow patted a space beside him on the couch. Indicating Clark should come to him, with a no less than an enticing lift of his brows. Superman again frowned, but struggled forwards, found his bearings, and lurched towards him, sinking heavily beside him, wanting more cognac. Easing his worries further and further away... Batman snuggling him close. One arm around his waist... laid his head on his shoulder, palmed over and along one his rock-hard thighs, rubbed a little up towards his inner crotch. The Man of Steel quickly beginning to stiffen, closed his own hand over the Bat’s, thoughtfully continuing. No less a shade inebriate, but willfully quelled his stirring hard-on with conscious, measured breaths. Took a few more swallows.

“With Aquaman—it was a little different. I still turn red to remember. One glorious fucker, indeed. But he wanted more out of me than I could give, or wanted to....”

“Yeah, tell me about that,” Bruce nestling closer. Giving his man a little more time. Time which was definitely fleeting. They must have been in there over an hour and a half. The world outside the locker room would be waiting. Or wondering.

“I had been on the tail of a nuclear sub Washington notified me was in peril. I was in beyond unknown, deep waters. Swimming strong and swift, not able to see well. But was suddenly ensnared, I couldn’t believe it. A net so strong, and with such fine webbing, I had no chance of escaping. My lungs could not endure the pressure, nor the prolonged lack of air. My fingers could not get a firm grip on the fine, spidery material enough to tear myself free. I realized, at last, I was doomed. I struggled desperately, knew my end was at hand—I was panicked, began blacking out. Superman would be eternally no more. And slipped into darkness.

“I awoke, naked and bound. In shock, what was this that could contain me, stronger than my miraculous strength? And was further shocked into awareness, there were suction tubes attached to my exceedingly large penis and encasing both of my man-notable udders. My heavy testicles were being massaged lightly, constantly, to ensure I would continue to produce more and more sperm, as were some odd, enveloping pectoral cupping devices, which I realized were also causing me to be stimulated to produce more and more milk from my chest mammaries. It was terrifying. I was also literally suspended in mid-air, in a sort of fibrous hammock—a collar around my neck, hands behind me, ankles fastened, and my genitals and breasts captively engaged to these strange machines. Finding I was in the process, and had been, of being suctioned of my life-giving strength sources and powers. To struggle was useless. My uniform was hanging neatly to one side of the air-filled chamber in which I was imprisoned, but I knew little else. Worse than confused. And no less in great fear. Without the restorative rays of the sun, I was being terminated.... But soon faded away once more.

“When I came to, worse than grogged and weak, I noted I was being attended to by four very strapping, handsome young men, barely clothed; their muscularity beyond admirable, but nothing compared to mine, also unmistakably finely endowed. (Later learning they were their king’s very close companions and special guards; although he had a formidable harem of six women, as well. Which revealed his true nature... to a degree.) They smiled, sighed, indicated I should remain still, not to be too alarmed, attended to my “life-sources suctioning” with astute satisfaction. Then the two handsomest drew near, undid my mammary connections, and before I knew it, their mouths fastened completely over my nipples and began to drink from me. I struggled uselessly, ecstasy soon overwhelming me, and lapsed into a stupor of uncontrolled bliss, spurting more of my semen than I thought possible until I blanked out again. Beyond a heaven and torture unimaginable, never before known. I craved it to never end; yet knowing if it didn’t, I was finished!

“‘We’ve kept you three days, non-stop harvesting from your wonderments,’ a strange, strong voice declared. ‘You’ve done well. Afraid you would not last so long, yet exceeded our expectations. We’d heard of the great Superman before. And now that we had you, needed to know what made you tick. See if we could break you. A man who can fly, with all that muscle—larger nipples than any woman’s ever seen—arms, pectorals, genitals (and features) none here could compare to or with. Once stripped, astounded by your assets. We thus needed your secrets, to enhance our own gifts. Why not? Opportunities presented should never be dismissed. Yes... we safely released the sub, restarted its engines, saved all aboard. And, nice to know our nets were beyond your famed great strength and powers. Be that as it may. Freak of the universe as you are.’

“The figure was as sturdy as you Bruce, perhaps a tad leaner, undeniably good looking, built. Introduced himself as Aquaman, King of Atlantis, ruler of the known seas. He was naked except for a prodigious pouch covering his privates; had a physique of exquisite, all-over sculpted muscle, early 40’s. Some strange scaly-like linings along the sides of his rib cage (gills, he later explained, which gave him the ability to breathe underwater as well as on land), very large chested, beautifully cut pectorals, abdominals chiseled, with shoulders and thighs worthy of any Olympian athlete’s. I could almost say a bit of a lesser Thor, except he was hairless... only a rich mane of dark blond hair, and wondrously wreathed genitals as I soon discovered. ‘I will give you a rest, unhook you. Having more than diminished your famous powers. You will bed with me a while. Partake of each other’s wonders. Then, resume with your milking shortly.’

“All through the night, I begged him, pleaded. He was only about eleven inches, nicely thick, prolifically spermed, and fucked me endlessly. But never once sucked my cock nor allowed me to penetrate him. He reminded me in no uncertain terms he was the Alpha, all man! And he would take a man’s due, expressing his royalty and position. Although he did relent in the savoring of my astounding man-breasts, and allowed me onto his—nothing quite near notable as yours (maybe only full-inch and a half type gum-droppers, which he’d never allowed anyone to touch before), but reluctantly admitted give him great pleasure—and no less had me suck his fine genitals as well, even to exhaustion. Saying no one in his kingdom had ever been able to give him the wondrous joy my flexible mouth gave him. He was truly pleased. Said he wanted to keep me, such a skilled, pack of muscle and such a very handsome, hung man he’d never seen; and was sure the bounty of my semen and milk production would be a great boon to his men, his warriors... and I would service them well. Amazed at the richness, the quality of my juices, and the volumes I could produce. He kept me a full eight hours in pure ravishment; an insatiable satyr. Then returned me to his devices. Though alternately refreshing his appetites with me later.

“After two continual weeks, I finally reached him. Told him I was dying if he did not relent. He reconsidered. But only I think because I had assiduously kept hammering at his own nipples, and rendering him with a joy he had never known or unleashed before, and noticing how they too had begun to so swiftly enlarge. I convinced him of my necessity to remain as who I was, the good I was able to offer the people of earth... that surely I was of more value than just a near automaton for the benefit of his personal pleasure, and my juices for the enhancement of his men’s “increases.” Could even strike a bargain, promising to return when convenient for his again enjoyment of my physique and assets (and talents ), assuring him he had more than pleasured me, too... but I must still remain Earth’s Superman, without challenge or be restricted from completing my mission of goodwill to all. He mulled it over, and finally grudgingly agreed. Although afterwards, I’ve only returned twice to fulfill my bargain.

“He was indeed a great fuck, more than an adept lover. But having kept me continually drained and weakened, prohibited from expressing my own machismo... I was able to leave not only with a great relief, but an odd sadness as well. I had enjoyed, I had to admit, his dominance and control over me, which no man had ever seemed to gain before in such a way. An almost ownership, my great might... become subservient to his will and masculinity. A strange thing....”

Batman had laid in calm and hard against his overly wide dense-mounded pecs and torso, savoring the relaxed MOS’s words. “That’s quite a round of stories! To hear you tell it, then “our invincible Superman here” has been had—almost completely brought to a wimpy, helpless naught by the simple, not-quite-so-super trio of Tarzan, Thor, and Aquaman. Glad you told me. How you were so completely pussied down and defeated ; and so easily ! Interesting.”

Bruce!!” a bit miffed, the terminology he’d used.

“With Cappy today, making it four .”

Bruce!” again disgruntled. “You know what he did, they did, was unfair.”

“As was Tarzan’s mouth and cock? Thor’s hammer, admittedly a strong punch? Aquaman’s fish net, and milking machines? And my... even more clever hands...?”

“All and each, very different. And yours, because you wanted me, have for ages. As much as I’ve groaned to be with you. And you proved how sweetly, how much, how caring... you are, can be. A true friend, companion.”

“But I am also, the “Dark Knight,” remember...?”

“Dark as your fucking hair. And just as adorable—.”

“Depends on how you catch me. My mood.” And kind of shrugged, drawing back, getting up from the warmth of their embrace. “Oh, wow,” he said. “Getting late. Am sure all those reporters are chomping at the bit.”

“Let them. Who cares?” feeling the brandy. “I insisted they post DO NOT DISTURB!! signs before we got in here. Figuring it would be a madhouse.”

“And rightly so. But they’ll break in, eventually.”

“And what do they need to see—?”

“The Great Superman... in all his glory! No less.”

“Well, maybe not that much...” Supes snorted, kind of chuckled.

“Exposed like a two-bit whore!” Batman chided. “Hmmn... been there, done that.”

Bruce!!” again concerned. As Batman noncommittally raised his eyes, shrugged again, a definite tease. Turns Supes would not have expected. Especially not from the lover who had just erupted him in the shower, gotten him previously drained on this very couch, and was no doubt heading him into, very soon for sure... further, more explosive/endearing intimacy.

Batman had once more taken a wide turn around and behind the couch, the high back of which was right at waist level... “Get up,” he said. “Come here, close,” bending down to do something with his little black bag, which he had deposited nearby. More of an order than an invitation. The MOS wearily struggled up from the haven of his seat, found he was still inexplicably dull and woozy, managed to ease his way around to the couch and towards his friend, who was waiting calm and still, smiling broadly, his hands clasped behind his back, his black thong more than enticingly full, a big Cheshire-ish look mysteriously on his face.

“Seems like... seems you’re ready. For something,” Superman’s eyes glued to the swollen thickness of the Bat’s grown larger dark pouch, stretching boldly forth from his groin. Not yet having seen him, but his own beyond pendulous member stirring long and heavily down-slanted with anticipation. Knowing they were both more than near to being fully enjoined. The brandy-hazed part of him wondering if he was able, the carnal craving of his true psyche taking over. Regardless still of any lingering physical discomfort in his breasts, his genitals. To be loved, comforted, pleasured... soothed from the nightmare of the day’s events, by the incredibly fine, desirable, very manly Bruce Wayne. His inner core trembling, willing for anything.

“Turn around, towards the couch. Your robe. Take it off....” Eyes momentarily engaged, the massive alien complied—not the slightest bit demure, his gigantic pecs falling out and forwards, paired sausage-nipples softly, heavily drop-slung and noticeably beginning to fill from his so proud wondrous mounds of muscle... turning his body away as ordered, his pubic hair pressing tight into the back edge of the couch ridge, letting his robe slip silkily from his huge shoulders, his back towards Bruce. Who, all the while, again couldn’t help gasping, “My God, what a work of art... you are!” Gaping at his ten-pin bowling ball shoulders, forwards melon-mounded biceps and equally rear-thick cabled triceps, striated lats tapered into a teenage boy’s waist, mighty legs, Olympian-large yet tapering to knot-heavy calves the size of cannon balls... and mid-anchored by an ass so perfect and small like a 12-year-old’s, impossible to believe contained by/on the wonder of such gargantuan musculature.

But Bruce knew his man was beyond weak now, and would topple. Stepping closer, with a calculated push, he deftly hit him in the small, mid-center of his lats’ base, and the off-guarded Superman with a short cry pitched forwards. The great mass of his shoulders and pectorals, the heaviness of his arms at the unexpected thrust, plunged him face forwards over the edge of the couch, his forehead towards and into the seat of it. He tried instinctively to brace himself, catch, push back and regain himself positionally upright with his arms, but found they were dumb, would not work. Could not! In more than surprise, almost panic, he garbled out, “Bruce—?!” that his forever indisputable strength seemed to have evaporated. His head truly fuzzed. Not him—massively built as he was—!! But it was true. His powerful torso hung over and bent forwards, unable to straighten, the weight of his legs and feet still keeping to the floor, Batman’s thighs locked in behind and into his. Arms like heavy weights unable to be used. Bruce’s one hand secure above his buttocks preventing his rise.

“Wha, wha... Bruce! Help me up, I’m off-balanced. Can’t—!” he railed, half-muffled.

“I know,” Bruce said. “Now give me your arms,” already in process of grabbing at one of the bewildered man’s oar-thick wrists. And pushing with his knees into the backs of the larger man’s own to hold him in place.

“I, I... can’t. They won’t—”

“I know. I’ll help you. There, that’s one. And now the other,” scooping up the depowered MOS’s both arms, and astutely fastening his wrists together behind his back with a single, simple and thin, plastic zip-tie.

“Bruce, what are you doing? Don’t! Help me up.”

“Just zip-tying your wrists together. That’s all.”

“No, Bruce, no. You can’t!”

“But I just did. Now... if you’re so mighty and strong, break free. Unless—either you can’t. Or you like it this way?”

The befuddled and seemingly sapped muscular titan arched, pulled, twisted, and struggled. To his shock, finding he could not straighten, nor snap free from his ensnarement, his confusion rising by the moment. Not to say no less than some severe alarm! His huge, huge greater than Goliath arms... made useless by a puny zip-tie?! It was more than beyond belief!!

Even Batman was amazed. Knew for sure he had him. No worries from here on out.

“Didn’t you tell me you like a little “domination?” Just playing your gig, Clark. Like you like it. Gets you really hot, right? You like to be pussied down. Manned-around, yes?! Our so-big muscle-man here made wimpy, controlled by a truly more real one—tougher, far more macho than you— considering all your supposed, incredible powers. But really, nothing more at heart... than an actual FAGGOT-FLAMING-CUNT!!”

“But, but Bruce! That was then! Entirely different. Not what is right, and the way I am, or—!! OHHHHH!!!!!!!!” A near shrill, yet sharply dull scream escaped his mouth, a bucking surge. Moans beyond moans following. Beyond shocked.

Bruce, Bruce, Bruce!! Oh-oo-oohhhhhhhhhhhhh....!!”

With the most outrageous of sighs, unlike anything he’d ever done before, nor ever thought of doing... Bruce Wayne now on his worshipping knees found himself lovingly caressing over the tight, hard, silky smoothness of the Man of Steel’s perfect boy’s buttocks—who was beginning no less to moan, move, and accept his hands’ fine masculine touchings, slidings, probes... and was before him, taking a sharp intake of breath when he felt his cheeks being gently parted... and Batman’s nose, mouth, lips and tongue reached the treasury of his never before rim-touched anal flume!

Ooooh-ahhhhh...!” Clark gabbled—beyond stunned, wonder. And in relaxing surrender. What his friend was doing, never dreamed-of—“Oh, Oh, Oh,” to him! Suddenly wanting, pliable, hungrily willing.

Bruce again caressing at him ever so lightly, both repelled and intoxicated by the smell of him, his tongue more urgent and deep—then, forthrightly plunging in to claim ownership.

Above him, bucking and wriggling, moaning and sighing indeed, the touted Man of Steel (once, but no more)... felt he might even suddenly faint. His long and sensitive teats being rubbed mercilessly against the back of the couch cushions en-thrilling him, hands bound behind and helpless, while never before being so ravished into his rear. Superman’s inner sanctum adeptly mouth-raped—breached, bridged, explored! But that was only a frivolous, cherishing prelude, before Batman’s thong was pulled down, discarded... his long ten and a half inch man-shaft by seven and a half thick inches boldly entered his captive, proclaiming victory. And easier than imagined, finding his man’s chute already slick and wet with his natural flow (no less automatically triggered from his ever taking his own self—genetically programmed to do so—as well as being naturally readied for those select others with whom he had indulged)... except, of course, for Batman’s unusual cock-wonderful thickness, making it not quite so quick and easy, but a joyously slower and more forceful conquest for each. While his cowed mate quivered and welcomed him with undying sounds of surrendered, vocal submission. And no less than ecstatic, blurred murmurings.

The invincible Kal-El knowing his craved-for male counterpoint had found him at last! The very masculine but gentle/rough cocksman of his dreams (even if less large than his own), ravishing his prostate adeptly, strong and sweet... though not yet face to face.

In full control, the intrepid Batman using his bat... beyond satisfied. The once superior “Superman” now succumbed, fatefully his. If he’d only have had more time, more skill, he would have ram-fisted the fucker worse than senseless! Shown him who the real boss was, indeed....

Round Two! (But wasn’t it to have been the best “two” out of three?! Except... well, in this case, three was determined to be needed.)

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