The Telemachus Story Archive

Part 9 - 13 Part 9
By SHeroNY
Email: SHeroNY

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The Super Friends in


By SHeroNY

Part 9

Under the watchful eye of the Doctor’s recently-assigned slave-guards, Number 5 and Number 9, otherwise known by their more familiar superhero names Hawkman and Firestorm, Superman has been hooked up to that mad scientist’s mind-bending invention for nearly a week now. During that period, his cock has been consistently milked and his ass has been repeatedly pounded. Denied food and water, the starved superhero was forced to suck on the cock-shaped tip of that long tube to receive any form of sustenance. So, to quench his enormous thirst, not to mention feed his ever-growing drug dependency, the hungry hero has given that mechanical rubber phallus sliding in and out of his mouth one blowjob after another over the course of the past several days, digesting literally gallons of the doctor’s highly-addictive cum-like chemical concoction in the process.

All the while, he has been watching the hypnotically erotic video of this domineering Doctor in his visor and listening to the non-stop subliminal messages of complete submission and total obedience coming from his headphones this whole time without so much as a rest. Everytime he did start to fall asleep, the electrodes attached to his clamped nipples released an added jolt of electricity through the wires just to make sure that he stayed awake. The countless hours of computerized slave training had successfully transformed this once honorable straight superhero into a hopeless gay sex addict. By the end of his technically advanced brainwashing, all he could think about was the man he now lusted for and that was his Master. And the only way he could satisfy that lust was to submit to him completely. His eternal servitude was assured.

Returning to the lab early that morning after a rather enjoyable evening of breaking in a couple of his other super-slaves, the Doctor, now dressed in his full Leather-Master regalia, was quite pleased with his patient’s progress. According to all of the digital readouts, the newly-implemented Number 13 was responding very well to his programming. The detailed reports appearing on his monitor screen indicated that the mental conditioning program had been successfully installed, Superman’s mind had processed all of the information it had downloaded in his memory circuits and he had come to accept these thoughts that had been cybernetically implanted inside his rebooted brain as his very own. The data confirmed that The Man of Steel had become little more than a living, breathing automaton, totally reprogrammed to obey only to the orders of the man he now belong to and to perform any task he was given to his new owner’s complete satisfaction. At last, his latest sex-slave should be ready for duty.

The Doctor ordered Numbers 3 and 8, the former Justice League members once called The Flash and El Dorado, to return to the brainwashing chamber for routine maintenance. They had indeed proven themselves to be two extremely capable and accommodating bottoms last night but their services were no longer required at the moment. He would be sure to call upon them again very soon, perhaps when they come to the celebratory orgy/retirement party he was planning to give himself in the not-so-distant future. After all, it wouldn’t be much of a party if he didn’t invite all of his new super-sex-slaves to be in attendance. For they would not just be the guests but the entertainment as well. But right now he had a much more pressing matter to take care of. One that required his undivided attention.

After the Numbers 3 and 8 had left the lab, The Doctor released the new Number 13 from his restraints and carefully removed the clever devices he had created from his patient’s stretched anus, his puckered lips, his red erect nipples and his still massive member. His newly-reprogrammed sex-slave now stood at attention in line with the other two slave-guards Number 5 and Number 9; arms to his side, shoulders pointed, head held high, his booted feet planted closely together.

The Doctor approached his three sex-slaves, breathing in the pungent sweaty aroma of the intense sexual passion that came from his latest recruit. The perspiration coated the rugged Man of Steel’s slick, glistening body as it moistened the leather harness he was wearing so that it clinged ever-so-tightly to his bulging pecs and six-pack abs. His skimpy soaked thong was completely drenched with ball sweat. But that slightly dampened spiked collar around his big thick neck was still snugly in place, as the harsh lights overhead shined off the gold plated dog tag hanging from it which proudly proclaimed his new identity as “Number 13“.

The Doctor stood in front of his latest convert. Instead of the empty, vacant dullness in the eyes of this mind-wiped drone, the Doctor immediately could see the flames of passion that now burned brightly behind those two smoldering blue pools staring back at him. Number 13’s body may be as stiff as a board but his mind was a raging inferno of uncontrollable passion. This overwhelming desire to serve, to obey, to please his Master could not be denied. To him, nothing and no one else mattered. His Master was his everything.

“Who am I?” the Doctor asked.

“My… Master,” the new Number 13 quickly responded with no signs of reluctance. In fact, his rock-hard erection noticeably pulsed with unbridled enthusiasm whenever he called him by name.

Overlord’s own cock grew firm when he heard Superman refer to him with such respect and reverence.

To gauge his reaction, the Doctor inquired further, “What are you?”

“I am… your… obedient… slave,… Master,” Number 13 confirmed without hesitation.

“Tell me the truth of your existence, slave,” The Master ordered as a test of his willingness.

Once more, the superhero once known as Superman spoke in a voice that quivered with arousal. “I… live… to… obey… you,… Master,” he proclaimed, “For I… am… your… sex-slave… My… purpose… in… life… is to… serve… you… I exist… solely… for… your… pleasure,… Sir... Pleasing… you,… my… Lord… and… Master,… is my… only… desire… ”

When Superman said the words, the bulge in the front of the Doctor‘s leather pants was suddenly sticking out like a tent pole. For all of his fondest dreams had just come true. Superman was now his to command. He owned him mind, body & soul. His will had become his Master’s will. With the enslavement of the Man of Steel, his Justice League collection was finally complete.

“Good boy. You shall serve me well,” his Master commended him. The Doctor was satisfied that once more, his process had prevailed. Now it was time to initiate Number 13 into his new way of life. “Number 5, Number 9, you may be dismissed. I can handle Number 13 all by myself from this point on. Now GO!”, the Doctor barked.

“Yes, Master!”, the former Hawkman and Firestorm replied in unison as his two slave-guards marched out of the lab like a couple of wind-up toy soldiers back to their conditioning chairs, leaving the Doctor alone with his most prized of possessions.

“Number 13, kneel,” his Master instructed him.

Answering to his new name, the horny hero-slave instantly sank to his knees before his Master. For his Master’s wish was his command.

The Doctor then reached down and pulled his withered old cock out of his leather slacks, the sight of which made Number 13’s eyes widen with awe and wonder. He could not remember seeing anything so beautiful before in his whole life. (Of course, Superman had definitely seen far more lovelier things over his past 32 years than that elderly Overlord’s unsightly, uncut dick, but that devious Doctor’s device had already robbed him of those precious memories.) Aimed straight at his adoring face, just inches away from his panting lips, the admiring, amorous super-slave could even smell his Master’s musky, manly odor emanating from his crotch as he moved in closer… and closer. All Number 13 wanted to do was to take that big piece of man-meat in his mouth and worship it. Oh yes, he wanted it bad!

From the enthralled expression on the spellbound Superman’s face, the Doctor could tell that the previously-heterosexual hero was now totally enamored by the cock standing before him. “Do you see something you like, slave?”, taunted the boasting Professor, enticing him further by stroking on his hard-on.

Through his drug-induced haze, Superman kept staring directly at the Doctor’s dirty dick like a man possessed as he agreeably mumbles, “Aaaaaahhhhh… Uhhh… huh... “

Putting his latest property in his place, the cocky Doctor admonishes him for his lack of protocol, “That’s ‘Yes, Master,’ slave!”

Deferring to his superior, the newly-subservient Superman quickly corrects himself, “YESSSSS,… MASSSTERRR!!!”

“Good boy! Now, admit it, slave. You are in love with my cock, aren’t you, Number 13? Confess!,” the Doctor cajoled him, waving his rigid rod in front of Superman’s face.

“I… CONFESS!… I AM… IN… LOVE… WITH… YOUR… COCK,… MASTER!,” Superman profusely affirmed, his voice filled with urgency and yearning. He needed to consume his Master’s cum much like a drug addict needs that next fix.

The Doctor praised him, “That’s right, Number 13! For you are now a slave of your Master’s cock! And tell me, what is the main duty of a cock-slave?… ”

The drooling superhero mindlessly repeats exactly what he was told at least a million times during his programming, “To… serve… the… cock… that… has… made… me… its… slave!… “

“Then do your duty, faggot, and suck me off! Now earn your reward and make me cum!,” the Doctor demanded.

The new Number 13 immediately leaned forwards and engulfed the stiff, swollen member of his Master in his mouth. He pressed his lips firmly around the divine dick of his owner and slowly but steadily began to go down on it, desperately hoping to please his Master. The Doctor’s hands were on Superman’s shaved head, gripping him tightly, as the ravenous super-sex-slave sucked the cock he now lusted for with his entire being.

He could hear His Master slowly starting to groan above him, so Number 13 knew that he was bringing him pleasure. That was all that mattered. The moans of his Master only made him increase his efforts which produced more and more squeals of delight from his wretched old Master.

His Master’s cock was twitching with sheer enjoyment as Number 13 licked and teased the tip of the penis with his tongue. Release was imminent. Number 13 could actually taste the warm pre-cum of his Master bubbling up, ready to explode inside his waiting mouth. The very thought made his own slave-cock throb with desire… Almost there… Number 13 just kept sucking his Master‘s manhood harder and harder, faster and faster, practically willing the ever increasing load to come out just so he could savor the sweet nectar of his obedience.

Immediately on the cusp of ejaculation, his old Master suddenly withdrew. Then Number 13 faced his Master’s cock with a look of both bewilderment and excitement as the white hot cum burst forth from the Doctor’s pissslit, shooting outwards and impacting against our hero’s adoring face as his victorious Master shrieked loudly in utter euphoria. On and on, the semen continued gushing out until his loving super-slave was completely covered in his Master’s seed.

The Doctor, now spent, looked down at his kneeling slave and said, “You have done well, my boy! Not only have you satisfied your Master, you’ve also showed your Master the proper respect by allowing me to shoot my load first like a good slave. And, for that, you should take pride in your accomplishment. Therefore, you have my permission to finally reach orgasm and experience the same kind of pleasure that you have already given your Master. Now prove your love for me. Cum for your Master, for I command you!”

As soon as his Master gave him his orders, Superman released that mighty wad of his all over himself, mixing his own super-sperm with that of his Master‘s, forming a symbolic yet lasting bond between the two of them that could never be broken. His fate was sealed.

As Superman came on cue, his eyes closed. But, whenever he opened them back up again, the startling change in The Man of Steel’s appearance was unmistakable. His scleras glowed bright white with immense satisfaction, his pupils were completely dilated, his once-baby blue irises were now practically non-existent. The expression on the handsome superhero’s face left no doubt that he had been reduced to a single-minded sex zombie! His only thought now was to service his Master’s cock. For he knew of nothing else. Getting his Master’s rocks off had become his sole reason for living. And, from this day forward, this would be the only life this once-indomitable Superman would ever know.

Licking his lips, Number 13’s mouth was dripping with his Master’s cum which slowly oozed past his chin, running down his neck, puddling around his tight leather collar. The Doctor bent over to kiss his loyal and obedient new slave with his tongue, then wiped the sticky sperm off his soiled dog tag with his index finger, which he then waved in front of the former superhero’s face.

“This dog tag is my mark, boy. It signifies that I own you completely. You shall wear it with pride,” the Doctor told him. “For you are now my thirteenth sex-slave. And so, you shall be known as 13 from this day forward. Is that understood, Number 13?”

His eyes aflame with passion, his muscle body aching with need, his twelve inch cock pulsating with desire, the number 13 gazed up at his owner. No longer able to remember his previous superhero identity, his adopted Earth name or even his Kryptonian birth name, the man who formerly called himself Clark Kent mindfully yet happily retorted, “Yes,… Master!… For my… name… is now… 13... And… I am… proud… to call… myself… your… slave,… Master!”

His Master was very pleased with his compliance. The triumphant Doctor stuck his cum-soaked finger in his hero-slave’s open mouth, which the previously-straight Superman hungrily lapped up like a rewarded puppy dog. Then his Master attached a leash to the ring on his studded leather collar and said, “You shall make a fine pet, Number 13! You have proven yourself to be a born cocksucker, my super-slave. Now let’s see if you prove to be just as good of bottom. Come, boy. Let me show you to your room.”

With those words, the demented old Doctor guided him towards his dark, sadistic dungeon as the world’s once-greatest superhero eagerly followed his cruel Master on all fours, broken, humiliated, defeated, and now completely obedient. For this will be the first of many, many fuckings for this completely domesticated Manservant of Steel. And this underground torture chamber shall become the enslaved Superman’s permanent new home. There he and the other 12 members of the Justice League of America shall remain trapped inside his secret laboratory forever, suffering at the hands of his highly skilled Doctor for the rest of their days, forced to take part in his grueling sexual experiments for as long as they all shall live. Their time as Superheroes may be over. But their lives as sadomasochistic sex-slaves have only just begun.

As the frail-looking but forceful Master leads his latest super-slave to a leather sling suspended from the ceiling and then straps him in, placing his feet in the stirrups, legs up high, Number 13 could hardly wait to feel the cock of his beloved owner enter his humble ass and fill him up with his very juices. This would indeed be his lucky day … or so he believed! As the decrepit old pervert thrusts his wrinkled, decaying dick inside the former Superman’s accepting hole, the completely brainwashed 13 would never realize how unlucky he really was…

To be continued.

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