"I kissed Jimmy. And we are kissing! "
Clark felt like the happiest person in the world, wanting to freeze time and keep this moment forever.
Before that moment could take root, the night shattered.
A black shadow burst forth from the cornfield, tearing through the air at a speed so unfathomably fast. The sound—a gut-wrenching roar of displaced wind—rattled their bones. Neither Jimmy nor Clark had any warning, no time to react as the ominous blur closed in on them with terrifying, unstoppable velocity.
Jimmy barely had time to react before an immense gust of wind slammed into him, sending him flying forward nearly three meters. He landed hard on the ground, dazed but uninjured, gasping for breath as he scrambled to his knees.
Clark wasn't as fortunate. The shadow struck him directly, hitting with a force so catastrophic it sent him flying through the air like a doll in a storm.
"Ahhh…." Clark's scream disappeared in the far void as his trajectory ended in the barn, where he smashed through its wooden walls. The entire structure groaned and buckled from the collision. An explosion of splinters and debris erupted, followed by an ominous silence as the dust settled.
"Clark!" Jimmy shouted, his voice breaking as he scrambled to his feet and ran toward the barn.
As he reached there, the gate of the barn was completely destroyed. Inside, the once-organized piles of straw were a mess, a massive crater now hollowed out in their center.
Clark was nowhere to be seen, but Jimmy's eyes were drawn to the giant depression in the straw. His chest tightened as he realized Clark must be buried beneath the golden heaps.
But something else drew his attention—a figure, hovering ominously in the center of the barn that didn't seem of this world.
The man—or thing—floated effortlessly, his feet several inches off the ground. He was massive, standing at least 6'7", with a build that was almost unnaturally muscular. His whole face and head was covered by a black mask except those glowing golden eyes that looked almost hollow. His body was sheathed in a black, rubber-like suit that gleamed ominously in the flickering light of the barn. The material clung to him like a second skin, clinging to every wondrous curve of his body. Even his fingers and toes were encased in the same glossy material, their sharp outlines making him seem even more otherworldly.
Jimmy froze, his knees trembling. The man hadn't even acknowledged him. His focus was singular, locked on the pile of straw in which Clark had disappeared. It was as if Jimmy didn't exist.
And then, a glimmer of hope. From within the crater, a hand emerged, pushing through the hay with visible effort. It was Clark. He was alive.
Jimmy's hope flared, his voice shaky but urgent. "Clark!"
The floating man reacted instantly. His eyes narrowed, and a sinister glow began to build within them—a deep, burning red. Before Jimmy could take another step, twin beams of heat vision erupted from his gaze, striking the exact spot where Clark's hand had appeared.
"No!" Jimmy's scream tore through the barn, raw with panic.
The heat vision ignited the straw in an instant. Flames erupted, climbing rapidly, consuming the hay and reaching toward the barn's wooden rafters. The entire structure was bathed in an orange glow as the inferno grew. Smoke filled the air, choking and thick, stinging Jimmy's eyes as he stumbled backward in shock.
"Clark!" he shouted again, his voice breaking as he shielded his face from the oppressive heat.
The black-clad figure hovered motionless in mid-air; his glowing golden eyes were unyielding as twin beams of destructive energy continued to pour from them. He showed no mercy—his entire focus locked on the flames, ensuring that whatever lay within would be reduced to nothing but ash and dust.
Suddenly, the man in black staggered backward as similar twin beams of crimson energy struck him square in the abdomen, hurling him through the barn roof like a cannonball.
The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the structure, and then, just as abruptly, a powerful whirlwind tore through the barn. The smoke and flames were swept away in an instant, the air clearing with a sharp whoosh.
Jimmy coughed and blinked against the sudden brightness, his eyes watering. When he looked up, he froze in astonishment.
There, standing amidst the smoldering ruins, was Superman!
Clad in his iconic blue tights and red briefs, the S-shield on his chest glowing faintly in the aftermath, he stood tall and commanding. His hands rested firmly on his hips, his chest puffed out with pride. A single, steady breath from his lips extinguished the remaining embers with a rush of cold air.
"Cla... Superman?" Jimmy stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as realization dawned. Clark is Superman. His mind reeled, but he couldn't tear his gaze away.
Superman turned to him with a reassuring smile, his eyes kind, and opened his mouth to speak—
Baaaaahh!!
Before he could utter a word, a streak of black hurtled back into the barn at blinding speed. The man in black collided with Superman like a meteor, the force of the blow sending both of them crashing through the far wall.
The black-clad figure shot through the air like a missile, his hands locking around Superman's throat in an iron grip. With a guttural roar, he slammed Superman into the ground, dragging him flying with relentless force. Dirt and debris exploded as he ground Superman's head into the earth, carving a path nearly a mile long across the countryside.
Superman struggled, his arms straining against the black figure's relentless grip, but the strength bearing down on him was unstoppable. His fingers clawed helplessly at the hands around his throat, his efforts futile as the ground erupted beneath his head, sending waves of pain coursing through him.
Finally, they came to a jarring halt against a massive rock. The impact shattered the boulder into fragments and left Superman sprawled on his back, his legs splayed awkwardly and widely apart as he gasped for air.
Superman wasn't finished—not yet. As he lied with leg spread on the ground, his erection under those red briefs was still remarkable from the intimate kiss he just shared with Jimmy. His penis, although suffering from the clash, still stood proudly, refused to subside, protruding between his limp, trembling legs, twitching faintly.
After a moment, Superman stirred, still reeling from the crash. He looked at his awkward position and that throbbing bulge in front of his eye, a flush of frustration and lingering horniness coursed through him.
Just when he was about to have his dream come true, all things shattered into pieces, leaving this useless member jolting at the edge of eruption, a stark reminder of the intimate moment he had just shared with Jimmy.
Gritting his teeth, he planted his hands firmly on the ground, his body trembling as he tried to push himself up, every movement a battle against the pain radiating through him.
But just as he began to rise, his body froze mid-motion.
From the black figure's hands, nearly invisible beams of light lashed out, striking Superman squarely. The attack felt like countless unseen hands gripping him tightly, immobilizing him with unyielding force. His limbs trembled, his muscles strained, but no matter how fiercely he fought, he couldn't break free. A single bead of sweat slid down his dirt-streaked forehead as his teeth clenched.
The black figure loomed over him, his newly grown, razor-sharp nails glinting in the faint light.
"We finally meet. Superman." The man in black opened his mouth under the mask with a cold echoing voice.
"Who... who are you?" Superman managed to stammer, his voice weak and barely audible as he struggled against the invisible force holding him down. Every word took all the strength he had left.
His eyes widened as he took in the imposing figure before him. The man was enveloped in a sleek, black, rubber-like suit that gleamed under the cold moonlight, every contour of his muscular frame exaggerated by the reflective surface. Arms and thighs no less impressive, and a well-trimmed waist. He towered over Superman—taller, broader, and more massive in every sense.
Superman's gaze faltered, caught for a fleeting moment on the gargantuan genital bulge in between the god-like thighs, capping the lower edge of his already densely packed pectorals. It gleamed with an almost surreal shine, its smooth surface amplifying the uncanny aura. The sight was as mesmerizing as it was unsettling.
"Touch it." The thought sliced through Superman's chaotic mind like a blade, sharp and intrusive knife. Before he could fully comprehend it, his hand instinctively twitched, an unconscious urge to reach out, to feel the imposing bulge and cup it in his palm. But his body wouldn't obey.
"Before you ask who I am," the man said, his voice dripping with disdain, "I think the more pressing question is what I'm going to do with you."
The man lifted his left hand. Superman felt himself being lifted off the ground, still frozen in place, unable to move. His body remained in an awkward, vulnerable position.
"You don't need to prepare a gift for me," The man eyed on Superman's still remarkable bulge, pointing a finger at it.
"But now, I have to open it up." As he spoke, he gently put the finger on it. Suddenly, a wave of unprecedented warmth exploded at the man's fingertip, cruising through Superman's whole body as Superman's eyes rolled back in ecstasy. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt himself drowning in a strange, overpowering sensation.
It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even compared to the kiss he had shared with Jimmy. Though part of him wanted to reject it, to fight against the overwhelming feeling, another part of him couldn't help but surrender to it.
The eccentric and electrifying sensation sent him to oblivion and back. The tingling feeling could have made him scream like a dog if he was not frozen in place.
The man's palm pressed against Superman's bulge then, and the intensity increased. The power from the man's touch was almost unbearable, as if every nerve in Superman's body was being jolted by a thousand volts of electricity. Superman enjoyed it as the agony overtook his whole body.
"No…Why…it feels… so…good. It can't be… no…it can't be…Save me Jimmy. Save.. meee…" Superman's thoughts scattered.
Just as the man seemed momentarily distracted by the effect he was having, Superman felt the grip on his body loosen slightly. In that instant, the image of Jimmy's face, and the moment they had just shared, flashed in his mind. Without hesitation, he seized that memory, holding onto it with everything he had. He couldn't give in. He couldn't let himself fall. He had to save himself—and save Jimmy.
"Stop, now!" amidst the relentless shock coming from his crotch, Superman used the full strength to curl up his legs, then kick.
Baaah!
His left foot slammed firmly on the black-clad monster's groin and sent him back few meters. In an instant, the pressure holding Superman in place vanished, and he fell hard to the ground, gasping for breath.
The man in black, enraged by the sudden attack, unleashed another barrage of transparent beams from his hands, trying to freeze Superman in place once more.
Superman scrambled on the ground, dodging the lasers as they sliced through the air, the heat from them grazing his skin. Desperate, he hurled himself into the thick cornfields, using them as cover.
For a moment, the man lost sight of him. The beams stopped, and the dark figure stood still, scanning the area. Superman, heart racing, hiding in the tall grass, with a painful erection in his briefs.
He couldn't wait any longer. Superman took the opportunity to fly out of the cornfield, aiming to close the distance and land a solid blow. He thought he might have the upper hand now—he had speed and strength, after all.
But he couldn't have been more wrong.
The man in black was faster than Superman could have ever anticipated. He easily dodged each of Superman's punches, moving with an eerie precision that defied the laws of physics.
Then, in an instant, the man countered with his own brutal strikes. His fists and feet landed with bone-crushing force against Superman's face, chest, and waist. The blows came so swiftly and without warning that Superman barely had time to react before each one hit.
But despite the searing agony coursing through him, a strange and unwelcome sensation stirred—a maddening intensity, an overwhelming wave of some conflicting orgasms rushing in. Pain and stimulation surged through his veins like two dueling storms, leaving his erect penis helpless, unable to soften down, only growing harder and harder with each punch.
He couldn't think straight, let alone plan his next move.
Another punch landed squarely on his painfully erect penis, sending a fresh shockwave through Superman's brain. The pain was overwhelming, but what disturbed him more was the part of him that wished the blow had been harder—hard enough to obliterate his genitals, to reduce them to nothing but a broken, hollow, bloody ruin.
The ring tightened its relentless grip around his horse-cock, blocking any blood from flowing back to his body. It only made that painful erection even more impossible to go away.
Superman had faced countless battles, but this was different. This wasn't a fight—it was a slaughter. A slaughter that has awakened something dark and primal within him: a twisted yearning for death and self-destruction, a pull toward his own obliteration. For the first time, he felt a horrifying and suffocating sense of hopelessness, meeting his real death drive for the first time, face to face.
This man wasn't just an opponent; he was a force of nature, an embodiment of death itself. Superman wasn't just losing the battle—he was being consumed by it. Victory no longer seemed possible, and maybe, deep down, he didn't even want it to be.
As the libido took hold of Clark, his erection was swollen to the fullest, already pouring forth his pre-essence at their nearness.
"Ahhhh!!!!"
Just right before Superman felt he couldn't resist the urge to release his juice underneath, the relentless barrage of punches stopped.
For a fleeting moment, he thought it was over—but then the black-clad man grabbed hold of his tattered red cape. With a single powerful motion, the man swung him around in a dizzying 360-degree arc, the sheer speed turning Superman's limbs into helpless flailing extensions, like a ragdoll in the jaws of a predator.
Huushhhh…
With a final, forceful spin, Superman was hurled through the air, a human projectile launched with terrifying force. He tried to scream, but the wind rushing into his throat drowned any sound he could make.
"This is so humiliating…" Superman's mind was barely able to keep up with his body's violent trajectory. Before he could process it, the landing came—and it was far worse than he imagined.
Baaah!
Superman crashed into the roof of an abandoned public restroom on the outskirts of a cornfield, splintering it apart. The stench hit him before the pain did—a foul cocktail of old decay and cow dung.
He smashed through the ceiling, landing squarely on a filthy toilet seat. The seat cracked under the force, wedging him awkwardly, his hips stuck in the bowl. His body bent in a humiliating fold, his head between his knees, and his toes pointing at the gaping hole he'd just created in the roof.
As Superman struggled to free himself, a burst of water from a ruptured pipe above him rained down. Only, this wasn't water—it was years' worth of unprocessed sewage. The foul liquid splashed into his eyes, soaked his suit, filling up even the smallest gap between his skin and his skin-tight suit, clinging to him like a second skin.
Superman, once a beacon of hope, now looked like a human-shaped pile of waste, his iconic spandex utterly ruined, as well his dignity.
A shadow shifted in the corner of the shattered restroom, catching Superman's attention. Panic surged through him, and he let out a shriek more fitting for a frightened 5-year-old child than the Man of Steel.
The black-clad man stepped forward in the moonlight, dragging a wrecked heavy iron sink. He raised it high above Superman's head with grim finality. Superman weakly lifted his hands in a futile attempt to shield himself.
"Please …" his words barely audible through his cracked lips. His once-proud even cocky demeanor was gone, replaced by desperation. "Just stop."
Splaaaaash!
* * *
In the wrecked barn, Jimmy Olsen and Jonathan Kent worked silently, shoveling debris and stacking broken wood into manageable piles. The sounds of the distant fight—clashing blows, earth-shaking impacts—had been a constant background, keeping them both on edge. But then, suddenly, the noise stopped.
The quiet was unsettling, but they both felt it—a presence, massive and menacing, looming at the broken gate.
A chill ran down their spines as they turned their flashlights toward the source.
"NOOOO!!!!!....."
The beams of light fell on a figure in black, standing tall and ominous. Behind him, dragged the limp, battered body of Superman. The hero's once-pristine suit was now tattered and soaked in filth, streaked with grime. His head lolled to the side, his handsome face now bruised.
"Meet your son and your little lover, Clark Kent. Or shall we say, Superman." the man sneered, lifting the lifeless hero in the air.