HELPLESS, HILARIOUS AND HORNY

HELPLESS, HILARIOUS AND HORNY

As he thrashed desperately in the water, Superman felt his cape tugged. He had snagged it on the drain below him, and as he writhed, trying to get the Kryptonite chain off of himself, his cape came loose and fell to the bottom of the pool.

“Uh! UGH!” he gasped. “Oh… my c-c-cape. N-no.” He heard a ripping sound as it parted company from his tunic. Then the current carried it away, swirling down to the drain below.

“Oh… god… Jor-El… hnngh… someone help me.”

But just when he thought he could take no more, the effects of the Kryptonite ceased.

“What? It… it’s stopped. Hnngh.”

Floundering and spluttering, Superman made his way to the edge of the pool and began to crawl out.

“I can’t believe Luthor pushed me in there like that,” he muttered, “fully clothed.”

Superman felt a strange flutter as he said these words, an odd tingling sensation. In his mind’s eye, he saw it happening all over again: Luthor weakening him, dragging him along, holding him closely and so intimately, with not the slightest hint of fear, despite his great powers. And then the evil genius had simply pushed him into the swimming pool, where he dropped like a stone.

“Fully clothed,” he murmured once more. He looked down at himself. It was a pitiful sight.

Superman’s spandex was now totally soaked and dripping, and his boots had also come off in the water as he frantically kicked and splashed; he was now clad only in his tights and briefs. He’d have to go back for his boots, along with his cape. But first he had to deal with his foe.

The Kryptonite chain still hung around his neck, though no longer glowing. So Luthor’s plan had come to nothing, he thought. Time to confront the man who had bound him with this rock.

Clad in just his wet tights, briefs and tunic, Superman walked slowly back to the heart of Luthor’s lair, his feet squelching in wet spandex with every step and his Kryptonite chain rattling. Lex was sat waiting for him.

“Nice try, Luthor,” he said. “Your little toy wasn’t as effective as you thought. Now I’m going to teach you a lesson – I’m going to have you safely locked up.”

“Would you mind not dripping on the carpet, Superman,” said Lex, coolly. “That’s an interesting new look you’ve got there. How’s it make you feel, being dressed in just in your tights and briefs?”

“Never mind my tights and briefs,” said Superman. His cheeks coloured slightly as he saw Luthior’s gaze flick across his body, clad in his soaking wet spandex. “You should be worrying about your own wardrobe, Luthor; from now on it’ll be just prison fatigues.”

“And I see you’ve kept the necklace I gave you, Superman. I’m touched that you like it. A fitting memento of our first date, don’t you think, sweetcheeks ?”

Superman scowled, and hastily pulled off the Kryptonite chain and dropped it on the floor. He had only been acquainted with Luthor for this last hour or so, and yet the man instinctively seemed to know how to make him feel foolish. Perhaps he really was the genius he claimed to be. Nevertheless, it was time to end this for good.

Determined, Superman went to move towards Luthor’s desk, but his wet tights made him slip and slide along the polished floor so that he had to put out a hand to steady himself. Strangely, Luthor didn’t seem fazed or intimidated as he approached. Instead he calmly announced:

“Come in now. Superman’s ready and waiting for you.”

Half a dozen sharp-suited, strikingly attractive young men entered the room. They were all staring at Superman in a calm, clinical fashion.

“What’s going on,” said Superman. Lex chuckled.

“He’s here, just like I promised. Superman – the Man of Steel - is ready and waiting for you in his tights, if a little wet. I’m afraid I couldn’t resist pushing him into my pool.”

"You pushed Superman fully clothed into a swimming pool?!” said one young guy.

“Awesome! Wish I'd seen that. Wow, look at him, stood there in his wet tights! I can’t believe this is really the Man of Steel What a dickhead, man! He looks pathetic!”

"Now look," began Superman.

“What about Superman’s boots and cape?” interrupted one of the young men, ignoring him. “Where are they? We paid for everything”

“Concerned about not getting your money’s worth?” smiled Lex. “They’re in the pool – fell off when he was thrashing around in there. I’ll have Otis fish them out for you. Whoever wants them can have them.”

“I don’t know what sick game this is, Luthor,” said Superman, “but nobody is touching my boots and cape, or any of my clothes. Who are these men?”

“Why, these are some very rich, very bad people, Superman,” said Lex. “And the sick game is that they have paid me a lot of money to deliver you to them, helpless and horny in your tights, ready for them to do whatever they choose with you. Et voila!”

Superman’s mouth fell open. “You really are a diseased maniac, Luthor. Well, I’m sorry to have to disappoint you and your guests, but your plan has failed – I’m not helpless and horny in my tights. Huh? Why… why did I say that?”

The assembled men all laughed at him. Superman’s eyes widened. Something wasn’t right.

“Get on your knees, Superman,” said a blonde young man with a wry smile on his face. “You shouldn’t be stood up in our company. Kneel, Man of Steel. Kneel.”

He shook his head. “I don’t kneel for anyone. This sick game ends now. The Kryptonite didn’t work.”

Again, the men laughed at him, and this time Luthor joined in. “Great, isn’t he?” he chuckled. Superman began to feel very uneasy.

“Why are you laughing at me,” he said, and then wished he hadn’t, as the laughter increased.

“Look at you, Superman,” said the blonde guy, pointing at him, “stood there soaking wet and completely helpless in your tights and briefs! Just look at him! Oh man! This is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen! You’re not a Man of Steel any more, Superman, you’re – you’re hilarious! Ha! Oh boy… Superman is hilarious!”

That was it. His cheeks reddening, Superman shook his head. “That’s enough. For your information, I’m certainly not helpless, and I’m not hilarious.”

Their laughter increased, some of the young men now doubled up as they jeered at him.

“And I suppose you’re not horny, either,” said Luthor, with a mischievous smile.

“Of course I’m not horny,” snapped Superman. “Uh. I Uhhh…”

Again, he felt unease. He’d never said the word ‘horny’ before, so why was he saying it now?

“I’m not horny, Luthor,” he said again, before he could stop himself. “I’m not helpless and I’m most definitely not horny… I’m not – stop laughing at me, all of you! I’m Superman!”

Some of them were now doubled up, pointing at him and howling with mirth. Never before had Superman been ridiculed like this.

Okay, if they wanted to laugh at him, fine. Let’s finish this, he thought. He moved to take hold of the blonde guy, who seemed like the ringleader.

“Okay, sir - I’ll show you how hilarious I am,” he said. “You won’t find me so funny when I put you in gaol. Your sick fantasy is over.”

Superman strode across and went to take hold him, but the blonde guy reached out one hand, and to the Man of Steel’s astonishment, it was he who was grabbed and firmly held.

“Huh? ​Whuh-what? Ugh!”

“You’re not taking me anywhere,” smiled the blonde. Playfully he mussed Superman’s hair. “My sick fantasy is just beginning. It’s like we keep telling you, you big Superbozo – you’re helpless, and you’re horny.”

Some of the others had grabbed him now as well. Superman tried to free himself, to shake them off, but he couldn’t!

“What is this,” he cried, “how are you doing this? Get off me! Unhand me! Let me go!”

“I told you, Superman,” said Lex, walking over to him, “mind over muscle. You’re a fine and strapping specimen in your tights, but you never stood a chance against a genius like me.”

“Now,” said the blonde guy, “I told you before, I won’t tell you again – kneel, Superman.”

“Ugh. I won’t! NO! Hnngh. Uh.” He tried to resist, but with them holding him so firmly he had no choice.

“Okay, I’ll kneel,” he growled, but even as he said this he was already on his knees. He looked up at them as they encircled him. “What have you done to me, Luthor? How is it these men are able to push me around like this?”

“Well,” said Lex, “the reason that you felt the effects of the Kryptonite stop, Superman, is because it had done its job. You’re not Super any more. It has removed your powers. I’ve changed you – taken them away from you, Superman.”

“What?! No! No! My powers – ”

Lex shook his head. “Are no more.”

Superman’s mind was racing as he tried to comprehend this. “But… but that means… I can’t get out of here… I’m… I’m a prisoner. T-trapped. Oh no. Luthor… Luthor, please! Think about what you’re doing. Restore my powers, please. The world needs me!”

“It’s a done deal. I couldn’t restore them even if I wanted to, Superman. You’ve retained your muscle, obviously…”

“Sure has,” said one guy, stroking his spandex-clad bicep, as Superman looked up in alarm. Two more of the men took this opportunity to squeeze his buttocks.

“… but right now you’re weaker than a normal human male. And although you’ll retain your fine musculature, whatever you do from now on, you always will be. You’re a weakling, now, Superman – a Super-weakling, in point of fact.”

Slowly it began to dawn on him just what Lex had done.

“A Super-weakling?” he repeated. “Th-that… that’s why you were all laughing at me. That’s what you meant… when you said I was h-h-helpless in my tights. So… it…it’s true… I… I really am… helpless… in my tights.”

This admission produced another bout of laughter from his captors as he knelt before them.

“I’m helpless in my tights... And the humiliation… my humiliation… that’s why you’re laughing at me too. I’m Superman, but you… just ordinary men… you’ve done this to me… you’ve taken away my powers.”

“Uh-huh. That’s right, Superman,” said the blonde guy, taking hold of his chin and making him look up at him. “You’re powerless and defeated, kneeling before us in wet spandex. In just your soaking wet tights and briefs. How do you think that makes you look, Man of Steel?”

Superman swallowed. “F-foolish. I… I look… foolish… and hilarious.”

“So you admit it then?”

“Yes. How can I not? I… I… I am hilarious. You’ve made me a laughing stock. Superman is a laughing stock now. I walked in here the most powerful man on Earth, and Luthor’s just clicked his fingers and changed me, made me into the weakest. Ooh. Oh god. No wonder you couldn’t stop laughing at me. There’s never been a defeat like it. I’m not a Man of Steel any more… I’ve been turned into something else… you’ve turned me into something laughable, Luthor. Ooh. I never even stood a chance. Oh god. I’m – I’m a weakling in tights. I’m – I’m pathetic. You’ve made me pathetic. It’s exactly as you said… Superman is now just a pathetic Super-weakling. I’m a Super-weakling. Oh god. I’m hilarious, just like you said – I’m just a hilarious weakling in my tights and briefs. Ooh.”

“Come on now, Superman,” said the blonde guy, grinning. He released Superman’s head. “There’s something else. Do you understand it yet?”

Superman slowly gazed down at his crotch. And there was the last piece of the puzzle.

His penis was rock hard; a bulging erection was standing excitedly in his tights and briefs.

“Oh! I’m horny,” he said breathlessly. “I’m… h-hard in my tights and briefs. Ooh. And saying that just made me harder still. You were right… I’m helpless and horny in my tights. All these things you’ve done to me, all this terrible humiliation… and it’s given me an erection! Oh!”

“Finally he gets it,” said Lex.

“D-dammit, Luthor – how did you do this to me? How did you make me hard?”

“It’s ‘Mr Luthor’ from now on, Superman – understand?”

He nodded slowly. This was so demeaning – and yet that only strengthened his arousal “Oh. Yes. Yes, sir, Mr Luthor. I understand, sir. That’s how I’ll address you from now on, sir. How... how did you get me so aroused, Mr Luthor, sir?”

“I just took away your powers, Superman. It stood to reason that being taken down and turned into a helpless, spandex clad stooge like this would turn you on. It’s the one thing you could never have. You must have fantasised about this, surely, Superman?”

“Ooh. A helpless… s-spandex clad s-stooge. No. Never.”

The blonde guy ran one playful finger over his s-shield and dragged Superman to his feet.

“I don’t believe you, Superman,” he said as the hero stood up. He grabbed him by his briefs and ran that same finger slowly across the former Man of Steel’s bulge, making him gasp. “Are you telling the truth?”

“Ah! AH! Oh… oh… n-n-no,” said Superman, giving in. “Oh god. My p-penis. You t-touched my penis! No, I’m n-not telling the truth. I’m l-lying. M-mr Luthor… Mr Luthor is correct. In my most private moments… I have f-fantasised about this. Me, Superman being defeated. Being completely at the mercy of villains who c-could do anything to me, weak and in my spandex… so unthinkable… just like you touching me in my t-tights just now. oh god, c-c-c-can’t believe I just told you that. Mm. And you c-called me a helpless, spandex clad stooge. Ooh.”

“You’re going to tell us everything from now on, Superman, understand. All your secrets.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I’ll tell you anything. Ooh. Oh god. All my s-secrets. Hnngh. Whuh-what… uuh what are you going to do to me? Now that you h-have me… helpless and horny and h-humiliated in my tights like… now that you’ve got me defeated, depowered and turned on… what are you g-g-g-going to do with me?”

“Well, for starters,” said the blonde, “I think we should take a closer look at your erection, don’t you, Superman?”

“Ooh,” he said. “Y-yes sir. Shall I… Shall I undo my b-belt and pull my b-briefs down, sir. Ooh. I’m S-superman – c-can’t believe I just said that… and it turned me on even more! Oh god… take my tights down, sir. Humiliate me further, please – it f-feels better than anything I’ve ever known.”

“Well, Superman,” said the blonde, “since you asked so nicely. I’ll do it. I’ll take your briefs down for you.”

He pressed the circle on Superman’s belt and it fell open.

“OOH!” gasped Superman. They took hold of his wet briefs and dragged them down his legs. “You’re t-taking my briefs down. I’m being stripped and I’m helpless. Oh God – you’re t-taking my briefs off! P-pulling them down my legs! Are you g-going to take my tights down too? Are my tights coming down?”

“Maybe,” said the guy, looking him in the eye. “Depends how you behave, Superman. Can you show us obedience?”

“Oh… y-yes, sir. I can be obedient. I have no choice now that I’ve been turned into a… a S-super-weakling. Ooh. I’ll obey you, sir. I’ll be Super-obedient. See how I’m g-g-grovelling? I’m Superman… Superman the... the pitiful, obedient, grovelling Man of Steel. Ooh! Mm. Whatever you tell me to do I’ll obey. What choice do I have? I’m nothing now. Hnngh.”

“Look, Superman,” said another guy, holding up his wet briefs and belt to the Man of Steel’s face. “We took your panties down, didn’t we?”

“Ooh. Yes. Yes, sir you did.”

“Say it, Superman. Those exact words. Tell us what we did to you.”

“Oh. S-so humiliating!”

“Do it!”

“Yes sir! You… you took… oh god… you took my panties down! You pulled my panties down! Oh… can’t believe I said that. I’m Superman… and I just had my wet briefs – I mean panties – pulled down. You’ve stripped me, Superman, of my panties. Mmmm… and now you’re making me s-s-say it! You’re making me say it! You took my panties down! Never f-felt so humiliated! Or so h-horny! Oh… oh… are you g-going to take my tights down now, as well as my panties?”

He didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

“Okay, Superman, you big bozo. Let’s peel you out of your tights. Just like a big fucking banana. And have you got a big banana waiting for us in here, you fucking idiot?”

“Ooh. Ooh. Pull them down… and you’ll see,” said Superman breathlessly. “Pull my tights down and you’ll f-find out if I’ve g-got a big b-banana in my t-tights. Ooh. Making myself sound such an idiot… in front of you, Mr Luthor… and it t-t-turns me on even more! MMM!”

There were a few low whistles as his quivering cock sprang free from his blue tights, which along were now pulled down to his knees.

“Aah,” he gasped, as one of them took hold of his cock. “I’m erect! I’ve imagined this so many times… n-never thought it could happen! Never even thought I could admit it to myself, and yet here I am: Superman, brought down for good! You’ve taken my powers away, made me a laughing stock… and now you’ve made me show you my erection, so you know how hot it’s making me. I don’t have to be a hero anymore… I’m no longer a Man of Steel… Mr Luthor took it all away from me and now I’m just a m-m-man in t-tights and b-briefs… w-waiting to see wh-what you’re g-going to do with me n-next! HNNNGH! MMM!”

“Come on,” commanded the grinning blonde. “Grab his arms and legs. I’ll keep hold of this. Let’s take him to the bedroom in his wet house spandex. Don’t worry, Superman – we’re going to explore every inch of your body. Everything you’ve ever imagined is going to come true.”

“Ooh,” he whimpered as they lifted him up. “I’m helpless… helpless and horny in my tights… so humiliated… but it feels so good. The humiliation… you’re doing this to me, to Superman. You’ve humiliated Superman! Oh god… Uhhhhh!”

“Trust me, Superman – if you think we’ve humiliated you so far, you ain’t seen nothing yet…”

Lost in ecstatic arousal, their hands probing his body, Superman closed his eyes and surrendered to the lust that now ruled him.

Happy #ThrobbingThursday!

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter Six Part I: The Deconstruction of Superman

When he came to, the first thing that he was aware of was a clock ticking. He could hear voices… men, talking in low, hushed voices. And there was a smell… several smells. Cigarette smoke. But also a dank, watery stench that seemed to be all about him.

Superman opened his eyes. He was lying on a couch – a long leather couch, stretched out. He wriggled his toes and felt them meet a hard surface as they moved within his spandex. He wasn’t wearing his boots. Slowly, he eased himself up and gazed down at his body. He was clad in just his tights and tunic, lying in a strange and dark room, hung with many old paintings.

‘Ah! He’s awake at last!’

He looked up to find a tall, distinguished-looking man with long blonde hair standing over him, smiling down.

‘Superman. The Man of Steel. Welcome.’

There was something familiar about the man, yet Superman couldn’t quite place him.

‘Where am I,’ he said, ‘what… what happened to me?’

‘You are at my home,’ said the man. ‘I am Lord Summerisle.’

Of course. That’s where he had seen him before, on the news, when he had decided to come here. That stare… so intense as he had looked at the TV set, and even more intense now, looking down upon him. Several other men were stood behind Lord Summerisle. All of them seemed to be in their twenties and dressed differently, some formal, some less so, and all of them were gazing at Superman where he lay on the couch in just his tights and tunic.

‘To think that you would come here,’ said Summerisle, ‘that you, the Man of Steel, would do us the honour of gracing a tiny backwater like this with your noble presence. You are most welcome, and we are all quite delighted that you’re here, Superman.’

Lord Summerisle took a long draw on a cigarette and exhaled, sending a cloud of smoke right into Superman’s face, to his slight irritation. Then, stubbing out the cigarette in a polished silver ashtray, he sat down on the couch - so close that his hip was right next to Superman’s legs - and put one hand on the hero’s thigh, as if this was the most natural thing in the world for him to do. Superman could feel the man’s hand, warm on his spandex… how dare he touch him like this. He would say something now, ask him to remove it…

‘Excuse me,’ he said firmly, but found himself cut off before he could say more.

‘Do not worry, Superman, there is nothing to excuse. Welcome,’ murmured Lord Summerisle once again. ‘Welcome, my dear Superman.’ He gave the hero’s spandex-clad thigh the slightest of squeezes.

‘Uh. Um. Thank you. But I don’t understand,’ said Superman. ‘How did I come to be here?’

‘Why, my men found you of course. That idiot, Tom, raised the alarm when he ran away, the spineless little coward. He told us that you were here and that you had fallen foul of the Bully Boys. The Roaring Bulls. I rounded up the men of my estate and organised a rescue party at once, to come and save you.’

Now it was coming back to him. That man in the Bull’s head mask. All those men, all of them masked and wearing briefs, surrounding him, taunting him, pulling him down and rolling him helpless and fully-clothed into the murky swamp pool.

‘That’s what this smell is,’ he breathed, ‘the filthy water.’

‘Indeed,’ said Summerisle. ‘I would happily have bathed you myself, Superman, but under the circumstances I felt it best if we clothed you as soon as possible, to spare your blushes when you awoke. We did drag you to the stables, to give you a quick sponge down to get the worst of the mud and filth off you, and I had my men give your tights and tunic a quick rinse. But swamp water does cling so.’

Superman frowned. ‘I don’t understand… clothed me? Where is the rest of my uniform anyway? My pan- I mean, my briefs, my boots, my cape?’

‘The few pieces we retrieved are being cleaned for you, Superman. You have to understand, when we came upon you in the pool… that is, when we found you… you were quite, quite naked.’

‘What?’ Superman looked aghast. ‘I was naked?’

‘Indeed, Superman. You were thrashing around in a frenzy, my friend, completely stark naked, rambling and incoherent. And ah… this… was quite, quite hard…’

Lord Summerisle reached out and cheekily touched the end of Superman’s penis, briefly flicking it with an index finger, through the crotch of his tights, making the shocked Man of Steel yelp and shrink back.

‘Stop that!’ he said. ‘You can’t do that… you mustn’t…’

‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Superman,’ said Summerisle, ‘but you really were not yourself when we found you. The Bully Boys had depowered you and depleted you, stripping you both of your wits and your abilities. You had a most splendid erection, and… well, when we got you out of the pool you were simply begging us to play with it, Superman!’

‘No! That can’t be true. I’d never do that.’

‘But it is true.’ A curly-haired, dark-eyed youth in a tracksuit, who was standing behind Lord Summerisle spoke up. ‘Ye crawled on all fours and begged me tae jerk ye off, Superman.’ He gazed at the Man of Steel with a fierce intensity as he spoke.

‘Aye,’ said another man, this one dressed in an immaculate black business suit. ‘Ye begged me to wank you off too, Superman. Ye kept trying to make me grab your stiffie.’

‘Me too,’ said a guy wearing football kit. ‘Ye were desperate tae be tossed off. It was like ye needed to cum but couldn’t do it yourself. Something was stopping you.’

‘And me,’ said a long-haired fellow dressed in a kilt and Doc Martens and wearing a biker jacket. ‘When we pulled ye out of the water ye ran all around the glade in the nude, Superman, and that great big cock of yours was bouncing up and down, stiff as a board. It was pretty funny; ye looked a bit like a big horny dog. You were raving, and then ye got down on your knees and began to kiss my boots, saying ye’d do anything tae have release. Anything at all…’

Superman’s mouth fell open. Surely this could not be true? And yet… thinking back, he’d been hard in his tights for most of the evening, ever since getting back to the Inn. And although the memories were hazy, he knew that the Bull-headed man had pointed at his erection, had squeezed it, laughed at it. All those men… focused on one thing: his erection, throbbing in his tights. The memory of it made his penis tingle even now, and he swiftly banished it.

‘I’m sorry, sir,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That wasn’t me.’

‘Really?’ said the man in the kilt. ‘That’s funny – because it sure looked like you when you were slobbering all over my boots, Superman.’

‘Now,’ said Summerisle, ‘do not torment poor Superman, Brian. As I said, he was not himself. You all know the effect those spirits can have on a man. They are powerful elemental forces. And you are vulnerable to magic, are you not, Superman.’

Superman didn’t speak for a moment, and then said quietly: ‘Yes. Yes, I am. I’m totally helpless against magic of any kind.’

‘Yes… that’s what I thought. Magic makes you completely and utterly helpless… no longer Super, but just a mere man. So it’s not your fault – not at all. Put the experience out of your mind, Superman. The important thing is that we got you here safely and now you’re back to your senses. We managed to fish out most of your costume, too.’

‘My uniform,’ he said dumbly. ‘My uniform.’

‘Yes, that’s right… your costume.’

Summerisle removed his hand from Superman’s thigh, and placed it on his arm instead, slowly sliding it up towards the hero’s bicep, his fingers caressing the smooth fabric covering his taut body. He stopped and to Superman’s utter amazement he began to toy with that spandex-clad bicep, stroking it with admiration.

‘Goodness… you know, Superman, when you’re wearing your spandex, even if though it is a little soiled, your body seems transformed… almost as impressive as it looks when I’ve seen you interviewed on the television.’

‘Uh… thank you,’ said Superman, uncertain how to respond to this candid remark.

‘Here - come and feel him, all of you – see how wonderful our Man of Steel is.’

‘Whuh-what are you? No, I…’

But before Superman could protest, all the men in Summerisle’s room had surrounded the couch and were stroking his body, caressing and prodding him through his spandex.

‘I… don’t… oh… ah… um…’ was all he could say. The guy in the tracksuit was feeling his arm and stroking his armpit; the guy in the smart black business suit had one hand on his chest and was slowly running a finger over his S-shield and down to his abs, while the lad wearing football kit was feeling Superman’s feet through his tights. And the man in the kilt was kneeling down by Lord Summerisle, one hand gently feeling up Superman’s right leg, making slow but steady progress up towards his thigh. ‘It’s so smooth,’ he said. ‘I bet it feels nice tae wear, doesn’t it, Superman?’

‘Huh… hnngh,’ said Superman. ‘Ah… yes… I guess it d-does, f-feel nice, sir.’

He wanted desperately to fling them off, to tell them to stop… but how could he, when it felt so good? Here he was, in just his tights and tunic, being touched up by a gaggle of men he’d never met before, and to his confusion, the feeling was pure and unadulterated pleasure.

‘Don’t mind us, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘It’s not every day that the world’s greatest hero, no, the world’s greatest man, drops in on a tiny little place like this. You must forgive us our curiosity. You don’t mind, do you, Superman? You don’t object to us witnessing your incredible being, and feeling you for ourselves?’

Yes, he thought, yes, of course I do. I must say so.

But all he said was: ‘I… I… Ah… No. No, sir. That’s… that’s f-fine, Lord Summerisle, sir. Hah. I d-don’t mind at all. Please g-go ahead, sir. Uh. I mean… all of you, go ahead. Just as you please. It’s f-fine. Ooh.’

He risked a quick look down at his crotch, and despite the tingling delight he felt, he was relieved to find his cock was not hard. But if they kept this up, he knew it wouldn’t be long before it stood to attention and shamed him. The hand of the man in the kilt was beginning to prove very dangerous indeed, as it iworked its way teasingly up his inner thigh. It felt so good, and it was so near his penis now…

‘Uh… tell me,’ he said, trying to think of something else to focus on, ‘what d-did you mean when you said my uniform was s-soiled?’

‘Well, you had been wearing it when they pushed you into the swamp pool, Superman. As I said, I had my men rinse out your tunic and tights and dry them, and when that was done then we dressed you in them. There’s a slight smell, as you said, but I thought you’d appreciate not waking up naked amongst strangers. Did I do the right thing, Superman?’

He looked up at those eyes, gazing down on him, then down at the hand gripping his bicep. The sensation of being touched by all these men like this, and Lord Summerisle sitting so close on the couch, was so, so wonderful. It made it hard to for him to think straight. But from what they were telling him, they had saved him, overlooked his disgraceful behaviour, washed him and dressed him. He was in their debt, and owed them gratitude. Superman swallowed.

‘Uh… yes… yes, of course. Thank you, sir. Thank you all for… coming to my aid and dressing me. That was very thoughtful of you to cover my nakedness and to get me into my tights and tunic.’

‘No problem,’ smiled Lord Summerisle. ‘It is a pleasure to be able to try and repay your own kindness in coming here.’

‘I never thought I’d dress a superhero in his costume,’ said the lad in the tracksuit, ‘let alone you, Superman. I had to gently pull your tunic on over your head, smoothing the spandex down past your face. I was really careful, like.’

He raised one hand and stroked the back of it against Superman’s cheekbone, to the hero’s amazement.

‘’Uh!’ breathed Superman. ‘I’m… sure you were. Th-thank you.’

Lord Summerisle chuckled. ‘You know, Superman, despite being unconscious you were still erect when we dressed you in your tights. Why, your cock was so stiff that we had to pull the waistband right out to get it over them!’

A few of the other men laughed at this, and Superman’s cheeks coloured.

‘Oh dear, he’s blushing! My apologies, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘I didn’t mean to humiliate you.’

He squeezed Superman’s bicep one final time and clicked his fingers. To his surprise and disappointment, the men all stopped touching him in his spandex and moved away from him. He felt as though someone had just thrown cold water over him, such was the change as those warm and stroking fingers left his body.

The man in the kilt now got up and brought over a tray.

‘Here, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘sit up and have some champagne.’

He pressed a flute of bubbling golden fizz in the hero’s hand.

‘Thank you,’ said Superman, swinging his legs down, ‘but I need to ask you about these missing young men. I don’t want any…’

‘Of course you do,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘Everyone wants champagne. Drink up now.’

He once more placed a hand on Superman’s thigh, fingers not far from the top of his legs, and the return of Lord Summerisle’s touch felt so nice that the Man of Steel found himself drinking the champagne, just to take his mind off the pleasing sensations in his tights. He really could not risk getting hard here, with the Lord’s hand on him like this. What would these people think of him? They’d already seen him disgrace himself at the swamp.

‘Drink, Superman. Go on. Drink your champagne.’

‘Oh. Yes, sir. I’ll drink my champagne. Thank you, sir.’

He swallowed the sparkling wine.

‘Mm. Th-thank you,’ he said, ‘it’s good.’

‘Yes,’ smiled Lord Summerisle, ‘ I knew you’d like it once you got it inside you.’

‘What? Uh… yes. Inside me.’ Superman took another sip.

‘Careful, Superman. Your hands are shaking. You don’t want to wet your tights now, do you?’ said Lord Summerisle. The men all laughed, and to his surprise, after a moment’s hesitation, Superman found himself laughing along with them. He had to stop being so uptight. Everyone on this island was so kind.

‘No sir,’ he said with a smile. ‘I certainly wouldn’t want to wet my tights, sir. Gosh… that would be quite something… me, Superman, wetting my tights! Just imagine that… I guess… I guess I’d look pretty silly! It’d be very amusing, I’m sure, but it’s not an image I want the world to have of me - the Man of Steel with a wet patch in the crotch of my tights! It wouldn’t do much for my dignity would it? I’d… I’d look like a real clown… Superman, the Clown of Steel, eh? Still… I’d make a pretty funny sight, I guess!’

He laughed some more, as did they, and Superman enjoyed feeling a part of this. Since landing on this strange island, everything he had encountered had made him feel his outsider status; it felt good to join in, even if it was laughing at himself.

I’ve been so strung out with everything that’s happened in the last few hours, he thought. I won’t ever solve the situation here unless I calm down a little. And these guys seem like good people.

‘Well, don’t worry,’ he said, as they all continued to chuckle about the possibility of Superman wetting his tights. ‘With my naked runaround at the swamp I think I’ve given you all enough surprises for one day. I’ll be keeping my tights on and keeping them dry, thank you!’

They howled with laughter at this, and he joined in, as he sipped more champagne.

‘And no more Super-erections, eh, Superman?’ said the man in the city suit.

‘Gosh, no, sir - most definitely not,’ he grinned, ‘I’m very sorry you all had to see me running around naked and hard like that, but from now on it’s no Super-erections and no wetting my tights, sir.’

Superman joined in the bout of laughter that followed this, but then:

‘Too late for that, ye great super-powered fool! Ye pished yourself the moment ye came here!’

Superman froze, as once again the voice of old Jeremiah rang out in his mind, making him recall his ignominious arrival, when as Clark Kent, he had wet his trousers in front of Tam, soiling both spandex and his city suit.

‘Something the matter,’ asked the man in the kilt, ‘you look worried, Superman?’

‘No, sir.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Have some more champagne,’ said Lord Summerisle, topping up his glass.

‘Oh… thank you, your Lordship,’ said Superman, wondering if that was the correct way to address a Lord. He took the champagne and guzzled it absentmindedly. He felt it going to his head and realised he must still be without his powers.

‘Gosh. I can feel that… my abilities… they still haven’t returned.’

CONTINUED IN CHAPTER SIX PART II…

SUPERMAN: THE TRIPLE THREAT

‘C'mon, Superman, you can show the three of them!’

The cry came from a guy in the crowd below, cheering the Man of Steel on, yet it cost Superman dearly. In that moment of distraction as the young man shouted encouragement, Superman tried to give a quick smile of reassurance. It was barely a second, but as he looked up, Non was on him. Superman tried to turn, but all too slowly, even with his super-speed. That giant of a man had him, and held him there in mid-air.

‘Ugh,’ he panted, trying to free himself. ‘Stop… get off me!’

Ursa looked about them. ‘Non, can you hold him?’

Non grunted his assent, and although Superman struggled, his tights-clad legs thrashing, he could not escape the giant Kryptonian's clutches; Non was far too strong, even for him. He was trapped.

‘Get… off me… let me go,’ he growled, but try as he might, he could not free himself. And as he struggled, held there before Zod and Ursa, to his horror Superman realised something: he was scared.

Down below on the city streets, the people were going wild, screaming their encouragement, urging Superman to break free and beat the three Kryptonians.

‘General,’ said Ursa, ‘we're going about this the wrong way. See how these idiots worship Kal El? If we defeat him physically they will just cheer him on to come back and keep resisting us. We need to destroy Superman, to tarnish him in their eyes, so they no longer believe in him.’

‘What do you suggest, my dear?’ said Zod.

Ursa smiled. ‘While Non has the little fool held tight, if you would be so good as to take hold of his legs. I have a plan, my lord...’

‘Certainly.’

Superman cried out as the General grabbed him by the ankles. ‘Let me go, Zod!’

Ursa motioned Non to fly down lower towards the watching crowd, so no one would miss what followed. The General had hold of Superman’s legs, Non, his torso, and now Ursa grabbed him by the throat, making him give a tiny strangled yelp. Then, with one swift motion she snatched the Man of Steel's cape from him. Superman could do nothing except look on helplessly as she ripped it out of his tunic and threw it away, letting it flutter to the ground.

‘And now, my General - if you would be so good as to remove Superman's boots,’ she purred. ‘Take them off and throw them to his army of worshippers. Let them touch their idol’s possessions!’

Superman cried out in alarm. ‘No, don't you... stop that... don't touch me, Zod! Stop! Stop! My boots... uh… no! No! NO!’

But his protests were in vain. While Non continued to hold him fast, General Zod took a firm grip of his boots and plucked them off, throwing them to an awestruck crowd below. As Superman watched, a pair of skater dudes ran forward and snatched them up eagerly, showing them to their friends, seemingly oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. ‘Don’t,’ he tried to shout out to them, ‘bring them back!’

‘Woohoo! We got his boots! Imagine what these will fetch on eBay!’

Now Superman was only dressed in his tunic, tights and briefs, and Zod took hold of his feet once more.

‘Get off me! Get off me!’ shouted Superman. ‘I'll destroy you, Zod, I swear!’

Ursa grinned a wide grin. ‘Your anger towards us is misplaced, Superman. We are your own kind, after all. Here - let me make you more comfortable.’ She stretched out a hand, scarlet clad fingernails glistening, and with one finger she caressed the circular clasp on Superman's yellow belt.

‘Whuh-what are you d-doing,’ asked the trapped Man of Steel. ‘Whu-what are you-’

‘Sssh,’ replied Ursa. ‘Look at you. You're so uptight, Kal El... Superman. You need to relax. You'll be much happier if I unfasten your belt and slide these cumbersome briefs down your legs. Come on – let’s help you out of them. Here...’

In panic, as she reached for him, Superman writhed and wriggled desperately, but Non held him firm above, while the General maintained an iron grip on his feet and legs.

Ursa smiled, and took hold of his belt, pulling his briefs out and away from his body. They were taut in her grasp, and she held his gaze for a few moments, obviously relishing his fear.

‘Please,’ said Superman, uncertain whether she would actually go through with this. ‘Please, n-not that… let me-’

But before he could say more Ursa pressed down hard on the circular stud, and with a click the belt fell open, loosening Superman’s briefs in her grip.

‘No!’ cried Superman. ‘No, no, no! Don't you... my briefs... get off of my briefs! D-don't! Don’t touch that! Oh – stop! S-stop, don’t! Ursa, don’t! Not my briefs! Not my briefs– no!’

But Ursa’s sly fingers fully unfastened his belt and snagged the waistband of Superman’s briefs, loosening them and pushing her fingers through the belt loops..

‘Down they come, Superman!’

And as the people of Metropolis watched, she began to slowly slide them down to his knees, while the Man of Steel could do nothing but protest and cry out in impotent rage, powerless to prevent his enforced stripping. From inside his tights, the outline of his penis was now clear to see, pushing up against his bright blue spandex.

There… isn’t that more comfortable for you, Superman? Look at your hero, people of earth – your mighty hero. Behold your so-called “Man of Steel” – ha! I’ve pulled his panties down!’

From below he could hear gasps and cries of amazement. But there was also the sound of laughter. They were demeaning him in the eyes of those he sought to protect, making him a figure of fun. He was dimly aware of cameras flashing too; there were people actually taking pictures of his ignominious predicament.

‘Stop this… stop this, now! Pull my briefs up and fight me! Fight me! Or are you afraid?’

‘Why fight? No, Superman. This is much more fun. See-’

Calmly, Ursa reached out her hand once more.

‘And look – now that I’ve pulled your panties down we can all get a good look at your manhood! Come, let your people below see it! Behold, people of Earth! Get a good look at your champion! Don’t hide it, Superman! Let them all look at you in your blue tights! They can all see your penis, Superman. Every single one of them is staring at your bulging Super-penis.’

And indeed, inside his tights his cock was now plain for all to see. Ursa slid a finger down it and grasped it, making Superman whimper ignominiously.

‘Ooh... my.... my penis... you can't touch me like that... ooh… stop... what are you doing? Release me! My penis! My p-p-p-penis! You mustn't do this... I'm S-superman!’

Ursa stroked him in his tights, teasing his balls and relishing the foolish expression on his face as his cock hardened under her touch.

‘And of course, you’re growing hard. The son of our gaoler is becoming erect in his tights! Look at him, people of Earth! Throbbing in his tights! Tell me - SUPERman –’ she said, lowering her voice so only he could hear, ‘how Super do you think they'll find you… after they've seen you cum in your tights?’

Superman held her eye as she began to masturbate him in earnest, manipulating him in his tights.

‘Ah! Oh p-p-please,’ he pleaded, ‘n-not this. Anything but this. D-don't do it to me... p-please! Let me f-fight you. These p-p-people they need me... uh... ooh uhhh you can't do this, Ursa p-please... s-stop masturbating me! They need me! Uhhh…’

‘And what about you, Superman,’ she continued, working away tirelessly on his erection. ‘What do you need? These primitives cannot offer you sexual relief; they'd break! Your frustration must be so immense... I can feel it! You want to cum... don't you, Superman? Admit it! You've never felt anything as good as this before, have you? Come on... they tell us that Truth is your thing...? Answer me truthfully… answer! Answer, Superman! ANSWER!’

Superman bit his lip, but as she pressed her question again and again, in time with the pumping of his cock, he couldn't resist.

‘Ooh. Uhh. Oh god. All… all right. Y-yes. I... oh no... I d-do want to... want to cum! Wh-what you're doing to me... Being masturbated by you… it d-does feel g-good. It f-feels so good! But I don't want to c-cum like this... not here... you'll... you'll humiliate me in front of the world. My people...’

‘Indeed. But we’ve already humiliated you. Look – they can all see that you’re being held by Non. They can see he’s stronger than you, Superman. And they can all see this: you, their idol, with your briefs half way down your legs, being masturbated by your enemies. And they can see the effect it’s had on their champion. They can see your erection, Superman. They know it’s made you hard. They know it’s turned you on. How does that knowledge make you feel?’

It was no good. His body was now on fire with arousal.

‘Ooh,’ he said pathetically. ‘Ooh. Oh god. I’m erect and they can all see. They’re all watching you masturbate me! And that’s... turning me on... even more! Ooh. Ooh!’

‘Look at them, Kal El,’ said General Zod, ‘all those cameras clicking away, recording your fall in detail. They want you to cum as well. They hunger for your disgrace – for your humiliation! See how they thank their saviour? They are not your people - we are.’

Following Ursa's lead, the General let go of one of Superman's legs and slid a finger between the hero's buttocks, pushing the blue spandex up towards the Man of Steel's sphincter...

‘Come, son of Jor-El,’ he said, ‘Ursa is right. Fighting is not the way. Admit my fingers and let us show you release!’

‘AAAH!’ cried Superman. ‘No! Z-zod! You mustn't.... uh! You're... you're inside me! Ooh! Oh god... What would Jor-El say? I'm… I’m being fingered by General Zod! Ooh! Oh Jor El, I’m being fingered by General Zod!’

‘And masturbated by me,’ said Ursa, triumphantly.

Then, all at once, her hand halted in its insidious work.

‘Or shall I stop, Superman? If you prefer we can stop this now - return to fighting. Shall I pull up your briefs and let you go, just run along? What's it to be?’

‘Uh. Uh.... p-please,’ moaned Superman. ‘Please.’

‘Please what?’ asked Zod, ‘what is it to be, Kal-El? You heard the question.’

He skilfully tweaked the hero's buttocks, making him squirm and gasp as he was fingered in his tights. Seeing the son of their gaoler humiliated sexually like this was hugely arousing to him too, and his own cock throbbed.

‘You... you know the answer,’ gasped Superman.

‘We both know it,’ said Ursa, still holding his cock. ‘But the people of earth need to hear it. And you need to hear yourself say it.’

They had drifted nearly to the ground by now, and the assembled crowd was silent, watching this unbelievable scene unfold.

‘What is your answer, Superman? Shall we stop this?’

The absence of that motion on his cock was a torture greater than anything he had ever known. Superman fought desperately, but the words he wanted would not come to his lips.

‘Answer her, Superman,’ snarled General Zod. ‘Answer now!’ Deftly, the General slid his finger suddenly further up between the hero’s buttocks, pushing the blue spandex of his tights inside him.

A terrible demeaning sound tore itself from Superman’s lips as he squirmed ecstatically at Zod’s invasion of his ass.

‘Ooooh! Hnngh! N-No,’ he whimpered at last. ‘D-d-don’t… don’t stop.’

‘What was that, Kal El?’ said Zod. ‘Speak up now.’

‘Puh-p-p-please,’ said Superman in a shaking voice, ‘p-please... don't stop... don't stop masturbating me. I don’t want her to s-stop, General. I… I don’t want you to stop. I don’t want you to let me go. I...I... I want to cum. I want to c-cum, General. Please don't stop what you were doing, Lady Ursa. You were right. Never... never felt anything like this... I can't... can't continue fighting... just as you knew would happen. I want it too badly. Let them all see – let them take their photographs. I’m already done for. Please Ursa - finish it... make me cum... make me fill my tights.’

The shock from the crowd was audible... and yet still the cameras clicked away, recording Superman's disgrace.

‘And what about the General,’ cooed Ursa. ‘Should he take his finger out of your ass, Superman? Speak up now...’

Superman let out a whimper. ‘N-no.’ he said at last. ‘I... oh god... I don't want that. I’m sorry, Jor-El. I don't want the General to remove his finger. Please... please keep d-doing it to me, General… I don’t want you to stop, Zod.’

‘And why is that. Kal-El,’ asked Zod, his face a mask of triumph. ‘Answer me!’

Superman shook his head. There was no resistance left.

‘B-because... oh... because I l-like it! Oh god. Jor-El, I'm sorry. I'm being f-fingered by Krypton's worst criminal... the humiliation... the disgrace... wish I could be stronger, b-but it f-feels so... so nice. Feels so good. I’m b-being fingered by General Zod… and I like it! There – I s-said it! I’m being f-fingered by General Zod and I l-like it! Nngh! I’ve admitted it, General!’

Superman began to buck his hips, writhing under the touch of his foe. ‘P-please, General... d-don't stop fingering me, s-sir. Keep doing it to me! And Ursa... I'm... uh... I'm b-begging you - please carry on masturbating me! M-make cum, I beg you! Make me fill my tights with my Kryptonian cum.. and then I swear I'll... I'll kneel... I'll kneel before Zod. I'll do it - the planet is yours.’

Disgusted cries from the Metropolitans rent the air:

‘He's a coward! Superman is nothing but a pervert! He'd rather get his rocks off than save us! Go on then - do it to him. Finish him and end this!’

‘There,’ said Ursa. ‘That didn't take long, did it?’

At last they alighted on the ground, and she began to wank Superman in earnest now, again and again, her hand going up and down his blue spandex-clad tights. ‘Ooh,’ he gasped, ‘ooh. Thank you. Uh. Th-thank you.’

‘Non,’ she said, ‘release, Superman. He doesn't want to escape now, do you?’

‘N-no,’ whimpered the hero miserably. ‘C-couldn't escape if I w-wanted to. I'm... I'm yours... to do with as you please.’

Superman’s legs shook as he said this, his knees knocking with fear and arousal, causing his briefs to slide down his calves and bunch around his ankles. Ursa let go his cock and the General abruptly pulled his finger from Superman’s buttocks, making him cry out.

The next moment he found himself shoved and stumbling forward. He looked around in confusion.

‘Pull them up,’ ordered Ursa brusquely. ‘Pull up your panties, Superman.’

‘Pull them up again? B-b-b-b-but,’ said Superman, ‘but I thought you said I could c-cum-’

‘You will need to kneel and submit to the General first,’ said Ursa, ‘wearing your panties, legacy of the House of El. Then we will break you and make you cum, understand, Superman? I said DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

‘Ooh!’ whimpered the Man of Steel. ‘Yes, Ursa. I’ll do as you say and pull up my briefs… I mean my p-panties. And I’ll… I’ll kneel b-before Zod.’

With shaking hands, Superman dragged his briefs back up his legs and let out another ignominious whimper as he had to pull them over his excited spandex-clad erection. Then it was done, and with a click he fastened them once more.

‘Now, Kal-El,’ said the General, ‘do you admit to being a craven fool?’

He swallowed, cheeks colouring. ‘Yes, General. I’m a f-fool. A c-craven fool. Ooh.’

‘The Son of Jor-El is a coward, who wishes only to serve me, am I correct?’

Superman hesitated, but Ursa glared at him and gave him a kick.

‘Uh! Oh. Okay. Yes. I’m a c-c-coward. The Son of Jor-El is a coward, who wishes only to serve… to serve General Zod. Please let me serve you, sir… I… I b-beg you. Ooh.’

‘Well then,’ said Ursa. ‘Prove it… Superman.’

‘You know what you need to do,’ said Zod. ‘Show me, Kal El. Show me who you really are… Superman. Now, finally… kneel before Zod.’

He paused, his heart pounding. It had happened so quickly. How had it come to this? Could he still resist? Was there any chance he could fight back now they had released him?

But his erect cock, wet and excited in his spandex had the answer for him. And Superman bowed his head and finally, willingly, he got down on his knees before General Zod.

‘I’m yours, sir. Do what you want with me, General. The son of Jor El is your willing slave. I’ll do whatever you say, sir. I’ll obey. Hnngh!’

Saying this only increased his arousal tenfold!

‘You see… I… I’m obedient, General, sir. I’ve showed you I… know my p-place. The son of Jor El is now the good, obedient servant of General Zod. Oh! Thank you for letting me serve you, sir. Uh. Just p-p-please… let me… c-c-cum! Ooh! I p-pledge myself to you, if you’ll only... let me cum! Uhhhhh!’

Finally!’ sneered Zod. ‘I accept your allegiance, Superman, you grovelling little fool. Off with your panties, then, Ka El.!’

He lifted Superman off the ground with one hand, snatched up his briefs, freeing them, and threw them into the crowd. ‘Isn't that right, my pathetic slave?’

‘Nngh. Y-yes, General,’ echoed Superman, his body writhing as Ursa recommenced expertly tossing him off.

‘Off with my panties. Ooh – you took them from me. God... never knew... I c-could be so p-pathetic... or how it'd make me f-feel. You took my briefs off, Zod... and the truth is I liked it. Oh... if the council on Krypton could see me now: I'm supposed to be their Last Son. If they could see my shame. I'm Superman. I should be defeating you... but you took away my briefs - I mean my panties - and I wanted you to. You took my panties off, Zod and I luh-liked it! Even just admitting that to you is turning me on! What does that make me? Oh, what am I now?? What kind of Superman enjoys being stripped of his p-panties?’

‘Imagine them here, Superman,’ whispered Ursa. ‘Imagine the Council all watching you being masturbated while the General takes hold of you and fingers your ass once more.’

‘Oh! Oh! Ooh! Yes! I… I can see them,’ whimpered Superman, as the General did just this. ‘Oooooh! It’s like they’re here… Huge… forbidding faces… and their disapproval is t-t-t-turning me on even more! Everyone can see my disgrace, and I don’t care. Superman is ruined. I’m defeated and it’s turning me on. Ooh!!’

The end was close now.

Hey, wait!’ A young street hustler in a white t-shirt and leather jacket, who had earlier managed to grab Superman's briefs when Zod threw them aside, now came running over. ‘Uh… Can I... can I put his pants on his head? If he's gonna go... if Superman’s really finished... which seems likely given everything he's doing... can we help you make him look as ridiculous as possible?’

Ursa surveyed the young man; there was an excited bulge in his jeans. Clearly this primitive was turned on by Kal-El's downfall.

‘What do you say, Superman,’ she asked. ‘Shall we let this envoy of your sainted earth put your panties on your head? The idea clearly excites him.’

‘Uh. Uh. Mm. Nngh. Mm. Y-yes,’ said Superman, gasping with each stroke of his penis. ‘Do it... let him do it... he's right - it's fitting that I should... look... a f-fool. I am a fool. I admit it. Hnngh. I, Superman, am a fool. I was supposed to save them, and I’ve let them all down, they should be able to do this to me. Do it. Put my briefs on my head. I mean my p-p-panties. Make me look as ridiculous as possible. I deserve it... mmmm. Let the elders of Krypton see me with my panties on my head! Let them all see me for what I am! Let them see their champion wearing his briefs on his head! OOH!’

‘Just make sure his eyes can still see mine,’ commanded Ursa.

‘Sure thing, lady!’ The hustler didn't have to be asked twice, and with obvious relish, he pulled Superman's briefs firmly down over his head, aligning the right leg with his eyes so the hero could maintain eye contact as he was wanked to his total defeat by Ursa. At the feel of his own spandex being stretched over his handsome face and his head, the hero gasped. ‘Oh… oh! I’m so… so humiliated. And so hard…’

‘Here ya go, Superman,’ breathed the excited hustler, ‘I put your little red panties on your head, just like you wanted.’

‘Ugh. Uh. Th-thank you,’ said Superman ‘thank you for putting my p-panties on my head, sir. H-how does it make me luh-look?’

‘You look like a fucking dickhead, man!’ came the reply. ‘A Superdickhead! No one on this planet will ever believe in you again. You lost it all, dude!’

‘OOh. G-good. I tried to fight them… I did. But I guess that's what I am now. Superman the S-s-super... superdickhead! I give in. I'm a Superdickhead. Isn’t that what you all want to hear? I’m a helpless Super-dickhead with my panties on my head, too much in thrall to my own erection to save the earth. OH! Ursa... your touch... f-feels.... so good! Being masturbated by you... and f-fingered by Zod. I like it... I luh-like it s-so b-bad... that I c-can't s-stop you!’

The hustler had unzipped his fly and fished out his own cock. ‘Mind if I knock one out,’ he asked nervously.

‘Do as you wish,’ sneered Ursa, taking a firm hold on Superman's penis. ‘With one condition. Just be certain to coat Superman with your earthling spunk when you cum.’

‘You got it, lady,’ cried the excited hustler. ‘I'm gonna cum all over your face, Superman! On behalf of the planet you sold out I'm gonna shower you with cum! The “Man of Steel”… ha! He ain’t a Man of Steel now, that’s for sure!’

‘Oh god,’ said Superman. ‘You’re going to cum on my face? All right. D-do it. If you m-must. I deserve it. I’ve failed you all. I deserve to be coated with semen... with s-spunk.’

‘It's time now, Superman,’ whispered Ursa, ‘no going back now, right?’

‘N-no, Ursa,’ whimpered Superman. ‘No going back. Th-thank you, Lady Ursa. Mmm. Uh. Uh. Ooh… ooh… gonna cum soon, I can feel it.’

‘You are quite utterly and singularly pathetic, Superman, do you know that,’ said Zod.

‘Oh. Ooh. Yes, sir, General. Of c-course I know that, General... sir. I've got my briefs on my head, and your finger up my ass, and I'm conceding the planet to you just for the privilege of cumming in my tights. You've ended me, General.’

‘It was not I, in truth,’ said Zod, ‘but Ursa. Beg her to let you cum, Superman. Beg her as foolishly as you can.’

‘Uh... y-yes... p-p-please, Ursa...please please please please... I'm not a threat any more - you've turned me from earth's champion into a spandex clad Superdickhead; a babbling little fool. I'm Superman the coward, the Superdickhead! All I care about is being masturbated by you, and debasing myself in your clutches. Never dreamed I was capable of these feelings. My cock is making my whole body thrill as you touch me! Grant me your mercy, Lady Ursa, and just let me cum... please!’

Just then Superman felt the hustler's warm spunk begin to rain down upon him.

‘Oh! My face! I can feel him c-cumming all over me! Hot s-spunk all over my face! Ursa... General... you were right - they c-couldn't w-wait to turn on me! I've got a f-f-face full... of s-s-spunk! Mm. Mmf.’

‘Indeed you have, son of our gaoler,’ said Ursa, staring him Superman the eye. ‘You look good coated in semen, Superman; it befits you! Perhaps we’ll let the earthlings do more of this. But now, you pathetic, trembling disgrace of a man: fill your tights with cum as we watch you. Do it, Superman. Ejaculate, you pathetic man – ejaculate in your tights for General Zod! There!’

Then, with one final squeeze, Ursa did the deed. Whooping and howling in humiliated, frenzied ecstasy, Superman fell to the ground and pumped his tights full of a vast amount of spunk. Despite the mortifying shame of it, his whole life long, nothing had ever, ever felt this good. ‘Ooh! Ooh. Aah.’ He held eye contact with Zod and Ursa as he came all over himself; their contemptuous stares only served to make the experience more pleasurable for him.

When it was done, and Ursa and the General stood gazing at this disgraced hero, Superman rose up on legs shaking in semen-sodden blue spandex. His face was slick with cum, ditto the red briefs atop his head. ‘You’ve buh-beaten me,’ he said, unnecessarily. ‘And now. Puh-please, sir. Please may I be permitted to kneel once more before Zod. Please let me show my obedience, General.’

The General nodded and pointed at the ground before him, and pausing only to remove his briefs from his head and pull them up once more, kneel is what Superman did.

‘I’m yours, General,’ he said, ‘Superman is your obedient slave, sir. And I am a willing slave. Thank you, General... Master.’

Hi! any update about the next chapter on your story, or any new idea? I love your stories so much!

Thanks very much! Dropped the ball on this for various reasons, plus wasn’t sure if people were still following it, but will try and get a new chapter out soon and continue the story of Superman’s bewitching humiliation and arousal among the sleepy community of Summerisle. Thanks for taking the time to ask.

Excerpt from SUPERMAN VS THE VICE LORD, EXTENDED EDITION, Chapter 7: ‘Punishments and Betrayals’

‘Come, come, Clark – this topic is proving fascinating, don’t you think? Tell me about the time Superman encountered Ross Webster, the corrupt billionaire tycoon.’

‘What? Oh… oh no,’ said Clark aloud, before he could stop himself. Zeal was not going to let him off the hook. This man was so powerful. So strong-willed. It was dazzling.

‘Something the matter?’

‘No… no, sir.’

Damn it - it’s best to just give him what he wants, he thought. Get this over and done with as soon as possible – then finally, perhaps he’ll let me stop talking about this and I can try and get my erection to subside.

‘Well,’ he began, resignedly, ‘Webster had the help of a man named Gus – just a downtown normal guy, but boy, was he a genius. He invented a form of Kryptonite that made Superman lose control and act like… like a moron. All Superman cared about suddenly was alcohol, sex, and behaving like a total idiot. Mm. He… he got drunk in a bar and behaved like a total jackass. Hnngh.’

Zeal said nothing, but smiled, revelling in the way Clark had now given in and was discussing the Man of Steel’s embarrassing failings unprompted, with no attempt to pretend or hide from them.

‘Once the effects of that Kryptonite wore off, Superman had to fight an intelligent supercomputer, also created by Gus. He won in the end, but it was a close run thing, during which the computer bound Superman with cables, rendering him almost unconscious and drew him inside itself. Yes… cables…’

Uh oh - trouble: he realised he had begun to enjoy this too much to stop himself revealing things he shouldn’t. And here was a very dangerous memory which he had buried so deep that even the System hadn’t found it. Like his arousal in Luthor’s pool, it was one of a tiny handful of memories he only occasionally allowed himself to recall, in his most private moments… He should bury it now… and yet the prospect, the terrible, unthinkable prospect of uttering it aloud to another being, not just that, but to Zeal - a man who might use it against him…

Can’t… can’t stop - not just yet. Feels so liberating to say it out loud to someone at last. I could actually do it… I could tell Zeal what happened… I want to… I… I…’

‘I remember that I… uh… I mean, that is, I remember Superman telling me… how… how…’

‘Yes?’

‘Oh. I shouldn’t say… shouldn’t tell you…’

Clark was struggling desperately with his psyche. Part of him ached to say this, longed to reveal this secret… but he knew he shouldn’t.

‘Go on, Clark – say it. I can see you want to. What did Superman tell you about this?’

‘He… he… oh God - Superman told me how… unexpectedly, he found it felt quite… quite nice to give in. As the computer sucked him in, a shaft appeared. It took hold of his cape and ripped it off him; Superman watched it disappear down the shaft, taken from him. His boots were then pulled off - removed by the same method, even as he protested.’

Clark looked fearfully at Zeal, but the man just stared at him, waiting. He continued, each word making him tingle as he spoke.

‘Then, clad… just in his tights and briefs… oh… sorry, sir, I mean in just his tights and… panties… Superman could feel the cables binding him and I… I mean he… he said he… that is he uh told me… in… in secret… a v-very, very… deep secret… that he, uh… he…um... he liked it. Superman… liked it.’

‘He did?’ asked Zeal quietly.

‘Oh. Y-yes. Being trussed up like that. Superman liked it very much. It felt wonderful. There were some cables around my thighs… I mean his thighs… some around his arms, some more being pulled over his face and gagging him… and… and… uh… hmm… I…’

Zeal’s brow furrowed: this sounded good.

‘What is it, Clark? What are you not telling me?’

Oh God, thought Clark. Where’s my self-control – I can’t tell him this! But then… he already knows so much. Too much. When I defeat him I’ll just have to mindwipe him somehow. I’ll kiss him! Ooh! Yes, I’ll kiss Zeal. Feels too nice to stop now. My erection feels so good. Never told anyone this stuff before. Why shouldn’t I feel like this? Why shouldn’t I enjoy feeling nice? The lives I save, the good I’ve done. I want to tell him. I want to tell Zeal; it’ll feel… nice. Never even really admitted it to myself. I can’t stop now. I can’t! I’m going to tell him! I will!

Suddenly he blurted out: ‘There was another cable!’

Looking up, his eyes met Zeal’s; it made what he was saying even more thrilling, to look his enemy in the eyes as he gave up this secret. A hint of a smile played at his lips as he willingly betrayed himself to the Vice Lord.

‘Ooh. There was another cable, Mr Zeal, sir. And you were right, sir: something happened to Superman then that he… that I’ve… I mean he’s never told anyone. Not until now, Mr Zeal.’

He felt a wave of pleasure like nothing he had felt before.

‘Go on,’ said Zeal, ‘you look very excited to share this with me, Clark. Tell me about this other cable.’

Clark wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. Still looking Zeal in the eye, gazing at the other man’s stern, dominant expression, he continued, his voice lower and more breathless.

‘As Superman fell backwards, the computer produced a smooth tendril made of some sort of malleable, pulsing metal. To my – I mean to his amazement, he watched this thing emerge, shiny, and… throbbing. As Superman was trussed up helplessly and sucked into the heart of machine, he felt this tendril pushing its way up around his legs, past his thighs… and in to his clothes, down past his belt and into the waistband of his briefs.’

‘You mean his panties,’ said Zeal.

Clark swallowed. ‘Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I mean the tendril pushed its way into the waistband of Superman’s… panties. Right down inside my panties. Ooh. Uh… I mean inside his panties.’

His mouth was so dry. Damn it. Why does this feel so good?

‘I gasped – oh! I mean, Superman… Superman gasped and squirmed as he realised what was happening. He felt more and more of the tendril squeezing its way inside his briefs – sorry! Sorry, Mr Zeal, I mean his panties. It was as if the machine was touching him, playing with him.

‘There was a feeling of warmth as the tendril made a hole in his tights, then it began to produce an equally warm liquid, coating and lubricating itself… Superman felt the sticky substance filling and coating his buttocks, wetting them… and… and then this thing slid up, and it was inserted into his… into Superman’s… uh… Super-anus.’

‘Incredible,’ said Zeal. ‘And how did the Man of Steel feel about receiving this anal probe? Did he dislike it? Did he muster the Super-strength to pluck it out of his Super-rosebud?’

‘No,’ said Clark, breathing rapidly, ‘No, he didn’t stop it. He didn’t even try… because I loved it… I mean he… uh… he… he… Superman loved it! It f-felt wonderful, like nothing he’d ever known – being taken like that, humiliated sexually – him, the strongest man in the whole world, being helplessly penetrated! By a machine! Superman squirmed in ecstasy as the computer’s tendril penetrated him and his Super-penis became erect in his tights and briefs! Oh! I’m s-sorry, sir, - I m-mean his tights and panties!’

His notepad dropped to the ground and he did not go to pick it up.

Somewhere inside he knew he was losing this battle. His mind went back to that moment, being trussed and penetrated inside that insidious machine. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to think about this.

‘Go on, Clark. I can see you want to tell me about this. I can see you’re enjoying it. Tell me everything. Every last detail.’

‘Oh… okay. Okay then, Mr Zeal.’

And he was enjoying it. The recall of this moment of sexual subjugation was making his body thrill with pleasure. In his mind’s eye he saw himself there once again, trussed up and being penetrated.

‘Superman was tightly bound, legs splayed and being penetrated by a… a throbbing phallus, and it… it f-felt wonderful. He’d never felt pleasure like it. He didn’t care about anything else but that warmth, probing him, arousing him, taking control away from him. Superman was tied up, utterly helpless and his tights and panties were being invaded… and it made him feel so free, for the first time in his life.

‘Other tendrils began to tug at his briefs, pulling them down and unfastening his belt, and the feelings were so intoxicating that Superman actually began to buck his body back and forth with each thrust of the probe. That machine, that supercomputer had deduced how best to deal with him: not with violence, or trying to kill him or turn him into a robot. It had worked out a far more efficient way to solve this problem. It was penetrating Superman in his tights; he felt his briefs pulled down, taut and tight as they clung to his outstretched legs, until they bunched around his ankles. It… the supercomputer… it had pulled Superman’s panties down. The Man of Steel was groaning in ecstasy, his briefs around his ankles like a cheap whore, and the elation he felt was incredible. Any moment now he would explode and splurge, fill his tights with hot, creamy, Kryptonian semen.

‘But then just as Superman was on the verge of cumming, the acid he had brought began to destroy the computer. He tried to kick the canister away, to foil his own plan; he wanted this so badly, more than anything. But it was too late! The metal probe was withdrawn from his tights before anything more could happen. Superman moaned in unfulfilled arousal as that strange phallus was withdrawn from his… from his ass.

‘Superman went from ecstasy, being tied up and penetrated, to being left unsatisfied, a hero in his tights once more. He’d saved the world but it cost him his pleasure. For a split second he considered masturbating, cumming in his briefs.

‘But then a voice called out his name: Gus Gorman had found him. His erection subsided and he had to be Superman once more, and put aside his own pleasure. He had to quickly locate and put on his cape, pull up his briefs and dry them with his Super-breath… and go and be a hero. Unfulfilled… w-with only the stains on his briefs to prove that it had ever happened at all. He told Gus it was acid.’

Giddy with sensation, he realised he had reverted to saying briefs, but Zeal hadn’t corrected him. What would have been the point? He’d already proved Zeal had broken him with regard to this.

‘Poor Superman,’ cooed Zeal, ‘just when he was about to have some excitement. There he was being fucked by a machine and then it was over and he had to play the big hero once more. It must be very frustrating being the Man of Steel, don’t you think, Clark?’

‘Yes,’ said Clark, with feeling, ‘it… it sure must be.’

For a split second he wondered whether he could turn the conversation to some of the Man of Steel’s victories. But he knew he was not going to.

Enjoy, fiends!

“Superman could feel waves of desire coursing through his body, buffeting him, making it so hard to think clearly.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. I… I have to stop you.’ His voice sounded so feeble. ‘I’m g-going to bring you to justice. All of you. That’s why I’m here. That’s what I’ve come here for. To… to arrest you. I’m Superman. I’m the Man of Steel. I’m… I’m a h-hero. I am. And you’re all p-perverts! I’m certainly not going to just stand here and let you unfasten my belt and… pull my briefs down.’

‘So to be clear, Superman,’ said Zeal, slowly and with relish, ‘you wouldn’t enjoy it if I were to pull your panties down, here in front of all of these men? You wouldn’t like it one little bit?’

‘Of course n-not,’ he breathed. But was this true? His head seemed so full, suddenly, so overpowering were the sensations racking his body.

‘Of course I wouldn’t like it if you p-pulled my panties down in front of all these men – oh… you made me say panties again. I d-don’t want you to p-pull my panties down… ooh. I said it again, damn it!’

‘So you did,’ smiled Zeal. ‘I think you like calling them your panties now, don’t you?’

‘Of course not!’

The proximity of the man, the heat… and the whirling, churning feelings of his body… Superman could hardly think. His breath was coming fast now, in and out, in and out.

‘Of course I… ha… huh… don’t like… referring to my b-briefs as… huh… as my panties. That’s ridiculous. They’re not my panties. I’m a h-hero. I’m manly. I’m Superman! I’m going to bring you to j-justice. Right… right now. And these are my briefs… not my p-panties. My… my red… red b-briefs. Over my blue tights. I don’t wear panties. I’m S-superman…’

‘Of course you are! So just say the word, Superman, and I’ll take my hands out of your briefs. You can stop all of this, and take me to the station to be charged. The big man. The Man of Steel in his briefs and tights, bringing the sleazes to justice.’

‘Yes… b-bring you… to justice,’ stammered Superman. ‘I’m the Man of S-steel. Ooh. That’s who I am. A M-m-man of ooh… S-steel. Uhh.’

‘Of course,’ said Zeal. ‘You’re a Man of Steel, Superman.’

‘Exactly,’ said Superman, his head reeling. ‘That’s exactly who I am, Mr Zeal. A Man of Steel in my briefs… and t-tights. Ha… hnngh.’

‘Or… alternatively, Superman... you could surrender to me, like the good, breathless little Superchump I know you have quivering within you, and let me give you release. You can show me who you really are: the Metropolis Moron! A Super-submissive lurks inside you, Superman, just waiting to be allowed out. Just as your penis is trembling, waiting to be allowed out, longing to be released from your briefs and tights.’

‘Th-that’s not true,’ said Superman, ‘that’s complete nonsense.’

‘Really?’ said Zeal, scrutinising him. ‘Hmm. I don’t believe you, Superman.’

The Vice Lord reached out one hand and touched the end of his cock, making the Man of Steel whimper once more. ‘Ooh… oh! S-s-stop that. My p-penis! Mr Zeal! Your hand on my p-p-penis… no one ever… I’ve never had… oh! What are you doing to me? You mustn’t… hnngh.’

Zeal looked thoughtfully at him.

‘I wonder, Superman… I’m willing to bet you’ve done something recently… some act in which you knowingly made yourself look ridiculous…. And I bet secretly you enjoyed it – am I right? Tell me. Go on, Superman. Tell the truth now.’

‘Whuh-what? I…’

Superman drew breath to deny this, but his thoughts went in a different direction. “

Extract from “Superman vs the Vice Lord”, extended edition. For amusement only, not for profit, no copyright infringement intended.