Time To Return To Scotland And Find Out How The Worlds Greatest Hero Is Faring, As He Sits Powerless,

Time to return to Scotland and find out how the world’s greatest hero is faring, as he sits powerless, outwitted and horny in the clutches of the devilish Lord Summerisle and his insidious men… Watch out, Superman - it’s mind over muscle once more!

Happy #ManOfJelloMonday !

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8, part 1: Superman’s Dreams Let Loose

‘Hnngh! Oh! Mmf!’

Superman’s enthusiastic groans and muffled noises of ecstasy rang out, as hot spunk battered his face and flooded his mouth. On instinct, he tried desperately to gulp and swallow what he could. The warm, viscose feel as it slipped down his throat was strange and new to him, and he found he wanted to experience more of it. His hands reached for his yearning erection and squeezed it through his tights. Gripping his spandex clad shaft as he swallowed the hot and sticky cum, Superman gave a deep groan of pleasure. He was finally able to act on these feelings he had buried for so long. It felt beyond amazing, and his wet cock pulsed in his hands.

At the same time, he became dimly aware of the front of his spandex tunic being grasped. The man in the sharp business suit was had hold of him and was pulling it.

‘Well, would ye look at this,’ he said with a grin, ‘turns out playing with cock is a sweaty business for Superman now that ye’ve no more superpowers, eh?’

‘Uh. Hnngh. Huh? Wh-what?’

As the stream of spunk from Brian’s cock began to slow, the suited man grabbed a handful of spandex from beneath each of Superman’s armpits and pulled, stretching the fabric out. And then he realised what he meant: the bright blue of his tunic was darkened and moist with his own considerable perspiration. The Man of Steel was sweating furiously, and so much so that for the first time in his life he had large and noticeable wet stains at each of his armpits. The guy in the suit laughed at him.

‘Something else new to get used to, eh, Supey?’

‘I… uh… yes…’ gasped the hero feebly, uncertain how to react.

This elicited more laughter, and a second later the suited guy released his armpits and grabbed Superman by his famous S-shield instead, pulling the top of his uniform right out at the neck to allow access to the hero’s chest. Brian, the guy in the kilt, had now finished blowing his considerable load, and Superman opened his cum-soaked eyes in surprise to find that Elliot – the footballer, who had parted company from his football shorts, and whose red briefs were around his thighs – was now also nearing climax. As the guy in the business suit obligingly held Superman’s tunic open, Elliot gave a roar and began to pump a fresh load of cum into the hero’s spandex.

Superman shrieked with delight as he felt the top of his uniform being filled with cum; he squealed as it squirted across his excited nipples and his hairy chest, coating them, and he couldn’t stop himself from rubbing it in.

‘Oh!’ he gasped. ‘You’re cumming all over me! You’re cumming all over Superman, and I… I’m just letting you! Oh! Oh! Thank you! G-give it to me! Mmmmmm! I’m a helpless horny hero in my tights… c-c-cum all over me, sir! You’re cumming on Superman! Uhhhh! Cum all over me, please! Give to me! Cum on me, please!’

And cum they did! At Lord Summerisle’s urging, Superman was dragged to his feet. Reluctantly, he relinquished their touch on his cock, for now it was the turn of Darius, the man in the sharp city business suit, to give Superman his due.

‘Open your tights to me, Superman,’ Darius ordered. ‘Open up your tights and hold them out and steady. I’m going to cum inside them, and I’m going to cover your wee virgin cock with my spunk. Understand?’

‘Oh! Yes!’ gasped Superman. ‘Yes, sir. I understand. Ooh! Th-thank you, sir.’

With trembling hands, the hero pulled out the waistband of his tights, revealing his excited and throbbing cock.

‘H-here,’ he gasped, ‘my tights are open and my p-p-penis is ready for you. I pulled out my tights, just as you t-told me to, sir. Ooh! Ooh! Listen to me… f-following orders! Ooh! I do as I’m told now! You’ve made me obedient! You’ve made Superman obey your commands! Oh! Ooh! C-can’t… believe… this is happening to me!’

The guy who had been dressed in a tracksuit, and who now wore just his suit-top, his socks and a pair of white Calvin Klein briefs, hooted with laughter at this. ‘Believe it, Superman,’ he said, ‘your cock sure does!’

The lad’s name was Angus, and now he coyly grabbed the top of his tracksuit. ‘What do ye think, Supes? Would ye like me to take this off for ye? Would ye like that - me just in my panties, Superman?’

‘Oh… oooh! Ooh!’ whimpered the lust crazed Man of Steel, wide-eyed at this suggestion. ‘Y-yes. I would like that, sir. That would be wonderful… You just in your p-p-panties. Hnngh.’

Angus smiled. ‘Well then,’ he said softly. ‘Off it comes. Anything for you, Superman.’

‘Ooh!’ came the response. ‘Thank you! Thank you, sir! Mmmm…’

Teasingly, Angus removed his tracksuit top, enjoying the obvious effect this had on the horny hero. He held it out for a moment, before letting it fall to the ground. Then he swooped down, grabbed Superman by the hair, pulled back the Man of Steel’s head and kissed him.

As Angus’s tongue entered the hero’s mouth, caressing and lapping through the layers of Brian’s spunk, for a second Superman felt he might actually collapse, so great were the feelings of ecstatic pleasure which racked his body. Together, their tongues twined and teased, and the Last Son of Krypton revelled in his own disgrace.

At last, Angus released him, and with a grin, he tweaked the panting hero’s nipples through his wet blue and red spandex. Then he turned his attention to Darius, who was clearly ready to cum. His fly was lowered and his stiff cock was in his hand being pumped, but he was somewhat encumbered by the trousers of his sharp dark suit, which were still fastened.

‘Allow me,’ said Angus, and with dextrous fingers, he stood behind Darius and undid his trousers. That done, he yanked them down to his knees, along with the man’s black briefs.

‘There ye go, pal,’ said Angus. ‘Pants down. Don’t keep Superman waiting now, will ye? He’s desperate for your hot load in his tights and all over his cock. Isn’t that right, Supes?’

‘Yes!’ gasped Superman. ‘I… I am… d-desperate for you to p-put your p-penis in my tights… ooh! I want you to put your penis in my tights and f-fill them with c-cum! Oh! C-can’t believe I can actually be saying this! It’s unthinkable! B-but I love it! I’m Superman… and I want you to fill my tights with your cum! C-cum on my penis, sir!’

‘Your cock, Superman,’ ordered Lord Summerisle. ‘Stop saying penis. You want him to cum on your cock. Your virgin cock. Don’t you? I said, don’t you?’

As he said this Summerisle gave Superman a couple of sudden hard slaps on his buttocks. The Man of Steel gave a yelp.

‘Ow! Ooh! Oh! Yes, your Lordship! I… I do… uh… I do want him to c-cum on… on my cock! My virgin cock! Cum on my virgin cock, please! Cover it with spunk, sir – cover my puny virgin cock with your hot cum!’

As he spoke, Superman attempted to shove one hand into his tights and grab hold of his erection, so desperate was he for release, but Lord Summerisle took a firm hold of it and forced the hero to keep both hands stretching the waistband of his tights out, to give Darius access.

‘Well, then, Superman,’ smiled Darius, ‘seeing as you ask so nicely…’

He was an inch or two taller than the Man of Steel, and he spoke, he stepped forward, and put his cock and balls just over the waistband of the hero’s waiting tights.

‘Now,’ he gasped, ‘here it comes, Superman!’

It was a huge load. At first Superman stared into Darius’s eyes as he began to cum, but then had to look down and watch, as his most intimate parts were coated with the thick, hot spunk that now began to course into his spandex as the other man pumped away at his erupting cock. The feelings were so extraordinary that Superman made more noise than Darius himself; it made him shake and his knees knocked together in his tights, rivulets of cum running down each leg.

‘Oh! Ooooooooooooooooh! Ooh! My cock! My c-c-c-cock! You’ve c-covered my c-c-cock with your c-cummmmmmmmm! Ooh! Ooh! F-f-filling me! F-filling my tights with your s-spunk! You’re c-cumming in my uniform! Hnnnngh!Ooh!’

When Darius’s cock had shot its last few drops into Superman’s tights, Lord Summerisle and Angus knocked the hero’s hands away. As the spandex waistband snapped back into place, they made him sproosh the hot spunk all around inside his tights. Superman groaned and whimpered pathetically as he massaged Darius’s semen into his spandex, and several times as his hands touched his cock he attempted to masturbate, but the Lord and his men would not allow it – not yet.

As for Angus, he had not climaxed, but had been steadily yanking himself throughout this degrading takedown of the world’s most powerful man.

‘And now, Superman,’ he said, ‘now time for something a wee bit different. Can I get him on his knees, your Lordship?’

‘Of course,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘You heard Angus, Superman – get down on the floor and get on your knees. Kneel, Superman. Obey. Kneel.’

‘Ooh! Ohhh…’ For a moment, Superman was transported to another time and another place, as he remembered his steadfast defiance and refusal to kneel before General Zod. But this seemed a lifetime ago, when he still had his powers. He was a warrior then, holding out with all his strength to save his adopted planet. Whatever he was now, here, it was a world away from that. And although he hesitated, after just a brief handful of seconds, Superman did as he was told. The Man of Steel obediently got down on to the floor and knelt before Angus.

He felt his knees squish into the cooling spunk that now coursed through the legs of his tights, coating them. Eyes wide, he looked up at the handsome, wiry young man.

‘I did as you ordered, Angus, sir. I obeyed. I… Superman… am kneeling. I submit. I submit, sirs… Hnngh. Oooh. Ohhhh. I submit! Wh-what… what are you g-g-going to do with me? Angus? Sir? What happens to me now?’

Angus stood and loomed over the hero. The room was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.

‘Pull down my underwear, Superman,’ he said softly. ‘I want you to pull my pants down and help me out of them.’

Superman nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

The Man of Steel took hold of those pristine white briefs, which were stretched around Angus’s legs, and slowly lowered them to his ankles, allowing them to bunch. And then, as the lad stepped out of them, Superman helped him, and reverently placed the briefs to one side.

‘Well done, Superman,’ said Angus. ‘That’s very good.’

Superman looked up at him. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘And now, Superman… you are going to suck me off.’

Despite himself, the hero gasped. ‘Wh-what?’

‘You heard me, Superman. You’re going to suck my cock. And you’re going to do it willingly and enthusiastically. Aren’t you… Man of Steel?’

Angus gave a slight sneer as he said these last words. He met the hero’s quivering gaze with a look of triumph and of challenge. Yet if he expected resistance, he found none.

‘Yes,’ replied Superman slowly. ‘I’m going to ah… that is… I… um…’

He swallowed, tasting cum as he did so, and it strengthened his resolve.

‘I’m going to… to suck your cock, sir. Oh! Ooh! Oh! Did you all hear me? I said it! I did it! I’m Superman, I’m the Man of Steel… I’m the Last Son of Krypton… and I’m going to remain here on my knees before you and suck your cock, Angus… sir! Ooh! Ooh! Listen to me saying those terrible words! And you’re right – I want it! I’m going to suck your cock willingly and enthusiastically, and I’m going to make a good job of it! I’ve never done anything like this before, but I promise you, Superman is going to do all he can to give you a… a Super-blowjob, sir! I’m ready to suck my f-first c-cock!’

It was all that Angus could do to stop himself from erupting right away as Superman knelt before him, looking hungrily at his bulging cock as he babbled these demeaning words.

‘Please,’ said the hero at last, reaching out his hands anxiously. ‘Please may I have it now, sir? Please may I suck your cock?’

‘Ask his Lordship,’ said Angus. ‘And as you do, hold up your hands and beg like a dog.’

‘Ooh!’ said Superman. ‘Oh…. Oh b-boy. You want me to b-beg… like a dog.’

‘Yup. Just like a dog. That a problem for ye, Superman?’

Again, there was another brief pause, as if some trace of resistance on Superman’s part was being eroded and worn away. And then he nodded.

‘No, sir. Of course not. I’ll do as I’m told. I’ll b-beg like a… like a d-d-dog.’

Slowly, Superman raised up his hands to the height of his chest. Then he let them go weak and limp at the wrists, exactly like a begging dog.

Trivial and playful as it was, this act seemed to demean Superman all the more – he was already on his knees asking to suck cock, and yet he had grovel shamefully like this and to ask Lord Summerisle’s permission before that straining, stiff erection would be his. He stared at the tip, which was awash with precum, and imagined it in his mouth, where just a short time ago Angus’s tongue had been, making him feel such wonderful things. Surely his cock would provide even greater thrills for the kneeling and submissive Man of Steel? He had to have it!

Superman turned to look up at the Lord of this strange place.

‘Please, Lord Summerisle,’ he began in a voice hoarse with lust. ‘Please may I suck Angus’s cock, sir? I promise I’ll do my best. I promise your Lordship. Please let me suck him… I… I want it, sir. Please let me have it. Oh… let me suck him, please!’

Superman felt Lord Summerisle’s hand at his neck in a moment, caressing him and playing with his spunk-drenched spandex. The touch was warm and thrilling, and it also reinforced Superman’s sense of utter submission. This man was greater than him. This man had mastered him.

‘Good little Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you are exactly what I imagined you to be. Now, here is your reward. You may suck it. Suck Angus’s cock, Superman. Let this act and our seed properly welcome you to Summerisle, you willing, kneeling, craven little fool. Suck it, Superman. Slobber away on it, like the great spandex-clad buffoon that you are.’

Superman was not expecting Lord Summerisle’s insulting words. Yet as much a small part of him wanted to rebut them, another, stronger part of the Man of Steel found himself aroused to receive such a shaming rebuke. In fact, it turned him on so much that before he even knew what he was doing he found himself echoing and repeating these sentiments, and wallowing in how much it turned him on to do so.

‘Hnngh. Yes. Yes, your Lordship. That’s right. I’m a b-buffoon. I’m a… a s-s-spandex-clad b-buffoon. I’m Superman, and I’m on my knees… c-craven and p-pathetic in my f-filthy tights. I came to this island the most powerful man in the world, and yet now… I’m a h-helpless, horny man in t-tights… and I’m on my knees… and now… I’m g-going to suck cock! Oh! I’m going to suck cock! Me, Superman… I’m going to suck my first cock! Ohhhh!’

He could hold on no longer, and as the last of these demeaning words left Superman’s lips, he lent forward and took hold of Angus’s cock.

The feeling of joy as Superman slid that penis into his waiting mouth was like nothing he had ever experienced or could ever have imagined until that moment. The hard, throbbing shaft against his wet tongue, mastering him, governing him, making Superman, the mighty Man of Steel into nothing but a means of pleasure for another male aroused him so completely that he entered into an almost trance-like state.

Minutes passed, and Superman lived up to his promise to give a “Super-blowjob”, sucking, licking and lapping away. But by now, Angus himself had done a heroic job of holding back, and there was only so much he could take of this astonishing, depraved, dazzling performance.

‘I’m cumming,’ he roared, as his spunk began to batter the tonsils of the Last Kryptonian. ‘I’m cumming in ye, Superman! The Man of Steel is drinking my spunk! Swallow it all, Superman! Take every last drop!’

For his part, Superman barely tasted the waves of cum that came soaring into his mouth, so frenzied and turned on was he by what he was doing. He thrashed and bucked, whilst making deep groans of arousal, and even after Angus withdrew his cock and wiped the tip across the hero’s S-shield, the Man of Steel continued to moan and gasp in sheer, unadulterated pleasure.

Lord Summerisle looked on coolly, as Angus finished wiping his dick on the world’s greatest hero and hunted around for his white briefs. Still gulping and making noises of debased contentment, Superman turned and looked up at the man in whose stately home he had just got down on his knees and given his first blowjob. He shivered at the steel he saw in those eyes.

‘So then,’ the Lord said softly, ‘now it’s my turn, Superman. Let’s see how you dance for the Organ Grinder, you helpless, horny, pathetic little monkey.’

What next for Superman in his extraordinary visit to the strange Scottish backwater? Just what does Lord Summerisle intend for the hapless, helpless, horny hero? Can he win back his powers? Has he lost himself forever more? Just where are his briefs? And will he ever get the release he so badly craves?

Find out in the next instalment, coming soon! And if you have enjoyed this, then please Like and consider leaving a comment.

In the meantime, happy #ManOfJelloMonday!

Hi there. I was a big fan of your many stories and the posts on your former Facebook page. I am glad that I was able reunite with your work in Tumblr. Actually loved your previous Facebook posts. I am wondering would you repost them or recreate them here on your Tumblr? Anyway thanks for your countless ideas of Superman's downfall and the efforts you put in to creating these lovely excerpts. They are very much appreciated.

Hey - thanks so much for the kind words, that’s really cool. Yes, I’m happy to put some of the older stuff up here and intend to do so. Fantasies of Superman’s defeat and humiliation are kind of a niche thing, and my mind was blown when I first realised it wasn’t just me that enjoyed exploring them. From memory, I think the Drunk Supes in the bar story I began went down well, and I plan to continue that at some point, ditto posting the whole extended Vice Lord. If it pleases and people like them then I’m happy. I don’t do overt violence, or anything grim, just the handsome Man of Steel, in his tights and bulging briefs, being brought low… and discovering he likes it. Happy to consider feedback and requests - thanks again and hope you continue to enjoy the stories and excerpts!

Hi, I love your work, i was wondering if all of the extended vice lord story was somewhere or if you post your stories anywhere else?

Hey… thanks for the appreciation and the follow. Glad you enjoy! I wrote Vice Lord a long time ago, and the only parts of the extended version I’ve shared are the extracts on here. I’ll probably post the whole thing at some point, with pics, once I’ve finished the current story - Superman: Into The Wicker Man. Happy to answer any more questions, and once again thanks for the appreciation.

Webster flicked a switch and the Kryptonite beam vanished.

“It’s done,” he said, “come on in, gentlemen - my new toy awaits you. Come and see what I’ve done to Superman!”

From where he lay, writhing in the dirt in his spandex, Superman looked up just in time to see the cave filling with men. They advanced towards him, each carrying a selection of insidious-looking devices.

“I see you took his cape and boots. That’s good. And you’re sure he’s powerless now?” asked one of them.

Webster had exited the computer, and by way of response, he grabbed Superman by the neck of his tunic and threw him into the path of the man who had spoken. The former Man of Steel cried out in pain and alarm.

“Boy,” chuckled the mam. “He really is less than nothing now, aren’t you, Supes?”

“No,” cried Superman, “get away from me. Don’t touch me! P-please!”

His fear was palpable, and every man in the room could see it, and was aroused by it: the most powerful being on the planet, now utterly powerless before them, stripped of his god-like abilities and made vulnerable, simply a man in bright spandex, crawling before them and cringing in fright.

“But there’s something else,” whispered one of them. “Dude, look at his crotch. Superman’s hard! He’s trying to get away, slithering around on the floor in his tights and begging us not to touch him, but his cock is telling a different story. Superman knows what we’re all thinking about – and I think he wants it more than any man in this room; he just can’t admit it to himself yet. But his erection can’t lie - and he can’t disguise it! The Man of Steel wants to be taken; he wants it so bad he’s throwing a monster bone in his tights and briefs!”

“Just so,” smiled Webster. “Don’t worry, Superman - you’re going to get the release that Super cock of yours so desperately needs. I’ve sold your ass to all of these men!”

“You’ve... you’ve done what?” breathed Superman.

“I’ve sold you, Superman. Like a whore. Which is what you are now. I’ve removed your superpowers, so your only remaining value is as my whore. People are going to pay me a lot of money to fuck you, Superman.”

He could hardly believe what he was hearing!

“No!” said Superman. “Please... that’s... you can’t... Webster don’t let them... don’t let them do that to me... I can be useful... I can serve you some other way...”

Webster shook his head. “Actually, you really can’t, Superman. Without your abilities, you have a distinct lack of discernible skill. Right now, all you are is a musclebound chump in tights… And it’s time for those tights to come down, so you can start earning your keep.”

With that, he gave Superman a kick, making him yelp, before pulling him upright.

“But before we get you out of your spandex and start ploughing your ass, I think it’s only fair that I mete out some punishment. After all, before I removed those tiresome powers of yours, you proved to be quite a thorn in my side.”

He clicked his fingers, and one of the men brought him a chair. Webster seated himself, and then grabbed Superman by the front of his briefs. The hero tried to push him away, but without his strength it was futile. He gave a small and ignominious whimper of fear.

“Ooh!! Wh-what are you going to do to me? Wh-what’s my p-p-punishment? Ooh!”

He did not have to wait long for the answer to this question. For a moment or two, Webster stared at Superman’s crotch, studying it. Then he placed his thumb on the circular clasp of that famous yellow belt and unfastened it. As the red briefs loosened in his grip, Webster slid them over Superman’s straining erection and pulled them all the way to his knees, before forcing the hero down and bending him across his knees.

Terrible, shameful noises of fear and arousal tore their way from Superman’s lips.

“Please,” he begged, “not this! Don’t spank me! Please don’t spank me, Mr Webster, sir.”

The crowd of men had encircled them now and were growing closer and closer.

“Beg all you like, Superman,” said Webster. “But do you want to know the real triumph? Even as you’re begging me not to do it, I can feel your cock hard between my knees, Superman! You’re going to be spanked, Superman! Understand that?”

“Yes,” gasped Superman, gazing up at the waiting crowd. “I’m going to be s-s-spanked. Oh god! You’re g-going to spank me... in front of all these men... powerless in my t-tights... and I can’t stop you. And it’s m-making me h-hard! Oh! Go on, then. Do it to me, Mr Webster! Spank me - spank Superman! Hnngg! Ooh!”

As the first blow landed on his spandex clad buttocks, the cave rang both with the sound of Superman’s humiliating punishment, and the cheers from his audience.

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.