Vincentzeal - VirtualZeality

What follows is a work of adult fiction, meant entirely for pleasure, involving Superman, the Man of Steel, exploring his secret and long-held sexual fetishes with other men. It is not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended, nor any offence meant.

If any of this means it is not for you for whatever reason, or if you feel it is likely to cause offence then please do not proceed any further.

However… if you would like to see what happens next to Superman, powerless, horny and at the mercy of the fiendish mystic Lord Summerisle and his band of handsome young men… well then, read on! If you thought times were hard right now, trust me, they’re even harder for the hapless Man of Steel. Superman has been lured to this strange Scottish island, and he now finds himself helpless and in the throes of a profound sexual awakening…

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter 8 part 3 - Breaking Free

Lord Summerisle looked down at Superman’s eager face and wide eyes. The Man of Steel craved release so badly, but he had now been taught to respect and obey. It was time to test that obedience, to see just how far he would go. In order to bend Superman to his purpose, he had to make sure his loyalty was both blind and unquestioning.

‘Anything, Superman?’

‘Yes! Oh yes! Absolutely anything at all, sir. Do you…’ Superman hesitated for a second and then said, with an excitement in his voice that he could not disguise:

‘Do you want me to, uh… suck you off, your Lordship? I think… I think I did a good job just now, didn’t I?’

‘Well,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you might well think you did a good job, but that’s not for you to say. Let’s see what Angus thought. How was Superman’s cocksucking? Were you pleased with him? Did the Man of Steel deliver a Super-blowjob?

The Man of Steel turned his gaze on Angus, looking across at him eagerly, craving the lad’s approval. To his slight surprise, he noticed that Angus had swapped underwear with Darius; after cumming in Superman’s mouth, the handsome young man had pulled on the first garment he’d happened upon. Darius was now wearing the pristine white Calvins and Angus was sat on the floor in black briefs and socks, regarding the hero with languid amusement. Superman forced himself to look him in the eye, as he asked in a quavering voice: ‘Did I…. Did I do a good job, Angus? Was it… I mean… did I p-please you?’

Angus said nothing, but just stared at him. Superman felt his heart begin to race, and he could barely keep the anxiety from his voice. ‘Angus? Sir? Was my… was my c-cocksucking okay? I tried my best, honest.’

Angus stood up and gave a smirk as he began to slowly walk in a circle around the kneeling, lust-crazed Man of Steel. He took his time before answering, but at last he said:

‘It wasnae bad, Superman. But I think ye missed a bit. Aye… just here.’

He slowly slid his black briefs down his beautiful thighs and held up his dick, proffering it to the astonished and horny Man of Steel.

‘You see, Superman,’ said Lord Summerisle, ‘you have much to learn.’

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry Angus! I’m sorry, sir! I’ll fix it!’

Before their eyes, Superman scrambled across on his knees and reached for Angus’s cock with one tentative, trembling hand.

‘I apologise, Angus,’ he said, ‘that was clumsy of me, sir. Please… please may I please be permitted to make amends?’

Sure enough, there were a few drops of cooling spunk that had made their way to the tip of Angus’s shaft. Wide-eyed, Superman stared at them and licked his lips.

‘Aye. Ye may, Superman,’ said Angus. ‘I permit you to lick those last few drops of my cum… which you so carelessly left behind.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ The horny hero babbled and gripped the now flaccid penis. ‘Thank you, Angus, sir. That’s very kind of you, sir. Thank you for letting me… mmmm…. Mmph.’

Superman thrust the penis between his lips and greedily sucked away at the rogue drops of spunk, moaning gently as he did so. By the time he had thoroughly cleaned Angus’s dick with his tongue, the lad was stiffening again, in spite of himself.

‘Hnngh. Oh man… Yeah… it’s got tae be said… that’s… no bad job you’re doing… good boy, Superman,’ Angus gasped. ‘This is a talented wee cocksucker we’ve got here, your Lordship. Good boy.’

Lord Summerisle chuckled. ‘Well done, Superman. It seems your newfound cocksucking skills do, in fact, speak for themselves.’

The lads all applauded at this and Superman’s eyes gleamed.

‘That’s enough now though,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘Angus - second helpings aren’t on the menu… yet.’

‘Pity,’ said Angus, as he reluctantly withdrew his semi-erect cock from Superman’s mouth. ‘The Man of Steel looks like he could use a wee bit more. He’s certainly earned it. You’re well on your way to becoming a Super-cocksucker, my man.’

Superman licked his lips and allowed himself a grin of pride at this compliment, delighted to have begun to win the approval of Lord Summerisle’s men. As Angus pulled up his black briefs and stuffed his cock back inside them, the hero returned his attention to Lord Summerisle.

‘Thank you, Angus, and thank you, your Lordship,’ he babbled. ‘Oh, thank you! I’m glad to have done a good job sucking Angus’s cock. I’m pleased you think I have potential… the potential to be a Super-cocksucker. And now…’

His eyes strayed to Lord Summerisle’s crotch, where a sizeable package was bulging against his expensive coal black trousers.

‘Now, your Lordship,’ said Superman, somewhat hoarsely. ‘Can I… that is… d-do I g-get to…. I mean… please… please may I have the honour of sucking you off too, sir?’

The hero looked up with pleading in his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll give you a S-super B-blowjob.’

‘I do not doubt it,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘But I’ve already seen you give fellatio your best shot, Superman. Now it’s my turn with you… my turn to use you for pleasure, however I see fit. And I have no interest in being sucked off by you just now.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed the Man of Steel, his expression suddenly one of keenest disappointment. ‘B-b-b-but I thought… oh, p-please… please let me suck it, sir! I’ll do an even better job this time, I swear!’

‘Shut up,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘You said you would do anything, didn’t you, Superman?’

‘Yes!’ The hero nodded rapidly. ‘Anything, sir, anything at all to thank you for wh-what you’ve d-d-done for me.’

‘Excellent,’ said Lord Summerisle. ‘In that case, get back on all fours, Superman. I intend to fuck you. How do you feel about that?’

‘Whuh…. What?!’

The Man of Steel sank back a little, as if winded. Despite his rapid descent into these untold disgraceful delights, he had not seen this coming. ‘I… um… I….’

‘Come along,’ smiled Summerisle. ‘Don’t be coy. How do you feel about me fucking you, Superman? Taking you from behind. Doing you on all fours. How would that be with you?’

The hero swallowed. This was not what he had anticipated… being penetrated by another man. And yet…

‘I… well… I g-guess I did say I would do “anything”, your Lordship,’ he mumbled, staring awkwardly about the room. Lord Summerisle’s men were all watching him, hungry as a pack of wolves. ‘If you… if that’s what you want…. What you want to d-d-do to me…. Then I guess it’s okay with me. Whatever you say, sir.’

Summerisle grabbed him by the jaw and forced Superman to look up.

‘Spare me your fawning, you craven little prick,’ he hissed.

Superman couldn’t stop the amazement from showing on his face; no one would ever normally dare speak to him like this. Once again he registered the novelty of being in the presence of a more dominant man, one who was so obviously the Alpha in the room.

Lord Summerisle stared down at the hero, reading every emotion, taking note of everything Superman was experiencing. There was an innocence about his expression, mixed with confusion, arousal and terror. Summerisle found it both potent and addictive, and so he nodded slowly and went further.

‘I asked you, Superman, you ridiculous, horny little coward, to tell me how you felt about me fucking you. Not to tell me that you’d go along with it because I ordered you to. I can order you to do anything I wish. I want to know what it is that you want? Come on - dig deep, you grovelling little…’ he paused and then continued: ‘you grovelling, pathetic little Super-dickhead… tell me what it is that you want. NOW!’

‘Ooh! Oh! Ooh!’

Superman whimpered suddenly, his cock throbbing with excitement at Lord Summerisle referring to him in this demeaning way. He looked down at his crotch as a fresh bloom of white pre-cum bubbled up across the blue spandex of his tights, wetting them further still.

‘Oh! You… you c-called me a… a S-s-super…. A Super-dickhead! Ooh! Hnngh. Uhhhh…! Unthinkable… you… no one t-t-talks to me like this… ooh! A S-Super-dickhead! Ahhh! Oh boy…!

The effect this was having on the hero was obvious. Summerisle’s men began to close in on him, sensing his increased arousal.

‘Indeed I did, Superman. For that’s what you truly are: Superman, the Super-dickhead. Isn’t it? I said, isn’t it?’

‘Yes!’ said Superman. ‘You’re c-c-correct, sir. I… I… I’m Superman, the S-s-s….’

He closed his eyes, took a breath, and opened them again. He looked back down at his wet crotch. There was now so much white bubbling up and out across his blue tights that it was as if a can of shaving foam had burst inside them. And it made him feel so, so horny… and so foolish. It was just as his Lordship said.

He began to nod his head. ‘I’m Superman the Super-dickhead. That’s right… a Super-dickhead. That’s me. Oh. Oh boy. Oh god…’

Lord Summerisle gave an approving smile. ‘Just so. And now… answer the question. Answer it honestly, or I shall make sure you never, ever get the blessed release you so crave. How do you feel about men fucking you, Superman? How does the Man of Steel feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman found these words echoing inside his head. His mind clouded over and suddenly it was as though he was back at the Fortress of Solitude. He imagined himself kneeling before the Elders of Krypton, his cock hard, shaming him in his tights and briefs. Those stern, patrician faces, ghosts of a world he had never truly known, staring down at him in judgement.

‘You cannot do this thing, Kal-El.’

‘You are the Last Son of Krypton. You may not dishonour your race this way. We shall not allow it.’

‘The son of Jor-El is erect! How dare you be erect in our presence! You must resist your filthy lusts. You shall have no release!’

‘No release! No release! No release!’

‘No!’ shouted Superman. He remained meekly on his knees, but his voice was defiant.

‘Why should I have no release? Why should I live a life without knowing pleasure? This is my home now, not Krypton. And I have kept my desires secret long enough. I… I… I am…’

He shook slightly, gathering all of his strength and willpower to give him courage to say what was in his heart.

‘I am Superman. That’s what they call me here. The Man of Steel. Yet today… today I… I sucked another man’s penis…’

He gazed up at the Elders of Krypton, trying not to lose his nerve.’

‘I’m Superman, he repeated, ‘and today I sucked cock for the first time, and I liked it! And I’m good at it! I sucked a cock and I felt such pleasure… and I won’t apologise for that… I won’t! And I want more!’

He went to activate his heat vision, but nothing happened. The ghostly faces of the Elders of Krypton disappeared, each shaking his head in disapproval as they faded away.

Superman blinked. He was still on his knees in the house of Lord Summerisle, into whose eyes he now found himself gazing.

‘Well, Superman? Answer the question. How do you feel about me fucking you?’

How do I feel about him fucking me?

Superman bit his lip, but he could remain silent no longer. He blurted out:

‘I want you to do it! Please! I do want it…. I want you…. I want you…. oh! I want you to fuck me, Lord Summerisle! Oh! There, I said it! I… I’m Superman… I’m the most powerful being in the world… or I was before I came here. But now… I’m here in your house…utterly and literally powerless… I’m on my knees before you and I want you to fuck me, sir! I want you - no, I beg you to do it!’

The men applauded him once more, and it gave Superman courage. He smiled calmly at them all, panting as he looked about him, feeling his penis throb with delight as he spoke. He was breaking free at last!

His expression now solemn, Superman looked up at Lord Summerisle.

‘I don’t care what the Elders of Krypton would say. To… to the Phantom Zone with them all! They all died long ago, and I… I’m alive. Yes. I’m alive and so… and so… Oh boy… I can’t believe I’m saying this…! P-p-please… fuck me, sir! Ooh! Oooh! Fuck me, now! Yes! Do it to me, your Lordship - take me down! You are the Alpha, not me - it’s time to give it to me. Fuck me like the Super-dickhead that I am! I want it so, so badly! That’s the truth! Hnnnnnnngh! I’m Superman - Superman the Superdickhead! Now fuck me, sir - fuck me, please! I want you, Lord Summerisle, to do me the honour of fucking me! Hhaaaaaah!’

How will Lord Summerisle react to Superman’s latest admission? Will the Man of Steel ever get the release he so desires? Will the Elders of Krypton ever recover from seeing Kal-El’s erection? And will Angus get a second helping?

Find out next time! If you’ve enjoyed it please leave a comment and hit like. Meanwhile, happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!

#supermandefeated#supersubmission#supermanhumiliated#heroperil#vincent zeal#heroesdefeated#spandex#pantsdown#briefs#superherohumiliation

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 4 - KINKSTER OF STEEL

This is part 4 of an adult content, NSFW erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy...

Now let’s return to the hapless Clark Kent aka Superman. We left him sat fully clothed on a filthy toilet, after Lance Lewis had locked him in, leaving the aroused and apprehensive journalist uncertain and excited for what was to come…

Now that the door was closed, Clark could see that there was a full-length mirror on the other side of it, mottled with age and reflecting back his image. He shuddered with arousal and drank in the sight of himself, illuminated from above by one yellow lightbulb.

“Oh boy. Ohhhh b-boy” he whispered to himself. “Look at me. Look at what I’m doing. I’m… sat in my finest clothes, my best suit. Sat on a filthy wet toilet, waiting to debase myself and fellate a bunch of men. Me… Clark Kent. Oh!”

His penis throbbed with unspent arousal as he spoke these words. His whole body shook with years of pent-up longing, a yearning to be something less than the all-powerful Man of Steel for once. He lightly touched himself and moaned a little in anticipation.

Clark could feel the liquid on the toilet seat had soaked right through his trousers, all the way through to his tights and briefs below. His uniform - his sacred Kryptonian uniform, a symbol of greatness known even beyond the bounds of the earth, was absorbing the waste of normal human men. The thought made him giddy with excitement. And that was when it occurred to him:

“You know… this isn’t really my best suit, is it? My best suit… is my Superman suit. My uniform, which I have on underneath my Clark Kent clothes.”

He stared at his reflection.

“They have no idea. They have no idea that it’s not just Clark Kent who’s going to be sucking their dicks this evening - it’s Superman! Superman is going to suck cock for the first time in a public lavatory, and it’s a secret. My secret. Just mine.”

His x-ray vision activated spontaneously, penetrating the layers of his coal-black suit.

“Imagine… oh… just imagine if I was sucking their dicks dressed in my uniform.”

The thought of this turned him on so much that he whipped his hand away from his cock for fear that he might cum in his clothes right there!

“Oh! Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh god. Could I? Could I do that? They have locked me in here after all. No one would see.”

He shook his head sadly, and let his x-ray vision fade.

“It’s too much of a risk. Way too much of a risk. If anyone ever found out.”

But then, how could they find out? He still had his abilities. If anyone were to unlock the door he would hear them coming from way off, and he could change back at super-speed.

“No,” he said, “it’s still too risky.”

His hand strayed to his neck tie as he continued to gaze at his reflection.

“Although. How about… I could just take off my tie. And maybe my jacket.”

He spied an ancient and rusty hook, hanging to the left of the mirror.

“Yes. What if I take them off and hang them there?”

Before he had even given himself permission to do this, he found himself loosening his tie, standing up and pulling off his jacket.

Haltingly, almost as though his hands were resisting, he slipped the necktie over his head and off. This done, he coughed nervously and then shrugged off his suit-jacket. With shaking hands, he hung them both on the rusty hook and seated himself once more.

“And then…then I can just…”

Without thinking, from force of habit, he swiftly performed a shirt rip! The buttons of his crisp white shirt went flying to the floor, into the puddles of piss that were everywhere.

“Dang it! Didn’t mean to rip it. But now I have…”

His cock strained ecstatically at the sight before him: now, he would be able to see his S-shield as he worked away sucking dick. The red, yellow and blue insignia blazed out proudly beneath his white shirt.

“Oh boy. Okay. That… that feels really nice. Being able to see my uniform like that. In fact…”

He looked down at his shoes.

“You know, these cost a lot of money. Instead of having them soaking in stale urine all evening, I could… um…”

He paused, but he already knew what he was thinking.

“I could… well, I could just take off my shoes and put them by the basin. But then, I wouldn’t want my socks to get wet with all this. And my uniform is indestructible, after all. What if I just take off my shoes and hang up my socks on the hook. Th-then…”

He paused again, and then whispered to himself:

“Well… then I’d be able to see my red boots. I… I’d like that! What does it matter if they’re standing in piss. I mean, urine?”

Part of him tried to hold back, but then, before he knew it, he found himself unlacing his smart black leather shoes. He took them off and went to place them by the basin, which was filled with murky-looking water, but as he stood up he realised his mistake.

“Oh! Huh… damn it! What a… what a d-dumbass I am! I forgot to take my socks off before standing up.”

His pristine black socks were now soaking up the filthy contents of the toilet.

“Oh well. Better get them off now. Perhaps… perhaps I’ll put them in the basin to soak.”

Pulling off each of his now drenched socks, with a momen’s slight hesitation he dropped them into the foul-looking contents of the basin.

“Hmm. Not sure if that’s better or worse than the floor, but it doesn’t matter now. There go my socks.”

He settled himself back down upon the toilet and gazed at his reflection with satisfaction.

“Look at me,” he whispered. “My S-shield and tunic are showing, and so are my red boots.”

He looked down at the latter, now stood amid the sloppy urine all about.

“Gee. Not sure my boots have ever stood in a puddle of human piss before!”

He chuckled softly, at this, but as he did so he found himself wriggling in discomfort. Ripping his shirt open had displaced his cape, which normally stayed put, tucked into the back of his trousers.

“Well,” he said slowly, “that’s going to be awfully uncomfortable to sit on all night long. What… what difference would it make if I…”

He stood up once more, reached behind himself, and yanked his cape out from the seat of his pants. It fell down behind him, making him both instantly more comfortable and infinitely more turned on.

“Oh god. Oh boy.” he gasped. The sight of his red and blue uniform was driving him wild with lust. And from the mirror he could now see that the bottom of his cape was touching the floor of the toilet; he could see the hem darkening as its soaked up the human piss below!

“Oh! G-gosh. Well. It’s indestructible after all. What does it matter? G-gosh, though… my cape… my own cape, soiled with human urine!”

He stared once more at his S-shield, savouring the sight of it shining brightly out below his crisp white shirt. The red and yellow, he could clearly see. But the blue of his tunic, not so much.

“What good is it… leaving my shirt on but ripped open? What purpose does that serve, really?”

He could find no answer, and a moment later he took his shirt off fully and hung it on the ancient hook. Then, after a brief hesitation, he removed his glasses and tucked them inside his jacket pocket.

Superman - as he plainly could be seen to be now - seated himself once more on the filthy toilet. He was trembling quite alarmingly, as though he had a fever, he was so turned on.

“Oh god. Oh boy. Oh, great Rao. I’m sorry… I’m sorry, but I think this looks amazing. It feels wonderful. Me… Superman. The Man of Steel. The strongest being on the planet. Sat on a filthy lavatory. My feet… my boots… in a puddle of human piss. With only my coal black pants left to protect my uniform. Oh boy… look at me. Let me enjoy this moment.”

Superman felt a rush of erotic sensation like nothing that had ever touched him in all his years. His predicament was arousing him more than anything had ever done before. He thought back to his words of that morning:

“Why shouldn’t I have some fun for once?”

In that moment, he felt a desire to see his own bulging briefs and tights that was so wild and so strong, there was not the remotest hope of fighting it.

“To hell with it,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to do as I want. It’s my life. I’m the last son of Krypton. I’m Superman. I’m the Man of Steel. And my pants are coming down.”

He began to fumble clumsily with the clasp of his trousers, tugging fiercely at them.

“Everything all right in there, Clark?”

He froze with horror, bending over in the act of removing his trousers. Ridiculously, he pulled his cape around him to try and conceal his crotch, as if Lewis were in the room there with him, and then cursed his stupidity - what could this have achieved? He swallowed, and called out in Clark’s mild-mannered tones:

“Yes… yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I’m f-fine. Th-thank you.”

Superman stood, willing the man to go away and leave him be. He could see Lewis just outside with his x-ray vision. Surely he wasn’t going to unlock the door and check on him? If he had to get dressed at Super-speed again now, he didn’t know what he’d do…

“Glad to hear it.” Lewis walked away once more, to his great relief. “Five minutes to go.”

“Oh… thank you, sir,” called out Superman. “I’ll be ready. C-c-can’t wait!”

As the footsteps moved away, he deactivated his x-ray vision, and a second later he ripped his trousers down his legs.

“Pants down for me,” he gasped, yanking them off his feet, trying as much as possible to avoid them soaking up the pools of piss on the floor. “Pants down for Clark Kent… and pants off for Superman… there!”

Triumphantly, he finally pulled off his trousers and held them up, before hanging them on the hook. It shook slightly, but Superman barely registered this, so desperate was he to sit back down and look at his reflection. Gently, he lowered his spandex-clad ass on to the filthy toilet seat. As the seam of his red briefs came into contact with the wet surface, he felt them and his blue tights begin to absorb the moisture.

“Ooh,” he breathed as he felt the liquid fully begin to seep up into his briefs and tights. “L-looks like I’ve wet my tights…”

He chuckled at this, and stared at the patch of white foaming precum where his ramrod stiff cock was bulging through his uniform. The front of his briefs was now well and truly awash, stained with the evidence of his excitement.

“Yes… I’ve certainly well and truly wet my tights.”

He looked his reflection in the eye defiantly. “I, Superman, have wet my tights and briefs.”

Now in the grip of a lust-crazed frenzy, he began to paw at his boots.

“Better to take these off. That way my tights can soak up some filth from the floor as well.”

He began to peel the backs of his boots down his calves, ready to remove them and sully the feet of his tights. But he was only halfway through when a voice cried out:

“You ready in there? Are you ready for showtime, for cock o’clock?”

Superman sat up and looked at himself, then over at the gloryhole.

“Just a minute, sir,” he called out, his voice shaking slightly. He returned his gaze to his reflection, drinking in the sight of his disgrace. His boots were half off, the back of his calves clad in his blue tights, exposed.

Suddenly the rusty old hook on the back of the door gave way, and to his horror, Superman watched his fine Clark Kent clothes come crashing to the ground. His eyes wide, he watched that expensive suit, shirt, and tie as the whole lot landed with a faint splash in a particularly deep puddle of piss.

“Oh!” he gasped. “Oh god! What have I done?”

He saw himself in the mirror: the son of Jor-El, Kal-El of Krypton, the Man of Steel… Superman… sat on a disgusting toilet, cape and buttocks soaked with piss, his stained briefs bulging with undisguised arousal and his boots half peeled off. And the remains of Clark Kent’s best suit before him, lying in a puddle of human waste. The sheer depravity of what he was doing fully hit home at last.

A sound came from behind the gloryhole. Someone was preparing themself for him

“Clark! I said, are you ready?”

Superman swallowed. “Yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I am ready.”

With one finger he traced the symbol of his s-shield, and then with the other hand he took hold of his cock, gripping it through his tights and briefs.

“Uhhhhh. I’m ready for my sh-showtime, sir.” He gasped and groaned in arousal.

“I’m Superman,” he whispered, before continuing in a much louder voice, “and I’m ready to suck some dicks.”

What will Superman make of his night of cock? Will his first foray into fellatio be an instant triumph for him and his clients, or will the Man of Steel need a few hot tips? And will he make it to sunrise without blowing a load in his already-sullied tights and briefs?

Find out soon in Superman: Glory Night, chapter 5 - SUCKER

If you enjoyed, then please hit Like and consider leaving a comment, and I hope you found it as Superman’s tights and briefs are right now, as he sits awaiting the glory! 😈

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 2

This is part 2 of a mature content erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. Many thanks to the old friend whose hot spandex-clad body features in the first pic for this chapter, and to SupermanRedboots whose hot crotch and legs feature as well, also by kind permission. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy...

Despite coming in early to try and get ahead, Clark’s productivity fell to almost zero for the rest of that day. After Lance Lewis terminated the call, he sat in silence for a few minutes. Then, with the office beginning to get busier, he stood up and hurriedly pulled on his overcoat, desperate to conceal the prominent erection bulging straight up inside his trousers, briefs and tights. This done, he left the office and walked around for a few blocks, waiting for his arousal to die down. It took far longer than he had anticipated, and by the time he returned to the Daily Planet, mumbling excuses about having to go for a coffee run, Perry had noticed his absence and took the opportunity to once again berate him in front of his colleagues.

“Little does he know,” thought Clark afterwards, sitting chastened at his desk, “just how much I’m giving up to help him and the rest of the guys here. I’m… I’m almost prostituting myself, just to save their jobs.”

Yet even as he consoled himself with this thought, there were other, more troubling facts which he knew that he was not fully admitting to himself. His erection had subsided at last, but even now, underneath the desk where he was sat pretending to work, beneath his smart suit trousers, Clark could feel a patch of wet spandex touching the tip of his cock; the legacy of how excited and aroused Lance Lewis’s proposal had made him. It was taking all of his considerable strength and willpower to ignore it, and not to dwell too much on why the idea of a night sucking dicks had taken such a powerful hold on him.

By mid morning he needed the bathroom, and he took himself off to the gents washroom of the Daily Planet. Finding the place deserted, Clark stared at himself in the mirror and slowly lowered the fly of his dark suit trousers. He pulled the zipper down as far as it would go and gently held it open, his hands shaking.

There it was: that slightly darkened, moist patch on his bright red briefs, shining out from beneath his sober city clothes. He felt ridiculous, as if his own penis was making fun of him. For a second it crossed his mind to strip at super-speed and rinse the stain out of his uniform. He could do it... using his abilities he could probably achieve this in what? Ten seconds? Fifteen? Thirty, maximum.

He stared at the stain on his briefs. With his index finger he reached out and touched it, dabbing at the moist spandex.

“Oh,’ he gasped at the sensations. “Oh!”

The thrill, as his finger probed the wet fabric, his cock responding enthusiastically to the contact! It was like an ache, for everything he had never been able to have.

Gazing at the tip of his finger, Clark wondered longingly what it might taste like. A moment later he gave in and raised it to his mouth. His tongue swiped gently at it, and he gave a slight moan of awe, instantly wishing for more.

Why should he put himself to the bother of rinsing out his tights and briefs? He found he did not want to rid himself of the evidence of his erection. He pulled the gap in his pants closed and drew up his zipper once more. By this point he was unable to use the bathroom as he had intended; inevitably his cock had risen up excitedly beneath his touch and was now stiff as a board once more. He pushed open one of the cubicles and seated himself within.

“This is where I’ll be by nine o’clock tonight,” he breathed. “I’ll be in a bathroom - a mens’ public toilet. Me, Clark Kent. I’ll be sat just like I am now. Except I’ll be there for a different reason. I’ll be there to… to suck cock.”

Once more, he wondered if he could address this problem as Superman. But Lance Lewis had been very clear in his threat to proceed with the libel case if he did, and there was no doubt that he could and would do this.

“But it’s more than that,” he thought, looking down at his bulging crotch. “I… I want to go through with it.”

And there he had it: for the first time Clark admitted the truth to himself. From the moment Lewis had suggested this terrible, demeaning way out of his predicament, a part of him had leapt at the idea. It tapped into desires, dreams and fantasies that he had smothered for years, never daring to hope that there might one day be a chance to act on them. How could he, Superman, the most powerful man on the planet, if not the entire galaxy, ever safely find a way to place himself in the kind of jeopardy that secretly he wanted so badly? The prospect of being helpless and sexually dominated excited him more than he knew how to articulate. And it was this which truly had him in thrall, not Lance Lewis. Clark knew that there was not a chance of him wriggling out of the disgraceful night that lay in store for him, because deep down inside he could not wait.

He sat there for a long time, and eventually it became clear that being in a toilet cubicle, an echo of what was yet to come, was doing nothing to reduce his hard-on. Adjusting his penis as best he could, Clark took off his jacket and walked awkwardly back to his desk with it draped across his arm, to try and cover his bulging pants.

He thought about when Lance Lewis had asked him if he knew what a gloryhole was. After his hurried pretence, he had then admitted the truth:

“No, Mr Lewis. No… it’s not true. I apologise. I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t tell lies and I never have. I… I believe I do know what a gloryhole is.”

But this in itself was a lie, was it not? Clark did tell lies. Lots of them. He’d lied just now, telling Perry he’d gone out for a coffee run. He had lied upon returning from the bathroom, when Greg asked him why he was walking so oddly, and he’d made something up about being troubled by a stiff back.

“Stiff back? No. It’s a stiff cock that’s troubling me. And soon it will be lots of them. Lots and lots of stiff cocks…”

And of course, as Superman he lied every day of his life, to protect his secret identity.

“I do tell lies. Of course I do. Just… just when it suits me. That’s the truth of the matter, but I pretend it’s not. I pretend to be something better than that, in order to fulfil my own self-imposed moral standards. So… so why should this be any different? That’s it: I’ll do as Lewis says. I’ll go to this place and suck cock. He said he would lock me in, didn’t he? So they won’t know if I get hard. And after all, I might not get hard.”

But even as he said these words Clark shook his head; he didn’t even believe this himself.

“Who am I kidding? Of course I’m going to get hard. I’m hard again right now just thinking about it; heaven knows how turned on I’ll feel when I’m really there. But if they lock me in… then no one can see. No one will know that I’m actually… enjoying myself. That’s it. And I’ll save the Daily Planet, and everyone’s careers. And I’ll grovel to Lewis and earn his forgiveness. And this will all be just one other lie that I found acceptable. Something else to conceal from the public. The same way I never told anyone the truth about how badly Nuclear Man humiliated me and whooped my ass on the moon, or about how scared and turned on I was when Luthor chained me and dominated me, And in return… finally… finally I get to have some fun. Why is that so wrong?”

Soon after this, a text message arrived his phone, telling him the address in downtown Metropolis where he was to go that evening, to fellate these mystery men. But by this time Clark had already deduced where the place must be himself, he was so fixated on what lay ahead.

When the end of the working day came, he shot out from behind his desk and headed for home.

“Faster than a speeding bulllet,” he whispered under his breath.

Once back at his apartment, he undressed, stripping off his civilian clothes. He sat down on his bed dressed only in his Superman uniform. Holding up the trousers he had just taken off, he peered inside them. With interest, he stared at the little patch of precum that had gathered within, hidden below the surface of his sober city suit. He hesitated, and then sniffed it. He liked the smell, and inhaled it deeply.

“Soon… soon I won’t have to imagine,” he breathed. “The all-powerful Superman… I’m going to be able to inhale this musk for real.”

Lost in a strange reverie, Clark pulled the crotch of his pants right over his head, and then he lay down on his bed, legs stretched out and enjoying the sensory delights.

He remained like this for some time, the sensations as new as they were blissful to him, lying in this odd, meditative, calm and profoundly erotic state. At last, conscious of the clock ticking away, he tugged the pants off of his head and threw them across the room. Standing up, he turned and examined himself in the mirror.

His tights and briefs were now very obviously stained by the tip of his cock. Thankfully there had been no emergency today which had required Superman. And if anything happened tonight? He flicked a concealed switch inside his wardrobe, activating the back-up force of robots at his Fortress, who dealt with such matters when the Man of Steel was indisposed.

“One night off,” he muttered. “Just one. For once, I get to have some fun. Even Superman deserves that, surely?”

He shaved, and made himself look his best, before dressing in his finest suit, a sharp and crisply tailored black number. His hands shook slightly with anticipation as he knotted his tie. He looked immaculate.

This done, he sat down in front of the clock and waited, unable to concentrate on a single other thing apart from the night of fellatio that awaited him.

At 8.45pm, Clark Kent opened the window of his apartment.

“It’s time,” he said. “Oh. Oh boy. Here I go. I’m really going to do this.”

He grinned. “Up, up and away! And then… down, down… and down to… who knows?”

Clark paused for a moment, and then he shot off into the night sky dressed in his best suit, not bothering to switch to his Superman uniform.

What will Clark discover in the downtown bathroom in Metropolis? Will he back out, or will he go through with Lance Lewis's inglorious plan for him? Will Superman face a long dark night of the soul, or a long dark cock at the hole?

Next chapter coming soon... if you enjoyed then please hit “like” and consider leaving a comment. Happy #MeekManOfSteelMonday

Superman: Glory Night, chapter 3 - HYPOCRITE

This is part 3 of a mature content erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for enjoyment, not for profit. And so I hope you enjoy... now let’s find out what happens when Clark keeps his appointment with the devious pornographer Lance Lewis, at a public toilet in downtown Metropolis…

Less than a minute after leaving his apartment, Clark touched down lightly in a grubby back alley near the public toilet that was his destination. He walked the rest of the way, breathing heavily. He was bristling with excitement and apprehension.

A figure stepped from the shadows, a good-looking man of about thirty, with shoulder length brown hair.

“Well, well,” grinned Lance Lewis. “Right on time. An excellent habit for a whore, right, Clark?”

Despite everything, he scowled. “I’m not a whore, Lewis.”

Lance’s expression darkened. “But tonight you’re going to do what a whore does, isn’t that right? And what’s with calling me ‘Lewis’? Perhaps you want me to cancel this arrangement?”

“No!” Clark put out his hands in a placatory gesture. “Please, sir, no! I’m… I’m very sorry, Mr Lewis, sir. I didn’t mean to say that. I… I’m not a whore, but you’re quite right - tonight I… I’m going to behave just like a whore. And… and that’s just f-fine. I’ll d-do what a whore does. Thank you, sir. Forgive me, please.”

“Forgive you?”

“Yes… yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

Lewis stared at him. “Well, look like you mean it, Clark. Get on your knees.”

"Wh-what?” Clark could hardly believe what he was hearing.

“You heard me, Kent. If you want me to forgive you, get down on your knees.”

Clark tried to think of something he could say or do, but Lewis was staring at him with a cold determination, and it was clear the man was not going to let him off the hook.

“Okay.”

Clark took a breath, and then slowly assumed a kneeling position at Lewis’s feet. Looking up, he said:

“I’m… I’m very sorry, Mr Lewis, sir. P-please forgive me. Please."

This seemed to satisfy Lance Lewis. “Okay. That’s better, Clark. But mind you keep a civil tongue in your head this evening.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” babbled Clark. “I’ll be on my b-best behaviour for you, sir.”

Already, his body was aglow with fiery arousal, both at the knowledge of what he was walking into and also, to his surprise, at the deferential manner which seemed to come so naturally to him.

‘This is my associate,” said Lewis, “my business partner, Carmine.”

A handsome, dark eyed young man with neat dark hair stepped from the shadows. Clark swallowed rapidly.

“Oh… I… I d-didn’t know anyone else was going to be here,” he said. “Uh…”

“Lots of people are going to be here,” said Lewis. “Lots of men. Right, Clark?”

Clark nodded. “Yes, sir. I understand sir. Lots of men are going be here. Lots of men are gong be… uh… c-coming here tonight.”

“Indeed. I couldn’t have put it better myself.” Lewis stared at him. “And tell Carmine what you’re going to be doing for these men, Clark. Go on. Introduce yourself and tell him why you’re here”

Clark bit his lip. He had no choice. Turning to this handsome younger guy, who was gazing at him with curiosity, he said: “I… um… Good evening, Carmine. Uh. Sir. Mr Carmine, sir. M-my name is C-Clark K-Kent. And I… I’m here to make amends for t-tarnishing Mr Lewis’s reputation.”

“And how are you going to do that, Clark?” asked Lance Lewis. “Tell Carmine how you’re going to make it up to me. Don’t be coy now.”

“N-no, sir.” Clark hesitated, and then said. “I… I’m g-going to be s-sucking… um… sucking d-dick."

He could hardly believe it as the words left his mouth, and before he could stop himself, he repeated this statement.

“I’ve come to suck cock! I’m going to be on the other side of a… of a g-g-glory hole! Ooh!”

Carmine smiled and knelt down beside him. “Good to meet you, Clark. You look like you’re looking forward to sucking some dick.”

“Is that true?” asked Lewis, crouching down on Clark’s other side. “Is our intrepid reporter looking forward to a night of cock?”

Both Lance Lewis and Carmine turned their attention to Clark’s crotch. He knew what they would be able to see, even restrained by three separate layers of clothing. There was no use trying to hide the fact he was now sporting a prominent erection.

“I… I…. Well. That is… t-to my ah… surprise… I am… uh… quite c-c-curious to t-try it… to t-try s-sucking some… ah… some penises.. I mean… some cocks.”

Both men smirked at this, and then doubled up with laughter.

“Yup. A hypocrite. Just like I said. Well, now’s your chance, Clark. You can find out just what it’s like. This could be a whole new beginning for you, huh?”

“Hmm. Uh. Yes. Maybe. B-but you are going to lock me in, right?” asked Clark, anxiously. “You said you’d lock me in and I would be alone, that’s correct, isn’t it, Mr Lewis?”

“Of course,” said Lewis. “It’ll just be you in there. As long as you do your job for the evening and those lips work away, no one else will be able to see you, Clark. It’ll be our secret. You, me… and Carmine.”

“Oh. Well… good. That’s just swell. Th-thank you, Mr Lewis. Thank you, Carmine. Th-thank you f-for this uh… opportunity.”

“I think it’s cruel to keep him waiting,” said Carmine.

Lewis nodded. “Come on, Clark. Let’s get you ready. It’s nearly showtime for you, right.”

“Yes, sir,” nodded Clark. “It’s nearly showtime for me!”

Together, Carmine and Lance Lewis dragged Clark to his feet and led him into the public bathroom.

It was bigger than he had expected, but also much, much filthier. There were scraps of paper, old leaves and empty condom wrappers strewn about the floor. The walls were scrawled with graffiti and foul language. Much of the place was also awash with puddles, some nearly a centimetre high. The pungent smell of these shallow pools unmistakably identified the substance as urine.

“Ugh,” said Clark, looking down as his shoes squelched into the wet floor. “It’s… the whole place is so dirty. It’s absolutely disgusting.”

“Problem?” asked Lance Lewis. “The urinals in here haven’t been properly serviced for a while, but you know what men are like: they just piss away regardless. That’s not going to be a problem for you, is it, Clark?”

“No sir.” Clark shook his head. “Uh. Where is the uh… oh…”

There, just to the left of a filthy hand towel hanging limply from a rail, was the scene of his night’s adventure. The toilet seat was cylindrical, and most of the cistern had collapsed on the floor behind it. The seat itself was a dirty beige and caked with aged grime and dirt, though it was a good size. It was also soaking wet all over. And just in front of this, set in the wall above and to the left of the towel rail, there it was: the gloryhole.

“Gosh,” said Clark. “So… that’s it, huh?”

“It sure is,” said Lance Lewis. “That’s your destiny! Ready, Clark?”

He swallowed. The hole didn’t exactly look clean, but then nothing in here did. He looked down once more at the pool of urine in which he stood, and then slowly nodded.

“Yes, sir, Mr Lewis, sir. I’m… I’m ready, sir.”

“Great stuff,” said Lewis, “well I’m going to lock you in now, and you’lll have about ten minutes or so to acclimatise yourself before your first client.”

Clark frowned. “Ten minutes? You mean I’ll have to wait in here?”

“Of course. It’ll give you time to think.”

That was what Clark was unsettled by, but he didn’t say so.

Lewis pointed towards the disgusting toilet. “Go take a seat, Clark. You look great, by the way. I’m pleased to see you’ve come in your best, just as I ordered you to. That’s a fine-looking outfit you’re wearing.”

“Uh. Yes, sir.” replied Clark. “This suit cost a lot of money. It’s my-best.”

He ran his hands over the smooth, pristine black fabric of his trousers. For a moment he felt regretful, not wanting to sully his beautiful clothes in this disgusting place.

“Problem, Clark?”

“No, sir.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Lewis gestured again to the toilet. “So… come on, Clark… sit. Sit, boy.”

Hesitantly at first, feeling foolish, he moved towards the toilet. The seat was splashed with urine just like the floor, and he looked about for some toilet paper. Yet there was nothing but an empty cardboard tube hanging from the wall.

“Nope,” chuckled Carmine, as if reading his thoughts. “All gone I’m afraid. Nothing to wipe the seat with. Problem? I said, Problem, Clark?”

Trying not to think about the piss-splashed seat, Clark resigned himself. He pushed his glasses up his nose, took a deep breath and sat down.

“Ooh. N-no. No p-problem, Carmine, sir.”

Lance Lewis smiled broadly. “Excellent. You look just perfect there, Clark.”

Clark could see the men staring at his crotch. His erection was now painfully obvious.

“You know,” said Lewis, staring at the bulge in his pants, “I think you might be going to enjoy tonight more than you think.”

Unable to think of anything to say to this, with his cheeks flushing red, Clark said simply: “Um. Th-thank you, Mr Lewis, sir.”

Lewis nodded. He stared at Clark, sat meekly on his toilet seat, and then he and Carmine went out and he closed the door behind them. Using his x-ray vision, Clark could see the man was keeping his word and was turning a key in the lock.

‘Ten minutes,” Lewis called from behind the door. “Ten minutes and then it’s showtime, Clark. Be ready for cock o’clock, won’t you?”

“Oh!” gasped Clark. “Yes, sir. C-c-cock o’clock. I’ll… I’ll be ready for showtime, sir.”

There was laughter and then the footsteps echoed away.

What will happen to Clark, aroused and ensnared, as he awaits his night of depravity? Will he rise to the occasion, or will he fall at the first hurdle and hide his true, disgraceful desires, just as he hides his colourful briefs and tights beneath his sober black suit? And what on Earth is he going to tell his dry cleaners?

Find out right now, in the next chapter - “KINKSTER OF STEEL”

If you’ve enjoyed, then please hit Like and leave a comment… I hope you find it hot, just like Superman 😈! In the meantime, Happy #SupersubmissiveSunday!