Heroes: The Joy of Being Superman (Part 1 of 3)

CHAPTER 1.

NOW. LUKE LANGSTON’S HOUSE. CENTRAL CITY.

“Wow. Just wow.”

Luke Langston’s breath is taken away by the 32-year-old, 6’3”/230-lbs, black-haired, bespectacled white muscleman standing at his door. Luke is a handsome white man, but he’s a lot smaller and leaner at 5’10”/160-lbs. Luke is 28, blond, and scruffy. He workouts regularly, getting compliments on his body, but when it comes to being a superhero, he knows that he’s no Trent Stark. Trent is a god. 

Trent Stark has Luke drooling.

A videographer by day, Luke has hosted many men at his Central City home for superhero roleplay since buying it five years ago. He’s run through the regional roleplay community several times over and no one comes close to this Adonis at his door. Not even the models and wrestlers that he’s enticed with the allure of free professional pics to join him for play.

Luke is hot, too.

Trent waits patiently until he’s invited to enter Luke Langston’s living room. The attractive muscleman is wearing baggy sweats, but Luke can still tell his playmate for the evening is everything he’d hoped he’d be. And the shiny red leather boots sticking out of the pants make him very excited for what’s to come. This man is very Superman, and he’s all his for the night.

Luke finally realizes that he’s just standing a staring at Trent. He steps aside and ushers his guest out of the front hall. Trent accepts and steps deeper into the spacious, mid-century modern bungalow. The mild-mannered muscleman adjusts his glasses shyly as he moves to the middle of the room, waiting for directions. It’s his first time doing anything like this, so he’s as nervous as Luke is thrilled.

The host is too entranced by his guest to say anything more than, “Wow, wow, wow.” A slight pause and then a final, “Wow.”

Luke finally gets a hold of himself. “Shit, sorry, man. Hi, Trent. I’m Luke. Please, have a seat if you want. Can I get you anything?”

Trent shakes his head, “No thanks. I’m good. Should I change now or wait?”

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Please. Feel free to change. The bathroom is right over there.”

The tall muscleman says, “No need. I showered at the hotel and I’m wearing the costume under my clothes.”

Trent removes his glasses, setting them down carefully. He unzips his black hooded sweatshirt, revealing the top of a Superman costume. He turns and tosses it onto the nearest chair. From behind, Luke sees the broad shoulders protruding past the red cape and his mouth goes dry. Trent twists to lift the cape out of his black sweatpants. He hangs it over his left shoulder, showing off his ‘V’ shaped torso.

Luke slides around front. He has to see it all. His legs go weak as he realizes he’s about to live out every roleplayer’s fantasy. The tight blue spandex suit grips Trent’s boulder-like shoulders. It bulges over his bowling ball biceps. The fabric clings to his torso, undulating over his chiseled six-pack. And across the huge barrel chest, there it is. The famous ‘S’ diamond logo.

The smaller stud gasps. “Wow.” Luke shakes his head, “Fuck. I’m sorry. I promise I know other words.” Trent smiles sheepishly at the gushing attention. His host says, “It’s just, well, your body. You fill out that suit without any padding. And you look so much like Superman. I mean, you kind of looked like him in your pics, but now, seeing you in-person? You’re perfect.”

Trent points at his glasses, “Except the real Superman can see.”

Luke laughs, “You are so cute, Trent. I mean, being near-sighted is not exactly a major flaw. Sure, the real Superman would never wear glasses, but I immediately saw past them to the handsome man underneath. Oh, and I’ll work around your glasses if you need them.”

“It’s okay, I’m good. As long as you don’t force me read an eye chart when I’m tied up.”

“Ha. I have a lot worse villainy planned for you than that. All you need to do is suffer in that tight, sexy spandex after I capture you.”

Trent breathes in nervously, “I will try my best.”

The blue-eyed muscle hunk grabs the waistband of his black sweatpants. He peels them down, revealing packed red briefs with a yellow belt. Luke grabs his chest as he sees the bulging package. His guest stumbles a little as he bends over to pull the pants over his red boots, confirming once again that he is not the real Superman. Luke jumps in to support him. He manages to grab the firm round butt and the lean stud nearly cums from the thrill.

The mild-mannered muscleman stands casually in his classic Superman outfit. He says, “I appreciate you working with a novice. It’s my first time doing this. I just hope I do okay.”

“You really are as modest in person as you are online. Seriously. Check the list. Tall. Real muscles. Dark-haired. Handsome. Nice guy. Like, you’re … wow. All the years I’ve been doing this, I’ve never had anyone close to you. I had an awesome Flash one time - well, he had more of a beefy sprinter’s build, but the huge quads and ass made it easy to overlook.”

“That sounds hot. I’m surprised you don’t attract more musclemen. You’re a great looking guy.”

“Thanks, man. Honestly, superhero roleplay is a small community anywhere, and Central City is a little off the beaten path. We’re a real city but we’re not Metropolis or Gotham, you know? There are benefits, like this house. I could never afford this in those cities. However, musclemen who play for free is a nonexistent sub-group here.”

Trent asks, “But you’ve played with a lot of guys?”

“Oh yeah, I’m not choosy. I like the play. If you’re into it, I can work with you. Actually, I get a lot of out-of-town visitors here for work or weekends, like you. How was the flight from Star City?”

“Great. On-time. No one was sitting beside me, so that’s nice.”

“I bet. Those shoulders aren’t designed for coach seats.” The two men smile as they lock eyes. Luke fights to focus on something other than the piercing blue eyes that are almost hypnotic. “So, why start roleplaying now? What motivated you to get into this?”

Trent fidgets, “Oh. It’s kind of an embarrassing story.”

“Ooh, spill, big man. I like embarrassing stories. Especially ones that involve men who are otherwise perfect in every way. Lets me know that you’re human.”

“Well, okay. I had a friend staying with me. His apartment was being fumigated. I got back two days early from a business trip. I heard him being attacked. I rushed into the spare bedroom to see what was happening. He was naked, collared, and being attacked by a guy in spandex. I was going to go at the guy when my friend stopped me. Turns out they were just roleplaying.”

“Wow. That’s hilarious. And brave. What if he was a real supervillain?"

Trent admits, "I didn't think that far ahead."

"I'm impressed. But wait. Why wasn’t that your first time?”

“The quote-unquote villain actually did ask me to join, but it was too crazy. I was embarrassed. Jimmy was embarrassed. So, nothing happened. Except for me leaving the apartment for a few hours. I was too shocked to do anything else, that’s for sure.”

“Their loss. But I’m not complaining, because here you are. It obviously stuck with you.”

“Yeah, it stuck with me all right. I could never do anything sexual with Jimmy. It’d be too weird. He’s my best pal. So, here I am. Putting myself in your villainous hands.”

“This isn’t very evil to say, but I’m one lucky villain to get to play with you. I promise that you’re in good hands.” The lean ripped stud smiles, “But once we get started, you’ll be amazed how diabolical I can be. Muwahahahaha.”

“I’m counting on it. Seeing Jimmy collared and kneeling … I saw myself in that position. And when I thought about who I could be, well, Superman, Shazam, or Batman seemed like the obvious choices. So, I bought this Superman suit online.” Trent opens the cape and does a turn as Luke drools. “It fits pretty well. I like that the top and bottom are separate pieces. Just a little threadbare in a couple of places, but it fits."

“Fits? Yeah, you can tell it was used, but damn, you fill it out like a stud. You made the right call. Batman’s too scary to be sexy and Shazam’s just a poor man’s Supes. Plus, I’ve read that he’s really just a kid. Not fun for fantasy roleplay. Your Superman suit is great. Like a mix of the new bodysuit with the red trunks of the old. I mean, what was Superman thinking, ditching the briefs? Come on, man!” They laugh together. “So, you still good with everything we’ve discussed?”

“Yep. The plan sounds really fun. And your messages have me excited about the whole thing. I can’t wait to live it out.”

“Cool, cool. Oh, wait, wait, wait. Look at this.” Luke holds an intricately designed lead box. “It’ll inspire you for when I pull it out for real. Here’s what you’ll be in for.” He opens the box to reveal a fist-sized glowing green crystal. “I bought it from a roleplaying friend in Metropolis just for you. Look at how it glows. He included this lead box and chain. See?”

Trent eyes go wide. He sits. “Kryptonite? Oh … it’s real? Unh. It’s - very - very - ugh - real looking.”

Luke smiles as he holds the crystal up by its chain, “Ha. Yeah, well, as real as an ordinary guy like me will ever get. Not that I’d want the real thing. It’s radioactive, not to mention illegal. But when I told my buddy how perfect you looked, he said I needed something equally as perfect. I don’t know how he got it to glow like this. It even kind of vibrates. Anyway, I can’t wait to have you on your knees then put this around - hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, fine. Who - who sold it to you?”

“A roleplay guy I know in Metropolis. A couple of weeks ago, he put out a message on the boards that if anyone played with a really great looking Superman, he had the perfect kryptonite. And then a few days later, you reached out. Great timing, right? It was expensive - $500 - but it was worth it. Hey, Trent, you look a little … pale. You’re not sick, are you?”

“Um, uh, maybe I am. Maybe I’ll take a drink of water?”

“Oh, sure - wait, are you playing? Oh shit. You’re good, man. It’s like you really are Superman and this really is kryptonite.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m a real method actor. Always in character. Some - some water, please?”

“All right, all right. Pretend like you didn’t see this.” Luke puts the rock back in its case. “I’ll go get you that water. Then I shall transform into Dr. Diablo! Can I just ask that you act weak when I open it next time, as opposed to sick? I know that’s what it’s supposed to do, but for roleplay, we’ll just do like it just makes Superman weak.”

“Oh, yeah. I get it. Uh, why don’t you leave the box here? That way it’ll be in place when you make your big entrance as the villain?”

“Nice try. What kind of villain would leave Superman alone with his lead box containing a kryptonite necklace? You might throw it into the sun or something.” The muscleman frowns while Luke grins, completely caught up with excitement. He heads off to get water. Trent rises and paces. When Luke reappears, he hands Trent the glass.

Trent stares at the lead box in his host’s hand. Luke says, “You look a lot better now.” He opens the box again, “Yeah, you’ll look great with this around your neck. My helpless hero muscle hunk. Oh, you’re looking weird again.”

“Yeah, you know what? I still feel a little nauseated.”

“Oh no.”

Luke closes the box and sets it on the coffee table. He turns to hide his disappointment, grabbing a coaster for his guest’s water. He knows he can’t make a guy play when he’s sick and he wouldn’t want that, but he’s so close to having this amazing man as a playmate that he can’t help feeling depressed. He makes like he’s searching until he can get himself together.

Trent looks at the box intently. He breathes in and out slowly. He relaxes, continuing to take deep breaths. When Luke looks at him, the muscleman says, “I’m so sorry for all this.” He rises and jumps around, shaking out his hands. Luke licks his lips, praying that this can still happen. Trent says, “You know what, I think it’s nerves. Is there a way we can start slowly? Ease in?”

“Definitely. How about I just feel you up? Check out those big muscles inside that tight, sexy spandex. You can get used to me. See that there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Trent smiles, “I’d like that.”

Luke reaches out and grabs the massive pecs on either side of the famous ’S’ shield. He says, “Man, your body is so solid. And this chest? My god.” Luke literally leans into the muscleman, squeezing the heaving chest. Trent puts his boot back in a kickstand and holds firm. Luke stands up and kneads the pecs. He slides his hands over the textured fabric.

“Love spandex. This feels different than most, but better. Maybe there’s a coating on it or something. Look how my hands just slide over it. And I can feel every ripple of your muscles.”

The smaller stud runs his thumbs over Trent’s nipples. They grow at his touch. Trent flinches. Luke smiles, “Shouldn’t have done that. Now I know your weakness.” The muscleman grabs Luke’s wrists and guides the hands back to the nipples. “More?” Trent nods. “More it is.” Luke works the nubs until they’re tenting the spandex. He leans in and sucks on the right one.

Trent moans, “Oh, I love that.”

Luke smiles, “Feeling better?”

“Feeling awesome. Must have been nerves. You’re really putting me at ease.”

“Trent, you’re pretty much a god, but you sure don’t act like it. The fact that you’re so nervous to play with me that you’d have a mild panic attack is crazy, but I love it. Only now that you’re feeling better, I mean.” Luke adds hopefully, “You seem pretty healthy and chill now.”

“I am. Much better. But maybe you can keep going? I’m really enjoying this, and you’ve only touched one body part.”

Luke smirks, “There it is. You ARE a god after all, because you love being worshipped.” Trent genuinely laughs. Luke loves the sound of the muscleman’s laughter. He traces the ’S’. Luke's hands slide down the chest to the flat stomach. Again, he forcefully pushes on them. He lightly punches the spandex-wrapped six-pack. THUD! “I could break my hand on these.”

“Sorry, I tensed. I’ll relax my stomach.”

“Don’t. Save that for play. Right now, I want your perfection. It’s getting me so hot. You’re making me believe that you’re really Superman.” He looks at the handsome hunk’s trunks and then back to his eyes. Luke raises his eyebrows as his hand approaches the mountainous bulge. Trent nods, giving permission. The smaller man can’t stop himself from moving down to his playmate’s manhood.

Luke’s hand slithers over the outline of Trent’s python. It’s pointing down, really pushing out the red trunks. And the muscleman’s balls are heavy. They weigh down the trunks. Luke wants to kneel and suck, but he will wait until he has the muscleman bound and helpless. Luke smiles as he casually fondles Trent’s ‘rod of steel’. It throbs at his touch, twitching in his hand.

“Fuck. My own personal Superman.” Luke licks his lips then looks back at Trent. “Flex your arms for me.” Trent flexes, allowing Luke to feel his biceps. “My god, they’re like steel!” The lean stud caresses the muscleman up to his wrists, under his elbows and back to the biceps. “Amazing. Just amazing.” He looks to see how the cape is attached. Trent helps him figure out.

Luke looks back down at the bulge. “Wow. It’s even bigger.”

Trent shyly says, “Sorry, it has a mind of its own.”

“You never have to apologize for anything, Trent. Damn, it’s … wow.” Luke drops to one knee to get a closer look. He leans in and sniffs, taking in the fresh musk of his playmate. He licks along the outline of the massive cock, caressing the tree-trunk legs. “You are unbelievable. I’m calling you Superman from now on.” Luke looks up and sees a smile on his guest’s face.

Luke pushes on the muscleman’s hips and Trent gets the signal, turning around. He lifts his cape to put his ass in Trent’s face. The enthralled smaller stud fondles the muscular behind. He wants to fuck it so bad. Trent obviously does feel better. Tonight is going to happen. Luke can’t wait. He rises, “Wanna try playing?” Trent nods enthusiastically. A relieved Luke smiles.

Luke grabs his lead box. He tries to open it, but he can’t. The lean stud struggles. He curses. “Fuck. Now the lock is jammed shut or something. It’s like it’s suddenly welded shut. Fuck!”

Trent frowns, “Oh no. Well, I don’t mind. Why don’t we play without it?”

“I paid real money for this. $500. I’m going to get something to pry it open.”

The big Superman cosplayer moves close. He pulls Luke into a hug then leans down. The two men kiss. The lean stud melts as Trent owns his mouth. When the muscleman pulls back, he stares down with his blue eyes, “What’s most important, Luke? Not to be insecure, but is tonight about playing with a new little toy or …” Trent backs up and flexes, “Or a new big toy?”

Luke immediately tosses the locked lead box away. It bounces on the sofa, rolling three times before landing on the area rug at Trent’s feet. The muscleman in spandex casually kicks it under the sofa. Luke doesn’t even notice, focusing on his playmate. He moves in close, putting his arms around his personal Superman’s waist.

“Well, when you put it that way, who gives a fuck?”

The muscleman in the Superman suit hugs Luke around the shoulders and seductively rubs Luke’s back. Trent stares into the smaller stud’s eyes as the muscleman presses his bulge against him, “I’m sure you can improvise a new way to bring me to my knees.”

Luke groans, “Fuck yes. Let me get changed.”

“Great. Where do you want me?”

“That’s a dangerous question for a hero to ask a villain, but for now, outside on the patio is perfect. It’s private and I need to set up a couple of surprises in here.” Luke heads to the hallway, “I’ll give you a signal when I’m ready. I’ll flash the lights a few times. Then you can come in through the patio doors and look around over there like you’re checking things out. I’ll take over and you play along.”

“Sounds great. I promise that I’ll try to be the best Superman you ever had.”

“You already are, Trent. You already are.”

-----

CHAPTER 2.

TWO WEEKS AGO. CLARK KENT’S APARTMENT. THE SPARE BEDROOM. METROPOLIS.

Jimmy Olsen.

“Jimmy Olsen. The Daily Planet’s star photographer. And Superman’s ‘best pal’. For now.”

“What?” The 20-year-old freckle-faced ginger jumps off the sofa as he stares at the 6’1”/180-lbs Black man who just barged into his friend Clark Kent's apartment. “How did you get in here? Who are you?”

“Some call me The Fanatic, but to you? Just consider me your replacement. I’m Superman’s new BFF. Or at least I will be after I’m finished with you!”

The tall, lanky invader laughs. Fit and handsome, the 26-year-old man is wearing tight pink spandex with black trim. The sleeveless suit cuts high up his hips, leaving his legs and arms exposed. He has thigh-high black pleather boots with three-inch heels that lift him to 6’4”, elbow-length black gloves, and a black face mask that covers all except for his eyes, mouth, and the top of his head.

The Fanatic!

More importantly, at least to Jimmy, he holds a small metal tube, pointing it directly at the young photographer like a weapon. The intruder struts forward confidently, “Did you really think hiding out at some reporter’s place would save you from me?”

Jimmy backs all the way into the guest bedroom. He replies, “What? I’m not hiding out. I don’t even know you. There was a fire at my apartment building, and I needed a place to stay.” The villain laughs maniacally at the mention of the fire. The young photographer points, “You? You burned my building down?”

The Fanatic waves his empty hand dismissively, “What a wild imagination you have. Arson is a crime. Superman’s BFF would never, ever, ever do something like that. Even if it was necessary to move the pieces around in the most brilliant plan ever conceived!”

Jimmy tugs at the collar of his white short-sleeved dress shirt, adjusting his red bow tie as he tries to figure out what to do. The 5’6”/130-lbs Jimmy feels defenseless. He’s unprepared to fight, but he’s never alone. He reaches for his watch, knowing that help is mere seconds away. The Fanatic says, “Oh no you don’t.” He clicks the tube and red light shines forth. Jimmy taps the watch, and nothing happens. The young photographer frantically keeps trying. Nothing.

“I deactivated it, Jimmy. Superman won’t come when you call anymore.” The villain holds up his wrist, showing an exact copy of Jimmy’s own signal watch. “He’ll be saving me when I’m in danger from now on. And I will be in a whole lot of danger and need a whole lot of saving.”

The quick-thinking young man lunges for the villain’s wrist. The Fanatic aims his weapon, but Jimmy knocks it from his hand onto the floor. The two men struggle. The Fanatic is bigger and stronger. He pushes the photographer away, but Jimmy pulls the watch free as he stumbles backwards. The clever ginger presses the watch, but nothing happens. Nothing. It’s a fake. A prop. Worthless. When he turns back, the villain is holding his weapon again.

Jimmy gulps, but says, “You already fired that at me. All it did was deactivate my signal watch and I’m fresh out of those, so I guess it’s useless.”

The Fanatic says, “That setting paralyzed electronics. This setting handles naughty boys like you.” This time, when the red light hits Jimmy, he moans. His body stiffens. He gurgles then falls to the side, collapsing onto the bed. The evil intruder laughs as he lifts Jimmy’s legs onto the bed, stretching him out, “That’s much, much better.”

The Fanatic sits on the bed. He gently brushes Jimmy’s red hair. “Now, you are going to tell me all your secrets so I can use them to win Superman’s loyalty.” The villain fingers the red bow tie. “But first …” He unties the silk neckwear, slides it free from Jimmy’s white collared shirt and then moves to the mirror on the dresser. He ties it around his own neck.

“Ugh, pink and red. Not really the look I’m going for, but if this is what my hero-man likes, I can pull it off.” The Fanatic poses for Jimmy, “What do you think? Am I pulling it off?”

Jimmy growls, “You’re insane.”

The villain’s eyes go wide. “Oh, you did NOT just say that to Superman’s new BFF!” He slithers onto the bed, lying beside the helpless young man. “I’m going to take everything from you.”

The Fanatic pulls Jimmy’s sweater vest off his limp body. He shakes his head, “Really? Green and red polyester? Ugh. You dress like it's ugly Christmas sweater day all year long.” The lanky stud neatly folds the vest and puts it on the dresser. He unbuttons the photographer’s white shirt then pulls it off. Again, he neatly folds it. The shirtless redhead can’t move as his brown leather belt is unbuckled. It slides out easily.

“At least this is real leather. It might come in handy later.” The Fanatic neatly wraps it up and puts it aside. Two flicks and Jimmy’s green sneakers fall off. His white socks are removed. The villain holds them aloft with two fingers like they’re radioactive waste. “Ew.” He tucks them inside Jimmy’s shoes. Now, the pants. He unbuttons them then carefully slides the zipper down.

Jimmy begs, “Stop, please don’t!”

The villain ignores him, pulling down his red jeans. The nearly naked ginger watches as his pants are folded and added to the pile. He gulps, wondering if he’ll be allowed to keep the last piece of clothing on him. His crisp white boxers. The Fanatic stands over him. He rubs his bulge in his pink spandex, “Look at your tight little body. Somebody works out.”

“Please. Just leave me alone!”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Not when I’m so close to every man’s fantasy. To be Superman’s best pal. To help him fight crime. To be rescued. Held in his arms. Flown around Metropolis. And then, after a particularly dangerous adventure, one where I save Superman from certain death by kryptonite, bravely defending him against all odds, using my genius …”

The Fanatic sighs, breathing in deeply as he pauses. He continues, “We’ll stare into each other’s eyes. He’ll ask how he can repay me. I’ll demur, saying he doesn’t have to, but we both know he does. Our unspoken lust for one another will erupt and we’ll make mad passionate love in his secret fortress.” The villain turns, “Unfortunately, there’s just no room for you.”

“What are you going to do with me?”

The diabolical villain sits on the bed. He runs a finger up Jimmy’s bare leg from his ankle up to his boxers. The paralyzed photographer shivers. The Fanatic keeps moving his finger up and down the leg as he explains, “I’m going to drain all your secrets, everything a best pal should know. Everything I need to know about Superman. You’ll resist, of course, but I’ll win.”

“And then what?”

“And then? And then you’ll try to kill Superman.” The villain leans in and licks Jimmy’s stomach. He slides a hand inside the leg of the young ginger’s crisp white boxers. “And I’ll stop you. Of course, Superman will be heartbroken by your betrayal. I will console him like no man has ever been consoled. He’ll be so grateful to have a best pal that he can actually trust.”

Jimmy snarls, “I’d never try to kill Superman!”

“Yes, you will. I’ll be extracting your secrets from your mind. I will fill that void with intense hatred for Superman.” The Fanatic slithers his hand over Jimmy’s hip over his smooth white cheek, finding his butt crack. “Speaking of filling voids …”

“Keep away from my - OH!”

As the villain massages Jimmy’s hole, he taunts, “You won’t have a choice.” The Fanatic runs his tongue around the helpless photographer’s nipple as his hand slithers forward inside the boxers, finding Jimmy’s cock. “Looks like something’s not paralyzed.” He pulls the growing member through the boxer’s fly. He strokes it lovingly.

“Stop, you evil fiend! You’ll never get away with this!”

“Of course I will. In the end, you’ll rot in jail, unable to explain your betrayal. I’ll take your place. And you’ll go down in history as the worst ‘pal’ ever! MWAHAHA!”

The villain puts his lips around Jimmy’s cock. The helpless young man instinctively moans. His cock throbs, unable to resist his baser urges. He blurts out, “Yes! Oh god, that feels so good!” The intruder works harder, skillfully manipulating Jimmy’s member, bringing out the horny 20-year-old inside him. He grunts, “Yes, oh god, yes! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“No, not yet.”

The Fanatic pulls off, denying Jimmy release. He slithers off the bed. As his prey’s cock deflates slightly, he slips the fresh white boxers off, reveling in the cute redhead’s nudity. Jimmy’s pale skin almost glows, his freckled shoulders tense. The villain reveals a dog collar. “This will keep you under control, boy.” He fastens it around the naked young man’s neck.

The intruder grabs his weapon. He adjusts it and points. The red light removes the paralysis. Jimmy stretches out, his limbs working again. His tight muscles flex as movement returns. His cock remains at full mast as he writhes on the bed. The Fanatic admires the show, watching his prey gyrate and contort his sexy and compact body as though putting on a show.

With control returned, the spunky young man quickly rolls off the bed. He charges at the villain. Unfortunately, the pink dog collar activates, and Jimmy gets a shock that stops him in his tracks. He barely keeps his feet. The taller man moves in confidently. He grabs the naked young stud in a bearhug. He squeezes the collared photographer against his body.

Jimmy moans and suffers. He cries out, “NO! STOP! HELP! HELP!” The naked 20-year-old kicks and pushes, but the collar keeps activating when he resists. He grows weaker as he struggles to breathe. In a minute, the feisty photographer is barely able to stand, held up by the power of his attacker. Their bodies pressed together, Jimmy still aroused as the rest of him goes limp.

The naked ginger desperately gasps, “help …” as his attacker laughs.

Suddenly, the bedroom door flies open.

“STOP! LET HIM GO!”

The Fanatic turns, releasing the bearhug. Jimmy drops to his knees before him, naked with a collar around his neck. Both the villain and his prey are rock-hard. The Fanatic’s pink shorts tent from the power of his throbbing erection. He backs up, confused and surprised by the sudden intrusion.

A shocked Jimmy blurts out, “SUPERMAN?”

“Yes, Jimmy. I’m here for you. As for you, stand back and don’t move!”

The villain relaxes and smiles, “Hello, handsome. Look at you, trying to save your best pal.” He looks down at Jimmy, “I wish someone had told me it was going to be a threesome, but I’m nothing if not flexible. Change of plans. Fine. I will happily defeat you, too, big boy.”

The naked ginger leaps to his feet, in front of the villain, saying to him, “This isn’t part of the scene, Chris. This is the real Superman.”

Superman hesitates, “Jimmy, are you okay?”

Chris asks, “Wait, you really are Superman?” The confused superhero nods. “Oh, of course you are. No one else could be this perfect. Oh wow, I’m so excited to meet you. Just wait until the chat hears this. You know, I work at STAR Labs. Not in the superhero division, in Materials Management, but you know, it’s kind of a connection.” 

Jimmy mutters, “Chris. Cool it.”

Chris does not ‘cool it’. He brazenly asks, “Can I have your autograph? Oh, oh, can we take a picture together? Maybe you on your knees? How about kissing my boots, like I just defeated you?”

A blushing Jimmy turns, “Just wait here, Chris!” The naked and collared ginger leads Superman out of the room. “What are you doing here, Superman?”

The still reeling Man of Steel takes in his best pal’s naked body. Jimmy’s cock refuses to deflate. The hero thinks quickly, “I ran into Clark Kent, and he told me you were staying with him because your apartment was being fumigated. Since he’s out of town, I swung by to see how things are going and I heard … well, I thought I heard … what did I hear, Jimmy?”

“Oh god. I’m so embarrassed.”

Jimmy explains that he’s into superhero sex roleplay. There are guys who play as heroes and villains. He’s kind of a celebrity in the group. He meets with local members, and they all want to capture and dominate “Superman’s Pal” Jimmy Olsen. Since Mr. Kent was going to be away for a few days, Jimmy invited his best roleplay friend Chris over to play villain to Jimmy’s helpless sidekick.

As he tells his story, Superman feels a strange stirring in his briefs. The play session seems harmless enough. The Man of Steel is familiar with the concept of sexual roleplay, even though he himself has never taken part. In real life, being captured and tortured is no fun, but this seems oddly arousing. Superman says, “I should go and let you get back to your friend.”

Chris emerges from the bedroom. In his heeled boots, he’s as tall as Superman. The outline of his long shaft is very clear. He waves a pink wand. He sashays forward and growls, “Don’t go, Superman. Not when I have this pink kryptonite, specifically made for you. It will force you to be my sex slave!”

Superman doesn’t know what ‘pink kryptonite’ is, but he instinctively braces for the effects. He quickly realizes the wand isn’t any kind of kryptonite at all. Of course. Roleplay. As the lean ‘villain’ approaches, Superman waits, letting the harmless role player get close. They lock eyes. Chris licks his lips. Superman blushes at the obvious flirtation directed towards him.

Running the pink wand up the Man of Steel’s abs and over his famous ‘S’ shield, Chris says, “Why don’t you stay and join us? I’ve got this pink kryptonite wand and Jimmy has been brainwashed by me. We capture you together. We can double team you real good.”

Jimmy scolds, “Not cool, Chris.”

Chris points the wand at Jimmy’s crotch, “Tell that to your sweet dick, Jimmy.”

Sure enough, the naked, collared photographer’s cock is deep red against his pale white skin, pointing up, still rock-hard.

His point proven, the play-villain tells Jimmy, “We’ll run through the same stuff we did with Oliver. Only now, it’ll be the real Superman instead of an older bald guy who’s shorter than you!” Chris turns to the surprised and increasingly uncomfortable hero. “What do you say, super-stud? Be a pal? A best pal?”

Superman says, “I should go."

Chris doesn't give up. He says, "If you don't like that idea, you could capture me and try to force me to tell you my evil plans. Superman would never use pain as torture, so maybe you use pleasure? Jimmy can help guide things along."

The hero smiles, "Nice to meet you, Chris. Enjoy your evening, Jimmy.”

WHOOSH!

Chris sighs, “I don’t know how you’re friends with that gorgeous slab of beef and never play with him, Jimmy. So much better in person.”

“Get real. He was obviously embarrassed. Superman’s not into this kind of thing, Chris.”

“Uh huh. Did you see his bulge? Ever since he ditched the trunks, he can’t hide anything. It was big when he came in and it was even bigger when he left. He’s into it. You should’ve backed me up. We could be playing with Superman right now.”

Jimmy blushes and shakes his head, “I could never. Superman is my best pal.”

“Look, honey, I saw the look in his eyes and the rod in his tights. Your ‘best pal’ left here hungry. If you don’t play with him, someone else will. That muscleman’s roleplay cherry will get popped by some lucky bitch. And soon.”

TO BE CONTINUED IN THREE DAYS (MAY 4)…

All images are AI-generated using Bing's free tool.