NOW. LUKE LANGSTON’S LIVING ROOM. CENTRAL CITY.
As instructed, Superman enters the midcentury modern home through the patio doors after the lights flash. He looks around, pretending to search for something. He keeps his back to the hallway from where Luke will emerge. The mighty muscleman tries to will his cock to shrink. It’s not cooperating. He’s anxious for this moment. The hero has never been so anxious. He tries to clear his mind about the kryptonite. Luke’s real kryptonite that could have killed him.
Superman is sure that Luke doesn’t know that it’s real. Or that he is real. Luckily, his heat vision and freeze breath took it out of play. While Luke changed, the hero used his super-speed to steal the lead box, replace the real rock with a realistic fake version from his Fortress of Solitude, put it back under Luke’s sofa, and message Batman and Elongated Man to investigate. And he has arranged for Luke to ‘win’ $500 receiving his 'prize' tomorrow.
The superhero can't help but smile, thinking, "Not bad for less than three minutes work." With everything handled, Superman can focus on fun. Using his super-hearing, he knows Luke is behind him in the doorway.
It’s time to play.
“!NUS DER” CLICK!
Superman recognizes the backward phrase. Red sun. He turns to see the villain. This is happening. He gasps. The villain is so sexy. He’s shirtless in black clothes: long leather coat, short gloves, jeans, and knee-high leather boots. Pointed at the hero is a gnarled wooden wand. HIs smooth torso is chiseled and his blond hair is wavy and unstyled.
The mighty muscleman stands confidently, basked in the red glow. The ‘click’ was a remote that turned on two lamps on either side of the villain. They both have red lightbulbs in them. Superman arrogantly folds his arms across his chest, “Your Zatanna cosplay is cute, but it takes more than dressing sexy and speaking backward to be her. And red lightbulbs? Just sad.”
The villain smirks, “You think I’m sexy, Superman? Cool. Maybe you’ll actually enjoy what I have planned for you. I’m no cosplayer, though. You can call me Zaytanic. Son of Zatara. My father abandoned my mother before I was born. Cast us aside like we were nothing. But he left me a gift. His connection to magic, which I have carefully honed since I was six!”
“Yeah, right.” Superman leaps to fly at the magic user, but he lands hard on the floor. SPLAT! OOF! He writhes then slowly pushes up to hands and knees. He lifts his head, staring at the villain with shock, “What?”
“These aren’t red lightbulbs, Superman.” Zaytanic dramatically lifts the lampshades. “I created actual miniature red suns!” He holds his hands over them, “Ooh, toasty warm.”
The hero rises slowly to his feet. He dashes to the patio doors. Zaytanic points his wand at them. “!KCOL” Superman tries the doors. Locked. He turns back. Superman is still bigger. Maybe he can still get out of this. If the hero can just get close enough to make this a fight, he has a chance. Zaytanic seems to need both his wand and his voice. Potential weaknesses.
To the hero’s surprise, the villain holsters his wand. “I could conquer you instantly with magic, Superman, but that would be too easy and no fun. Just as I’ve honed my magic skills, I’ve also honed my body and fighting skills.”
Despite being dwarfed by the large man in blue and red spandex, Zaytanic takes the fight to Superman. He charges forward. The lean man in black ducks a right cross then punches the big muscleman in his six-pack abs. THUD! OOF! The hero staggers back, hunched over. He’s shocked at the power behind the blows. The magician must have increased his strength!
The villain laughs, “Did you think I wouldn’t have leveled the playing field before facing you, Superman? I think you’ll find that my tight muscles are every bit as strong and tough as your massive ones.” He winks, “Maybe even a little stronger.”
Zaytanic unleashes a series of body shots. POW! THUD! WHUMP! His magic amplifying his years of boxing training. It pays off as he mercilessly pounds the bigger man like a heavy bag. THUD! WHUMP! POW! Superman tries to use Batman’s fight training, but he is overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity of the smaller man’s attack. The villain shrugs off his counter attacks.
“Where are your abs of steel now, Superman? Oh yes, they’re on me!”
The big muscleman can barely fight back. Zaytanic swats away the muscleman’s pathetic attempts to box with him. The hero is big, but he can’t keep up with the villain. The lean ripped stud swings at Superman’s chin. CRACK! The muscleman collapses against the wall, exhausted. Superman holds up his fists, pathetically warning the villain to stop. “Don’t!”
“Begging already?”
“I’ll never beg.” Superman pushes off the wall. He heroically raises his fists and assumes a fighter’s stance.
“Without your powers, you are nothing!” Zaytanic challenges, “Prove me wrong, Superman.”
The mighty muscleman spins with a roundhouse kick. It flies by as the villain ducks. The hero spins 180-degrees, managing to plant his boot. A black leather boot slams into his back, sending him back into the wall, face-first. THUD! OOF! The impact stuns him. Superman writhes against the wall, moaning and wriggling, trying to regroup and refocus.
Zaytanic moves in fast. He grabs Superman’s cape, lifting it then wrapping it around the hero’s neck. The villain puts his boot against Superman’s back. He pushes the muscleman’s stomach into the wall as he pulls back on the cape, choking the powerful hunk. Superman arches backward, his fingers clawing at the famous red cape as it strangles him. As he struggles, the hero’s ass tightens and flexes. He rubs his bulge against the wall as he fights for freedom.
The villain laughs, “Yeah, shake that super-booty for your new master!” URK! “I always wanted my very own Superman doll - sorry, action figure - to play with. Back when I believed in heroes. However, thanks to Zatara, my mother couldn’t afford toys for her son. You’ll do nicely to make up for my disappointment.”
Superman can’t reply. He can only shake his head defiantly. Zaytanic lets go of the cape. The hero’s chest and head fly forward, slamming into the wall again. WHACK! The mighty muscleman holds onto the wall for support, laying his chest and hands on it. The villain unwraps the cape, letting it fall down in back again.
Zaytanic grabs Superman’s wrists. He overpowers the bigger muscleman’s arms back into a double hammerlock. Holding both wrists with one hand, he uses his other to lift and wrap the cape around them, tying Superman’s arms behind his back. This exposes the hero’s butt again, while ensuring he can’t stop what’s about to happen. Superman’s boots shuffle backward, which makes him more stable, but also presents his bubble butt to the villain.
“Ooh, you must be the limited edition ‘Hungry Slut Superman’. Look at you, sticking that thang out. What’s next? You gonna twerk for me?” Zaytanic spanks the mountainous mounds. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He shakes out his hand, “Damn, boy, even without your powers that ass is hard.”
Superman bounces his cheeks by flexing and relaxing. He challenges the smaller stud, “It’s too strong for you, villain! You can’t penetrate my red Kryptonian trunks!”
Zaytanic accepts, “You think so?”
The smaller stud reaches around Superman’s waist. The hero squirms in futility as the villain unbuckles the yellow belt in front. The mighty muscleman drops his hands, gripping the thin but firm forearms in an attempt to defend his red trunks. Zaytanic overpowers him, pressing his shoulder into Superman’s back to keep him in place. The hero whimpers, “stop stop stop.”
The villain doesn’t stop. He unfastens the belt then peels down Superman’s trunks and tights together, wedging them under the humungous butt cheeks. He gasps as he reveals the hero’s smooth, muscular, white ass. It’s even better than he hoped. The top of the blue spandex suit is a shirt that is a cup in front and a thong in back, held in place by snaps under the hero’s taint.
Zaytanic reaches around and fondles the front pouch of the shirt. “Well, well, well. A cup, tights, and trunks in front? Someone is modest.” Superman moans. It’s true. His suit was carefully designed to hide his impressive manhood. ‘I look forward to seeing it. But first, it’s your butt I’m focused on.”
“Stop! Don’t do this!”
“You didn’t say the magic word and I’m all about magic words.” The villain takes in the greatest butt he has ever seen. It almost overwhelms him, but he manages to stay the course. He mocks, “So this is how you roll, Superman! No wonder you keep this yellow belt so tight.”
The hero warns, “Don’t even think about undoing the snaps between my legs that hold my shirt in place, you perverted predator!”
“Perverted predator? You’ve been hanging out with Robin too much, boy. And I have access to what I want. Your shirt can stay in place. For now.”
The muscular mounds have Zaytanic’s cock growing. It’s all he can do not to fuck the hero right now! He pulls out his wand and taps Superman’s ear. “!XALER” The hero visibly, but involuntarily, relaxes. The smaller stud pulls on the thick black hair, forcing the handsome hero to look at the ceiling. “Such a good boy. Let’s see how this ass takes a spanking now.”
Zaytanic grips the gorgeous cheeks, spreading and squeezing them. Superman whimpers as he is molested. The world’s strongest man came here to be helpless. He acts like he hates it, but his cock is also swelling up in his cup, pulling it from his body. The villain unleashes his flat hand again. He starts cautiously, but the hero’s cheeks are relaxed and receptive. SLAP!
The massive mounds shake on impact, giving Zaytanic more confidence. He goes harder. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Superman moans as his powerful ass is worked over by the malevolent magician. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Inside Superman’s cup, his cock swells. He whimpers and lets out squeals of joy, even as he blurts out the occasional ‘no’ and ‘stop’.
Superman leans back into the spanking. Zaytanic laughs. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He hadn’t planned on more than a few playful swats, but seeing the hero’s reaction, he keeps going, losing count. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The villain tires of the spanking before the hero. He steps backward, admiring the beautiful butt for a moment.
“That’s one tough super-booty, not even red after all that. Let’s see what’s happening in front.”
Zaytanic forces the world’s strongest man to turn around. Superman leans his shoulders back against the wall. His bound arms push his body away from wall, inviting the villain to toy with it. Zaytanic punches Superman in the stomach. THUD! OOF! When the hero bends forward, he gets an uppercut to the jaw. CRACK! Superman’s head flies back, hitting the wall. WHACK!
Superman wobbles, his knees bending as he struggles to stay standing, even with the wall for support. Zaytanic grabs a handful of the hero’s thick black hair. He pulls the muscleman down and forward into a kiss. Superman moans for him to stop, but he’s powerless against the malevolent magician. Zaytanic breaks the kiss and bitchslaps Superman. SMACK!
“Get down on your knees!”
“Better man than you have tried. I don’t kneel for anyone!”
Zaytanic smirks. He moves behind the muscleman. He frees Superman, knowing he doesn't need any restraints anymore. He wants the hero to feel the helplessness before a superior man. Zaytanic puts his boot on the back of Superman’s knee. PLOP! He falls to one knee. Superman's head bows as he accepts the fact that this malevolent magician has done the unthinkable - forced the Man of Steel to kneel!
It’s time to play.
Superman recognizes the backward phrase. Red sun. He turns to see the villain. This is happening. He gasps. The villain is so sexy. He’s shirtless in black clothes: long leather coat, short gloves, jeans, and knee-high leather boots. Pointed at the hero is a gnarled wooden wand. HIs smooth torso is chiseled and his blond hair is wavy and unstyled.
 |
| Oh no! The villain gets the drop on Superman! |
The villain smirks, “You think I’m sexy, Superman? Cool. Maybe you’ll actually enjoy what I have planned for you. I’m no cosplayer, though. You can call me Zaytanic. Son of Zatara. My father abandoned my mother before I was born. Cast us aside like we were nothing. But he left me a gift. His connection to magic, which I have carefully honed since I was six!”
“Yeah, right.” Superman leaps to fly at the magic user, but he lands hard on the floor. SPLAT! OOF! He writhes then slowly pushes up to hands and knees. He lifts his head, staring at the villain with shock, “What?”
“These aren’t red lightbulbs, Superman.” Zaytanic dramatically lifts the lampshades. “I created actual miniature red suns!” He holds his hands over them, “Ooh, toasty warm.”
The hero rises slowly to his feet. He dashes to the patio doors. Zaytanic points his wand at them. “!KCOL” Superman tries the doors. Locked. He turns back. Superman is still bigger. Maybe he can still get out of this. If the hero can just get close enough to make this a fight, he has a chance. Zaytanic seems to need both his wand and his voice. Potential weaknesses.
To the hero’s surprise, the villain holsters his wand. “I could conquer you instantly with magic, Superman, but that would be too easy and no fun. Just as I’ve honed my magic skills, I’ve also honed my body and fighting skills.”
Despite being dwarfed by the large man in blue and red spandex, Zaytanic takes the fight to Superman. He charges forward. The lean man in black ducks a right cross then punches the big muscleman in his six-pack abs. THUD! OOF! The hero staggers back, hunched over. He’s shocked at the power behind the blows. The magician must have increased his strength!
The villain laughs, “Did you think I wouldn’t have leveled the playing field before facing you, Superman? I think you’ll find that my tight muscles are every bit as strong and tough as your massive ones.” He winks, “Maybe even a little stronger.”
Zaytanic unleashes a series of body shots. POW! THUD! WHUMP! His magic amplifying his years of boxing training. It pays off as he mercilessly pounds the bigger man like a heavy bag. THUD! WHUMP! POW! Superman tries to use Batman’s fight training, but he is overwhelmed by the speed and ferocity of the smaller man’s attack. The villain shrugs off his counter attacks.
“Where are your abs of steel now, Superman? Oh yes, they’re on me!”
The big muscleman can barely fight back. Zaytanic swats away the muscleman’s pathetic attempts to box with him. The hero is big, but he can’t keep up with the villain. The lean ripped stud swings at Superman’s chin. CRACK! The muscleman collapses against the wall, exhausted. Superman holds up his fists, pathetically warning the villain to stop. “Don’t!”
“Begging already?”
“I’ll never beg.” Superman pushes off the wall. He heroically raises his fists and assumes a fighter’s stance.
“Without your powers, you are nothing!” Zaytanic challenges, “Prove me wrong, Superman.”
The mighty muscleman spins with a roundhouse kick. It flies by as the villain ducks. The hero spins 180-degrees, managing to plant his boot. A black leather boot slams into his back, sending him back into the wall, face-first. THUD! OOF! The impact stuns him. Superman writhes against the wall, moaning and wriggling, trying to regroup and refocus.
Zaytanic moves in fast. He grabs Superman’s cape, lifting it then wrapping it around the hero’s neck. The villain puts his boot against Superman’s back. He pushes the muscleman’s stomach into the wall as he pulls back on the cape, choking the powerful hunk. Superman arches backward, his fingers clawing at the famous red cape as it strangles him. As he struggles, the hero’s ass tightens and flexes. He rubs his bulge against the wall as he fights for freedom.
The villain laughs, “Yeah, shake that super-booty for your new master!” URK! “I always wanted my very own Superman doll - sorry, action figure - to play with. Back when I believed in heroes. However, thanks to Zatara, my mother couldn’t afford toys for her son. You’ll do nicely to make up for my disappointment.”
Superman can’t reply. He can only shake his head defiantly. Zaytanic lets go of the cape. The hero’s chest and head fly forward, slamming into the wall again. WHACK! The mighty muscleman holds onto the wall for support, laying his chest and hands on it. The villain unwraps the cape, letting it fall down in back again.
Zaytanic grabs Superman’s wrists. He overpowers the bigger muscleman’s arms back into a double hammerlock. Holding both wrists with one hand, he uses his other to lift and wrap the cape around them, tying Superman’s arms behind his back. This exposes the hero’s butt again, while ensuring he can’t stop what’s about to happen. Superman’s boots shuffle backward, which makes him more stable, but also presents his bubble butt to the villain.
“Ooh, you must be the limited edition ‘Hungry Slut Superman’. Look at you, sticking that thang out. What’s next? You gonna twerk for me?” Zaytanic spanks the mountainous mounds. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He shakes out his hand, “Damn, boy, even without your powers that ass is hard.”
Superman bounces his cheeks by flexing and relaxing. He challenges the smaller stud, “It’s too strong for you, villain! You can’t penetrate my red Kryptonian trunks!”
Zaytanic accepts, “You think so?”
The smaller stud reaches around Superman’s waist. The hero squirms in futility as the villain unbuckles the yellow belt in front. The mighty muscleman drops his hands, gripping the thin but firm forearms in an attempt to defend his red trunks. Zaytanic overpowers him, pressing his shoulder into Superman’s back to keep him in place. The hero whimpers, “stop stop stop.”
The villain doesn’t stop. He unfastens the belt then peels down Superman’s trunks and tights together, wedging them under the humungous butt cheeks. He gasps as he reveals the hero’s smooth, muscular, white ass. It’s even better than he hoped. The top of the blue spandex suit is a shirt that is a cup in front and a thong in back, held in place by snaps under the hero’s taint.
Zaytanic reaches around and fondles the front pouch of the shirt. “Well, well, well. A cup, tights, and trunks in front? Someone is modest.” Superman moans. It’s true. His suit was carefully designed to hide his impressive manhood. ‘I look forward to seeing it. But first, it’s your butt I’m focused on.”
“Stop! Don’t do this!”
“You didn’t say the magic word and I’m all about magic words.” The villain takes in the greatest butt he has ever seen. It almost overwhelms him, but he manages to stay the course. He mocks, “So this is how you roll, Superman! No wonder you keep this yellow belt so tight.”
The hero warns, “Don’t even think about undoing the snaps between my legs that hold my shirt in place, you perverted predator!”
“Perverted predator? You’ve been hanging out with Robin too much, boy. And I have access to what I want. Your shirt can stay in place. For now.”
The muscular mounds have Zaytanic’s cock growing. It’s all he can do not to fuck the hero right now! He pulls out his wand and taps Superman’s ear. “!XALER” The hero visibly, but involuntarily, relaxes. The smaller stud pulls on the thick black hair, forcing the handsome hero to look at the ceiling. “Such a good boy. Let’s see how this ass takes a spanking now.”
Zaytanic grips the gorgeous cheeks, spreading and squeezing them. Superman whimpers as he is molested. The world’s strongest man came here to be helpless. He acts like he hates it, but his cock is also swelling up in his cup, pulling it from his body. The villain unleashes his flat hand again. He starts cautiously, but the hero’s cheeks are relaxed and receptive. SLAP!
The massive mounds shake on impact, giving Zaytanic more confidence. He goes harder. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Superman moans as his powerful ass is worked over by the malevolent magician. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Inside Superman’s cup, his cock swells. He whimpers and lets out squeals of joy, even as he blurts out the occasional ‘no’ and ‘stop’.
Superman leans back into the spanking. Zaytanic laughs. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He hadn’t planned on more than a few playful swats, but seeing the hero’s reaction, he keeps going, losing count. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The villain tires of the spanking before the hero. He steps backward, admiring the beautiful butt for a moment.
“That’s one tough super-booty, not even red after all that. Let’s see what’s happening in front.”
Zaytanic forces the world’s strongest man to turn around. Superman leans his shoulders back against the wall. His bound arms push his body away from wall, inviting the villain to toy with it. Zaytanic punches Superman in the stomach. THUD! OOF! When the hero bends forward, he gets an uppercut to the jaw. CRACK! Superman’s head flies back, hitting the wall. WHACK!
Superman wobbles, his knees bending as he struggles to stay standing, even with the wall for support. Zaytanic grabs a handful of the hero’s thick black hair. He pulls the muscleman down and forward into a kiss. Superman moans for him to stop, but he’s powerless against the malevolent magician. Zaytanic breaks the kiss and bitchslaps Superman. SMACK!
“Get down on your knees!”
“Better man than you have tried. I don’t kneel for anyone!”
Zaytanic smirks. He moves behind the muscleman. He frees Superman, knowing he doesn't need any restraints anymore. He wants the hero to feel the helplessness before a superior man. Zaytanic puts his boot on the back of Superman’s knee. PLOP! He falls to one knee. Superman's head bows as he accepts the fact that this malevolent magician has done the unthinkable - forced the Man of Steel to kneel!
The villain moves in front. Zaytanic lowers himself onto his back, legs spread. He gets into position then crunches up. He grabs a handful of hair. With ease, Zaytanic overpowers the hero, pulling Superman’s face into the villain’s crotch. The hero lies on his stomach, breathing in the smaller stud’s musk.
The villain wraps his legs around Superman’s head and lock his ankles over the hero’s back. Zaytanic squeezes with a head scissors. Superman moans and tries to roll. The villain’s magically enhanced strength is too much. Superman's hands roam over the smooth, chiseled torso. He fires weak punches between the slow moments of caressing. Zaytanic savors the feeling, hard from the muscleman's weak worship.
The villain wraps his legs around Superman’s head and lock his ankles over the hero’s back. Zaytanic squeezes with a head scissors. Superman moans and tries to roll. The villain’s magically enhanced strength is too much. Superman's hands roam over the smooth, chiseled torso. He fires weak punches between the slow moments of caressing. Zaytanic savors the feeling, hard from the muscleman's weak worship.
The villain tightens up. In seconds, the world’s strongest hero is crying out, his voice muffled by the villain’s packed pouch. Zaytanic crunches up and back, working the hold. He settles back onto one elbow, savoring his enemy’s pained moaning. The villain grabs hold of the hero’s hair. He opens his legs and lifts Superman’s head. The mighty muscleman has a glassy look in his eyes.
“Submit to me, Superman. Submit or I’ll pop your head like a zit. Your pride or your life, Superman. It’s an easy choice.”
Superman knows the villain is serious. He knows that he has no choice. “Please, don’t.”
“Say it.”
“I - I -” Superman swallows hard, having difficulty admitting the truth. He’s never submitted to any man before this. But he believes that the villain will kill him if he doesn’t. Still, he is a hero! “NO! I CANNOT serve evil!”
“Brave man. But I’m not evil. I’m a victim of my father. I’m not asking you to do evil. Just to serve me for the night as my sex slave. From the look on your face and the feel of your hands, I’d say you want that.”
Superman moans. The red suns and the beating have worn his resistance down. Zaytanic is a sexy man. He is attracted to him. Being a sex slave for the night wouldn’t be so bad. The hero feels humiliation, fear, and desire all at once. His cock throbs. The hero makes his choice, “All right, Zaytanic. I submit.”
“Now, make me believe it, bitch. Submit. Call me Master and swear on your honor that you will serve me.”
“I submit to you. I swear. On my honor. I will. I will. I will … serve you as your sex slave for the night. Master Zaytanic.”
The villain rolls over and up to his feet. He bends over and forces Superman up to his knees. Zaytanic says, “Kiss my codpiece.” The hero leans forward. He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. “No. Eyes open and looking up at me, Superman.” The mighty muscleman obeys, looking up as a sign of his complete submission. He kisses the large bulge. SMOOCH!
Zaytanic reaches down. He unsnaps the black leather pouch and removes it. The villain’s cock and balls flop out through a hole in his black spandex briefs. The smaller stud holds the cup over Superman’s nose and mouth. “Breathe in, hero. Breathe in your Master’s scent.” The mighty muscleman has no choice but to obey. His brain becomes foggy as he takes in the musk and pheromones of his new master.
“Yes, boy. Let my magical musk wash over your mind.” Zaytanic tosses the cup away. He slaps Superman’s face with his hardening cock. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! The hero can’t believe he’s allowing another man to do this to him, but he loves it. “You’re my bitch now, boy. I possess your mind and your body. Now, I will take your spirit. Suck your conqueror’s cock!”
The kneeling Superman stares at the cock in front of him. He lifts his eyes to admire the smaller stud standing over him. Zaytanic pulls on his head and the conquered hero leans in, submitting to the diabolical villain. The hero takes the hefty cock into his mouth, obediently pleasuring the man who conquered him so easily. He groans in ecstasy as he sucks on the villain’s manhood.
“STOP!”
Superman knows the villain is serious. He knows that he has no choice. “Please, don’t.”
“Say it.”
“I - I -” Superman swallows hard, having difficulty admitting the truth. He’s never submitted to any man before this. But he believes that the villain will kill him if he doesn’t. Still, he is a hero! “NO! I CANNOT serve evil!”
“Brave man. But I’m not evil. I’m a victim of my father. I’m not asking you to do evil. Just to serve me for the night as my sex slave. From the look on your face and the feel of your hands, I’d say you want that.”
Superman moans. The red suns and the beating have worn his resistance down. Zaytanic is a sexy man. He is attracted to him. Being a sex slave for the night wouldn’t be so bad. The hero feels humiliation, fear, and desire all at once. His cock throbs. The hero makes his choice, “All right, Zaytanic. I submit.”
“Now, make me believe it, bitch. Submit. Call me Master and swear on your honor that you will serve me.”
“I submit to you. I swear. On my honor. I will. I will. I will … serve you as your sex slave for the night. Master Zaytanic.”
The villain rolls over and up to his feet. He bends over and forces Superman up to his knees. Zaytanic says, “Kiss my codpiece.” The hero leans forward. He closes his eyes and puckers his lips. “No. Eyes open and looking up at me, Superman.” The mighty muscleman obeys, looking up as a sign of his complete submission. He kisses the large bulge. SMOOCH!
Zaytanic reaches down. He unsnaps the black leather pouch and removes it. The villain’s cock and balls flop out through a hole in his black spandex briefs. The smaller stud holds the cup over Superman’s nose and mouth. “Breathe in, hero. Breathe in your Master’s scent.” The mighty muscleman has no choice but to obey. His brain becomes foggy as he takes in the musk and pheromones of his new master.
“Yes, boy. Let my magical musk wash over your mind.” Zaytanic tosses the cup away. He slaps Superman’s face with his hardening cock. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! The hero can’t believe he’s allowing another man to do this to him, but he loves it. “You’re my bitch now, boy. I possess your mind and your body. Now, I will take your spirit. Suck your conqueror’s cock!”
The kneeling Superman stares at the cock in front of him. He lifts his eyes to admire the smaller stud standing over him. Zaytanic pulls on his head and the conquered hero leans in, submitting to the diabolical villain. The hero takes the hefty cock into his mouth, obediently pleasuring the man who conquered him so easily. He groans in ecstasy as he sucks on the villain’s manhood.
“STOP!”
A woman’s voice.
“Who is daring to sully my late father’s good name?”
In shock, Zaytanic turns, pulling his cock from Superman’s mouth. The equally stunned hero rises to his feet. They’re both standing, mouth agape, at the sight of a dark-haired woman, dressed in a magician’s outfit standing across the room from them. She has her arms crossed and does not look happy. Luke doesn’t understand who she is and how she got into house. Is she Trent’s wife or something?
At superspeed, Superman pushes Luke behind him. The play-villain is frozen with confusion, wondering what’s going on - who is this woman and how did Trent move so fast? Yes, he knows who she is and why she looks familiar. And now he knows why Trent is the perfect Superman. However, he’s in denial, afraid to accept the most obvious answers.
Luke Langston is in the presence of modern-day gods.
Superman questions, “Zatanna? What are you doing here?”
“Batman’s been keeping an eye on you. After that one tried to use real kryptonite on you, he felt it wise. And it was. When he identified the threat as a magic user claiming to be my brother, he notified me. Now, impostor, let’s test your mettle against the true scion of Zatara!”
Superman holds up a hand, “WAIT!” He keeps Luke behind him, protecting him from the angry magician’s wrath. The hero knows very well what Zatanna is capable of. He commands, “Stand down, Zatanna. Luke is innocent. There’s no magic here.”
Zatanna says, “!LAEVER” Superman tenses, but she confirms, “You’re right. You’re not being mind controlled. I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
Holding up one finger, Superman looks around and sees the nano-cameras. He frowns before blasting them all into oblivion with a wide burst of his heat vision. “I’ll speak with Batman later. This is just fun. A game. Sexual roleplay. Luke is just playing at being a magic user. I’m playing along. The kryptonite was real, but he didn’t know. It’s gone and I’m not in any real danger.”
A flabbergasted Luke blurts out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re really Superman? And that was real kryptonite? And you’re really Zatanna?”
Superman turns to Luke. Zatanna’s eyebrows raise at seeing his bare butt. “Yes, Luke. I’m real and that green rock of yours was real, too. But I know you didn’t know that. You won’t face any charges for possession of an illegal substance.”
Luke shakes his head, “Why would Chris sell me real kryptonite?”
Zatanna asks, “Chris?”
Luke nods, “Yes, ma’am. Chris is a roleplayer from Metropolis. He works at STAR Labs. He said it was the best fake kryptonite that he’d ever seen, so he wanted it to be used for something special. When I told him about Trent - oh. That’s not your real name, is it? You’re not Trent Stark from Star City.”
Superman confirms, “No, Luke, I’m not.”
“It’s okay. I understand. Anyway, I didn’t know! And I’m not really a magician or your brother or anything. I just play the character for play sessions. I swear!”
Zatanna frowns, “Well, I don’t appreciate your choice of villain.”
“If it helps, sometimes I’m the hero. Zataric the Magnificent. I’ve been captured, gagged, and fucked by … oh, that probably doesn’t help.”
“No, but it’s none of my business. I’m sorry for intruding.”
The mighty muscle hero says, “What’s done is done. Luke, I hope you won’t tell anyone about any of this. And don’t warn Chris. We need to see if he knew it was real or not.”
“I won’t, but I’m sure he’s innocent.”
Zatanna says firmly, “Luke won’t tell anyone.”
Superman hears the tone. He turns, “Don’t erase his memory.”
“I don’t have to erase either of your memories because this never happened. I’ll give Batman and Ralph the lead on this Chris from STAR Labs when I tell him to stop spying.”
“What do you mean ‘this never happened’?”
“!DNIWER”
As Superman kneels and stares at the cock in front of him, he suddenly gets a strange feeling of déjà vu. It goes as quickly as it came. He lifts his eyes to admire the smaller stud standing over him. Zaytanic had the same feeling, but it has passed just as quickly for him. The villain pulls on his head and the defeated hero leans in, submitting to the diabolical magician. The kneeling muscleman engulfs the engorged cock, moaning as he does.
Zaytanic’s eyes roll back in his head. He’s done it. He’s conquered Superman!
CHAPTER 4.
“Eyes up, Superman.”
The world’s strongest superhero lifts his eyes as he sucks the cock of the villain who has conquered him. Superman’s eyes travel over the flat abs, the perky pecs, and the arrogant smirk. Inside his blue spandex, his cock is hard. He meets Zaytanic’s eyes. The mighty muscleman’s eyebrows are up, his eyes soft without a trace of defiance or resistance.
Zaytanic looks down on the kneeling man impaled on the villain’s dick. He sees the submission in the handsome face, and it almost makes him cum. The smaller stud relaxes, not wanting to fill the hero just yet. The villain grips the hero’s thick black hair tightly, making sure Superman doesn’t go too fast. The obedient muscleman relaxes, suppressing his powers completely.
A strange feeling washes over Zaytanic. Superman. Superman. He’s really face-fucking Superman. Even though the villain is being careful, he feels his load building. Roleplay becomes real play. The standing stud gasps, “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” On his knees, the mighty muscleman eagerly continues to suck. He wants his prize. He wants this man’s seed.
“OH FUCK!”
Zaytanic is lost in the moment. He unleashes a load he’s spent a week cultivating. Seven days of carefully primed pre-play cum explodes into the kneeling superhero’s eager mouth, encouraged by his super-lips and super-tongue. Superman drinks down what he’s given, savoring the flavor of the lean blond stud’s seed on his super-taste buds.
The villain steps back, pulling free. He needs a moment. He’s never fallen this deep into the scenario before. As he looks down at the kneeling muscleman, Zaytanic’s cock starts to power up again. He orders, “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” Superman obeys, revealing that he saved a little of the dominant man’s cum. “Oh fuck.” The villain loves the sight.
Zaytanic gathers himself. He stands up tall and growls, “Swallow your conqueror’s cum, bitch.”
Superman obeys, taking a dramatic gulp. He opens his mouth again, showing it is now clean; Zaytanic’s seed is deep inside his stomach. The villain grabs an open dog collar from the shelving unit. It is simple. 1” wide black leather with one silver D-ring stitched in and a silver buckle to secure it. He dangles it in front of the kneeling hero’s face, taunting him with it.
Superman waits patiently. Obediently. The most famous superhero uniform in the world is tight on his powerful body. His muscles are massive, even in the light of two mini red suns. The red briefs and blue tights are still pulled down to his upper legs. The hero’s bare ass rests on the heels of his shiny red boots. Superman could rise at any time and pull himself together, but he doesn’t. The world’s mightiest hero just stays focused on the plain black leather collar.
The malevolent magician enjoys the theater of the moment. He finally reaches the hero. “I’m going to collar you, bitch. Feel free to try to stop me, but know that if you do, I won’t just beat you down again. I will end you.” Zaytanic waits for any sign of resistance. Instead, he watches as the hero bows his head. Another act of submission. “Good choice.”
Zaytanic circles behind Superman. He brings the collar in front of the kneeling muscleman’s eyes, letting those beautiful blue eyes focus on it. “There’s nothing here. No kryptonite. No magic. Just a strap of ordinary leather with a belt buckle. Nothing to worry Superman. And yet, you can’t resist it, can you?” The hero shakes his head. “You want it.” The hero nods. “Ask.”
“Please put the collar on me, Zaytanic.”
“Call me Master.”
“Please put the collar on me, Master.”
The malevolent magician lowers the collar. When it hits Superman’s Adam’s Apple, the hero gasps and closes his eyes in anticipation. Zaytanic slowly wraps it around the thick, muscular neck of the kneeling muscleman. He takes his time, driving the hero crazy. The villain works slowly as he threads the end through the buckle. He finally secures it, adjusting it just right.
Superman visibly sags as the deed is done. He has allowed another man to collar him. Zaytanic grabs his prey’s thick black hair and pulls his head back, “So handsome. My muscle pup.” The hero responds with a satisfied groan. “KCOL!” Superman’s eyes pop open. “That’s right. This collar stays on until I’m ready to remove it. You are mine, Superman. My first hero.”
“First?” Superman quickly adds, “Master.”
Zaytanic laughs, “Of course. Do you think that gorgeous superheroes start and end with you? That you alone would be enough to quench my desires. Arrogant beast. You are special, but you’re not that special.” Superman closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be sad. I might allow you to be a regular part of my spandex stable. Ready to prove yourself tonight, Super-pup?”
“Yes, Master.”
The villain grabs a 6’ leash. Like the collar, it is simple black leather. Nothing that would normally mean anything to the mighty muscleman, which only makes it worse for him. More humiliating. More mind-fucking. Zaytanic attaches the leash to the D-ring on the collar. The clicking sound overwhelms Superman as he realizes the symbolism of the act. He is owned.
Superman waits, kneeling with his head bowed in helpless resignation. He knows that, as a hero, he should fight. However, there are still two red suns. The villain has magic powers, Superman gave his word of honor that he would serve Zaytanic. Yes, under duress, but the malevolent magician has thought of everything to set him up for total obedience.
The collared muscleman is a sex slave for the night.
Staring down at his own pouch, seeing how his cock is tenting the spandex, Superman can’t even pretend that he isn’t more excited than afraid. Zaytanic’s shiny black boots enter Superman’s field of vision. The hero feels the tug of the leash. “All fours, pup.” The mighty muscleman shifts to hand and knees. Zaytanic leads him to a bedroom filled with red light.
“Kiss my boots.”
“Yes, Master.”
The hero lowers his lips. He doesn’t just give the leather a peck, he sensually embraces the task. Superman did for a moment think that a new room, away from the suns, would enable defiance. A second fight, one that he could win. Magicians are only a threat when they have surprise. With his super-speed, Superman can end them before they can cast a spell.
Zaytanic is no fool. The room is more a dungeon than suburban bedroom. It has three black walls, but the fourth is a dark red. Unfortunately for the hero, there are standing lamps in each corner, each shining with the light of a red sun. And there are red magical candles, each with a cool flame fluttering, providing mood, but also keeping the hero powerless and obedient.
The villain pulls Superman off his boots. “Good boy, but that’s enough. You may rise.”
At superspeed, Superman pushes Luke behind him. The play-villain is frozen with confusion, wondering what’s going on - who is this woman and how did Trent move so fast? Yes, he knows who she is and why she looks familiar. And now he knows why Trent is the perfect Superman. However, he’s in denial, afraid to accept the most obvious answers.
Luke Langston is in the presence of modern-day gods.
Superman questions, “Zatanna? What are you doing here?”
“Batman’s been keeping an eye on you. After that one tried to use real kryptonite on you, he felt it wise. And it was. When he identified the threat as a magic user claiming to be my brother, he notified me. Now, impostor, let’s test your mettle against the true scion of Zatara!”
Superman holds up a hand, “WAIT!” He keeps Luke behind him, protecting him from the angry magician’s wrath. The hero knows very well what Zatanna is capable of. He commands, “Stand down, Zatanna. Luke is innocent. There’s no magic here.”
Zatanna says, “!LAEVER” Superman tenses, but she confirms, “You’re right. You’re not being mind controlled. I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
Holding up one finger, Superman looks around and sees the nano-cameras. He frowns before blasting them all into oblivion with a wide burst of his heat vision. “I’ll speak with Batman later. This is just fun. A game. Sexual roleplay. Luke is just playing at being a magic user. I’m playing along. The kryptonite was real, but he didn’t know. It’s gone and I’m not in any real danger.”
A flabbergasted Luke blurts out, “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re really Superman? And that was real kryptonite? And you’re really Zatanna?”
Superman turns to Luke. Zatanna’s eyebrows raise at seeing his bare butt. “Yes, Luke. I’m real and that green rock of yours was real, too. But I know you didn’t know that. You won’t face any charges for possession of an illegal substance.”
Luke shakes his head, “Why would Chris sell me real kryptonite?”
Zatanna asks, “Chris?”
Luke nods, “Yes, ma’am. Chris is a roleplayer from Metropolis. He works at STAR Labs. He said it was the best fake kryptonite that he’d ever seen, so he wanted it to be used for something special. When I told him about Trent - oh. That’s not your real name, is it? You’re not Trent Stark from Star City.”
Superman confirms, “No, Luke, I’m not.”
“It’s okay. I understand. Anyway, I didn’t know! And I’m not really a magician or your brother or anything. I just play the character for play sessions. I swear!”
Zatanna frowns, “Well, I don’t appreciate your choice of villain.”
“If it helps, sometimes I’m the hero. Zataric the Magnificent. I’ve been captured, gagged, and fucked by … oh, that probably doesn’t help.”
“No, but it’s none of my business. I’m sorry for intruding.”
The mighty muscle hero says, “What’s done is done. Luke, I hope you won’t tell anyone about any of this. And don’t warn Chris. We need to see if he knew it was real or not.”
“I won’t, but I’m sure he’s innocent.”
Zatanna says firmly, “Luke won’t tell anyone.”
Superman hears the tone. He turns, “Don’t erase his memory.”
“I don’t have to erase either of your memories because this never happened. I’ll give Batman and Ralph the lead on this Chris from STAR Labs when I tell him to stop spying.”
“What do you mean ‘this never happened’?”
“!DNIWER”
As Superman kneels and stares at the cock in front of him, he suddenly gets a strange feeling of déjà vu. It goes as quickly as it came. He lifts his eyes to admire the smaller stud standing over him. Zaytanic had the same feeling, but it has passed just as quickly for him. The villain pulls on his head and the defeated hero leans in, submitting to the diabolical magician. The kneeling muscleman engulfs the engorged cock, moaning as he does.
Zaytanic’s eyes roll back in his head. He’s done it. He’s conquered Superman!
CHAPTER 4.
“Eyes up, Superman.”
The world’s strongest superhero lifts his eyes as he sucks the cock of the villain who has conquered him. Superman’s eyes travel over the flat abs, the perky pecs, and the arrogant smirk. Inside his blue spandex, his cock is hard. He meets Zaytanic’s eyes. The mighty muscleman’s eyebrows are up, his eyes soft without a trace of defiance or resistance.
Zaytanic looks down on the kneeling man impaled on the villain’s dick. He sees the submission in the handsome face, and it almost makes him cum. The smaller stud relaxes, not wanting to fill the hero just yet. The villain grips the hero’s thick black hair tightly, making sure Superman doesn’t go too fast. The obedient muscleman relaxes, suppressing his powers completely.
A strange feeling washes over Zaytanic. Superman. Superman. He’s really face-fucking Superman. Even though the villain is being careful, he feels his load building. Roleplay becomes real play. The standing stud gasps, “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” On his knees, the mighty muscleman eagerly continues to suck. He wants his prize. He wants this man’s seed.
“OH FUCK!”
Zaytanic is lost in the moment. He unleashes a load he’s spent a week cultivating. Seven days of carefully primed pre-play cum explodes into the kneeling superhero’s eager mouth, encouraged by his super-lips and super-tongue. Superman drinks down what he’s given, savoring the flavor of the lean blond stud’s seed on his super-taste buds.
The villain steps back, pulling free. He needs a moment. He’s never fallen this deep into the scenario before. As he looks down at the kneeling muscleman, Zaytanic’s cock starts to power up again. He orders, “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” Superman obeys, revealing that he saved a little of the dominant man’s cum. “Oh fuck.” The villain loves the sight.
Zaytanic gathers himself. He stands up tall and growls, “Swallow your conqueror’s cum, bitch.”
Superman obeys, taking a dramatic gulp. He opens his mouth again, showing it is now clean; Zaytanic’s seed is deep inside his stomach. The villain grabs an open dog collar from the shelving unit. It is simple. 1” wide black leather with one silver D-ring stitched in and a silver buckle to secure it. He dangles it in front of the kneeling hero’s face, taunting him with it.
Superman waits patiently. Obediently. The most famous superhero uniform in the world is tight on his powerful body. His muscles are massive, even in the light of two mini red suns. The red briefs and blue tights are still pulled down to his upper legs. The hero’s bare ass rests on the heels of his shiny red boots. Superman could rise at any time and pull himself together, but he doesn’t. The world’s mightiest hero just stays focused on the plain black leather collar.
The malevolent magician enjoys the theater of the moment. He finally reaches the hero. “I’m going to collar you, bitch. Feel free to try to stop me, but know that if you do, I won’t just beat you down again. I will end you.” Zaytanic waits for any sign of resistance. Instead, he watches as the hero bows his head. Another act of submission. “Good choice.”
Zaytanic circles behind Superman. He brings the collar in front of the kneeling muscleman’s eyes, letting those beautiful blue eyes focus on it. “There’s nothing here. No kryptonite. No magic. Just a strap of ordinary leather with a belt buckle. Nothing to worry Superman. And yet, you can’t resist it, can you?” The hero shakes his head. “You want it.” The hero nods. “Ask.”
“Please put the collar on me, Zaytanic.”
“Call me Master.”
“Please put the collar on me, Master.”
The malevolent magician lowers the collar. When it hits Superman’s Adam’s Apple, the hero gasps and closes his eyes in anticipation. Zaytanic slowly wraps it around the thick, muscular neck of the kneeling muscleman. He takes his time, driving the hero crazy. The villain works slowly as he threads the end through the buckle. He finally secures it, adjusting it just right.
Superman visibly sags as the deed is done. He has allowed another man to collar him. Zaytanic grabs his prey’s thick black hair and pulls his head back, “So handsome. My muscle pup.” The hero responds with a satisfied groan. “KCOL!” Superman’s eyes pop open. “That’s right. This collar stays on until I’m ready to remove it. You are mine, Superman. My first hero.”
“First?” Superman quickly adds, “Master.”
Zaytanic laughs, “Of course. Do you think that gorgeous superheroes start and end with you? That you alone would be enough to quench my desires. Arrogant beast. You are special, but you’re not that special.” Superman closes his eyes and sighs. “Don’t be sad. I might allow you to be a regular part of my spandex stable. Ready to prove yourself tonight, Super-pup?”
“Yes, Master.”
The villain grabs a 6’ leash. Like the collar, it is simple black leather. Nothing that would normally mean anything to the mighty muscleman, which only makes it worse for him. More humiliating. More mind-fucking. Zaytanic attaches the leash to the D-ring on the collar. The clicking sound overwhelms Superman as he realizes the symbolism of the act. He is owned.
Superman waits, kneeling with his head bowed in helpless resignation. He knows that, as a hero, he should fight. However, there are still two red suns. The villain has magic powers, Superman gave his word of honor that he would serve Zaytanic. Yes, under duress, but the malevolent magician has thought of everything to set him up for total obedience.
The collared muscleman is a sex slave for the night.
Staring down at his own pouch, seeing how his cock is tenting the spandex, Superman can’t even pretend that he isn’t more excited than afraid. Zaytanic’s shiny black boots enter Superman’s field of vision. The hero feels the tug of the leash. “All fours, pup.” The mighty muscleman shifts to hand and knees. Zaytanic leads him to a bedroom filled with red light.
“Kiss my boots.”
“Yes, Master.”
The hero lowers his lips. He doesn’t just give the leather a peck, he sensually embraces the task. Superman did for a moment think that a new room, away from the suns, would enable defiance. A second fight, one that he could win. Magicians are only a threat when they have surprise. With his super-speed, Superman can end them before they can cast a spell.
Zaytanic is no fool. The room is more a dungeon than suburban bedroom. It has three black walls, but the fourth is a dark red. Unfortunately for the hero, there are standing lamps in each corner, each shining with the light of a red sun. And there are red magical candles, each with a cool flame fluttering, providing mood, but also keeping the hero powerless and obedient.
The villain pulls Superman off his boots. “Good boy, but that’s enough. You may rise.”
The world’s strongest hero reaches his hands out. Zaytanic is so sure of his control that he doesn’t even flinch as the hero plans to use the malevolent magician’s lean, chiseled body to slowly stand up. Superman contemplates fighting back, but he knows that Zaytanic will win and will end him. He must see the night through.
Superman’s hands seductively slide up Zaytanic’s legs. The right stops at the knee, while the left grips a hip. With a pull, Superman moves and plants his right red boot. He bows his head, as though the effort is great. The hero slithers his right hand up the villain’s left leg, up onto the smooth torso. Zaytanic shudders as he experiences the performance, driving him wild.
The mighty muscleman’s head rises and falls forward against the villain’s pelvis. Superman turns to face his master’s throbbing cock. Zaytanic is pointing up, leaking pre-cum. The hero licks his lips but knows he cannot drink more of his conqueror’s seed without permission. He turns to rest his forehead on Zaytanic’s stomach before soldiering on, committed to standing up, because his master ordered him to do it.
Superman’s right hand squeezes the left pec. His left hand slides up to the right shoulder. The mighty muscleman pushes up, sliding his face over the malevolent magician’s body. He’s finally on two feet, but hunched forward, his face nuzzling his master’s neck. After a moment’s rest, the hero pushes back, standing up tall, his chest out, shoulders back, and chin up.
“Well done, pup. Quite the performance.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Zaytanic circles behind his Superman sex doll. The hero sees himself in the full-length mirror on the wall. Other than his red trunks and blue tights being wedged under his butt and balls, he looks every bit like himself. Same big muscles, same handsome features, same ‘S’ symbol that gives the world hope. He should be embarrassed, but his rock-hard cock tells the truth.
“Back up, pup.” Superman obeys. “Step up and raise your arms.” The hero looks down. He sees two small metal platforms three feet apart. He looks back over his shoulder. Metal chains hang down with padded leather cuffs on them. “Come on, pup, I know you’re weak, but you can move faster than that.”
The hero asks, “Should I strip for you, Master?”
“Strip? Why would I want that, pup?” Zaytanic grips the hero’s cock. It is rock-hard, pointing up his spandex top to his navel, his balls weighing down the shirt tail attached front and back between his legs. The villain pumps it slowly, eliciting a moan from the world’s strongest hero. “Slave, without your costume, you’re just some random musclebound moron. A dime a dozen. No, no, no. Your suit is part of what makes this special.”
“Yes, Master.”
The mighty muscleman steps onto the metal platforms, spreading his legs. He lifts his arms. Superman sees himself in the mirror. He watches as his wrists are cuffed. Zaytanic kneels and cuffs the hero’s ankles in his famous red leather boots. “Perfect. Test them. Try to break free, pup. That’s an order.” Under the power of the red suns, Superman is powerless to break free.
Zaytanic points his wand at the mirror, “!TSACDAORB”
Superman hears the word but is unsure what it means. It sounded like … broadcast? The malevolent magician grabs a thicker wand with a fat knob on the end. It starts to vibrate. He runs it along the thick, throbbing piece of super-meat inside the famous blue spandex. Zaytanic pauses, holding it on the head. The villain reaches up and pulls on the shivering Superman’s thick black hair, forcing his head up.
“Look at the mirror, slave. Don’t take your eyes off it.”
“Yes, Master.”
The malevolent magician moves the vibrating wand up and down the long shaft. Superman’s cock extends even more. It pushes against the blue spandex. Zaytanic slides the wand down onto the meaty balls. He grips the powerful cock and works it with his hand. Superman moans. The overwhelmed muscleman feels his load rising. The villain is bringing him close to shooting.
The villain asks as jerks his slave, “Who do you see in the mirror, pup?”
“Unh. Your, oh gosh, your sex slave, Master.”
“And who do I see?”
Superman looks at the collar and dangling leash. He gasps, “Your, uh, pup, Master.”
“Good. Try to stay focused, pup. I know it’s hard for you right now. You’re so close to cumming aren’t you?” Superman nods and grunts in agreement. “We’re close. Just one more question. Who does the world see?”
The world’s strongest hero wakes up at that question. He asks, “What? Uh. Oh gosh. I’m so close, Master. I don’t understand what you mean, Master.”
“I’m simply asking, if someone could see you right now, what name would they call you?”
The hero is breathing heavily. his loins are pulsating. He is confused, aroused, and ready to explode. He hesitates, “Oh, gosh.” The muscleman finally guesses, “Superman?” He grunts out, “Uh! I guess they would, oh gosh, see me as, uh, oh, as, as Superman. Master.”
“Exactly. Now you see why I didn’t want you stripped. The world is watching Superman get a handjob. They are going to see Superman defile his famous costume. They will see Superman used and fucked. They will see Superman as my sex slave. And the best part? They will see Superman love every minute of it. Now, let’s give them a show, pup.”
“What? What - what are you saying, Master?”
Zaytanic laughs, “My spell. Every mirror in the world is reflecting that mirror. Every person who looks into a mirror has been watching along with you. And every person in the world who wasn’t looking in a mirror has by now heard about it from someone who’s posting, calling, and talking about it. Billions of people watching you in their mirrors.”
“No!”
“Yes! Give them a show. You will defile your supersuit for them. Not because you want to, but because I ordered you to!”
Superman’s eyes go wide. The whole world is watching him be humiliated. His load builds even bigger. He whimpers, “Please, don’t, Master!” The hero clenches his cock, desperate to contain his cum. He can’t have every person in the world see him submit to this malevolent magician. He can’t! But he must. Zaytanic has commanded it, and he is the man in control.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Superman screams as he unleashes his load. Cum erupts from his cock, shooting up inside his shirt. Hot white seed leaks through the blue fabric, turning it darker as Superman stains it. Zaytanic laughs as he pumps. He forces out every drop he can. His hand is covered in the hero’s seed as it seeps out. Only when the thick cock shrinks does the villain stop pumping.
The malevolent magician holds his hand up. “Wow, that was quite the super-load. Tongue out, pup. Clean my hand.” Superman has never tasted his own Kryptonian cum before, but he must obey. The mighty muscleman was already defeated before his explosive orgasm. Now, his mind is blank, and his body exhausted. “Good, pup. Get it all down. That’s a good pup.”
Zaytanic backs off. He laughs, “You are one super-sticky, super-mess, pup. Look at you. How will you ever show your face in public again?” Superman hangs his head in shame, unable to form a reply. “Aw, don’t cry, pup. You can always stay with me. I have a crate that is a perfect fit for a pup your size.” More evil laughter. “We can worry about that later. Public humiliation was only the first part. Your master still needs to get off.”
The villain reaches between Superman’s legs. He unhooks the shirt tails. The spandex flies up from the tension. It slides up between his cheeks in back and frees his cock in front. Zaytanic uncuffs the hero’s ankles and wrists. He grabs the leash and pulls the compliant muscleman forward. Superman stumbles toward a sling hanging from the ceiling.
Zaytanic turns the hero. He admires the submissive muscleman in his soiled costume, open in the middle. Superman’s cock is impressive as it hardens again, engorged and shiny with drying cum. The villain can see the chiseled abs on the sides and the deep cum gutters of the muscleman’s smooth pelvis. “Get in, pup.” Superman turns his head, unsure how to manage it.
“Pup’s never been in a sling before?”
“No, Master. I’ve freed Nightwing from a few, but no villain has ever put me in one.”
Zaytanic smiles, “Thanks for the intel, pup. Nightwing and his juicy, gymnast, bubble butt will move up my list.”
“No, Master. That isn’t what I meant!”
“Did you just say ‘no’ to me, pup? I’ll let it slide, because I know your simple, submissive, pup-brain is overwhelmed with jealousy, but don’t forget who’s boss.”
“I will never forget who’s boss, Master.”
Satisfied, Zaytanic guides the hero into the sling. The muscleman’s inexperience excites the villain even more as the submissive superhero slowly slides into position. The Master secures his pup’s tree trunk legs in the air, locking the red boots in place. Zaytanic does the same with the wrists. Superman looks at the ceiling for the first time. He sees the mirror over the sling.
The malevolent magician smiles, “That’s right. The world that used to look up to you as its greatest hero will literally be looking down on you during your ultimate submission, pup.”
Superman moans in response. He can’t help but look at himself in the ceiling mirror, imagining the world’s reaction. The view will hide nothing of the fucking he’s about to receive. The hero’s free cock grows, hovering over his abs. He even feels another load building, despite the situation. Superman can’t remember feeling so helpless. No villain has ever used him like this.
Zaytanic casually teases the thick meat, “Yes, hero, you are magnificent. A perfect physical specimen. But it all adds up to nothing. You are my sex slave. Your massive muscles are useless. Your powers are tamed. And even your big cock is reduced to a tool that I can use to humiliate you.”
The villain lubes up his right-hand fingers and his left palm. He slides one finger inside Superman as he grips the muscleman’s cock. The double lubed action has the world’s strongest hero writhing and moaning in the sling. “Yes, pup, show off for everyone. Show the world what an eager slut you are for your Master’s touch.” Zaytanic laughs at his victim.
All Superman can do is whimper in the face of his humiliation. A second finger goes in. And a third. The mighty muscleman groans as he arches his back. He is overwhelmed by his horniness. The pumping of his shaft has hi load close, but it’s intentionally too soft and slow to give him release again. The fingers are hitting his Kryptonian prostate, driving him wild.
Zaytanic commands, “Speak, pup! Tell Master what you want!”
Superman begs, “Please, Master! Please!”
“Please what, pup?”
“Please … fuck me!”
A sinister laugh echoes through the small dungeon. Zaytanic basks in his victory. He has conquered Superman. Truly conquered him. The superhero is willingly begging him to fuck his super-ass. He pulls his hand from Superman’s cock, which has the hungry hero lifting his head with a disappointed look on his face. Another triumph. The villain grabs the shiny red boots.
“What do you want? Say it again, pup.”
“Please fuck me, Master.”
Zaytanic plunges into the lubed, opened hole. He slides in easily as Superman’s eyes roll back in his head. The superhero lets out a long, ecstatic moan. The villain thrusts forward, going balls deep. The mighty muscleman takes it with a pained groan, but he smiles and begs for more. Satisfied that his pup is ready, Zaytanic pistons his cock in and out.
Much to the villain’s delight, the muscleman can take a lot. He might be a novice in a sling, but he’s no novice as a bottom. The fucking gets faster and harder. Superman’s cock just continues to leak and bounce. The superhero communicates his pleasure through grunts, gasps, moans, and whimpering, all encouraging the talented top to keep going.
The villain considered multiple positions, but he quickly realizes he won’t make it. The helpless musclehunk is too hot for him to hold back. Zaytanic is breathing hard. He grunts, “I’m gonna breed your ass, Superman!” He moans, “You want that? You want Master to breed you?”
The hero whimpers, “Yes, Master! Please, breed me. Fill me up with your cum!”
“My fucking super-sex slave! That’s what you are!”
“I am! You’re my Master now! I’m nothing compared to you!”
Superman’s ass tightens. Zaytanic swears it’s milking him. He groans as he continues to plow in and out. He cries out, “Take it, you super-bitch! Take my load!” The villain’s whole body tenses as he explodes inside Superman. He fires his load. The superhero suddenly moans. His cock erupts untouched, spraying his load all over his ‘S’ chest symbol.
Hero and villain keep shooting in unison until they are drained. Zaytanic slides out and stumbles back, exhausted. Superman’s head falls back. He moans with satisfaction. The two men don’t speak or move for a couple of minutes.
——-
Luke moves in. He frees his playmate from the sling. Trent rolls out of it, dropping to the floor. His host helps him up. Before he can speak, Trent initiates a kiss. Luke leans into the massive muscular body, not caring about the double mess of cum that coats the spandex and chiseled torso. He just needs to be near this perfect muscle god. The kissing long and sensual.
Trent breaks, pulling his mouth away. He says, “I’m going to use your word. Wow. That was amazing. Thanks for being patient with me, Luke.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I need to thank you! I had so much planned, but you were too good. Too real. You literally drained me dry. It just felt right to end it there. I can barely stand.” Luke rubs Trent’s cum-covered torso. “How are you doing?”
“Incredible.” Trent scoops a shocked Luke up in his arms. The muscleman sets the smaller stud on the high leather-wrapped table. “If you can barely stand, just point me to cleaning supplies and I’ll get to work.”
Luke laughs, “Fuck, are you kidding me? I’ll clean up after you go.”
Trent frowns, “I feel guilty leaving you with a mess.”
Luke grabs either side of Trent’s face, “Of course you do, because that’s who you are. But the only clean up you’re going to do is in the shower. It’s through there. That’s my bedroom. It has the best one.” He looks down, “Only thing I regret is not getting to ride that. I didn’t realize that your cock would be so perfect, too.”
“Oh. You’re vers? I didn’t know. I would have held off.”
“Yeah, I should have told you that I go both ways. And for you? I’d be 100% bottom. I actually wear the same outfit as Zataric the Magnificent. He’s the heroic son of Zatara.”
The name hits Trent strangely. He asks, “Did I know that? Maybe from your profile? It sounds so familiar.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t use it very often.”
The big muscleman shrugs, letting it go. “Tell you what, if you join me in the shower, I’ll see if I can remove that one regret.” Luke’s eyes go wide. He looks down and sure enough, Trent’s getting hard.
“Wow. You really are Superman.”
Trent just laughs.
——-
Alone again, Luke stares at the text. “At my hotel. Thx for a hot night. Exceeded my wildest fantasies.”
The handsome blond groans. Trent is the greatest. It’s all Luke can do not to beg him to come back over. Or try to pin down the next time. He fights the urge, not wanting to be needy and drive Trent away. Instead, he sends back a similar reply, with a casual offer to host Trent the next time he’s in town. He gets an affirmative response, making him smile and his cock throb.
Luke is still naked, cleaning up, changing lightbulbs, and getting his home back in order. He muses, “The perfect night. The perfect Superman. A genuine nice guy. Sweet. Polite. Shy. Handsome. Muscular. Eager to play. Obedient. Once he took his glasses off, he looked so heroic. So Superman. He even had a best friend named Jimmy. Just like the real …”
“No. It couldn’t be.” Luke shakes his head, “He made that up. He just called his friend Jimmy to play the role. Duh, that’s it! I can’t believe that I didn’t catch on until now.”
Luke laughs at himself, feeling stupid for not getting Trent’s joke.
“Yeah, he was in character from the start. Look at the way he reacted to my kryptonite necklace.” Luke thinks. He asks himself, “How did he make himself go pale? Oh, nerves. Like he said.” The handsome blond man heads to the kitchen. “But the timing. He only got sick when I opened the lead box. Ugh. Stupid lead box didn’t even work. It was like …”
“Like it was suddenly welded shut. Superman could do that. No, it wasn’t hot. Although, he could have used his freeze breath. No, I’m being stupid. Real Superman? Real kryptonite? Yeah, right.” Luke gets a gnawing feeling in the back of his head that he just can’t grasp. It goes away as quickly as it came. Like the feeling of déjà vu when Trent first sucked him.
“It makes no sense.” He gets down on the floor and finds the lead box. He opens it easily. The kryptonite necklace is there. “Oh, sure, now it works. Stupid box. But, here it is.”
“Although … is it less glowy? Where’s that vibrating feeling? Is this my rock? And is this box even the same? I never really studied it. It has to be the same stuff. Only Trent and I were here, and I surprised him with it. It’s not like he had any time to swap it out. Just a few minutes.”
Luke’s creative mind goes off in a weird direction.
“Trent Stark didn’t have time. But Superman did.”
“Stop! Fuck, I’m pathetic. I had the best role-play night of my life with the nicest guy ever, but instead of basking in the afterglow and jerking until my cock is raw and my balls hurt, I’m dreaming up bizarre scenarios and conspiracy theories. Trent’s open for future play. I’m not going to miss out by making wild, crazy accusations. Tonight was perfect and that’s that.”
Luke puts the box aside. He heads to bed. As he lies in the dark, he can’t resist idly playing with his cock. Luke’s mind is full of thoughts of Trent, the perfect Superman. He replays every moment as though Trent was the real Superman. It all makes sense as he rubs his body. He flicks his right nipple and flinches. His hand goes harder. He feels another load building.
“Mmm. Oh god, yes. Oh god. I did it. I did it. I know I’m right. I did fuck the real Superman. And he fucked me! I … fucked … Superman! OH FUCK!!”
Luke’s cock erupts with a gusher as his entire body from head to toe spasms violently in ecstasy. When the feeling subsides, the hunky blond stud goes limp. He drifts off to sleep, muttering, “I fucked Superman.”
TO BE CONCLUDED IN THREE DAYS (MAY 7!) …
All images are AI-generated using Bing's free tool.
Superman’s hands seductively slide up Zaytanic’s legs. The right stops at the knee, while the left grips a hip. With a pull, Superman moves and plants his right red boot. He bows his head, as though the effort is great. The hero slithers his right hand up the villain’s left leg, up onto the smooth torso. Zaytanic shudders as he experiences the performance, driving him wild.
The mighty muscleman’s head rises and falls forward against the villain’s pelvis. Superman turns to face his master’s throbbing cock. Zaytanic is pointing up, leaking pre-cum. The hero licks his lips but knows he cannot drink more of his conqueror’s seed without permission. He turns to rest his forehead on Zaytanic’s stomach before soldiering on, committed to standing up, because his master ordered him to do it.
Superman’s right hand squeezes the left pec. His left hand slides up to the right shoulder. The mighty muscleman pushes up, sliding his face over the malevolent magician’s body. He’s finally on two feet, but hunched forward, his face nuzzling his master’s neck. After a moment’s rest, the hero pushes back, standing up tall, his chest out, shoulders back, and chin up.
“Well done, pup. Quite the performance.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Zaytanic circles behind his Superman sex doll. The hero sees himself in the full-length mirror on the wall. Other than his red trunks and blue tights being wedged under his butt and balls, he looks every bit like himself. Same big muscles, same handsome features, same ‘S’ symbol that gives the world hope. He should be embarrassed, but his rock-hard cock tells the truth.
“Back up, pup.” Superman obeys. “Step up and raise your arms.” The hero looks down. He sees two small metal platforms three feet apart. He looks back over his shoulder. Metal chains hang down with padded leather cuffs on them. “Come on, pup, I know you’re weak, but you can move faster than that.”
The hero asks, “Should I strip for you, Master?”
“Strip? Why would I want that, pup?” Zaytanic grips the hero’s cock. It is rock-hard, pointing up his spandex top to his navel, his balls weighing down the shirt tail attached front and back between his legs. The villain pumps it slowly, eliciting a moan from the world’s strongest hero. “Slave, without your costume, you’re just some random musclebound moron. A dime a dozen. No, no, no. Your suit is part of what makes this special.”
“Yes, Master.”
The mighty muscleman steps onto the metal platforms, spreading his legs. He lifts his arms. Superman sees himself in the mirror. He watches as his wrists are cuffed. Zaytanic kneels and cuffs the hero’s ankles in his famous red leather boots. “Perfect. Test them. Try to break free, pup. That’s an order.” Under the power of the red suns, Superman is powerless to break free.
Zaytanic points his wand at the mirror, “!TSACDAORB”
Superman hears the word but is unsure what it means. It sounded like … broadcast? The malevolent magician grabs a thicker wand with a fat knob on the end. It starts to vibrate. He runs it along the thick, throbbing piece of super-meat inside the famous blue spandex. Zaytanic pauses, holding it on the head. The villain reaches up and pulls on the shivering Superman’s thick black hair, forcing his head up.
“Look at the mirror, slave. Don’t take your eyes off it.”
“Yes, Master.”
The malevolent magician moves the vibrating wand up and down the long shaft. Superman’s cock extends even more. It pushes against the blue spandex. Zaytanic slides the wand down onto the meaty balls. He grips the powerful cock and works it with his hand. Superman moans. The overwhelmed muscleman feels his load rising. The villain is bringing him close to shooting.
The villain asks as jerks his slave, “Who do you see in the mirror, pup?”
“Unh. Your, oh gosh, your sex slave, Master.”
“And who do I see?”
Superman looks at the collar and dangling leash. He gasps, “Your, uh, pup, Master.”
“Good. Try to stay focused, pup. I know it’s hard for you right now. You’re so close to cumming aren’t you?” Superman nods and grunts in agreement. “We’re close. Just one more question. Who does the world see?”
The world’s strongest hero wakes up at that question. He asks, “What? Uh. Oh gosh. I’m so close, Master. I don’t understand what you mean, Master.”
“I’m simply asking, if someone could see you right now, what name would they call you?”
The hero is breathing heavily. his loins are pulsating. He is confused, aroused, and ready to explode. He hesitates, “Oh, gosh.” The muscleman finally guesses, “Superman?” He grunts out, “Uh! I guess they would, oh gosh, see me as, uh, oh, as, as Superman. Master.”
“Exactly. Now you see why I didn’t want you stripped. The world is watching Superman get a handjob. They are going to see Superman defile his famous costume. They will see Superman used and fucked. They will see Superman as my sex slave. And the best part? They will see Superman love every minute of it. Now, let’s give them a show, pup.”
“What? What - what are you saying, Master?”
Zaytanic laughs, “My spell. Every mirror in the world is reflecting that mirror. Every person who looks into a mirror has been watching along with you. And every person in the world who wasn’t looking in a mirror has by now heard about it from someone who’s posting, calling, and talking about it. Billions of people watching you in their mirrors.”
“No!”
“Yes! Give them a show. You will defile your supersuit for them. Not because you want to, but because I ordered you to!”
Superman’s eyes go wide. The whole world is watching him be humiliated. His load builds even bigger. He whimpers, “Please, don’t, Master!” The hero clenches his cock, desperate to contain his cum. He can’t have every person in the world see him submit to this malevolent magician. He can’t! But he must. Zaytanic has commanded it, and he is the man in control.
“NOOOOOOO!”
Superman screams as he unleashes his load. Cum erupts from his cock, shooting up inside his shirt. Hot white seed leaks through the blue fabric, turning it darker as Superman stains it. Zaytanic laughs as he pumps. He forces out every drop he can. His hand is covered in the hero’s seed as it seeps out. Only when the thick cock shrinks does the villain stop pumping.
The malevolent magician holds his hand up. “Wow, that was quite the super-load. Tongue out, pup. Clean my hand.” Superman has never tasted his own Kryptonian cum before, but he must obey. The mighty muscleman was already defeated before his explosive orgasm. Now, his mind is blank, and his body exhausted. “Good, pup. Get it all down. That’s a good pup.”
Zaytanic backs off. He laughs, “You are one super-sticky, super-mess, pup. Look at you. How will you ever show your face in public again?” Superman hangs his head in shame, unable to form a reply. “Aw, don’t cry, pup. You can always stay with me. I have a crate that is a perfect fit for a pup your size.” More evil laughter. “We can worry about that later. Public humiliation was only the first part. Your master still needs to get off.”
The villain reaches between Superman’s legs. He unhooks the shirt tails. The spandex flies up from the tension. It slides up between his cheeks in back and frees his cock in front. Zaytanic uncuffs the hero’s ankles and wrists. He grabs the leash and pulls the compliant muscleman forward. Superman stumbles toward a sling hanging from the ceiling.
Zaytanic turns the hero. He admires the submissive muscleman in his soiled costume, open in the middle. Superman’s cock is impressive as it hardens again, engorged and shiny with drying cum. The villain can see the chiseled abs on the sides and the deep cum gutters of the muscleman’s smooth pelvis. “Get in, pup.” Superman turns his head, unsure how to manage it.
“Pup’s never been in a sling before?”
“No, Master. I’ve freed Nightwing from a few, but no villain has ever put me in one.”
Zaytanic smiles, “Thanks for the intel, pup. Nightwing and his juicy, gymnast, bubble butt will move up my list.”
“No, Master. That isn’t what I meant!”
“Did you just say ‘no’ to me, pup? I’ll let it slide, because I know your simple, submissive, pup-brain is overwhelmed with jealousy, but don’t forget who’s boss.”
“I will never forget who’s boss, Master.”
Satisfied, Zaytanic guides the hero into the sling. The muscleman’s inexperience excites the villain even more as the submissive superhero slowly slides into position. The Master secures his pup’s tree trunk legs in the air, locking the red boots in place. Zaytanic does the same with the wrists. Superman looks at the ceiling for the first time. He sees the mirror over the sling.
The malevolent magician smiles, “That’s right. The world that used to look up to you as its greatest hero will literally be looking down on you during your ultimate submission, pup.”
Superman moans in response. He can’t help but look at himself in the ceiling mirror, imagining the world’s reaction. The view will hide nothing of the fucking he’s about to receive. The hero’s free cock grows, hovering over his abs. He even feels another load building, despite the situation. Superman can’t remember feeling so helpless. No villain has ever used him like this.
Zaytanic casually teases the thick meat, “Yes, hero, you are magnificent. A perfect physical specimen. But it all adds up to nothing. You are my sex slave. Your massive muscles are useless. Your powers are tamed. And even your big cock is reduced to a tool that I can use to humiliate you.”
The villain lubes up his right-hand fingers and his left palm. He slides one finger inside Superman as he grips the muscleman’s cock. The double lubed action has the world’s strongest hero writhing and moaning in the sling. “Yes, pup, show off for everyone. Show the world what an eager slut you are for your Master’s touch.” Zaytanic laughs at his victim.
All Superman can do is whimper in the face of his humiliation. A second finger goes in. And a third. The mighty muscleman groans as he arches his back. He is overwhelmed by his horniness. The pumping of his shaft has hi load close, but it’s intentionally too soft and slow to give him release again. The fingers are hitting his Kryptonian prostate, driving him wild.
Zaytanic commands, “Speak, pup! Tell Master what you want!”
Superman begs, “Please, Master! Please!”
“Please what, pup?”
“Please … fuck me!”
A sinister laugh echoes through the small dungeon. Zaytanic basks in his victory. He has conquered Superman. Truly conquered him. The superhero is willingly begging him to fuck his super-ass. He pulls his hand from Superman’s cock, which has the hungry hero lifting his head with a disappointed look on his face. Another triumph. The villain grabs the shiny red boots.
“What do you want? Say it again, pup.”
“Please fuck me, Master.”
Zaytanic plunges into the lubed, opened hole. He slides in easily as Superman’s eyes roll back in his head. The superhero lets out a long, ecstatic moan. The villain thrusts forward, going balls deep. The mighty muscleman takes it with a pained groan, but he smiles and begs for more. Satisfied that his pup is ready, Zaytanic pistons his cock in and out.
Much to the villain’s delight, the muscleman can take a lot. He might be a novice in a sling, but he’s no novice as a bottom. The fucking gets faster and harder. Superman’s cock just continues to leak and bounce. The superhero communicates his pleasure through grunts, gasps, moans, and whimpering, all encouraging the talented top to keep going.
The villain considered multiple positions, but he quickly realizes he won’t make it. The helpless musclehunk is too hot for him to hold back. Zaytanic is breathing hard. He grunts, “I’m gonna breed your ass, Superman!” He moans, “You want that? You want Master to breed you?”
The hero whimpers, “Yes, Master! Please, breed me. Fill me up with your cum!”
“My fucking super-sex slave! That’s what you are!”
“I am! You’re my Master now! I’m nothing compared to you!”
Superman’s ass tightens. Zaytanic swears it’s milking him. He groans as he continues to plow in and out. He cries out, “Take it, you super-bitch! Take my load!” The villain’s whole body tenses as he explodes inside Superman. He fires his load. The superhero suddenly moans. His cock erupts untouched, spraying his load all over his ‘S’ chest symbol.
Hero and villain keep shooting in unison until they are drained. Zaytanic slides out and stumbles back, exhausted. Superman’s head falls back. He moans with satisfaction. The two men don’t speak or move for a couple of minutes.
——-
Luke moves in. He frees his playmate from the sling. Trent rolls out of it, dropping to the floor. His host helps him up. Before he can speak, Trent initiates a kiss. Luke leans into the massive muscular body, not caring about the double mess of cum that coats the spandex and chiseled torso. He just needs to be near this perfect muscle god. The kissing long and sensual.
Trent breaks, pulling his mouth away. He says, “I’m going to use your word. Wow. That was amazing. Thanks for being patient with me, Luke.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I need to thank you! I had so much planned, but you were too good. Too real. You literally drained me dry. It just felt right to end it there. I can barely stand.” Luke rubs Trent’s cum-covered torso. “How are you doing?”
“Incredible.” Trent scoops a shocked Luke up in his arms. The muscleman sets the smaller stud on the high leather-wrapped table. “If you can barely stand, just point me to cleaning supplies and I’ll get to work.”
Luke laughs, “Fuck, are you kidding me? I’ll clean up after you go.”
Trent frowns, “I feel guilty leaving you with a mess.”
Luke grabs either side of Trent’s face, “Of course you do, because that’s who you are. But the only clean up you’re going to do is in the shower. It’s through there. That’s my bedroom. It has the best one.” He looks down, “Only thing I regret is not getting to ride that. I didn’t realize that your cock would be so perfect, too.”
“Oh. You’re vers? I didn’t know. I would have held off.”
“Yeah, I should have told you that I go both ways. And for you? I’d be 100% bottom. I actually wear the same outfit as Zataric the Magnificent. He’s the heroic son of Zatara.”
The name hits Trent strangely. He asks, “Did I know that? Maybe from your profile? It sounds so familiar.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t use it very often.”
The big muscleman shrugs, letting it go. “Tell you what, if you join me in the shower, I’ll see if I can remove that one regret.” Luke’s eyes go wide. He looks down and sure enough, Trent’s getting hard.
“Wow. You really are Superman.”
Trent just laughs.
——-
Alone again, Luke stares at the text. “At my hotel. Thx for a hot night. Exceeded my wildest fantasies.”
The handsome blond groans. Trent is the greatest. It’s all Luke can do not to beg him to come back over. Or try to pin down the next time. He fights the urge, not wanting to be needy and drive Trent away. Instead, he sends back a similar reply, with a casual offer to host Trent the next time he’s in town. He gets an affirmative response, making him smile and his cock throb.
Luke is still naked, cleaning up, changing lightbulbs, and getting his home back in order. He muses, “The perfect night. The perfect Superman. A genuine nice guy. Sweet. Polite. Shy. Handsome. Muscular. Eager to play. Obedient. Once he took his glasses off, he looked so heroic. So Superman. He even had a best friend named Jimmy. Just like the real …”
“No. It couldn’t be.” Luke shakes his head, “He made that up. He just called his friend Jimmy to play the role. Duh, that’s it! I can’t believe that I didn’t catch on until now.”
Luke laughs at himself, feeling stupid for not getting Trent’s joke.
“Yeah, he was in character from the start. Look at the way he reacted to my kryptonite necklace.” Luke thinks. He asks himself, “How did he make himself go pale? Oh, nerves. Like he said.” The handsome blond man heads to the kitchen. “But the timing. He only got sick when I opened the lead box. Ugh. Stupid lead box didn’t even work. It was like …”
“Like it was suddenly welded shut. Superman could do that. No, it wasn’t hot. Although, he could have used his freeze breath. No, I’m being stupid. Real Superman? Real kryptonite? Yeah, right.” Luke gets a gnawing feeling in the back of his head that he just can’t grasp. It goes away as quickly as it came. Like the feeling of déjà vu when Trent first sucked him.
“It makes no sense.” He gets down on the floor and finds the lead box. He opens it easily. The kryptonite necklace is there. “Oh, sure, now it works. Stupid box. But, here it is.”
“Although … is it less glowy? Where’s that vibrating feeling? Is this my rock? And is this box even the same? I never really studied it. It has to be the same stuff. Only Trent and I were here, and I surprised him with it. It’s not like he had any time to swap it out. Just a few minutes.”
Luke’s creative mind goes off in a weird direction.
“Trent Stark didn’t have time. But Superman did.”
“Stop! Fuck, I’m pathetic. I had the best role-play night of my life with the nicest guy ever, but instead of basking in the afterglow and jerking until my cock is raw and my balls hurt, I’m dreaming up bizarre scenarios and conspiracy theories. Trent’s open for future play. I’m not going to miss out by making wild, crazy accusations. Tonight was perfect and that’s that.”
Luke puts the box aside. He heads to bed. As he lies in the dark, he can’t resist idly playing with his cock. Luke’s mind is full of thoughts of Trent, the perfect Superman. He replays every moment as though Trent was the real Superman. It all makes sense as he rubs his body. He flicks his right nipple and flinches. His hand goes harder. He feels another load building.
“Mmm. Oh god, yes. Oh god. I did it. I did it. I know I’m right. I did fuck the real Superman. And he fucked me! I … fucked … Superman! OH FUCK!!”
Luke’s cock erupts with a gusher as his entire body from head to toe spasms violently in ecstasy. When the feeling subsides, the hunky blond stud goes limp. He drifts off to sleep, muttering, “I fucked Superman.”
TO BE CONCLUDED IN THREE DAYS (MAY 7!) …
All images are AI-generated using Bing's free tool.
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