SUPERMAN: THE TRIPLE THREAT

SUPERMAN: THE TRIPLE THREAT

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Certainly.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Down they come, Superman!’

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

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

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

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

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

Calmly, Ursa reached out her hand once more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Superman shook his head. There was no resistance left.

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

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

Disgusted cries from the Metropolitans rent the air:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Saying this only increased his arousal tenfold!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The end was close now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

CHAPTER THREE – DIRTY LAUNDRY

After checking there was no one about to see Clark’s shaming state, Tam led them both up a dark and winding back stairwell, carrying the mortified man’s suitcase for him, and bringing him at last to an attic bedroom. It was stark and a little cold, but a good size, with a heavy oak wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and an old brass bedstead in the centre of the room.

‘This is you, Clark. This is where you’ll be staying while you’re on Summerisle.’

‘Gee,’ said Clark, looking about him, ‘that’s great, thanks Tam. This will be just fine.’

‘Through there is the bathroom,’ said Tam, pointing to a door off to the side. ‘If ye mebbe take your wet things off and leave them in the bath, I’ll see to them for ye. Don’t worry, no one will know - it can just be our secret, Clark.’

The lad stared at him with those dark eyes of his. Clark found his expression difficult to read, if a little intense. Once again, it struck him how handsome this young man was.

‘Uh… Thank you, Tam. I appreciate it.’

‘No problem. Clark.’

The lad certainly seemed to use his name a lot. Strangely, Clark found he liked this.

‘What’s the other door,’ he asked, pointing behind Tam, ‘is that a second closet or something?’

‘Oh no,’ said Tam, ‘that’s my room, Clark. You’re right next door to me, and our two rooms have a connecting door.’ He gave a sudden and radiant smile. ‘So if ye ever need anything, Clark… anything at all, you know where to find me. Even at night – I won’t mind. Just come right in and I’ll help you out.’

Clark felt suddenly very flustered. ‘Um… oh… uh… gee… that is… gosh,’ he mumbled. ‘Uh… Th-thanks, Tam. You sure are very kind and um… hospitable here.’

‘We try,’ said Tam looking him straight in the eye. ‘Now, would you like me to help you off with your clothes, Clark?’

‘Whuh… what?’

‘Your clothes? You’re in a wee state, aren’t you? Shall we get you undressed? Shall we get those wet pants off you?’

‘No!’ cried Clark, sounding rather alarmed. ‘Um… I mean. Th-thank you, but there’s no need. I can undress myself, thank you.’

‘But it’s no bother,’ said Tam, ‘c’mon, let me help you.’ The lad reached out towards Clark’s belt, but he stepped back.

‘No! N-no thank you, though it’s very kind of you.’

‘Okay,’ said Tam, raising an eyebrow. ‘Just trying to help. Away into the bathroom with you then, Clark, and get your pants off. I’ll wait outside, as you’re so shy. Off you go.’

‘What?’ Clark’s mind was racing, so befuddled. This lad seemed not to care about anything, and was so nonchalant in his suggestion of undressing.

‘Strip,’ said Tam, rather more firmly now. ‘Into the bathroom and strip, Clark. Take your wet clothes off and put them in the bathtub, and when ye’ve done, give me a shout, and I’ll take them down to the laundry. I’ll get ’em washed and dried; no one will know. Here-’

The boy fished out a pink towelling bathrobe from a chest and threw it to him. ‘Ye can put this on as you’re so shy. Come on now, Clark – I’ve work to do. Run along and strip for me. Quickly! Chop chop, now! Strip!’

‘Um… oh… okay…’ Clark was now completely befuddled by Tam’s forceful behaviour. Being ordered to strip like this was all very strange… but then the lad was doing him a kindness after all, and he had agreed to hide his shameful secret.

‘Um… all right, Tam… I’ll go and strip. Thank you.’

Once in the bathroom he looked at himself in the mirror. This was such a strange place. And how on earth had he come to wet himself in that awful, sudden, shaming way?

‘Are ye done yet, Clark? Have you got your pants off yet?’

‘No,’ he called back, slightly irritated. ‘I haven’t got my pants off yet. Hold on, please.’

Reluctantly, he began to take off his clothes. He removed his wallet and keys from the pockets of his wet pants, and with the slightest of hesitations, he unfastened them and pulled them down. They really were utterly saturated with his piss, and they fell heavily around his ankles with a squelch.

Outside he could hear Tam begin to softly sing, a low song with a slow and rhythmic melody, though he couldn’t make out the words. The lad had a fine voice, thought Clark.

He took off his shoes and socks and put them in the bathtub as instructed, then stepped out of his sopping wet trousers. He folded them and put them with his shoes and socks. Then, still vaguely aware of Tam’s singing on the other side of the door, Clark stared at himself in the mirror. His top half was clad in his sober perfectly tailored suit, while from the waist down his uniform blazed out: his bright red briefs, blue tights and his red boots. But what a mortifying sight: all down his legs and crotch was darkened spandex, where Superman, the Man of Steel had helplessly pissed himself. He shook his head in utter bafflement.

And there it was again: as he gazed at his reflection and took in his wet tights, Superman was once more transported back to his first ignominious defeat, at the hands of Lex Luthor. Why was this memory surfacing today? Was it just his soaked uniform?

Outside Tam was still singing that strange song, and now he was tapping out a rhythm with his foot. Or was he hitting the wall? Clark couldn’t focus, all he could think of was Luthor, putting that Kryptonite chain around his neck.

‘Chaining me…’ he said out loud. ‘Giving me a necklace. That’s what he said to me. He was making fun of me. Said he’s spared no expense to make me feel at home…

He could hear that voice as if it was yesterday: ‘Your very own Kryptonite necklace, Supe baby. I’ve spared no expense.’

‘Yes… he was so masterful. Sneering at me. Calling me “Supe baby”. Told me it was just my colour and that my new necklace suited me. Said it was our “first date”. The fiend. I… oh…’

Superman found himself recalling the sensations as Luthor had slipped his chain over his head.

‘My necklace,’ he breathed, now entranced by this strange and detailed journey into his memory.

He hadn’t even tried to stop Luthor. He had simply sagged and lent back against the wall behind him, which he then slowly began to slide down.

‘Helpless in my tights,’ he murmured. ‘Gosh… he sure humiliated me. Made me his helpless prisoner. His hands on my nipples, teasing me in my spandex. M-m-making me cry out… and wh-whimper…’

Just as he had that day, Superman found himself drawn backwards, slumping his body against the wall, lost in this memory as the singing from behind the door continued. And just as he had that day, he couldn’t stop himself from sliding down it… and then giving a low moan.

‘Haaaaa. Hnngh,’ he breathed. ‘Ohhhh…’

‘Clark! Come on now, mate, please! It’s going to be extra work for me tae get these to the laundry, and I’ve not got all day! Have you finished stripping?’

The harsh yell from Tam as he abruptly stopped his singing was enough to snap Superman out of his dreamlike reverie. He shook his head and stood up.

‘Sorry! Sorry, Tam!’ he called out. ‘I’m nearly done.’

At super-speed he whipped off his jacket, shirt and tie. He could see nowhere to stash his uniform; once Tam was out of the way he would wash it himself. In the meantime he simply pulled on the bathrobe over the top to conceal it. He took off his glasses and checked his appearance in the mirror, before putting them back on again and absent-mindedly pushing them up his nose.

There was a wooden washing basket in the corner. He placed his clothes inside it – he would pass them out to Tam.

Clark opened the door just a crack. Tam stood there waiting, brushing a lock of fair hair from his cheekbones.

‘Um… sorry to keep you waiting, Tam,’ he said. ‘Here… here are my clothes. And don’t worry – I’ll be sure to pay extra for all your help, with a big tip.’

‘Is that right,’ grinned Tam, ‘you’ve got a nice big tip for me? Thank you, Clark. I’ll look forward to that.’

Clark was confused. Was the boy being lewd? Surely not.

‘Come on then, Clark – let me have your pants.’

‘Sure. Um… here.’

Awkwardly, Clark pushed the washing basket out through the gap in the door, taking care that Tam should not see his feet, or spy any glimpse of his uniform.

Tam wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench of urine from the wet clothes.

‘Sorry,’ apologised Clark.

‘S’alright,’ said Tam. ‘Okay… is that everything? I’ve got your shoes, socks, trousers – I mean your pants – your jacket, your shirt and your tie.’

‘Thank you. I really, really appreciate this.’

‘Hold on, Clark. Where are your underpants?’

‘Whu-what?’

‘Your underpants? Ye’ve forgotten tae put them in. Come on now, Clark, please – I’m on a schedule here, mate. Get your undies off, now, and give them to me.’

How on earth could he get out of this one? How could he hide the fact that he was wearing no underwear – as his Superman uniform was all he wore next to his skin, below his Clark Kent clothes?

‘Um… well… that is…’

‘Clark! C’mon, man – underpants off, please!’

A thought occurred to him. ‘Okay, Tam,’ he said, ‘if you’re really sure you don’t mind washing my… my underpants.’

‘You’re a strange one, Clark,’ laughed Tam, ‘I can hardly leave you with pissy pants now, can I? Come on – get them off, man.’

Keeping the towelling robe tight around him, Clark slid his hands beneath it. Deftly, using just a touch of his super-speed, he unfastened his belt and slid it through the loops of his red briefs. Then, holding eye contact with Tam, he wriggled his hips, writhing and twisting, in a rather comedic fashion, until at last his wet briefs fell down - flop - around his ankles. He stepped out of them swiftly, making sure Tam did not get a look at his red boots, then snatched up the briefs and thrust them out through the open door, holding them in such a way that the belt loops were not immediately obvious. He was dimly aware that performing this whole strange strip-tease in front of Tam had made him feel very odd, sensations he had never felt before.

‘Here, Tam,’ he said, throwing his briefs into the basket. ‘Th-those are… are my uh… my underpants. Thank you for… for washing them for me.’

Tam gave him an amused look. ‘Red briefs, eh, Clark? Very sexy!’

Clark did not know what to make of this whatsoever, and he felt his cheeks redden once again. ‘Oh,’ he said foolishly, ‘um…. Ooh… errr. Gee… I… I… um… ah… thank you.’

Tam shook his head. ‘I’m sorry – you’re a shy wee man, aren’t you Clark?’

Clark nodded his head dumbly, wishing he could close the door. ‘Uh. Yes, Tam. That’s right. You’re right. I’m… uh… shy… I’m a sh-shy wee man. And… and I’m just embarrassed by all of this… including you seeing my… my underpants. And having to wash them for me. Ooh. I promise you, Tam, I’ve never w-wet myself before. Let alone had to give someone my… my underpants to wash. Oh. Ooh.’ Those strange sensations racked his body once more. It felt almost pleasurable as he said these words. And the strange thing, the really odd thing was, as he said these words… he felt as though he was saying them as Superman, not as Clark Kent.

Tam’s dark eyes stared right at him, seemingly gazing into Clark’s soul.

‘Don’t be shy with me, Clark. There’s no need. I’ll keep this all secret. And no one will see your underpants apart from me. I won’t let anyone see your briefs. I’ll guard them with my life. You can trust me. It’s our secret, Clark, right?’

‘Uh. Y-yes, Tam,’ he echoed. ‘It’s our secret. Thank you. Thank you so much.’

‘No problem, Clark. I’ll away now and attend to your pissy clothes. Dinner is in one hour – I’ll come and get you and bring you down. Do you need me to find you something else to wear?’

Gosh. The lad certainly thought of everything. ‘No, thank you,” said Clark. “I have a spare suit with me.’

‘That’s great.’ Tam turned to go, then paused. ‘And spare underpants?’

‘Er… what?’

‘Have you got more underpants, Clark?’

It was not a question he had ever thought he would have to answer. If only he had brought some spare pairs for show, even though he never wore them. Unused to telling lies, before he knew it, Clark had replied: ‘Uh… no. I d-don’t.’

Tam nodded, slowly. ‘Right then. I’d best get your briefs done first and bring them back to you. Can’t have you wondering around without any underwear, can we, Clark?’

He held his gaze as he said this, and again Clark found himself completely unsettled and unsure, staring into those dark eyes…

‘I said, we can’t have you wondering around without any underwear on, can we?’

‘Um… no. We certainly c-can’t… um… have that. Um. We c-can’t have me wondering around without my underwear. Thanks, Tam. Thank you. I’ll be sure to tip-‘

‘Ach! You and your big tip! See you in an hour, Clark.’

With a sudden wink and a grin, Tam departed. Once he had gone, he – Clark… Superman… took off the robe and cast it to one side. In his wet uniform, now minus the red briefs, he sank down on to the bathroom floor and sat staring at his reflection in the full-length mirror, as he attempted to make sense of everything. Try as he might, his gaze kept returning to the dark stain spreading out across his blue tights. Surely it couldn’t have been connected to his damaging the tree? And yet he felt certain that something, or maybe even someone, had caused this. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before.

‘How?’ he asked aloud softly. ‘What force in the world could possibly make me wet my tights?’

As if in answer, his penis twitched lightly as he said this, the head brushing against wet spandex. And there it was: another part of the mystery. For as Superman gazed at the wet crotch of his tights, he realised what those strange sensations were, and what they had resulted in.

‘Oh boy,’ he breathed. ‘Gee… I… I’ve got an erection. I’m h-hard! I’m hard in my tights! Huh! What is going on today?’

He turned sideways to get a better look, seemingly spellbound by his own spandex-clad erection. He had always exercised such self-control. Keeping his sexual urges in check had never been a problem. And yet here, now…

For a split second he recalled Tam’s dark eyes staring into his own.

‘I won’t let anyone see your briefs. I’ll guard them with my life. You can trust me.’

Before he could stop himself, Superman’s hand grasped his cock firmly through the wet tights, and he moaned once more.

‘Ooh! Haaa. Hnngh. Oh. Ooh! Ooh!’

For a brief, tantalising few seconds, he began to masturbate, before a titanic effort of will brought him to his senses.

‘No!’ he cried out. ‘S-stop this. I’m Superman. Hnngh Remember who you are. I’m the… the M-man of Steel..’

He let go of his cock and stood up. ‘Come on. Enough introspection. Time to wash my tights.’

And pulling off his boots and emptying each one into the bath, he proceeded to peel off the rest of his urine-soaked uniform and do just that.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, Lord Summerisle hung up the phone and smiled.

‘So then, Superman is here. The mighty Man of Steel. And already he has felt the power of the island. Now let the fun begin.’

To be continued…

Happy #ThrobbingThursday…!

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter Four: Temptation In His Tights

Using his powers, Clark was able to quickly wash and dry his uniform, heating soapy water in the old bathtub and scrubbing the bright spandex. Soon it was pristine once more, and he pulled on his tights and tunic, proudly noting how they framed his body, and then tucked in his cape. Dressed thus, he lay down on the bed to wait for Tam to return with his briefs, alone now with just his thoughts.

He’d never let anybody else take a part of his uniform away from him before; he could only imagine what Jor El would make of his predicament. Yet it had been necessary to maintain his cover. In fact, now he considered it, he felt rather proud of his quick thinking. After all, it had never occurred to him that he would have to account for why Clark Kent didn’t wear underpants; he had never anticipated a situation in which this fact might come to light.

‘I only hope Tam doesn’t notice the belt loops on my briefs,’ he murmured out loud. ‘What would I tell him if… oh!’

Clark looked down in surprise, to find his cock standing ramrod stiff to attention in his tights!

‘Oh! What in the name of… what’s happening to me? An erection – again? Just like before, when I thought about…’

Once more, Tam’s face came to his mind’s eye, and Superman recalled the lad’s searing gaze, staring at him so deeply, as if he could see his very soul.

‘My briefs… Tam’s got my briefs… and I’m hnngh… hard… Hard in my tights. Want to touch it so badly, and yet I m-mustn’t…’

The air in the room seemed hot and heavy, charged with lust, and as he gazed at his cock, throbbing away in his tights, Superman felt a temptation more desperate than he had ever known. His hand ached to clutch it, to do what he had never allowed himself to do. All his Kryptonian training, passed down to him to deal with such a situation, no longer seemed to matter or feel important.

‘Oh… I… I want to… could I? Would it… would it be so bad?’

He was trying so hard to fight it, yet as he watched a small damp spot appear on the blue spandex that bound his splendid erection, Superman could stand it no longer. This strange place, this somewhat eerie room in an Inn in the middle of nowhere… none of it made sense, and suddenly all he knew was that he, Clark, Superman, the Man of Steel, was alone and he wanted release – the release he had always denied himself. In a heartbeat, one trembling hand reached for his penis and he let out a moan as he touched it, gripping his spandex-clad shaft.

‘Huhhhhhhhhh! Hah! Hah!’

Just then, a knock at the door made him sit bolt upright in bed, and he released his cock as if it were a scalding hot coal.

‘It’s me, Clark.’ Tam’s voice came from outside the door as he knocked.

To Superman’s horror, he saw the latch rise and the door begin to open. In another moment Tam would enter the room; the lad would see not Clark Kent, but Superman, stretched out on the bed with a raging erection, and caught just as he had been about to do something about it!

Never had he brought his Super-speed to bear with such precision. In the blink of an eye, he shot across the room, put on his glasses, threw on the bathrobe, and closed the door to the bathroom, where he had left his red boots.

Such was his haste that it was as though a gust of wind had struck Tam in the face. The lad pushed the door open and stood blinking in surprise.

‘Aye… certainly some strange winds around today,’ he said softly.

‘Uh, yes,’ said Clark, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘I guess it is a little drafty in here.’

His cock was still hugely erect, and he had to hunch over slightly, so that this was not obvious beneath the dressing gown.

Tam looked thoughtfully at him. ‘Dinnae worry, Clark. I’ll make sure you’re nice and warm.’

‘Oh,’ said Clark, his voice shaking slightly as he looked at the boy. ‘You s-sure do think of everything, Tam.’

‘Aye. Aye, I do.’ Tam’s gaze slowly went to Clark’s feet. ‘Oh. Those are nice socks, Clark.’

Superman looked down and cursed himself inwardly. In his arousal and haste, he had forgotten that his tights were still visible below the dressing gown! How could he have been so foolish? Now Tam was staring, though he did not know it, at the tights-clad feet of Superman. Another intimate part of his persona was being exposed to a complete stranger, totally beyond his control. And to his horror, dimly he realised this was adding to his excitement; his erection was twitching in response to his predicament.

‘Oh!’ he breathed. ‘Uh. Yes. Thank you Yes,. I… I… I… like blue… blue socks.’

Tam laughed softly. ‘But the socks you gave me to wash were black, Clark!’

‘Yes. Uh. Yes, they were.’

Tam shook his head. ‘You’re a funny wee man, aren’t you, Clark?’

‘Oh.’ Clark swallowed. Again, the air between them seemed charged and potent. ‘Yes, Tam. Yes… I guess I am… a funny wee man.’

No, he thought to himself. I’m not a “funny wee man” – I’m Superman. If only I could tell you. Part of me wants… oh! Part of me wants to let this robe drop right now and let you see me as I am… hard in my tights… oh! The world’s most powerful man is here in your Inn, in this remote place, and I’m hard in my tights! What would Tam say? How would he see me? But… but that would be… unthinkable! It would be terrible, awful, demeaning… wouldn’t it?

‘You okay there, Clark?’ asked Tam, softly. ‘You’re looking at me very intently there, fella. Everything all right?’

With a supreme effort, Clark mastered himself and came to his senses.

‘Uh… yes. Yes, Tam, thank you. I’ve just been wondering about how to begin my investigation. These missing lads.’

‘Great stuff,’ said Tam. ‘Well, everyone here on the island will be very grateful. You coming all this way to Summerisle to help a tiny wee community like ours. It’s uncommon kind of ye, Clark. There’s a few downstairs who are very eager to meet you.’

‘There are?’

‘Aye. So, on that note, let’s give you back your panties.’

‘My panties?’ said Clark in disbelief.

‘Sorry, big fella – I mean your briefs.’

To his relief, Clark saw that atop the pile of linen Tam was carrying were his red briefs. It would be so good to get them back again.

‘Gosh, thanks, Tam,’ he said. ‘That’s awesome of you. If you just wait while I get my wallet…’

‘Ach,’ said Tam, ‘don’t fuss, no need tae worry about that now. We can work something out later.’

‘But I insist,’ said Clark, ‘you’ve washed my clothes!’

‘Well, some of them,’ said Tam. ‘Your suit is still in the machine. But at least we’ve got your pants back – your briefs – so you can put your spare suit on and come down to dinner. And I thought it was a bit strange that you only brought the one pair of briefs with you…’ He looked up, and once again Clark felt that strange excitement as the lad’s dark eyes stared straight at his own. ‘…so I’ve brought you a couple of pairs of my own underpants.’

‘Whuh-what?’

Superman felt his penis twitch once again beneath the bathrobe; he could hardly believe what he was hearing. This stripling…this adonis – for he had begun to realise just how handsome Tam was – was offering him pairs of his own underwear to put on!

‘We can’t have you just with one pair of panties, now, can we, Clark?’

Why is he calling them “panties”, thought Superman, yet he did not speak.

Tam studied him, a slow, searching look as he moved closer.

‘So here, Clark… I’ve brought you some of my own. My own underpants.’

‘Your underpants, Tam,’ echoed Clark dumbly. ‘Me wearing… your… your underpants? I… ooh… I c-couldn’t p-possibly…’

‘Yes, you can, Clark,’ said Tam firmly. ‘I don’t know what folk do in Metropolis, but I can’t have you making one pair of panties last here. What will you do when they need washing?’

‘Well… I…’ said Clark. For the umpteenth time since arriving at this strange island, he felt his cheeks colouring. ‘I d-don’t know, Tam,’ he said at last.

‘Exactly. So say no more. Here are two pairs of my pants for you. Two clean pairs of briefs.’ Tam held them out to him. One of the garments was a pair of paisley y-fronted briefs, with a bright green trim. ‘These are a bit retro, I guess,’ said Tam with a smile. ‘But I think they’ll be just right for you – that colour suits you.’

‘Whuh-what,’ breathed Clark. ‘Why, I…’

And there he was, back once again in Luthor’s lair, as his nemesis slipped the Kryptonite chain over his head.

Luthor… when he gave me my necklace… I mean when he chained me, dammit…

‘It suits you, Superman,’ Lex had said, as the hero meekly inclined his head and allowed his foe to place the chain upon him, ‘the colour looks just perfect on you, Supe baby!’

He blinked, and saw Tam gazing at him.

‘And look,’ said the lad, ‘you’ll like this other pair: blue briefs – your favourite colour, Clark!’

And indeed, the boy was proffering a pair of smooth royal blue briefs with a navy trim.

‘Gee,’ said Clark, ‘I… I really don’t know what to say, Tam. This is too kind of you.’

His hand trembling slightly, Clark reached out and accepted the underpants. For a split second his fingertips brushed against Tam’s own, and it took all his self control not to make a sound, so intoxicating was that touch.

‘Do you like them,’ asked Tam, ‘are they all right, Clark?’

‘Yes, said Clark, hoarsely. ‘They’re v-very… um… very nice. Th-thank you.’

‘No problem, pal,’ said Tam. ‘Say… is everything okay, Clark – you’re hunched over a wee bit in your gown there?’

‘Uh… just the draft,’ said Clark, unconvincingly.

‘Aye… aye,’ nodded Tam. ‘Well, we’ll get some food and drink down ye; that’ll soon warm ye up. Here – ’

Tam tossed the red briefs at him. Wide-eyed, Clark just managed to catch them whilst holding the two pairs of Tam’s own underpants and clutching the bathrobe around himself.

‘Get your panties on and get dressed in your suit, and I’ll show you down to dinner.’

‘Gosh,’ said Clark, ‘thanks, Tam. You really are…’

‘Yup,’ said Tam with a grin, ‘I really am. C’mon now – get your pants on and let’s go eat.’

Clark stared at him. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that is… I uh…’

Tam shook his head. ‘Fine. I’ll wait outside the door. I don’t know what you’re worried about though Clark.’ He held his gaze once more. ‘In the few hours since we met I’ve watched you piss yourself and I’ve washed your dirty panties for you. I don’t know what surprise you think you’ve got for me under there, big fella.’

The lad’s eyes fell to his waist, staring directly at where Superman’s cock was hard in his tights beneath the bathrobe, straining desperately.

If only he knew just what a surprise I have under here…

‘Uh… thanks, Tam,’ gasped Clark. He now needed this boy to be out of the room so he could clear his head. ‘But if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Sure thing,’ said Tam, and went to leave. ‘I’ll be right outside the door.’

But before he could go, Clark looked down at his red briefs. And what he saw filled him with horror.

‘T-tam?’ he said. ‘I’m… I’m sorry… b-but these… these aren’t mine.’

The garment he held was indeed a pair of bright red briefs. But there was a designer label in the back – “Calvin Klein” – and most crucially, there were no belt loops. What he had been given was nothing more or less than an ordinary pair of red underpants.

‘What d’ye mean man,’ frowned Tam. ‘Of course they’re yours, Clark. Those are your panties, freshly washed and dried. See?’

‘No!’ cried Clark. ‘Gosh… gee… but you see… these aren’t my panties! I mean my briefs! These aren’t mine?’

‘Why?’ asked Tam. ‘What is it that makes you think they’re not yours, Clark? Is there something special about yours or something?’

And there it was: he was trapped. For how could he tell Tam that he knew very well these were not his briefs, as he was Superman, and the loops for his world famous yellow belt were absent?

Clark stood trying to think of a way out, but no solution presented itself.

‘Well?’ asked Tam. ‘What could possibly make you think these aren’t your panties? Plain red briefs, that’s what you gave me, right? Or am I wrong?’ He looked wryly amused. ‘Was there something special about your panties, Clark?’

Superman had no choice. Wide-eyed and a little fearful, he shook his head.

‘No Tam. You’re not wrong. It… it’s me. I… I was wrong. N-nothing special about my panties… uh…my briefs. Nothing at all. Just… just plain red briefs. I was mistaken. These… these are mine. Of… of course they are.’

‘You funny wee man,’ laughed Tam. ‘You’re a real character, Clark! I’ll leave you to it. Get those panties on now, and let’s get you some food.’

‘Y-yes,’ said Superman, numb with shock and astonishment. ‘I’ll… I’ll get my panties on.’

As the door closed, the enormity of what had happened washed over him. He took off the bathrobe and let it fall to the ground around his ankles. Placing Tam’s two pairs of underwear on the bed, Superman crossed the room and opened the bathroom door, where he stood and gazed at his reflection.

‘I’ve… I’ve handed over my briefs,’ he said out loud, ‘I’ve lost a sacred part of my uniform and in return all I have to wear… is a pair of red underpants.’

He thought of the word that Tam kept using, and unbidden, he found himself saying:

‘Panties. That’s what these are. I’ve lost my briefs… I gave them away willingly… and the only option I have left now is to wear panties over my tights. I, Superman, am going to have to put on a pair of red panties. How… how could I have let this happen?’

Yet more than all of this was another terrible, shaming truth. For as Superman continued to gaze at his reflection, holding the designer underwear for which he had traded his briefs, within his tights his cock remained stiff as a board and tingling with excitement. And the small moist point where he’d wet his tights with pre-cum was now a large patch of darkened blue, with foaming white specks upon its surface.

‘Ooh,’ murmured the Man of Steel. ‘Hnngh. What have I done?’

Teaser preview for chapter 6 of SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN - coming soon!

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

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

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

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

Find out what happens to Superman when he meets the charismatic and strong-willed Lord Summerisle in chapter 6, and is drawn further into the twisted machinations of this remote Scottish island and its people, losing more and more of his self-control…

Coming soon!

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

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

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

‘Something the matter?’

‘No… no, sir.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yes?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘He did?’ asked Zeal quietly.

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

Zeal’s brow furrowed: this sounded good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You mean his panties,’ said Zeal.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Oh… okay. Okay then, Mr Zeal.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy, fiends!

And now to see what awaits Superman in the second party of this chapter. Happy #SupersubmissiveSaturday!

SUPERMAN: INTO THE WICKER MAN

Chapter Five: The Waters of Summerisle - part II

‘Somebody saaave me!’

The voice belonged to a man dangling from a precipice, a blonde haired guy in his thirties, with a weaselly little hipster beard. He was clinging to a jutting piece of rock that hung over a series of murky looking swamp pools amid a wide expansive clearing, surrounded by tall trees. The fall was quite far enough to end a life.

The man’s cries were becoming shallower, and as Superman approached, he saw the guy lose his grip and go hurtling to certain death.

‘Not today,’ he said.

In a heartbeat he had caught the man, and had him in his arms.

‘Huh?’ gasped his passenger. ‘Wait… it can’t be…’

Superman alighted on the ground and gently set down the man he had rescued, who stood before him open mouthed. ‘S-superman? Is it… is that really you?’

He smiled, and as he was so often known to do, he clasped both hands together in front of his crotch. An innocent enough gesture, but also enough to conceal the annoying erection which still would not go down. In fact, as his hands brushed the material covering his penis, he felt his excitement increase, if anything.

‘That’s me, sir,’ he said, in those confident tones so familiar to the whole world. ‘You really should be more careful when wandering around places like this.’

Just then, laughter sounded all around them. Superman furrowed his brow and looked about him. There was no one to be seen anywhere. ‘Did you hear that,’ he asked the man whose life he had just saved. ‘C-can you hear s-someone laughing?’

Superman stumbled slightly over his words and had to focus and think what he was saying. To his astonishment, he realised that the whisky and wine he had taken at the inn had had an effect on him after all. His hands brushed his spandex-clad cock once more, and he felt it react with pleasure.

The man nodded. ‘Ye should come away now, Superman. We shouldn’t be here. Nobody comes here. It’s where the Mad Ones dwell.’

‘The Mad Ones,’ repeated Superman. ‘What do you mean?’

‘The Roaring Bulls. The Bully Boys. They’re crazy, Superman! Spirits that live in the water. Please, ye’ve got tae get us away from here.’

Looking around, it was clear that the only way out was to head to the encircling trees, or to fly them back up from where this young man had fallen. Superman shook his head. ‘Don’t worry, sir – I won’t let anything happen to you, but I’m interested in what you’re telling me. I’d like to know some more about these… these Bully Boys, as you call them.’

‘You will know more… Superman.’

The voice echoed eerily all around them, followed by more laughter. A mist had now begun to form and was drifting over the pools amongst which they stood.

‘Please,’ begged the man, ‘Superman, take me away from here. Fly me out, please. I’ll do anything, just get me away.’

The man really was beside himself. ‘Okay. What’s your name, sir?’

‘Tom,’ said the guy. ‘It’s Tom. Please, Superman, I’m begging you, get me out of here.’

Superman nodded. This man was plainly hysterical. He would fly him to safety and then come back to investigate. ‘Come on then, Tom. Put your arm around my neck…’

Superman broke off, surprised by the almost electric charge that went through his erect penis as he said this. ‘I… um… I mean… let me get a hold of you, and I’ll…’

The laughter echoed all around them once more, and the mist was billowing up from the pools.

‘Of course,’ said Tom, and draped his arm around Superman’s neck ‘Like this, Superman?’

‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘J-just like that.’ The feel of the man’s hand against the bare skin of his neck was making Superman recall Tam’s touch, back at the Inn, and his cock throbbed. He felt fresh wet precum blossoming across his briefs and tights.

He shook his head, and in one swift movement he scooped the man up before he could notice his bulging cock. ‘Okay, Tom,’ he said, ‘let’s get you out of here.’

Superman bent his knees and made to fly off, but nothing happened. In astonishment, he looked at Tom.

‘Come on then, Superman. Please, please – take us away.’

He bent his knees once more and jumped. But nothing happened; his red boots just squelched down hard into the boggy ground.

‘I… I can’t,’ he said in astonishment. ‘My powers are gone… I can’t fly.’

A strange wailing and howling now could be heard. Tom began to whimper with fright, and Superman set him down once more. He paid no mind to concealing his throbbing erection; there were other, more immediate problems.

‘There,’ whimpered Thom, ‘oh… Superman, look over there!’

Superman turned and looked in the direction the man was pointing.

Emerging from the mist that was now closing all about them was a man. At least it had a man’s body, tall and lean and naked except for a pair of black briefs, yet this person wore a mask like the head of a bull. It pointed at them both.

Tom screamed, and before Superman could stop him, the terrified man stumbled away into the mist and was gone. He turned back, and tried to activate his x-ray vision, to see whose face lurked beneath the mask. But nothing happened.

‘My powers,’ he said dumbly. ‘What have you done to me?’

More laughter sounded, as out of the mist all around him came young men. Each wore an animal mask, and each was naked except for a pair of briefs.

‘Who are you men,’ cried Superman. ‘Who are you and what have you done to me?’

The Bull-headed man was drawing close to him now. ‘The question you should ask, Superman, is what will we do to you.’

Everywhere Superman turned, more of these young, masked men in briefs were emerging from the mist, closing in on him. He felt his head whirling, and as his gaze dropped to their bulging crotches, his body coursed with a strange mix of fear and arousal.

‘S-stay back,’ he said. ‘D-don’t you… don’t you touch me!’

The Bull-headed man gave a deep, throaty chuckle. ‘Don’t touch you, Superman? That’s just what you long for us to do.’

‘No,’ he cried out. ‘No!’

‘Why don’t you fly away, Man of Steel?’ asked the Bull-headed man.

‘I c-can’t’ he said, amazed at how his voice was shaking. ‘My p-powers. They’ve g-gone. You took them from me… You must’ve taken them!’

‘Just so. And now… now you are simply a man in tights, aren’t you, Superman?’

‘Huh. Hnngh.’

In that moment the strange and unaccustomed drunkenness he felt somehow increased tenfold. Before he could think, Supermsn found himself agreeing with this.

‘Uh… Y-yes. That’s right.’

‘What are you, Superman?’ asked a man in a fox mask. He squeezed the hero’s spandex clad bicep as he spoke. The touch made Superman’s cock tingle with pleasure, pushing against his now thoroughly wet tights and briefs.

‘What are you now, Man of Steel?’

‘Ah! Oh. Hah,’ he said. ‘I… I’m just a man in tights now. That’s all I am. Without my powers… I’m j-j-just a man in tights… not Super any more… Oh. N-no. you’re t-touching me! You m-mustn’t… Ooh! Ooh! Ah…’

A ripped young man in blue briefs and a wolf mask knelt and took hold of Superman’s thigh and began to kiss it and lick it through his spandex, pulling at the fabric with his teeth. His fingers played with the hero, tantalisingly teasing him in his tights, just below his crotch, invading his most intimate areas and producing the most ignominious sounds of pleasure from the now weak and incredibly horny Man of Steel.

‘Ooh! Ooh! Haaaah! Oh… I… I can’t… I c-can’t hold on! You took my powers and I’m h-helpless! Hnngh Ooooh!’

The Bull-headed man was now immediately in front of him. He reached out one hand and took hold of Superman’s stiff and throbbing cock. The Man of Steel gave a bestial cry of pure desire.

‘Haaaaaaaaaa! Oh! Uh!’

‘And tell us, Superman – what is this? What is this in your tights and briefs, little hero? Tell us!’

‘It’s… hnngh… it’s An erection!’ he gasped. ‘I’ve got an erection in my tights and briefs! I’m hard! Oh! Help! Help me! What… what’s happening to me?’

‘Let’s just say,’ said the man, ‘we’re stripping you.’

‘My clothes,’ said Superman, now in a panic. ‘Don’t take my clothes, my uniform, please!’

‘What about these little red panties?’

Someone behind him slipped one hand down the back of Superman’s briefs, and a warm and playful finger begin sliding its way up between his spandex clad buttocks.

‘Shall we pull your panties down, Superman?’

‘Ooh! Ooh!’ Now he was whimpering just as pathetically as Tom, the man he had rescued.

‘No! No, p-please don’t pull my p-panties down,’ he begged pathetically. ‘Please, not that! Oh! Uh! Haaa!’

Though in truth, it was clear by now that they could do anything to him, and Superman would not be able to stop them.

‘It’s not your clothes we’re stripping you of, you Super dummy,’ said the Bull-headed man. ‘It’s your ego.’

He squeezed Superman’s cock, and as the hero gasped and squirmed, more foaming white precum burst from its tip, gleaming against the red of his briefs.

‘Hnngh! Uh! I I… don’t understand! Oh… my p-penis! My erection. What are you going to do with me?’

‘Just this,’ said the Bull-headed man. He let go of Superman’s pulsing and erect cock. ‘Put him in the water.’

‘What? No! D-don’t!’ Superman looked at the murky swamp pool the man was pointing at. ‘Don’t! Please!’

‘Why fight it,’ said the man. ‘It’s what you want, Superman. I can see it in your head.’

Superman’s eyes widened with terror.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know just what I mean, Superman. I can see your thoughts. I can see it all. I can feel your deepest secrets, your fears… your fantasies. And nothing has ever been as good, no moment has ever been as arousing or exciting… as when Luthor chained you and pushed you helplessly into his pool. Has it, Superman?’

In a flash, once again he was back there in Luthor’s lair. The memory that had been tormenting him ever since he had landed on Summerisle. Lex chaining him… Humiliating him… tweaking his nipples through his spandex until Superman cried out. And at last, when he could take no more, pushing him fully clothed and helpless into his pool.

Giving me my necklace, he thought. Oh God! He knows! He knows everything!

‘Oh! Ooh. Ooh!’ Superman let forth several more of these terrible ignominious whimpers.

‘You sound like a monkey, Superman,’ said a man in light brown briefs wearing an ape mask. ‘Ooh-ooh-ooh!’

More laughter echoed all around him. He felt his penis respond enthusiastically to this further humiliation.

‘How…’ he gasped ‘H-how did you know? My humiliation… what Lex did to me… it’s my deepest secret! Oh…. How could you… ooh. Ooh… oh!’

‘I told you, Supeman – I can see it all, all that is you. You have no secrets here. I have unmanned you. You are naked, despite your tights and briefs. And I asked you a question, Superman.’

The man’s voice was stern and booming. ‘Answer me. No event has ever aroused you or pleased you as much as your humiliation and defeat in Luthor’s pool – am I right? Am I? Answer me, you puny little fool!’

Superman hung his head. ‘Yes. It’s true.’

‘I know,’ said the man in whose thrall he now undoubtedly was. ‘You are nothing to me, Superman, understand?’

He nodded. ‘Yes. Yes sir. I am nothing to you. I’m nothing, sir.’

‘You were hard in your tights and briefs that day, Superman. Are you hard now?’

‘Yes,’ breathed Superman. ‘I’m hard. S-so hard in my t-tights.’

‘You were helpless that day, Superman. Are you helpless now?’

‘Yes. I’m so, so helpless. Utterly helpless.’ As he said this, Superman tried to touch his penis, the urge to masturbate was so great, but the Bull-headed man merely slapped his hand away.

One of the young men now approached with a garland made of some strange plant, a kind of water-lily with long green fronds, and gave it to the Bull-headed man.

‘You let Luthor chain you that, day, Superman. Will you let me chain you now?’

‘Y-yes,’ he replied. ‘Oh, yes. Yes please. Yes sir. Do it. Put it on me.’

Just as he had for Lex, Superman inclined his head, making it easier for the Bull-headed man to reach out and place the garland around his neck.

‘Oh,’ he gasped as it hung around his shoulders. ‘You’ve ch-chained me. You’ve done it. Hnngh. Aaaah.’

‘And what does this signify, Superman, you snivelling chump?’

‘Oh! Oh boy. It… it signifies… mind over muscle. Sir.’

‘Just so. And now. Put him in the water.’

With their hands all over him, making his body thrill, Superman let himself be led to the filthy pool of green, slimey-looking water.

‘Green,’ he murmured, ‘just my colour. Like Luthor said.’

‘Get on your hands and knees, you Superdickhead,’ commanded the Bull-headed man. ‘Down on all fours, now!’

‘Yes sir,’ Superman said meekly, and hurriedly obeyed. Once he was on all fours in the dirt they forced him down and rolled him onto his back.

For a few moments Superman just lay there, while each of them toyed with him, pawing at him, touching him enough to fuel the lust that now engulfed him, but not enough to give him release. The Bull-headed man knelt down and straddled him, tweaking his nipples through his spandex tunic, and Superman’s ecstatic cries rang out all around them. ‘My nipples,’ he shrieked, ‘doing it to me, just like Lex Luthor! Oh! It’s like I’m really n-naked! You knew my f-f-fantasies!’

‘Yes,’ said the Bull-headed man as he pinched Superman’s nipple and pulled it. ‘I know all about you, you poor, helpless little fool. Welcome to your ultimate defeat.’

Finally, when they were done playing with him, as he lay in the wet and filthy mud, feeling it soaking into his spandex, they simply rolled the Man of Steel along, laughing as he moaned in ecstasy at the sensations from his erect cock, until – plop!

With a mighty splash, Superman dropped like a stone into the waters of the filthy swamp pool.

‘Aaah!’ he cried out.

‘how does that feel, Superman?’

‘Hungh!’ he cried. ‘I c-can feel my b-boots… filling with water. They’re sliding off. They’re coming off! Off my legs. Something has my belt… I can feel something pulling at it. My cape! Oooh! Something tore my cape from me! My clothes… my uniform… it’s coming off… I’m losing it all, aren’t I?’

Gasping and spluttering, he looked up at the Bull-headed man. All of them were gathered around the pool, watching him writhe and splash within its depths.

‘Yes, Superman. You’re finally losing it all.’

Superman could stand it no longer. He felt something ripping at his briefs, pulling them down his legs; it seemed he could also feel his tights being yanked down. Semi-naked in the muddy, algae-riddled pool, he took hold of his cock and began to pump it up and down.

‘Superman,’ he cried, ‘I’m Superman and I’m helpless in your clutches! You’ve stripped me of my powers and put me in the water just like Luthor. I’m wet and filthy and humiliated… and hard! Oh God! So hard. And I’ve. Lost. It Allllllllll!’

Erotic pleasure beyond what even his senses could withstand overcame him then, and as something thick and gloopy began to splatter all over him, raining down across his body, Superman closed his eyes and sunk back into the filth and slime.

The last thing he heard, was a voice saying: ‘Good. He is ours now.’

Whose villainous clutches is Superman in, the helpless horny hero? To be continued…