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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.’

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!