VirtualZeality

The Chav gang laughed as Superman went down like a lead weight. He hit the ground heavily and lay gasping before them, one moment trying to shield his face, the next trying to cover the disgraceful, shaming erection now tenting in his tights and briefs… but it was too late.

“Yo, look,” laughed the guy who had punched him out. “Man’s got a stiffie! Oh my days… Superman’s bare hard, innit!”

They crowded around him, yelping, pointing and whooping at his penis, which just throbbed all the more. Superman tried to scramble to his feet, but they caught him and held him tightly, their touch causing his arousal to increase and intensify.

“Na, na, na, you ain’t going nowhere, bro,” laughed another lad, wearing a shiny blue tracksuit practically the same shade as Superman’s tights. “Who do you fink you are, man?” He lightly slapped the hero’s cheek. “What a disgrace.”

With his arms and legs held fast by his captors, the Man of Steel cautiously looked up at this lad. He trembled as he said:

“I’m… I’m… Superman! P-please…”

They guffawed at this, all except the lad in the blue tracksuit.

“What you saying man? You fink your better than us, is it, Mister Superman!”

He reached out and flicked the top of the hero’s helpless erection, making him whimper pathetically, to more laughter.

“No!” gasped Superman, trying to focus. “I’m not better than you. But you… you know who I am, you must do! I’ve saved the world! I can fly… I’m strong… I… I… oh! Oh b-boy…”

The lad in the blue tracksuit now took a firm hold of Superman’s erection.

“Is it? You strong are you, man? Mister Superman? Who’s strong right now, you or me? Come on, Big man, who’s strong, bro?”

Slowly and with purpose, he began to masturbate the Man of Steel in his tights.

“Ohhhh,” gasped Superman. “Ooh! Y-you… you’re the s-s-s-strong one. Not m-me.”

The others released their grip on him. It was clear that the hero was not going anywhere. Helplessly, he watched as the lad in the blue tracksuit slowly stroked his shaft.

“You sure, blood?” said the lad softly. “Cos just now you were giving it all that, innit? Do you think we’re dumb?”

“No,” pleased Superman, “I’m sure! I promise! I’m… not strong. You are!”

The lad kissed his teeth. “You don’t get no respect here, bro. There’s Kryptonite all over London. You ain’t nothing special, do you get me? You just a wimp here, bro, d’you get me?”

His hand was moving faster now, up and down Superman’s shaft. White precum gushed across the tight red spandex covering the last cock of Krypton.

“Yes! Yes, please… I get you… I get you, sir… I… I’m nothing special… ohhhh! I… I’m a wimp!”

The lad yanked at the yellow belt that held Superman’s briefs up. It did not move.

“Here - let me.”

With shaking hands, the Man if Steel pressed the chunky oval in the centre of the belt, and it fell open.

“Is it,” said the lad, looking contemptuously at the hero. “Man wants his pants down?”

“Ooh,” gasped Superman, “oh… yes… p-p-pants down… take my p-pants down… but only… only if that’s okay?”

There was no laughter at this, only animalistic sounds of contempt. And the gang began to strip Superman.

One ripped his cape from him. Two more grabbed the hero’s flailing legs and slid his boots off, grabbing his feet in their blue spandex. And the lad who had punched him now took hold of his briefs, and tugged then down. They went up and over his straining cock, down to his ankles where they remained bunched for a few seconds… and then off.

Now clad only in his tunic and tights, all Superman could do was writhe and wriggle pathetically as this young Chav masturbated him.

“You don’t got no respect in our yard,” sneered the lad. “D’you get me bruv?”

“Yes, yes!” Superman cried. “I get you… sir! Please, I… oh! No respect… no respect for me… b-b-because I’m… I’m just a… a wimp… a S-Superwimp! Oh! Oh!”

With a sneer, the lad in the blue tracksuit moved his hand faster; with his index finger he swiped the head of Superman’s cock.

And finally, as his body bucked, the Man of Steel let out a yell, and found himself filling his tights with thick Kryptonian cum. The insults and jeering poured down upon him, but all he cared about were the powerful sensations coming from his cock as it pumped away.

Happy #TumescentTuesday!

Superman vs the Vice Lord - EXTENDED EDITION

Chapter 3: Spunk and Spandex

“Hey, Starkey – whaddya keep staring at that clock for? Who you got waitin’ for you at home?”

Officer James Starkey looked over at Sergeant Buchowski, who sat laughing at him. It was true: every few seconds his eyes strayed to the large digital clock on the wall, checking the time.  

“Ha… yeah. Just got… some stuff I’m anxious to get back to.”

Buchowski sniffed. “Well chill out. You still got two hours until the end of shift.”

“Yeah,” said Starkey, as his phone vibrated, alerting him to a new message. “Sure thing, Chief.”  

He snatched up the device. It was a video message. From Zeal. This had to be it. This was what he’d been waiting for.

“Uh, Chief – I gotta use the bathroom. I’m not feeling so great. Might be a while, that okay?”

Buchowski rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Starkey’s hands were shaking as he dashed to the washroom. He quickly checked the stalls – all empty. Great. Already he could feel his cock, semi-stiff and wet, bulging in his underwear. Picking the cubicle furthest from the door he locked himself in. And then, trembling with excitement, he pressed play.

“Oh God. Oh fucking yes, yes, yes!” he cried as the screen of his phone filled with a clear, hi-def image that exceeded all his expectations.

It was Superman alright… but what a change from the confident, powerful hero Starkey had shaken hands with barely two hours previously. The Man of Steel had been stripped of his cape and boots, and as the video commenced, Starkey watched open-mouthed as Vincent Zeal pulled the hero’s red briefs down over his head and fastened them in place with his yellow belt.

He heard Superman cry out feebly, but the voice seemed robbed of its usual power and masculinity. Now he sounded shaky, whining; he was almost whimpering as the briefs were pulled over his face. And was that spunk? Holy shit, the famous red briefs were dripping with semen!

As the video continued, Starkey fumbled with his belt and the clasp of his uniform trousers, clumsily yanking them to his knees. He’d intended to wait until he got off shift and could head straight over to the Vice Palace, but this was too much; he was rock hard and straining  already. A few large drops of precum flew from the tip of his juddering cock as he freed it from his underwear. Some landed on the cheap faded laminate of the toilet door, the rest into his boxer briefs as he tugged them roughly down..

“Come on,” he grunted, but then fell silent in shock.  

“I’m Superchump!” came the muffled yet excited tones of the Man of Steel, loud and clear from the speaker of Starkey’s phone. 

“I’m Superchump! I’m Superchump the Man of Jello!  You’ve made me into a Superchump and I can’t stop you!”

“Oh man,” gasped Starkey, seizing his dripping cock, “listen to him! Listen to him! And he means it! Superman really means it!”

It was hard to dispute this. The Man of Steel’s eyes were just visible through the leg holes of the soiled briefs that covered much of his head and face. They shone with a desperate, ecstatic excitement as he continue to babble away.

“I’m… I’m the Metropolis Moron! I’m a Supershithead! I’m a Supershithead with a puny intellect! The Vice Lord has shown me what I truly am: a Superwimp, a Superclown, a Superchump, wearing my p-p-panties on my head! Ooh! Hnnngh!”

The noise of the crowd rising, Starkey watched, pumping his penis eagerly, as Vince Zeal leaned in and roughly kissed Superman, the camera going tighter in as he forced his tongue through the red fabric that now covered the hero’s mouth.

“Fuck! Fuck! Impossible!” panted Starkey. “This is way beyond what we hoped for! Fuck!  He wouldn’t! Superman’s never gonna let you-” 

But he broke off in astonishment as it became clear Zeal’s kiss was being enthusiastically reciprocated, the hero’s features outlined against the wet red spandex that covered his head. And Superman did not shy away, quite the reverse: his body bucked and writhed as he enthusiastically returned the forceful kiss of the Vice Lord.

“Fucking hell… he’s kissing him. Zeal’s dominating Superman, and all he’s doing in return… is kissing him back! Like he wants it… and boy, he really does want it. Look at him!”

The camera moved down, to where Superman’s hand gripped his cock, as the Man of Steel masturbated frantically, still clad in his tights.

“Shit,” thought Starkey, “look how wet he is – did Zeal and the others spunk all over him? Or did Superman cum in his tights already? Surely he couldn’t have produced that much jizz?  It’s all down his legs as well; he looks just like he’s pissed himself!”

On-screen, the Man of Steel moaned and grunted louder and louder, jerking himself off while Zeal kept him in a tight grip. Watching this debauched scene, in turn Starkey yanked at his own penis, lost in frenzied desire at seeing the most powerful man on the planet debase himself. 

At last, Superman’s cries reached fever pitch. Starkey watched, panting, as Zeal detached himself and shoved the hero backwards. The Man of Steel fell to the floor, and the blue spandex of his uniform was replaced by oozing shades of white, as he began to produce a vast amount of semen which his already-sodden clothes could not possibly contain. It bubbled right through the fabric and over the top of his tights, white, thick and spurting like an erupting geyser, or a broken washing machine churning out soap suds.

“Aaah!  You did it to me again!” shouted hero as he let go his cock. 

“Look at me! You made me cum again! I’m cumming! Look at me – I’m filling my tighhhhhhhhtsssss!Oh! I’m a Moron! I’m S-superman… the M-Metropolis… Moronnnnnn… ooh! Oh! Oh!”

A fresh wave of Super-semen burst from the waistband of the hero’s tights, and in blind passion, Superman received it excitedly, smearing it across his chest, over the red and yellow S-shield, his hands lingering and playing with his nipples.

“Oh boy… oh man… Ah! Fuck! Fuck! We did it! We brought down Supermaaaaaaaaan!”

There was no way Starkey could hold back, and his own cock gushed, filling his boxer briefs with semen. It was a vast load and it sprayed everywhere, inside his pants and all around him; the black polyester now slick with hot white spunk.

“Goddammit… came in my pants!” he gasped as he filled his uniform. “Gonna fuck you, Superman! I’m gonna make you cum for me, you… you Superchump! Gonna make you beg to eat my spunk, you so-called fucking hero! I’ll make you eat this from my boxers! Uhhh! Uh! Hnngh.”

On the screen a circle of masturbating men now surrounded the Man of Steel, their own loads of semen streaming down upon him while they shouted and screamed in triumph. As Starkey’s orgasm subsided, the smiling face of Vincent Zeal filled the screen. He had taken the phone from whoever had been filming. Laughing, he now ran one hand through his thick dark locks.

“I hope you enjoyed that, Starkey. Be sure to get here as soon as you can – now is where the fun really begins. Now I’m going to try and really break Superman. I’ve taken his dignity, his willpower and his clothes… oh, not forgetting relieving him of two formidable loads of his Super-spunk!  And look at this… check it out: the Man of Jello’s still cumming!”

Zeal pushed the camera back to where Superman lay. Even through the men who surrounded him, Starkey could see the hero’s body was still bucking and heaving in the throes of orgasm; he now looked as though someone had poured a vast amount of white glue over him from head to foot.

“Mmmf! Hnngh! Mmm!” gasped the ejaculating Man of Steel. 

“Oh God… I’m cumming! I’m cumming all over myself, Mr Zeal!”

“Mr Zeal?” echoed Starkey incredulously.

“See, Starkey? Superman produces a Super-load of Super-cum! Awesome. Didn’t anticipate that,” said Zeal as he turned the phone’s camera on himself once more. 

“But there’s still more to do. Now it’s time to continue Superman’s humiliation. And for my next trick, I’m going to take his secrets – all of them! Just as soon as you bring me my special delivery.”

He laughed heartily at this, as behind him the climaxing hero continued to shriek incoherently.  

“What do you think, Starkey? Will you make it here in time to join the fun? Will you get here before I’ve taken everything from Superman and left him just a slave to his own erections?”

“You fucking bet I will,” muttered Starkey.

Zeal raised an eyebrow and the video ended.

Starkey’s cheeks were hot; his hands were still shaking as he carefully saved the vid-message and stowed his phone in his pocket. His boxer briefs were now lined with cooling semen, but that was of little matter to him. He pulled them up, sprooshing their contents all over his crotch, and re-fastened his trousers.

“Never came in my pants before,” he muttered to himself. “Still – I bet that fucking Superchump never did, either!”

He paused and laughed at this, and shook his head incredulously.

“Can’t believe I’ve just watched Superman cum in his tights. With his briefs on his head! Have to see it in person.”  

As he exited the stall, fastening his belt, he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and realised he found this mildly erotic: beneath his policeman’s uniform he was wearing underwear full of wet spunk, but no-one would know. He ran one hand over his crotch and grinned, enjoying the sensation of that warm sticky mess, moving around inside the layers of his clothes. His penis began to twitch once more.

“Fuck this,” he said. “There ain’t no way I’m gonna make it to the end of my shift.”

Over at the Vice Palace, Superman’s relentless ejaculation was finally beginning to slow once again. He moved his hands up and down his body, smooshing pools of hot semen all over himself, enjoying the feeling of wiping his gooey seed across his smooth spandex. And yet for all the pleasant sensations, with each second the fervour that had gripped him diminished, leaving him with a clearer head and full realisation of where he was.

What have I done? Great Rao, what have I done? What am I doing still? They’ve made me ejaculate again, all over myself, filling my tights! So… much… semen… so… much… spunk!

His mind was divided like never before. On one level he was conscious of what he was doing, fully aware of the depravity and of how much he was completely and utterly degrading himself. He was making himself vulnerable, letting these men see him do this, letting them treat him in this appalling manner. Participating actively in his own downfall, eagerly embracing the humiliation. It was beyond inconceivable that he, Superman should let this occur… wasn’t it?

Yet it was that very same vulnerability and just how unthinkable it was that was turning him on so powerfully… and the sheer erotic draw of this thrill made Superman suddenly push that conscious part of his mind aside, divorcing himself from all rational behaviour, revelling in how it made him feel: the pleasure was like nothing he had ever experienced.

I’ll find a way to fix this. In fact I… I have an idea. Yes… that would work… But please just… not yet… feels too good… lying here letting them deface me, cover me in semen… oh!

He felt for the top of his tunic and pulled it open, then began to force pools of semen inside, pushing it down over his bare nipples.

Yes… I can feel it. I’m spreading it into my chest hair! Wet, slimy, creamy… warm – my own semen… my own… cum. Mmm…

The word did not come naturally to him but he enjoyed thinking it; it was yet one more tiny defeat, for him, the oh-so-noble Superman, to use a slang, dirty word like cum.

Yes… my cum! Yes, damn it - my own Super-cum – my Superchump semen… my… my… my spunk! That’s it – cover my chest hair with spunk; let me be further embarrassed and disgraced. Cover me in cum! Cover me, the Man of Steel, in hot cum!

As this new idea thrilled him, it was as though some of the men who even now stood wanking and letting their own spunk rain down on the Man of Steel had heard his thoughts. Two of them took hold of him, pulled his torso upright and joined him, grabbing the blue spandex top of his uniform and shooting their own loads down between his chest and the clingy blue fabric.

“Ooh! Ooh!” said the hero aloud as still more hot slippery cum slid down his body.  

The red briefs still sat atop his head, but he activated his x-ray vision, that he might see the men who now filled his clothes with their ejaculate. They both had handsome faces and looked as if they were in their early twenties – younger than Superman. 

“Yeah, that’s right, Superdick,” laughed one, seeing the Man of Steel gazing in his direction.

“You like my spunk in your spandex? Huh? Yeah, he sure does! Oh man…seeing what Zeal’s done to you… turned you into… it’s… so… hot…! Hah!” His conscious reporter’s mind found itself for a second wondering how two such young guys were rich enough to be members of the Vice Palace. Millionaire’s boys, perhaps.

“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” he said again as they spurted their seed down him. It sounded, he thought, as if he was just an animal – a monkey, making such foolish noises.

“Oooh! You’re ejaculating… cumming inside my uniform!” he breathed aloud.

“That’s right, Super-prick,” sneered the other guy as his cock shot his last down the front of Superman’s chest. 

“We’re cumming right inside your pathetic Super-costume and more importantly, so are you,  Superman, you dick! How’s it feel, dummy?”

“I… I…” panted Superman. His penis had subsided minutes ago, but this ongoing humiliation could not help but make his insides burn with arousal still. 

“I can feel it all over me… spreading through my chest hair.”  

He reached a hand inside his tunic as the second man finished cumming, and began to rub the spunk in further; a mass of matted spunk and body hair.

“You… oooh! You’re covering me in semen! You’re covering Superman in sem-…in cum… in spunk! You’re covering me in spunk! You’re covering Superman in spunk! And I’m letting you; Superman is letting you cover him in spunk!  Ooh!  Oh!”  

He knew as he said it that this admission, saying these words aloud was prolonging his arousal; the more he talked about degrading himself the more excited he seemed to become.

The younger men howled with laughter and the first put his hand behind Superman’s head and carefully wiped his dick over the hero’s briefs-clad face. As it reached the hero’s mouth, with a smirk, he let it linger there.

“Ooh!” whimpered Superman as the wet head brushed his nose and lips. “Mmm…”

“Oh boy,” shouted the guy, “look at him! Look at this!”

His penis! He’s resting his penis right against my mouth! Should I…. Does he want me to… no, I couldn’t! Could I…? He felt the man’s cock, warm and pressing firmly against the soaking red spandex, and instinctively, almost before he knew what he was doing, Superman found himself opening his mouth. 

“Uh! Mmm… Ooh!”

The tip of this man’s cock slipped between Superman’s lips, eliciting gasps from the rest of the men. The red fabric of his briefs did not keep it out, but covered it, as it nuzzled its way in.

Great Rao… Gosh… am I actually going to do this? Allow his penis into my mouth? 

I… no… yes… yes! Why not? I’m… I’m going to let him put his dick in me… He’s doing it! Oh! He’s doing it! He’s putting his dick in my mouth!

“No!” 

Zeal’s voice cut through the laughter and cries of lust. He strode forward and placed his foot firmly on Superman’s chest, forcing the hero to lie back down on the floor. Dimly, he realised he was disappointed to have had this new experience – a cock in his mouth – taken away from him.

“You referred to yourself by the wrong name. You called yourself ‘Superman’. That’s not who you are now. Is it?” 

He moved his foot to the Man of Steel’s face.

“Who are you, you super-powered piece of shit? Answer me!”

“Ooh!” said the hero. “I’m… I’m…”

Superman considered for a second – a tiny fragment of doubt.  

I don’t have to do this. Could stand up to him. I’ve had release now, twice already this evening. I don’t have to say what he wants me to. I could resist… couldn’t I?

But just as before, the thought of saying the words Zeal wanted to hear entered his mind.  And that thought, the knowledge of how demeaning it would be excited him irresistibly.

But if I say it.. say those awful words… it’ll turn me on more… and I want to do it… go on…

He swallowed.

“Um… I… I… I’m… Superchump, Mr Zeal. Superchump the Man of Jello. I’m Superchump.  I’m Superchump and I’m covered in semen… in cum… in filthy spunk!”

“That’s right,” said Zeal.  “And don’t forget it.  Now, stand up, Man of Jello.”

Surely… isn’t it time I defied him now? And yet… he’s giving me an order. And the thought of obeying… it feels good. Come on… there’s still time… do as he says…

“Yes, sir, Mr Zeal, sir.” 

Superman obeyed, clambering to his feet.

Zeal walked slowly around him, taking in the sight. The still-trembling hero was utterly plastered in cum. He looked for all the world as though someone had dipped him into a vat of wallpaper paste.

Zeal shook his head. 

“Just look at you, Superchump. You truly are quite something.”

“I… I am?” asked Superman, uncertain what to do or say.

“Of course you are! No hero – possibly no single man has ever been disgraced in the way that I’ve done to you… and I’ve lead you to it naturally. Well, almost. I’ve changed you from the most powerful man in the world, to a semen-coated moron, trembling in your tights and panties… all in less than an hour. Haven’t I? What are you?”

“Uh… I’m…” Superman tried to keep calm, yet everything Zeal said seemed to make his head spin.

“Well? We’re waiting.”

“I’m… I’m a s-s-semen coated m-m-moron. T-trembling… in my t-t-tights and… my p-panties! Ooh! Oh! Hnngh!”

Making this admission was like fire to the Man of Steel, even as he basked int he afterglow of his recent orgasm.

The Vice Lord gave a short bark of laughter. 

“This is better than I ever could have hoped for. Here-”

Zeal reached down and dipped a finger in a glass of Jack Daniels and ice. He then plunged that same finger into some Superman’s congealing spunk, coating it. 

“A treat for you, Superman – or rather Superchump. You can lick it. Go on. Do it. Spunk on the rocks… just for you.”

Zeal pulled up the red briefs a little so freeing the hero’s mouth.

“Oh.” Superman gulped. “Um… th-thank you… Mr Zeal, sir. Thank you.”

Obediently, he opened his mouth and admitted Zeal’s finger. 

The Vice Lord smiled as he inserted into the mouth of the Man of Steel, gently moving it around, even as Superman lapped gently at it with his tongue.

“That’s good, Superman. Lick away… lick all your spunk from my finger. And you can pretend it’s my cock while you’re doing it. Yes… you like that, don’t you, you Superchump? I saw how eager you were to take Theo’s dick into your mouth just now. You wanted it, didn't you? You were curious to see what that would be like – the Man of Steel, on his knees with a dick in his mouth.”

Superman gave a low moan, which seemed to signal that Zeal was correct.

Looking down at Superman’s crotch, the Vice Lord noted that the hero’s penis, although no longer at full mast, was not entirely flaccid. He slowly withdrew his finger, wiping it on a handkerchief.

“How does this all make you feel, Superchump?” asked Zeal.  

The Man of Steel hesitated, before answering: 

“I… I like it. I wish I could lie, but I c-can’t. All these things you’re doing to me… it… it’s still turning me on… even though I’ve already ejaculated twice. In fact… you just you asking me this question… p-putting your finger in my mouth… making me say all these humiliating things… mmm… making me t-tell you that I’m a s-semen-coated moron… oh! I like it! It’s… you… you’re… beginning to make my penis tingle again. Making me… aah…” he moaned slightly. “Making me hard! Oh no…”

“Oh, yes, Superman,” said Zeal, eyes blazing. “Yes!”

“And it’s t-true…” the hero’s gaze slid to the young man whose penis he had nearly taken in between his lips. 

“I did w-want to s-see what it would be like… to… to have his dick – Theo? – to have Theo’s penis… ooh… I mean his dick… in my mouth. It’s true. You saw it… you seem to catch me out every time!”

Theo laughed, waving his now deflating cock invitingly at Superman.

“Of course I do,” said Zeal, “it’s as I keep telling you, Superchump… I understand you better than you understand yourself. I could see the hunger in your eyes. I know what you need…”

Superman groaned. “Yes… Yes you do… and you’re using it against me. You’re using it… m-making me into a Superchump! Ooh! Turned me… into a Superchump! Oh! Hnngh.”

“Of course I am,” laughed Zeal. “Not that it’s very hard, is it?  I mean you really are an idiot, aren’t you, Superchump?”

The hero said nothing in response to this.

“Hmm,” said Zeal. “No answer, eh? Interesting. Time to continue your education, I think. Down on all fours, Superchump.”

“Wh-what?!” replied Superman.

“You heard me. I said, I want you to get down on all fours like a dog. I take it you don’t have a problem with that? Do you?”

I can’t do this! I can’t! I mustn’t!

“Is that a problem, Superman? Do you want to disobey me?”

“Um. N-no,” swallowed Superman. “No, sir, I d-don’t. No problem at all, Mr Zeal, sir.”

 Zeal noticed the hero’s penis swell slightly in his cum-drenched tights as he spoke.

“Well, then, Superchump, off you go: get down on your hands and knees.”

Superman felt his cock stirring once more and part of him registered this with despair; his mind was in turmoil.  

I don’t have to do this… I can’t let him keep doing it to me. What if he makes me cum again – will I get weaker still – lose more of my strength? Have to stop this.

Yet he did nothing, and as Zeal said sternly, in tones of warning, “Superchump…” the hero once more gave in.

“Yes sir,” he said simply, “sorry sir.”

And then he got down on his hands and knees before the Vice Lord. 

“Hnngh. Yes. Oh. Oh! Down on all fours… just like you told me to… Mr Zeal, sir. Ooh.”

“That’s much better, my little Man of Jello,” said Zeal. Gently he patted Superman’s buttocks.

“Now, let me put this dog’s leash on you.”

“Oh no!” said Superman.  

I can’t let him do this. This is too far – putting me on a leash like I’m… just an animal?

But his body had other ideas, and his eager cock stiffened fully inside his tights.

“Oh! Yes… uh… yes, sir.”

He shuffled forward a little and raised his head. He looked up just to see Zeal grinning as he reached for him

“See? You’re already becoming more obedient.”

He felt his neck, already bound by his spunk-slick briefs and belt, now slowly encircled by a strap of leather.

“Ooh,” he said. “I’m ooh… you’re… you’re putting a collar on me… oh! Oh! What am I doing? What’s happening to me… what am I letting you… oh… ooh! Ooh!”

Zeal chose to ignore this, his fingers moving deftly. With one foot he forced Superman’s back down, making him assume an even more ridiculous and submissive stance. Once more, the hero found he was enjoying all of that was being done to him, his cock tingling excitedly inside his sopping wet tights.

“There!” said Zeal, as he finished fastening the collar around Superman’s neck. As an afterthought, he pulled the hero’s red briefs back down over his mouth once more.

Having snapped a chain leash into place, Zeal reached down, slipped his hand between Superman’s legs and took him by surprise, deftly groping the hero’s dripping bulge. 

“Aaah! Hnngh! Oh! Oh!”

Zeal laughed as his suspicions were confirmed, and Superman moaned helplessly at his touch.

“Just as I thought! Your pathetic little cock is throbbing once more at what I’m doing to you, isn’t it? Isn’t it? Well? Say it, Superman.”

His breathing fast and shallow, the hero replied:

“Y-yes sir. My p-penis-”

“No! Your ‘pathetic little cock’, got that?”

“Uh! Yes sir. My… my… my p-pathetic little c-cock is throbbing! Oh!”

“That’s better.” Zeal narrowed his eyes. “It’s hard because you’re excited to be collared like this, isn’t it? Superman loves becoming a submissive dog, don’t you?”

He squeezed the Man of Steel’s hardening shaft once more, making him cry out.

“Well? Do you like this, Superman? Tell us, we’re all waiting to hear. I’ve just made you get on all fours and collared you like a dog. Do you hate it? Do you wish I hadn’t?”

Zeal slowly stroked Superman’s rapidly stiffening erection, relishing the feel of it through the smooth wet spandex of his blue tights.

“Or do you like it? Come on, Superman… we’re all Super-interested to hear.”

His fingers moved slowly and delicately around the last penis of Krypton.

“Uhhhh. Oh. Oh… M-mr Zeal… sir…”

I can’t do this… I can’t do as he asks. Not this.

“P-p-please, sir… not that… don’t make me… don’t make me s-s-say it. Please!”

He groaned, and the Vice Lord squeezed his cock viciously.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Superman. Answer the question, Metropolis Moron. Do you like it?”

I can’t… not this… I have to defy him. Lie to him…

“I said… answer me… NOW!”

“Aah!”

Superman shuddered in alarm as Zeal shouted at him, tugging on his leash, and his will crumbled.

“Oh! Oh! I’m sorry sir. Yes! Yes, yes, yes… I do… I d-d-do like it, Mr Z-zeal. You’ve muh-made me get on all fours… made me get down on all fours in my uniform… in my t-t-t-tights. You’ve collared me like a d-d-d-dog. You’ve put a collar on me… on Superman! And I… oh no… I like it. It’s true. I d-d-d-didn’t want to tell you, but I like it. You made me tell you! Oh Zeal… Muh-Mr Zeal… you’ve made me hard again! It’s t-true… I like it! I like what you’ve done to me! Oh! Oh n-n-no!”

His cheeks, had they been visible beneath the spunk and spandex, were as red as his briefs right now.

“Of course you do, my kinky little Kryptonian,” laughed Zeal. “Of course you enjoy being my dog. How good I am to you, Superchump! Aren’t I, you kinky little wimp? Aren’t I?”

He yanked on the chain and Superman whimpered as his desire took hold even further.

“Yes,” he panted. “Y-yes, sir, Mr Zeal sir. You’re v-very g-g-good to me, sir. Th-thank you. Thank you for making m-me g-get on all fours and p-putting a leash and c-collar on me, sir. Th-thank you!”

On a whim, hoping to please the Vice Lord, Superman slowly raised his hands and dropped his wrists, assuming the position of a begging dog. The feelings from his cock as he did so made him let out another low moan of arousal.

Zeal laughed heartily at this, and reaching down to pat Superman’s head, he said:

“You’re most welcome, my pathetic Superwimp. You look much better like this. It suits you, you know. Now… Phone cameras at the ready, all of you: I’m going to take our excited little Superchump for a walk, on to the next stage of his education. Do you understand, Superman?”

“Oh! I…” Superman’s entire body seemed to pulse with desire as he gasped: “Yes, sir, Mr Zeal… you… you and your men… you’re g-going to take me to the next stage of my… Hnngh… aaah… the next stage of my education! Ooh!”

“Excellent,” smiled Zeal, “you see, gentlemen? Progress! Superman is learning to be a good, obedient Superwimp, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” gasped the horny, helpless Man of Steel. “Yes, sir! I’m learning to be… a good, obedient… Superwimp! Aaah!”

There was more laughter at this, and one of the men who’d been slowly jerking away sprayed a jet of semen over Superman’s back, eliciting a cheer.

Then Zeal gave his leash a short tug, and they set off, the Man of Steel crawling behind him on all fours, and making the occasional inadvertent noise of pleasure at how thoroughly Zeal was debasing him and destroying him. Yet still, his mind churned, and a part of him struggled to think of a way out of his shocking predicament.

As the leashed hero followed the Vice Lord on his hands and knees, there was no hiding the fact that his cock was now at full mast once more. Stiff and excited, it swung from side as he crawled along, swishing around in the wet confines of his bedraggled tights. The blue material was now so sodden that it had become baggy and slack, the weight of so much semen pulling it out of shape, and as Superman crawled along on all fours he left a thick trail of cum along the floor in his wake, like a human slug.  

Vincent Zeal took his grovelling captive into the next room, which was a little smaller than the hall they had formerly been in. The crowd of men followed them, all hooting and jeering at the Man of Steel, but remaining respectful of Zeal’s status as the Lord of these proceedings.

Superman felt Zeal yank his chain – his face was still bound by his briefs and he was not using his x-ray vision, but he supposed this meant they had come to a halt. A kick confirmed this.

“Ouch,” said Zeal ruefully, and rubbed his foot. “Looks like your invulnerability hasn’t been affected by your ejaculations, Superchump. How stupid of me not to realise.”

A thought occurred to him, and slyly, he took off both his shoes.  He was wearing plain, smooth black socks which had been new on that morning; just like the billionaire Ross Webster he never wore the same pair twice.

“Tell you what, my semen-covered little Superslave – why don’t you worship my feet for me, to make up for the pain you just caused me when I kicked you. Go on, Superprick - do it!”

Superman looked up at the Vice Lord in confusion.

“I don’t understand. What… what do you want me to do?”

“You really are a fucking moron, Superman,” sneered Zeal. “Think!  I’ve told you to worship my feet so worship them! Kiss them! Lick them! Show obedience!  Show these men what a submissive little cunt you are!”

The Man of Steel hesitated, but did nothing. Then Zeal bellowed: 

“Do it, Superman, you pathetic Super-prick! Obey me now you worthless so-called hero, or I promise you’ll regret it.”

Despite the fact that he knew he still had a degree of power and strength left to him, Superman did not doubt Zeal’s threat.  

“Y-yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir. Ooh.”

Activating his x-ray vision once more, he bent his head towards the man’s feet and began to nuzzle and kiss them through the red spandex that bound his lips.  

“I… I worship you, M-mr Zeal. Uh. Uh. Hah! Mm. I worship you with my mouth, sir. I’m sorry my body hurt your foot, sir. Let me show you how sorry I am, sir. Mm. Thank you for… mmm… letting me show you this… mmmm….”

Superman found himself growing more and more turned on with everything he said, and this in turn enhanced his enjoyment as he kissed those feet, slobbering over them.

Every lick, every kiss left semen trails on Zeal’s black socks, but the Vice Lord didn’t care, in fact he liked it: this was just one more step in the long process of abject humiliation he had planned for the world’s greatest hero.

“Excellent. Because here’s the thing, Superman,” breathed Zeal, as he watched the Man of Steel debase himself at this feet. 

“You might get all these powers from our yellow sun: you can fly, you’re Super-strong, you can shoot fire from your eyes. But the sun can’t make you Super-smart, can it? That’s the one area where a normal man like me can triumph over you. That’s why you’re on your knees licking and kissing my feet right now, Man of Jello. And that’s why the only thing that’s Steel about you now is your stiff, stiff cock. Because what you really are is a chump. A strong chump, a chump with special powers, but just a chump nevertheless: a Superchump. Isn’t that right, Superchump? I said, isn’t it?”

Superchump stopped slobbering over his feet and stared up at the Vice Lord.  

“I… I guess so.”

“I know so! You insolent little shit. And don’t forget to call me ‘sir’, Superdickhead,” hissed Zeal. 

“Go on – tell me what a fucking idiot you are – now! And kneel and beg while you do it.”

And at last, out of nowhere, that was it. 

Something clicked. Superman then surprised them all.  

“No,” he said simply.

“What?!” said Zeal.

Superman shook his head.  

“No,” he said, a little more loudly. 

“You’ve made me do things I never thought myself capable of. You’ve made me give in to urges that I never even knew I had. You’ve shredded my masculinity with your… your cunning. But any man is subject to desires and you’ve just played on mine. I am not an idiot, Zeal. It might arouse me to let you subjugate me like this, it might get me hot to… to call myself uh… yes, a Super… a Superchump… aaah! But I am not an idiot – and no amount of humiliation or making me… making me cum will change that. Because when I’m spent here today – and I will be spent soon –  I will remain Superman, not Superchump.  And then we’ll see who the idiots are.”

There was silence.  Zeal’s face was expressionless.

“Well. That’s… quite a speech, Superman. I confess, hadn’t realised how much control, how much fight there was still left in you.” 

He yanked on the leash again. “Why don’t you stand up, back on two feet again then? Please,  go on – someone who’s not an idiot shouldn’t be down on the floor like this, grovelling like a dog. Up, Superman, up! It’s all right - I permit you.”

Uncertain, the hero clambered to his feet. Yet was he still obeying orders by doing this? 

His mind was a mass of contradictions; his penis was still rock hard, but part of him wanted to prove to Zeal he was not beaten, even though his body continued to experience waves of elation at what had been done to him.

Superman nervously looked about him, unsure of himself. He wanted to speak, but what could he say? 

He felt Zeal walk behind him. He felt the man’s hands – that touch! So warm, still – but why? He felt the yellow belt around his neck being unfastened, and he moaned as those same fingers brushed his face.  

“Oh. Aah. Uh. I… Aaah… oh. Th-hank you,” he gasped.

The belt undone, Zeal put his hands through the legs of the red briefs atop the hero’s head and grasped his ears, eliciting another groan of desire from the confused Man of Steel.

Then, very slowly, Superman felt his briefs being pulled upwards; the red spandex prison that encased his face began to lift. He closed his eyes: long rivulets of cum dribbled down into them as those soiled briefs were plucked from his head once more.

There was a small sound - the sound of a zipper being lowered?

Suddenly – the heat! That weird heat that came with Zeal’s every touch was increased tenfold as Zeal pulled Superman backwards into him, pressing the hero firmly against his own body! He kept his eyes tight shut, but he could feel what he realised in panic was the other man’s cock, stiff and folded against his butt cheeks! Zeal had unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock, and now it was pressing against Superman’s spandex-clad buttocks!

And it feels… no, can’t think it! Don’t… don’t!

Yet that wriggling little thought fought its way free.

Yes… it does… it feels good. The Vice Lord’s stiff cock is warm on my buttocks… Vincent Zeal, the man I came here to shut down… and he’s the one shutting me down! His penis throbbing against my buttocks… just like Theo’s penis was pressed against my lips… oh… and it’s like it’s drawing me in… feels… so… good…

Zeal’s left arm moved around Superman’s chest, encircling him, squelching its way through the layers of spunk that coated his body and coming to rest, holding him tight and squeezing one of his nipples.

“Aaah!” cried Superman. “Oh!”

He hadn’t expected this.  He’d thought Zeal would find some new way to debase or humiliate him, but not this terrible, irresistible heat again; how could he fight this? 

“Oh… oh, Zeal…”

He felt Zeal’s right arm now snaking round, pulling closer still, and then: “oomf!”  Something wet and soggy was being forced into his mouth – why, Zeal was shoving his briefs inside like a gag!  

“Hush. You don’t seem to have anything useful to say, Superman,” said the Vice Lord, “so let’s shut you up. A mouth full of your panties should do the trick.”

“Oomph!” Superman mumbled again, pathetically, as he tasted semen once more. 

Yet he did nothing to resist this or to fight back. He stood there meekly and allowed Vincent Zeal to stuff his spunk-sodden red briefs into his mouth, silencing him.

Held tight within the Vice Lord’s arms, eyes still closed and his mouth now full, his other nipple was taken and tweaked, while behind him Superman’s body exploded with the sensation of another man’s body pressing against him, holding him so tightly, and worst of all… that penis! Oh! It felt so warm, so hard, now sliding between his buttocks, pushing its way up, aided by his slick and soggy spandex. 

Then came the coup de grace: he felt his knees buckle as Zeal began to lick and bite his ear.

“Mmmmmmmmmmf!” the hero moaned ecstatically.

Zeal paused only to say: 

“Open your eyes, Superman. Open your eyes and take a look at yourself.”

Without thinking, the Man of Steel obeyed. 

Directly in front of him was a mirror. Zeal’s men must have placed it there. The hero’s mind exploded in suffering at what he saw. For looking back was not Superman, the Man of Steel, the invincible Last Son of Krypton, champion of the USA and the peoples of the earth. The eyes that met his from his reflection were that of a semen-drenched man in spandex who stood writhing and moaning idiotically, ecstatically, as Vincent Zeal held him tight and played with his body, literally dominating him with his cock.

“Ooh,” he said, his words muffled by the briefs in his mouth. 

“Mmf. Ooh. Look at me. Oh God. Look at me!”

He could see little of his blue uniform, so much of the surface now glistened with white cum, and as for his face! He may as well have had his head shoved in a bucket of slop! Spunk cascaded down his cheekbones and down to the neck of his tunic, where a few matted hairs were poking out.

That wasn’t even Zeal. That was me – I did that… spread semen over my chest hair… and I loved it! What am I? What am I?

And there, hanging crudely out of his mouth, were his soiled red briefs – no longer proud and red, binding his crotch, but now filthy and stained and held between his teeth, making him look utterly idiotic. 

Gagged with my own briefs… I mean, with my panties…

But the worst was yet to come.  For the eyes that looked stared back at him from beneath cum-drenched eyebrows were not defiant or clever; there was nothing Super about them at all. They were the hungry eyes of a man who could focus on nothing but lust, nothing but pleasure, nothing but the moment. And this verdict was confirmed as, once again, he saw his hands reach for his penis, gripping it through the ruined tights and begin to masturbate helplessly.

No use, he thought, as his body began to move itself up and down involuntarily, grinding against Zeal, in thrall to the feel of the other man’s cock. 

Can’t fight this. What kind of man am I? Maybe he’s right.

“Had a good look, hero?” snarled Zeal, as he licked Superman’s ear. 

“Still think you’re so clever, Superman?  Still think you can get out of this? Still denying you’re an idiot? Or do you think a ‘Superman’ would really be trying to hump my cock, just like you are right now?”

“Mmmmmmmff!”

Superman felt the warmth of Zeal’s touch depart from one of his nipples, and the briefs were pulled from his mouth. He stopped grinding against the stiff cock behind him.

“Well?  Superman?”

“Uh.  Uh. I’m sorry,” said Superman quietly.  

“You’re what?”

“I’m sorry! I’m very sorry, Mr Zeal. You’re…. you’re right, sir. You were right and I was wrong.  I’m... I’m an idiot.”

“Louder,” growled Zeal. “You know that I like to make sure the men can hear you, Superman. Don’t be shy now…”

The Man of Steel abandoned all hope then, and he turned and shouted at his reflection: 

“I’m an idiot, sir! I came here to arrest you… b-b-but I can’t. Because I’m what you say: a moron, a… a… a Superchump, who wasn’t clever enough to fight you! I’m a prisoner – not to you, but to my own lust. A… a Superdickhead is what I am. I’m a Superdickhead who w-wants to give up control. It’s just as you said – I’m not a Man of Steel. I’m the Metropolis Moron. Mmm. I’m… a kinky Superwimp in my tights and panties! Oh! Please… sir… give me… give me… give me…”

He could feel the Vice Lord’s cock, pressing against his buttocks. It was hard to think of anything else. He pushed his body back, grinding against that throbbing spear. 

Zeal’s eyes met his.  “Yes?  Give you what, Superman?”

Superman swallowed and the words that both excited and terrified him left his lips.  

“Give me your penis, sir. I mean your dick, your cock – let me have your cock, please! The warmth of it – the heat… I can’t bear it! Please – Zeal – please, give me your cock! I’m Superchump, not Superman any more, and I want your cock!”

As he said this, Superman ground his body desperately against the Vice Lord’s, as if by doing so he could force that human penis up inside him.

Zeal laughed, triumphantly and let the hero go, making him gasp as he did so. Superman stumbled forwards, shaking. With his hands, he reached around and touched his buttocks, longingly feeling the place where Zeal’s cock had just been.

“All right, Superman?”

“No…n-n-no,” said the Man of Steel, “please, don’t call me that, sir – I’m not Superman.  I’m Superchump.”

“Are you sure this time?”

“Y-y-y-yes. Superchump the Man of Jello. That’s who I am. Superman’s gone. Just give me your cock. Please sir,” the hero staggered around for a few seconds, demented with lust and then threw himself down on to his knees once more. He stared up at the Vice Lord. 

“Please – put it in me! Do it!” 

“Well,” said Zeal, “I can’t fuck you, not while you still remain invulnerable. But as you have begged me like the Superchump you are, I am willing to grant your wish. First, however – it’s time to get rid of the last remains of Superman. Take off that ridiculous costume, you idiot. You’ve already filled it with more spunk than it can take. Strip. Strip completely naked for me, you Super-cunt!”

“Oh! Y-y-yes, sir,” stammered the hero. “Of course… I’ll strip right away, sir.” He stumbled up, trying to extricate himself from his tights, and two more of the men came forward.

“Let us help you out, Superprick,” snarled one.

“Oh! Um… Th-thank you…” was the hero’s only response.

Dexterous fingers found their way to the bottom of his tunic and the waistband of tights, and both pairs of hands began to tug roughly at their prize.

“Ooh!” breathed the Man of Steel as he gave in and let these men remove the last of his clothing. 

“I’m being stripped! You’re stripping me! Taking off my tights, just like you took away my briefs… I mean my panties.”  

He couldn’t stop himself from saying this now, aware of how arousing he found it.  

“Lost my panties… now my tights… my tunic… Stripping me naked like a… a real Superchump… a Superprick! I’ve l-lost it all! Oh… here it goes – down they come!”

The semen-drenched tights were first, the material bunching up at the end of his feet. As they were peeled down, Superman’s cock sprung free from its spandex prison for the first time that evening, and a cheer went up from the crowd. 

“Behold,” laughed Zeal, “the last Cock of Krypton!”

A good twelve inches, it stood uncut, coated in spunk and pointing upwards as the tights were dragged from him. The men crowded around him to peer at it; one or two even poked it, but Zeal warned them to go no further. 

Then Superman’s tights were rolled down over his feet, plucked off and thrown aside, their sticky contents pooling on the floor.

Next came his tunic, yanked roughly up and over his head. Once off, the man who pulled it from him rubbed Superman’s face with it, forcibly wiping the jizz-covered S-shield over his mouth.

“Uhhh!” moaned Superman. “Zeal! I’m n-naked now, sir. You’ve s-stripped me! I’ve been stripped naked. Please – your penis, sir… you promised me.”

Mad with lust, he dropped to all fours again without even being asked, and crawled across to where Zeal stood, gloating. The Vice Lord’s own suit was now smeared with cum trails from where he had clutched Superman to him.

“Please…” gasped Superman. “I’m begging you. Superchump the Man of Jello… is begging you. Let me have your penis.”

“NO!” came a voice from the door. “I’m next in line for you, Superman.”

“Ah,” said Zeal. “About time too!”

The crowd parted and Superman stared in confusion as the latecomer to the party strode into their midst, taking his place at Zeal’s side.

“What… don’t understand,” he said. “You?”

“Yeah,” said James Starkey, “me!”  

He fumbled at his uniform belt, frantically pulling down his police trousers.

“What took you so long, Officer?” purred Zeal.

“You know what,” panted Starkey.  “Your special delivery. Here.”  

He thrust a brown parcel at Zeal.  

The Vice Lord took the package from him and opened it as Starkey dropped his trousers and forced his underwear down.

“I see,” breathed Zeal. “You have done well.”  

“Now,” snarled Starkey. “My turn, right?”

Zeal smiled, enjoying seeing how utterly bewildered Superman looked.  

“Of course,” he said. “The Man of Jello here was just telling us all how much he wanted a penis inside him, and you look more than happy to oblige.”  

The Vice Lord raised an eyebrow as his gaze slipped down from Starkey’s stiff cock to his semen-encrusted boxer briefs.  

“Hmm. Seems our pathetic hero wasn’t the only one to cum in his pants this evening.”

“I don’t understand…” repeated Superman. “Officer… Officer Starkey?  It was you who told me about this place… you tipped me off… you couldn’t have… you wouldn’t betray me…”

The dawning realisation washed over him. 

“You have. You did! I… I’ve been set up. This was all a trap… to trick me, to unman me. You knew… and now Zeal’s made me into this: brought me down. I came here as Superman and I fell for it… all of it… I thought I was in charge… and yet all along I was just doing what you wanted… oh!”

Zeal slow-clapped him, regarding him with amusement and contempt.

“And the best of it is, Superchump, it didn’t take long to make you into this, did it?”

“Oh… oh god… no. No, it didn’t. Just like when Luthor tricked me. I fell for it so easily. I… I guess I really am a Superdickhead.”

“Enough,” hissed Zeal. “Starkey, give him your cock!”

James Starkey didn’t need telling twice, and as Superman knelt before him, open-mouthed in disbelief, the police officer’s erect penis met his unresisting lips and entered the mouth of the Man of Steel.

“Suck it, Superman,” panted Starkey. “Go on, suck me!”

His cock thrust back and forth inside Superman’s mouth, but the hero did nothing.

“Now, Starkey,” said Zeal, crouching down next to the hero. “Superman doesn’t answer to that name any more. He’s Superchump now, aren’t you? You should have seen how excited he got when I put this collar on him and made him get down all fours. You liked that, didn’t you? Go on, tell Officer Starkey. Tell him all.”

Superman could hear the unspoken warning in these words. In a small, faltering voice, he said:

“Yes, sir. Officer Starkey? Mr… Mr Zeal made me get down on all fours in my tights. And then he… he put me in a dog’s collar and leash, as you can see.”

“And tell him how it made you feel, Superman,” purred Zeal.

Superman blinked. “You mean Superchump, sir,” he gasped. “Superchump now. It m-m-made me feel good. Mm.’

With a quick look at Zeal, he risked a stroke of his erection.

“Mm. It turned me on when Mr Zeal made me get down on all fours, me – Superman. I mean Superchump. He made me into a dog. On all fours… with my panties on my head… and wearing a collar. And I… I… I liked it, Officer Starkey. Oh God.”

Zeal patted his buttocks. “Good boy, Superchump. Here, Starkey – take his leash and collar.”

Superman gulped as Zeal handed the dog’s leash to Starkey.

“You can take charge of him now, Starkey. A reward for your efforts. Make him into a police dog.”

“But…” said Superman, “but I…”

Zeal put a finger to his lips. “Hush, you pathetic idiot. Real men are talking now, not you.”

Superman’s eyes grew wide at this, but he said nothing. Naked, kneeling and with a dog’s collar around his throat, it was hard to dispute Zeal’s point.

“Okay,” said Starkey, “SuperCHUMP… remember when you were guest of honour at the Metropolis PD social last year? How you stood there taking the glory while everyone applauded you, and then you told us ‘we’re really all on the same side’?”

Superman’s eyes widened. He nodded. “Yes, sir. I remember.”

“Well, now’s your chance to show it, Superman. All those times you’ve taken the credit for keeping the city safe while us poor schmucks just get on with our jobs quietly? Now’s your turn to give something back. Isn’t that right… Superchump. We’re all on the same side, huh?”

Starkey hissed the words. And Superman slowly took hold of his stiff wet cock, withdrawing it gently from his mouth. All resistance gone, he nodded slowly. 

“Yes, sir, Officer Starkey. All… all on the same side, sir. I’m sorry you thought I was taking the g-glory. I can see I’ve made mistakes. I’ll… do it, sir. I’ll make up for it now, sir. I’m… I’m Superchump… the Metropolis Moron… naked and on my knees… and I’m g-g-going to suck your… your dick. Like a good Superchump, sir.”

And obediently, taking slow and hesitant steps, Superman began to suck the police officer’s dick. He kissed the tip a few times, just as he’d done with Zeal’s feet. 

“Mm. Mm. Mmf.”

I have to do it… come on… I asked for cock… let’s do this properly. Show Officer Starkey… Show Zeal…

And then he took the whole length of it inside his mouth and began his work.

As he did so, Zeal continued talking to him, whispering in one ear, while with another hand he reached out and began to masturbate the Man of Steel.

“You see, Superchump, you’re only just beginning to realise what an idiot you truly are.  Starkey duped you into coming here and you couldn’t see it. You were too arrogant. 

“And don’t think this is over, you flying Super-shithead. If you think I’ve brought you low now then trust me – I’ve got much worse still to do to you. I’m going to break you, Superman. I’m going to do such things to you that will make this – on your knees, naked and sucking off a cop just like you’re a whore – look like the height of dignity.”

“Mmf!” said the hero. As Starkey’s penis went back and forth across his tongue, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Zeal.

What have I done? What have I done? Oh!

Even as Superman began to realise the full extent of his predicament, Vince Zeal continued to masturbate him, while all around he was vaguely conscious of businessmen throwing his soiled uniform between them, laughing at it, taunting him, ridiculing the former Man of Steel.

He’s totally humiliated me! There’s no way back from this. Zeal’s right – I’m sucking a dick like a prostitute. His hand… on my penis… masturbating me… And the worst of it is… part of me – maybe all of me? – still wants it… so, so bad. I’m Superman, the strongest man in the world, and I’m willingly humiliating myself. 

Look in the mirror: Superman is sucking dick! Superman is sucking dick, and he wants it! And… look at me… go on, Clark, just look at yourself and admit it: I like sucking Starkey’s dick! I like being on all fours and knowing what I’m doing! Knowing that I’ve been defeated! Yeah, Clark! I’ve been dominated in my tights. I’ve been stripped naked! Finally I’m not the big man any more – I’m… I’m Superman the cocksucker! What did Zeal call me? Mm. Yes. The Caped Cocksucker. I’m the Caped Cocksucker from Krypton, and I enjoy it! It’s true! Oh no! Oh no! Here it goes…

Starkey shuddered and gave a yell, and as the officer he’d once thought a friend began to cum in his mouth, and Zeal continued to whispered degrading statements in his ear, his hot breath and swift fingers punctuating every derisive word, Superman’s eyes strayed back to the mirror once more. He watched himself, on his knees, naked, a dog leash around his neck and his mouth defiled by an ejaculating penis, and then for a fleeting second, part of him tried to  assert itself and remember who he was… who he had been…

Kal-El of Krypton. Superman. The Man of Steel. My mission… I have the powers of a god amongst these men. I need to save them… to be a light to them… to give these people hope.

Yet despite these desperate thoughts, Superman felt his mouth filling with the hot cum Starkey was pumping into him. And suddenly a more potent memory hit him then. He recalled the exact moment, just over an hour ago, that something else had entered his mouth.  Zeal’s tongue. The moment he had given in and returned Vincent Zeal’s electrifying kiss. Not resisting it… embracing the heady feelings of lust… of being dominated by another man. Dominated by that man. 

The Vice Lord.

Mmm… felt too good. I wanted it then. Zeal’s tongue in my mouth. Inside me. And I want this now. Mmm… my mouth… oh… filling… Starkey’s spunk… inside me… me, Superman… oh!

And with an enormous gulp, Superman swallowed a huge load of Starkey’s cum, just as he, too, began to cum. 

Zeal felt the hero start to climax, and he let go of him, as yet another superhuman surge of spunk began gushing from his cock. 

As for Starkey, he now withdrew from Superman’s mouth and blasted the last of his load over his face. The Man of Steel gave an ignoble shriek, high and thick from his cum-drenched mouth, even as he erupted like Vesuvius once more. And then he collapsed, falling backwards, and letting his superhuman seed pump away all over his writhing, naked body.

Standing up and shaking his head in amazement, Vincent Zeal turned and wiped his hand on the arm of his jacket. And then he inspected the package Starkey had given him.

“Yes,” he said, pulling out the contents.  “A million dollars… now let’s see if it was worth it.”

And while Superman fell backwards, babbling like an idiot, lost in the throes of orgasm, Zeal held up a shining golden lasso to the light, and smiled triumphantly.  

have you already done the whole series as an extended edition or is it just chapters one and two?

This is part 12 of an adult content, NSFW erotic Superman story, inspired by a frankly stunning image of the Man of Steel sitting next to a gloryhole created by @Buffy2ville on Deviantart, who kindly gave permission for this - thank you. If you are not an adult then this is NOT for you.

No offence or copyright infringement is intended; it is purely for ADULT enjoyment, not for profit. And so, I hope you enjoy... 

Clark Kent has agreed to a night of performing fellatio at a gloryhole, to atone for a libellous article he wrote and thus save the jobs of everyone at the Daily Planet. Yet unbeknownst to his blackmailers, Clark is really Superman, and has long harboured potent fantasies of being sexually dominated by other men. Locked inside a public bathroom by Lance Lewis, and told he will be there alone until dawn, he soon gave into temptation and began performing his task not as Clark, but Superman, dressed in his spandex, the danger of his predicament only increasing his arousal.

Four clients and four cocks down, Superman has at last realised why he has been feeling strange… during the course of the evening his powers have been knocked out. The Man of Steel is now more helpless, humiliated and vulnerable than he has ever been, and everything is at stake. The cause of this has now been revealed to be Lex Luthor. Whilst the genius millionaire curses and wonders why his plan to strip the Man of Steel of his powers has not succeeded, little does he know that in fact, it has worked better than he could have hoped. To Superman’s shock, his fifth client of the night turns out to be a Lubanian, who once served in the military of that country under Colonel Koslov during the period the Man of Steel was imprisoned there. Despite the terrible memories this awakens, Clark cannot turn back and must finish what he started. Thus we rejoin him now, on his knees in his soiled spandex, as a vast load of Lubanian spunk pumps into Superman’s willing and subservient mouth…

“Why did it not work? I checked everything a hundred times; Superman should be powerless. He ought to be weakened to the level of a normal human male or even just below. It should have worked! Damn it, it should have worked!” Yet whilst Lex Luthor stared at the formula of his synthetic Kryptonite mist, cursing his luck, and wondering sourly how his latest scheme had failed to rob Superman of his powers, on the other side of Metropolis, the newly vulnerable Man of Steel fell backwards and collapsed against the wall of the filthy toilet cubicle, giving a slight whimper as something sharp pierced one of his buttocks. These tiny shocks… even pain… it was all new to him. Had Lex but known it, his insidious red mist had succeeded beyond his wildest dreams.

“I’ll fill your fucking mouth, you Superklutenscum! I’ll give you so much jizz you’ll wonder what hit you!” The Lubanian had lived up to this promise, Superman gasped and swallowed, his mouth full to bursting. Rivulets of sticky cum dangled from his chin, as he gulped the rest of the man’s seed down. How quickly he had become accustomed to the taste of semen. Laughter came from the other side of the gloryhole. “Did Superklutenscum enjoy that?”

My client… have to please… my client. Already finding himself blindly obedient to Lance Lewis’s instructions, the Man of Steel scrambled towards the hole, where he tried to speak through the gluey contents of his mouth. “Yesh… mmf… yeff, sir… I enjoyed it, thank you. Oh… so much… so much s-s-spunk in my m-mouth…” The Lubanian laughed again. “You know,” he said, “you actually do a good impression of Superman. You sound just like him. Even through that mouthful of spunk I just gave you.” “Mmmph. Yesh. Yeff. So I’m told,” replied the Man of Steel, licking his lips. 

And then, because he figured he might as well get the thrill of saying it, he added: 

“It’s because I am Superman, sir. I really am. I’m kneeling here powerless in my spandex… me, Superman… I'm the Man of Steel and I just sucked your Lubanian dick. Like a Superklutenscum.” “You sure did,” replied his client. “You know… ‘Superman’… I’ll tell you something before I go. Something real funny. You know what scared Superklutenscum  - your so-called ‘Man of Steel’ the worst when he was in our glorious country?” Superman felt his cheeks burn hot once more, even as the spunk cascaded down his chin. “N-no, sir. What scared him most? Was it…” he gulped, and more semen made its way down his throat. “Was it… Colonel Koslov?” He heard his voice, clogged with semen, shaking as he uttered the name of the man who had dominated him in ways he could never have dreamed of. The Lubanian laughed. “No… Superman feared Koslov and he was right to do so. But the thing that terrified him more than anything else was the Colonel’s pet falcon, Katchi.” “Aah!” Superman gave a tiny little whimper. Within his tights and briefs his cock began rapidly to deflate once more, turning flaccid. In terror, he watched his erection sinking.

“That… that c-c-can’t be true.” “Oh, it’s true, my friend. Superman turned into a Supercoward at the sight of that bird.” He felt himself shaking with fright as the memory returned. The falcon had been a tool of Koslov’s sadism. Somehow it had instilled itself in Superman’s psyche like nothing before or since. As he pictured the bird now, looming over him, he just managed to prevent another whimper escaping his lips.

“Yeah… that’s surprised you, hasn’t it, my cocksucking friend?” sneered the Lubanian. “Your Superman doesn’t mention that when he’s being interviewed, does he? But we didn’t forget in Lubania. Once, when I was on guard duty, I watched that falcon swoop down on Superklutenscum. And you know what he did, your great Man of Steel?” “N-no,” whispered Superman, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Whuh-what… what did he do?” The man laughed. “He ran away… and then he was so frightened without his powers… frightened of what the falcon could do to him… that your Superman climbed into a garbage can to hide!” It was true. He had suppressed the memory for so long, but it came back to him now as if he were living it afresh.

Koslov had trained Katchi to torment the powerless Man of Steel. That falcon… he shuddered at the memory. Who knew the Man of Steel could be so scared by a mere bird? And yet those talons, that beak. Even its eyes were cruel, and Superman remembered the chill that overtook him every time he saw the creature bearing down on him. It was as if the falcon, too, was ridiculing him, looking upon him not as a hero, or a god, or even a man, but as something pitiable, laughable, mere prey beneath its claws.

During the height of his stay at the Lubanian prison camp, Koslov had even managed to train Katchi to pull off Superman’s briefs. This was one of the worst punishments he had endured there. He would be forced to run through the camp, chased by the falcon, for the entertainment of Koslov and his troops. Then, when he fell or could run no more, the falcon would swoop down upon the cowering, helpless Man of Steel, ripping at his briefs. Once, he even tried to remove them, to speed the process and get it over with, but Koslov had him whipped for this. And so, Superman simply had to lie there in the filth, as the malevolent bird tore at him, bit by bit removing his briefs. In the process, its talons would slice painfully at his buttocks, his thighs, and more than once, his penis.

The first time it happened, he had made the grave error of begging, crying out:

“Not my briefs! C-Colonel… p-p-please! Not my b-b-briefs!” This had angered Koslov, something Superman learned never to do thereafter.

“Briefs? Briefs? You do not wear ‘briefs’, Superklutenscum! You wear panties, don’t you? Don’t you?” There still remained a spark of defiance in Superman at this point, and he had stuck out his chin and said:

“N-no… they… they are briefs. My uniform briefs. Please…” Koslov’s fury was terrible. He ordered Katchi to swoop relentlessly at the whimpering Man of Steel. Just when he felt he could take no more, the bird was called off, and Koslov and his men surrounded Superman.

Lying in the filthy dirt, he looked up at them, trembling. He had never known it was possible to feel like this. “So… what is it you wear, Superklutenscum? What is it that you are so keen for Katchi not to remove? Is it briefs? IS IT?” “No!” yelled the terrified hero, pathetically. “Not briefs! I'm sorry! I"m sorry, sir! I… I wear… p-p-panties, sir! Yes… I wear panties, Colonel! P-please… don’t take my panties off… I”m b-b-begging you, sir… let me keep my panties!” To try and prove his point, Superman scrambled clumsily on to his knees before the Colonel and wrung his hands. “I’ve learned my lesson, sir, and I’m b-begging you… please don’t take my panties off, sir…. Please!” Koslov smiled. “Good, Superklutenscum. Very good, you pathetic weakling. I’m impressed with you.” “Oh!” gasped Superman. These few scant words of praise caused a rush of endorphines, such was the rarity of any softening towards him. “Thank you, Colonel, thank you! You won’t regret it, sir.” “Won’t regret what, klutenscum?” “Letting me keep my… uh… my p-panties, sir.” “Ha! You fool… who said I was going to do that? Come, my pet - take his panties down, now!”

He had let out a shriek. The bird had duly carried out its task, as he writhed helpless beneath her talons. And this became a terrible ritual for Superman, one of many that he would endure during his time in Lubania.

He blinked, and the memory receded in the depths of his mind once more. This night of ecstasy had now become a nightmare… his rollercoaster of pleasure and arousal had suddenly turned sour. 

Superman looked down at his crotch where beneath his spandex tights and briefs, his limp cock had now retreated into  their gooey contents. He could feel it shrinking at this man’s words, at the memory, the same way he was doing now, as if he could hide from them. “A g-g-g-g-garbage can,” he echoed dumbly. It was just as he said… it was like he was back there now, hiding in that filthy muck, as the falcon terrorised him. “Yeah! He crawled inside - climbed into it like the Superwimp he is… and believe me, it was full of all kinds of disgusting stuff. Superman didn’t care, he was just terrified of that bird. In the end he begged us to put the lid on the garbage can! And it was me who got to do it - yes! I put the lid on your blubbering Superwimp, trapping him inside like the garbage he is! He hid in there until Katchi got bored and went to eat. Boy, did your hero smell when we finally tipped him out of that thing! We had to strip him naked and make him wash his tights!”

“Oh,” gasped the Man of Steel. “Superman… a Superwimp? A… a Superwimp… trapped… hiding in… in a filthy garbage can. Ooh! I… I… oh!”

“Yes! A Superwimp! How you westerners buy into his lies! Whenever we see him on TV in Lubania, it’s like the whole country stops and laughs. We toast the Superwimp and remember how we brought him down. That speech he made to the United Nations last year, that was broadcast around the world? I swear you could have gone deaf with the sound of laughter in Lubania; everyone ridicules Superman. Because we know what lies underneath all his confidence. For all his posturing and pompous speeches, we remember the man who hid in a trash can, and begged us not to take his panties down. We saw his true nature, saw how cowardly he is when you take away his abilities. Trust me - without his powers, Superman is nothing but a Superwimp in tights. A pathetic, grovelling little coward hiding in a garbage can full of rotting filth. I’ll never forget that. Nor will our people. That's his legacy in Lubania.” Despite everything, Superman then found the courage to ask the question he had wanted an answer to for years. “So… uh… why do you not say anything? You Lubanians captured Superman, weakened him, humiliated him, made him… do things… and did things to him. Unmanned him in the most appalling ways. You... you t-t-turned him into a... a S-superwimp. Hnngh. Whuh-why… why have you never exposed all this to the rest of the world? All they know is that Superman was a prisoner in Lubania for months.” “Ha!” said the man. “That’s a typical westerner question. Here… I’m going to stick my dick through the gloryhole again. Clean off the last of my spunk with your tongue and then I’ll tell you, understand?” “Oh! Yes, sir,” said Superman. He would have done anything to know the answer to this question. Under the circumstances, he actually found slurping a few more drops of cum from this man’s penis was quite comforting.

He completed his job with ease and kissed the end of the cock, before it was withdrawn.

“Good job, cocksucker,” said the voice from the other side. “Ha! Or should I call you ‘Supercocksucker’? Hahaha!” Superman blushed, despite himself. “Yes, sir. Supercocksucker is perfect, thank you. Please… won’t you tell me the answer to my question now. Tell me…” he paused, and then said: “Tell Supercocksucker, please. Mm.” This was met with another low chuckle. “Sure, Supercocksucker. You want to know why we let Superman maintain his image? Why we don’t let on what really happened, just how low he was brought when he was ours?” Superman brought his face close to the hole. “Yes - yes, I do, sir. Superman - I mean, Superklutenscum… Supercocsucker… he must wonder why too.” “I’ll tell you: we just don’t care.” This answer hit Superman like an anvil.

“Yup. We don’t give a damn about Superman. He can fly around all he likes, pretending to be this and that, making out he’s the strongest man in the world. That he's never been beaten. And us, Lubania? People think we’re some backward little Eastern European nation. But our scientist, Dr Zirkan - he stripped away Superman’s powers like that-”

A snap of clicked fingers came from the hole. “All of these supervillains and monsters, even aliens… even Lex Luthor himself. They dream about doing what we did. But it was us that actually did it - Lubania. Colonel Koslov. Dr Zirkan. Everyone in Lubania knows what Superman really is. Everyone knows how he behaved when he was our prisoner. How cowardly he was without his powers to protect him. And you know what, cocksucker - Superman knows it too. That’s the biggest joke. Everything we did to him. He will never forget that. He can preen and lecture the world as he did with that speech to the UN. But when he goes to bed at night, I bet some part of Superman remembers grovelling in the dirt in Lubania. Hiding in a trash can. And he will never, ever forget it. That’s why. Get it now?”

Superman had gone quite cold.

“Y-yes,” he said. “I… I do. I see that. And I… I think you’re right. I think Superman does remember all of those things… in his darkest and most p-private moments. I think he thinks of them often.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Another guttural laugh came from the hole, then: “And you know, any time the Colonel wanted to bring Superman to heel, he only had to say three words...” “Whuh-what?” Superman had started to feel whispers of arousal once more, but now this was replaced by abject terror. The man chuckled again. “Why you say ‘whuh-what, cocksucker?’ You wanna know what were the words?” “No! N-no!” he babbled. “I didn’t mean that, I-” “I’ll tell you, cocksucker.” Superman wanted to run, but found himself paralysed with fright. Don’t say it, he thought, but couldn’t find the will to speak. Don’t say it! “All my colonel had to say was…” Superman tensed, plunging a fist to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. “Katchi! Punish Superman!” A cold and clammy horror engulfed him, one that he had not known for years, ever since escaping Lubania. And as Superman gazed down at his crotch, trembling with unbridled terror, he saw the fabric now change shade again, at the torrent of urine now wetting it. His bladder was emptying at the mention of these words. He was pissing himself.

His jaw fell open. Superman, the erstwhile Man of Steel was now utterly defiled.

“And you know what happened to Superklutenscum, when Koslov said these words? Huh? Do ya?”

“Did I… did I… I mean, did he… did he wet himself?” whispered Superman, as his cock gushed away. Already he was sitting in a puddle of his own making. “When Koslov said those words… I bet… I bet Superman… p-p-pissed his tights and briefs with f-fright.” “Yes! You guessed right! Every time. Good answer. Except it’s not his briefs, is it, Superklutenscum…? Huh? Or have you not been listening to me?” Superman swallowed miserably as he watched the steaming hot flow pouring from his uniform.

“N-no. N-no, sir. I should have said… Superman pissed his tights and… and his panties. I mean… that is to say, I… I pissed my tights and panties. Oh! And you’ve made me do it again now! Those words… scared me so… oh! I’ve wet my panties, sir!” “Haha! I hope not,” cried the Lubanian, “I really hope you're joking, otherwise you really will stink, little klutenscum. Anyway, see you around - thanks for a good job, my cocksucking friend. Perhaps I’ll let you suck it again some time. Give my regards to your Superman… ha! Hands on his hips, pretending not to remember what he made him into. What a joke... A Superwimp, right? Don't forget that.” "Yes," said Superman, dumbly. "A S-s-s-superwimp. I won't forget. Oh." The last drops of his Kryptonian urine exited the tip of his penis, and all that remained in his crotch was a wet mess. "A Superwimp," he said softly again. "Oh... oh..." Even without his super-hearing, he heard the man’s footsteps retreating, then there was silence. Superman sat there stunned. He felt his tights and briefs, now wet with the contents of his own bladder, along with the precum of his frustrated erection, and the spattered semen of the several men he had serviced so far. He reached down and pulled at the blue material that bound his inner thigh. It snapped back, as he released it, drops of piss flying from it.

“Lubania,” he murmured. “I could never have known. Oh! They… they did things to me… all those things… and I knelt at Koslov’s feet and begged.”

He’d thought he had buried these demons long ago, but tonight had proved otherwise. He had never known humiliation like this - never. “I pissed myself,” he said, his voice still unsteady. “Even after all this time, the memory of Koslov’s falcon was enough… to make me wet my tights and briefs." He forced himself up and stared at his reflection once more.

“Oh great Rao. No. Oh no… no! I’ve wet my tights and panties. I, Superman… have wet my tights and panties. Oh boy. How am I ever going to get out of this?” His eyes turned once more to where his trousers lay in the filth. There was no going back now. Every single piece of his clothing, be it Clark Kent’s or Superman’s was now totally defiled. “Clark? You’ve got another client coming. You okay in there?” Lance Lewis. Superman stared at the door, wishing he could activate his x-ray vision. He tried in vain, but there was nothing. His eyes returned to the tops of his thighs and the crotch of his briefs, the spandex now darkened from where he had soiled himself helplessly. He moved halfheartedly towards his trousers with the intention of pulling them on, and then stopped. Once more, there was no time to attempt to dress himself. Lewis was keeping the men coming. Coming for him - Clark Kent… Superman… the Man of Steel… now turned professional whore. A Superwhore. He was a Superwhore now, and he was trapped. And even as he thought this, a famliar tingle began at his crotch. And Superman looked down to see stirrings in his saturated tights and briefs. “Yes sir, Mr Lewis,” he called out meekly. “Everything is okay, sir. I’m ready for my next client, sir. Thank you, sir.” “Glad to hear it, Clark. Be sure to do a good job for me now, won’t you?” Once more, Superman’s eyes flicked to the mirror, and he gazed at his eyes as he spoke.

“Yes, sir, Mr Lewis. I’ll do a good job. A super job. I’ll suck cock real good for you, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“Glad to hear it, dickbreath.” Lewis’s footsteps grew fainter and fainter. And without even bothering to whisper, Superman ran one finger along his stiffening shaft, as he said: “I’m the Last Son of Krypton. The Man of Tomorrow. The Man of Steel. And yet here and now I’ve filled my tights and briefs with spunk and urine. I’ve pissed myself. Oh great Rao… and yet I’m getting hard again. I couldn’t be more humiliated… and yet a part of me…”

He gripped his cock as it rose to a full erection once more, feeling it tense and ramrod stiff through his wet and sticky spandex. “…hnngh… THIS part of me… still wants… more! Mmmmm…” So saying, he wiped his dick on his hands. Raising his fingers to his mouth, he proceeded to greedily ingest the contents of each digit.

“Come on then,” he said, “whose cock is waiting for me now? I’m Superklutenscum… and my memories are alive… all those complicated, terrible memories I've kept locked away for years... and now I’m a prisoner once more, just like I was in Lubania. Lewis called me 'dickbreath'... and I guess I must smell of dick by now. It's true. So let them stuff me full of cock… bring it on!”

He grinned at himself in the mirror. “If I’m a prisoner then I may as well enjoy it.” For a split second, he fancied he could see the shocked faces of Jor-El and the Elders of Krypton once more, luminous as they scowled at him.

“No,” he growled. “Not now. Get out! Go away! Go away!” The vision faded, and Superman grinned. “Well. My powers are gone. I’ve lost everything. I’m not a Man of Steel any more, am I? To hell with it.” With the index finger of his right hand, he traced the S-shield on his chest, making a path through the part-dried layers of spunk that coated it. Then he gripped his erection and gasped.

“I’m Superman,” he panted, “not Superman the Man of Steel. They gave me that name. I’ll give myself another now: I’m the Man of Cock! Ha!” He chuckled with glee and squeezed his shaft excitedly. “Yes! I’m the Man of Cock! The Man of Spunk! The Prisoner of Lubania, who grovelled and begged before Colonel Koslov. The Superwimp. Uhhhh! Yeah. I'm a Superwimp now. I’m all of those things, and I own them now. I’m not afraid any more. I’m not going to wet myself again. I’ve already filled my tights and briefs with precum and urine… with piss - ha! yes, with piss... why be pious, Superwimp? -  and I don’t care. The Lubanians are right - they saw the real me.” He found himself in a frenzy now, and on a whim, he slipped his hand inside his filthy red briefs. The sensations were off the scale; and Superman laughed again.

“And you know what?” he said. “My briefs… my uniform briefs… legacy of the Elders of Krypton, all those old men looking down on me, judging me… legacy of the House of El… well, to hell with it. In fact..." He stopped suppressing the image and gave it full reign: the Elders of Krypton appeared before him, as he imagined their scorn. Each of them looked appalled at his disgraceful state, and he gave a sly smile.

"Yes! Look at me," he cried. "Take a good look at the Last Son of Krypton! I was sent here, sentenced to be a god, the most powerful being on the planet. To live the life of a monk. Well, not any more! My powers are gone! Now I can live a full life, a life of lust! I can be a... a Superwimp! Yes! A Man of Cock!" He gestured gleefully to his briefs. "And see these? My uniform briefs? A symbol of my noble Kryptonian heritage. Well, the briefs are gone - they’re my panties now! Oh yeah! That's right: I've been turned into a helpless Superwimp and my briefs.... hah... uhhhhh... have been t-t-turned into my panties! I wear panties. Why should I spend my every waking hour saving the planet? I couldn't if I wanted to now, I'm powerless - screw your mission, Elders! I'm a wimp in tight and panties! I'm pathetic! Kal-El of Krypton is pathetic, a pathetic wimp in panties... and I love it! I'm going to enjoy myself, and there's not a damned thing anyone can do to stop me! I'm already covered in spunk and urine... I mean, piss... yes! And I'm going to get my precious uniform even more dirty! Hnnnnngh!” Superman gasped as he said this, and the faces he had imagined disappeared, though their looks of disgust remained in his psyche. It was so unthinkable, such a betrayal of all he stood for. And that turned him on even more. “Oh! Oh! Yes! My panties! It’s done - I’ve renamed them, too! My briefs are now my panties. I’m Superman… And I wear tights and panties… and I’m the Man of Cock… the Man of hot, stiff, cocks! So give me some more and let me please my customers. Let me please Lance Lewis. My employer. I'm a Superwhore. So come on… let's get me back down on my knees, where I belong!” And then, the man who less than an hour ago had been the mightiest being on the planet, got down on his knees in a puddle of his own piss, and sat patiently, waiting for another cock to suck. “Lex,” said Mercy, frowning at the screen of her tablet, “this might be nothing, but… the nanobots have got a faint trace coming up, matching his biometric signature.” Luthor looked up, his eyes wild. “Superman? Superman’s biometric signature?” “Yeah. It’s faint and irregular… but it’s coming from downtown Metropolis… somewhere… somewhere really unpleasant, near 69th. I'm guessing the reason we couldn't get a signal before is because Superman hadn't ingested enough of the mist. He must have inhaled a ton of the stuff now. It's rewriting his biology as we speak, just as you intended. And from what I'm seeing...”