Tam-Rex VS Heroes Part 2

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Tam-Rex vs Superman  (Superman to the rescue?)

Superman fights to free the enslaved Tarzan

Kal Jor-El, Superman to most, is having a bad time of it in his personal life of late, having lost, at least temporarily, his great loves of his life within the past year. It was long-time flame, Lois Lane, who has never been quite the same since her unfortunate kidnapping and subsequent brainwashing by master criminal, Lex Luthor.It darned near killed Kal trying to win back her affections after her release from Luthor’s clutches. 

Now Tarzan,has been savagely beaten and enslaved by that sadistic young Tiburran Warrior, Tam-Rex. The former Jungle Lord, now known as Jungle Slut by his Tiburran captors, is, by all accounts, outwardly content and earnest in his slavish 24/7 devotion to the imperious young Teen Tyro, Tam-Rex.  But Superman knows, or thinks he does, that Tarzan cannot  possibly be of sound mind; is perhaps doped up perpetually, artificially maintained in a strange state of vulnerability and weakness by his evil young warrior captor.  There is no other logical explanation for his bizarre transformation in his mind.  He also knows he must do everything in his power to free him. 

But freeing Tarzan won’t be as easy for Kal as it might appear.   Reportedly, the Jungle King, or rather Jungle Slut, is kept well guarded most times within a thick, lead-lined cell, thus neutralizing Superman’s x-ray vision and superhuman powers should he come nosing around un-announced.Kal’s sources also report that his enslaved friend has been seeing wearing a green glowing necklace while out of his lead-lined cell.  From afar, Kal’s x-ray vision has, as suspected, ascertained traces of Kryptonite in the necklace; how powerful, or debilitating to his health, it would be has not yet been determined.Regardless, Kal has been around criminal elements enough to know this isn’t just a case of darting in, snatching his friend, and getting out of there.  Nothing is ever that easy in the long running struggles between the Man of Steel and master criminals he’s confronted; and to his mind Tam-Rex is, indeed, just such a master criminal.

So Kal tries the diplomatic route to win Tarzan’s freedom, negotiating a trip to Tiburra to challenge the new warrior champion to a duel, with the freedom of his enslaved friend at stake.  Kal is quite sure Tarzan will regain his rightful senses once he defeats the evil blond and releases the raven-haired man from the strange spell Tam-Rex has cast over him.  Tam-Rex, for his part, thinks it’s the perfect set-up for the next step in his master plan to subjugate yet another Justice League “idiot”, as he refers to them, and move one step closer to world domination.  Their divergent views of the whole affair, not to mention poor Tarzan’s fate, will be put to the ultimate test in the battle arena on Tiburra. 

Kal is shocked, if not also doubly determined, upon landing on Tiburra and first spying his enslaved friend.  Tarzan is brought from his cell, naked save for a black leather triangular patch at his crotch and that green speckled necklace, looking gaunt and startlingly meek and submissive.  He doesn’t even look Kal’s way, his usually brilliant blue eyes dull and hollow-looking and staring straight ahead while Boy, Tam-Rex’s top aide and confidante, easily pushes him down to all fours and snaps a studded slave collar around his neck.  Kal aches for his fallen friend, wants desperately to go to his side to comfort him; but he also knows there are traces of Kryptonite in the necklace.  He doesn’t feel any effect from this distance, thinks the small traces found there are perhaps not enough to significantly diminish his superpowers; but he’s also had enough bad run-ins with the stuff to make him cautious, despite that great urge to rush to his friend’s side.Sensing his conflicted thoughts, Tam-Rex, emerging from his palatial quarters for the first time since Kal arrived, smirks loudly to the dumbstruck Man of Steel, “Look, but don’t touch, if you know what’s good for you.” 

Kal looks to the sound of Tam-Rex’s voice, can’t resist staring long and hard at the stunning sight before him; of a muscled god-like creature, stripped to a gold loin cloth, striding confidently his way.  For a moment he has to wonder if his snide comment to “look, but don’t touch”, refers, indeed, to the imperious young warrior’s incredible body, not Tarzan’s paler, gaunter frame.  For suddenly Kal is filled with a strange desire to do just that; to touch him, a male, that incredible form, that is. But of course he’s too much of a man to do such, though the animal urges are certainly there.He shakes his head vigorously to wipe out such impure thoughts, greatly bothered by the fact that he’s let his superpowers of concentration waver even this much; and, truthfully, having momentarily forgotten his cowering friend across the way. Despite the radiant, almost magnetic, sensual allure of the muscled young warrior, he forces himself to return his attention to the sad sight of poor Tarzan on hands and knees, padding along with head down while being led on a leash by Boy toward his young Master.

Kal watches greatly disturbed, but at a safe distance, given the shiny green necklace adorning Tarzan’s neck, as his cowed friend, so far removed from the strong, he-man he’s known, quivers uncontrollably while he crouches before his new Master now.  With a simple curt command from the imperious Teen Tyro, “eyes up, tongue out, slut; now do my crotch”, the enslaved raven

haired man begins to eagerly, shamelessly, lap a devoted tongue over every exquisite inch of that impossible large, sex organs  presented before him. Kal remains shocked by Tarzan’s pale trembling person, that he does; but also disturbingly aroused as he gazes unavoidably at that near perfect warrior form lording over his kneeling friend, a sensation not helped by the stark contrast between the two warriors, young and old.  For, as Kal, loathing himself for doing so, but unable to stop the comparison, notes, the young blond is not only bigger and more muscular than the enslaved creature kneeling before him; but everything about Tam-Rex’s fantastic body is superior to the older warrior Kal, and many others, once thought exemplified manly perfection.  The pecs are larger and rounder, his arms bigger, longer and more defined, the midsection is flat and rippling with muscularity that Tarzan, his own gut betraying just a bit of softness in his advancing years, can only dream of now; and, of course, those magnificent legs, longer, bigger, muscles much more defined than Tarzan’s. Even his face, youthful, high cheekbones, squared jaw, and all, is more manly than Tarzan’s, he ruefully admits to himself. 

A gaping Kal can go on and on with such lusty musings; but he realizes he’s getting hornier than he cares to admit, and becouse of a man.So he forces himself to concentrate yet again, cries out angrily to Tam-Rex, “Mister, you can’t do that to him; he is Tarzan, King of the Jungle.  He doesn’t deserve such treatment.”  Tam-Rex merely scoffs at his gentlemanly protest, snorts, “yeah right, big boy; can’t you see your little slutty friend here adores me?  He digs this, or haven’t you noticed?  And he certainly ain’t king of anything at the moment, hah hah!”  Below the blond, Tarzan, or Jungle Slut, depending on who you talk to, pulls away from lapping his devoted tongue over Tam-Rex’s full, heavy smooth bull balls for just an instant when he hears Kal’s voice; but he stays on his knees staring at the Man of Steel with blank, dulled  eyes that recognize no familiarity with or present concern for the man he once was friend. Instead, to Superman’s dismay, even as he continues to reach out to him, calling him by name, promising him he will win his freedom, the enslaved former king gives him one last dispassionate stare before abruptly returning yet again to lovingly licking the monster crotch of his adored Master. 

Poor Kal is heartbroken by Tarzan’s dispassionate stare, and enraged at the imperious Teen Tyro, yet also disturbingly aroused by the whole scene.  Despite the danger signals, the hardening bulge in his crotch, the lapses in his normally iron clad superpowers of concentration that have let him ogle Tam-Rex’s heavenly body like a love-struck schoolboy, he angrily challenges Tam-Rex, “Mister, I will not stand for this another moment; please have Tarzan put at a safe distance, but where I can see him at all times to make sure he is okay.  And then we must fight, RIGHT NOW, for his honor and freedom”.  Tam-Rex, visibly annoyed, snaps, “You’re on my turf, Big Boy; so don’t get pushy.  But I’ll fight you right now, sure I will.  Wrestling okay by you? I think that’s what we agreed on?”  Kal numbly nods his head and the public square is quickly cleared for their fight; with Kal thinking, “I’ll overpower him quickly, end this charade;” while Tam-Rex, his keen vision picking up the telltale bulge from 20 paces away even, smirks silently, “yes, I’ve got the horny bastard right where I want him; bring it on, Slut Boy!” 

With Tam-Rex’s top lieutenant, Boy leading poor Tarzan off to one side, another of Tam-Rex’s top aides, a powerfull black man, Even, ironically another of Tarzan’s one-time “flavors of the month”, who has eagerly switched allegiance to the new warrior champion, steps forward to act as match referee.   The combatants step forward to within a few feet of each other, Kal staring at the ground in a lame attempt to avoid fixating his wandering gaze on that amazing warrior body; and thus somewhat control still raging hormones. Tam-Rex teasingly pumps up impressively developed arms and legs and chides him, “look here, Big Boy, look what you gotta deal with! Think you can handle it?”. Kal ignores him, for the most part, shedding his red cape and handing it to Even as agreed upon beforehand, then lamely protesting, “Please, my opponent is inappropriately dressed; he must, at a minimum, cover his torso!”.  Even does the smirking now, laughingly responding, “sorry, Superman, nothing about covering torsos in the contract”. 

And indeed there isn’t, as Kal well knows.  But what was put in the contract was a stipulation that no green Kryptonite, not even the faintest trace, be present, during the duel.  Over to one side, Boy satisfies this stipulation by removing the green glowing necklace from around Jungle Slut’s neck and placing it in a thick, lead-lined container.  The special Kryptonite sensor that Superman has packed along is handed to Boy, who places it next to the sealed container, with nary a danger beep emitted.  Kal considers the instrument foolproof, and effective for picking up even the scarcest traces of the green stuff within a radius of at least 200 yards. He nods his head approvingly,  even as Tam-Rex warns, “don’t get any lame-brain ideas, lunkhead; Boy can break the seal in a split second, and will, if he sees the slightest movement by you in the direction of your slutty friend over there.  I expect you’ll abide by the rules of engagement.”  Kal nods his head.  He is, above all, a man of his word; even though he thinks it, at worst, a 50-50 proposition that his supersonic speed could overcome Boy’s split second reaction time; and that he might just be able to snatch poor Tarzan up and get out of there before the seal can be broken. 

But deep down he realizes it’s a risk he’s not going to take, even now.  He’s given his word; and, besides, he’s still totally confident of a quick conquest; and thus an honorable freedom won for his friend.   He doesn’t think of the other possibility; namely that Boy could break the seal even as he’s celebrating his quick triumph over his boss, then move close to him with the deadly Kryptonite and incapacitate him.  He expects Tam-Rex and his ilk to abide strictly by the contract as well. He’s also agreed to keep the power of his x-ray vision and heat under wraps.  Tam-Rex is somewhat worried about this, as he knows it is one power he does not also possess; but he is confident that the big oaf will honor the contract; and, if the truth be known, Kal has every intent of doing so.  He doesn’t really think he’ll need it, nor the shed cape. He’s got plenty of other superpowered weapons, brute strength, for instance, to get him by; or so he thinks.

Even continues the pre-fight histrionics, melodramatically reminding the blue clad crusader for justice and the near naked warrior champion that this will be a battle to verbal submission.  If one fighter passes out or is otherwise incapacitated, they must be revived and coherent enough to offer a verbal submission to their conqueror; or the fight will go until such submission can be offered.  It’s as simple as that.  By mutual agreement, there will be no punches thrown, or kicks aimed, at the crotch regions.  Everything else is seemingly fair game. Kal and Tam-Rex both nod their assent to the rules as stipulated.  Even asks them to come forward and shake hands before retreating to their corners for the start of the fight.  Tam-Rex steps aggressively forward, clutching Superman’s right hand with his, moving close, too close for Kal’s comfort, coolly lifting one big muscled thigh and lightly brushing it across the front of Kal’s red shorts as he whispers in his ear, “you’re going down, Slut Boy!”. Kal shudders, shudders again as Tam-Rex gives him a quick peck on the cheek before pulling away, the sensation of that big, muscled iron thigh muscle laying against his manhood, however briefly, not to mention the quick kiss, causing a tell-tale rumble deep down in his loins.  Kal blinks, tries hard to regain his iron-clad concentration, then lamely protests, “no fair, he can’t do that”.  Even merely smirks, “he already has, sorry, step back my God, I mean Tam-Rex, and don’t do that again, okay?”  Tam-Rex merely laughs, but steps back as directed.  Kal realizes further protests will get nowhere, retreats to his corner of the village square, waiting for the opening bell, already using his legendary superpowers of concentration to quell the rumblings down below, sort of.  When he gets back to his corner, he glances over at Tam-Rex across from him.  He smiles sweetly, his stunning muscular body absolutely shimmering before Kal’s dumbly staring eyes.

At the bell, the long awaited match begins, with both fighters approaching somewhat cautiously in a sign of mutual respect. Soon enough they get down to serious grappling.  Despite Superman’s unworldly powers, not to mention the fact that he outweighs the  Teen warrior by a good 20 pounds, he realizes he is in a real struggle after easily wrestling the blond haired young beauty down early on, only to be driven twenty feet across the square to splat hard on his back when Tam-Rex drives both feet into his gut as he moves to cover him.  Though he is little fazed physically by this early rebuff; as the titanic duel continues, with Tam-Rex tirelessly grappling with the blue clad superhero, giving as good as he takes, the Man of Steel is getting worried, very worried. No one, much less a young mortal man like Tam-Rex, has ever stood up to him, tested him so severely, like this.

He presses the attack with a renewed sense of urgency, but Tam-Rex uses skill and speed to keep his opponent at bay. He seemingly will not allow himself to be caught and trapped by his supposed superhuman strength. Superman is frustrated and angry and, worse yet, losing focus.  His super powers of concentration once again begin to waver.  Increasingly, he seems unable to cope with the deadly twin combo of Tam-Rex’s incredibly alluring, near naked male’s bod and his amazing youthful endurance and surging power. 

Indeed, the seemingly tireless Superhero is struggling, the frenzy of his early attack waning. Tam-Rex senses he is slowing down. His moves are becoming sloppy.  He repeatedly escapes his lumbering advances before he can truly apply his accustomed superhuman force and power.

Strangely winded from the exertion, and alarmed by the now unmistakable, and seemingly unstoppable, growing hardness down in his crotch, Superman backs up hoping to catch his breath and collect himself, almost panicky as well as very human like symptoms, welling arousal and weariness, continue to wash over him. Tam-Rex notices the growing bulge and the raspy breathing in his faltering foe as he moves forward, smiling wickedly, now stalking a befuddled Man of Steel, waiting for the moment to unleash the full arsenal of his savage power. Finally the moment arrives as he backs into a corner, he strikes like a swift feline predator. Tam-Rex flips him over using the force of his own weight against him. Superman, flying head over heels and slamming back first to the ground, lies stunned and gaping, disbelieving that this is happening to him; and still the telltale bulge is growing. 

Tam-Rex drops over him, applying a devastating scissors hold. His powerful thighs lock around his waist, and literally take his breath away. Ironically, the coiled legs of this youthful warrior god feel like iron strong bands around the trembling mid-section of the tiring superhero they call the “Man of Steel”. He shakes him and bounces him around like a discarded toy. To his utter dismay, he thrashes desperately butcannot break the hold.He looks drained, sporting a full blown boner now, red trunks all tented up, his resistance waning even as Tam-Rex tirelessly applies the full power in his magnificent muscled coiled thighs.  For the longest time, endless minutes it seems, the fateful struggle continues, Tam-Rex seeming to gain strength even as Superman’s usually tireless super-body continues to mysteriously betray him.  Amazingly, the so-called Man of Steel is nearing total exhaustion. Tam-Rex is now like a lion toying with his prey. Almost letting him escape his scissors hold around his waist, he recaptures him in another brutal hold. Superman is captive in a vice-like full-nelson before he can get off his knees. He groans, then sighs in relief as he suddenly releases the hold , Tam-Rex watching disdainfully, hands on hips, as the shamed superhero tries to crawl away in weary confusion. 

The blond haired champion recaptures  the melting Man of Steel with his incredibly strong and shapely man-killer gams in an excruciating neck scissors. Tam-Rex’s magnificent thighs seem to devour his embattled foe as his reddened face slowly disappears between those full, tautly muscled wonders. He takes joy in seeing the palpable fear now flashing in his glazed over eyes.Tam-Rex  suddenly releases his crushing scissors hold, leaving his prey collapsed, flat on his back, gasping for air, his tented up trunks pointing skyward. 

Superman is utterly humiliated and almost totally exhausted.  He groans as he tries to sit up, is finally propped up shakily on both arms, staring dumbly out at the sea of warrior faces gleefully watching their King take him apart. His still keen hearing detects nary a beep from the Kryptonite sensor lying just 20 yards or so away from his exhausted body.  Indeed, the “foolproof” sensor hasn’t beeped at all throughout this, his most desperate, failing battle. He can’t figure it out; how anybody can reduce him to this without using the deadly green stuff.  All hopes of an expected quick victory have long since disappeared. Thoughts of a miracle comeback are fading as well. His dazed mind desperately clicks now to base survival instincts; with survival defined in both physical and career terms.  He thinks the body will recover soon enough, but wonders if he can survive a beating like this and still continue on with any confidence or conviction as an acclaimed Defender of Justice after this. He is so confused, and tired, and helplessly horny all at once.  Tam-Rex, as he predicted, is “taking him down! Hard!” 

Over on one side, his former friend, Tarzan, once the King, now Tam-Rex’s enfeebled Jungle Slut, is oblivious to it all as he kneels on all fours, shapely star spangled butt wiggling in the air while he stoops to suck one big toe of Tam-Rex’s tall, drop dead gorgeous  top lieutenant, the stunning blond, Boy.  Boy, idly fingering his owncrotch as he watches his blond haired leader dominate the once invincible Superman, swats the simpering Jungle Slut across his butt with a hard swish of his leather crop, snaps irritatingly down at the man he once served, “Suck harder, slut!” Jungle Slut grunts, increases the urgency in his slavish toe sucking, as commanded.If the truth be known, he worships this  blond warrior almost as fervently as he does his adored Master, Tam-Rex. 

Superman is still sitting numbly when Tam-Rex literally mounts him, pushing the spent superhero down beneath him.Superman’s weak struggles are increasingly futile against the male majesty of his blond haired tormentor. His once indomitable iron will is all but broken; and his  pleading, terrified, pitiful expression only adds to his excitement. He is helpless to resist as he slowly  forces his shoulders down to the ground, savoring every moment. He is totally turned on by his weak feeble attempts to escape. Superman is truly helpless now. He frantically tries to fight back. But Tam-Rex is in total control. He tries with all his power to push him off, but his grapevine is more than he can handle. He hears his derisive laughing voice taunting him, demanding he fight harder.  He can only “get harder”, if that is even possible, his already full blown boner swelling dangerously.  He whimpers on the edge of self control, seemingly just seconds away from creaming all over his tented up red shorts.  His dazed mind fruitlessly tells him he needs to get away from this he-devil, even as his enflamed, pinned body unavoidably responds to his radiant heat pressing down on him.

Tam-Rex is absolutely relentless and devastating, forcing the helpless superhero’s shoulders down, until they are firmly, undeniably and completely pinned to the ground. His  power has totally crushed him as surely as his manly sensual power charms have absolutely slain him emotionally. He can hardly breathe or think. He is not only pinned, but also completely humiliated. His once oaken legs kick feebly as Tam-Rex holds the devastating pin for endless moments, savoring the sound of his weak cries. Though he cannot see it yet, others in the crowd laugh loudly as a telltale stain  now spreads across the front of his tented up red shorts.  With Jungle Slut now switched over to suckling his other big toe, the young warrior, Boy, loudly, snidely, remarks to anyone close by, “sheesh, these warriors from the outsite world are all alike, total wimps all of them, even this so called Superman; look at that, the creep’s getting off on getting whupped!” 

Tam-Rex suddenly releases his dominating pin hold and stands up, dragging the spent, humiliated Superman with him.   He blinks stupidly at him, the once invincible Man of Steel now facing incomprehensible defeat for the first time at the hands of a supposedly weaker opponent, a mere mortal human, and a man at that; but what a man he is! This stunningly  sexy and incredibly erotic man  is also merely the most devastating fighting weapon, mortal or immortal, poor Superman has ever faced.  As he drags him out to the center of the arena, Superman makes one last desperate attempt to fight back, mindlessly thinking that he can somehow recoup his once indomitable super strength. They lock wrists overhead in a final showdown.  He strains with everything he has left, but Tam-Rex holds firm, indeed seems to be merely toying with him, casually holding him at bay, letting him doomed prey completely exhaust himself in the futile struggle.  “How can this be?” he gasps thinly, his arms beginning to shake and tremble, “I’m Superman, can’t be beaten”.  “Superman my ass”, he smirks, laughing in his face, “more like Super Wimp it seems, and yes you can and are being beaten, by a young boy no less, hee hee!” 

Over to one side, Boy rolls his clear blue eyes at the self-descriptive words, ” young boy”, coming out of his King’s mouth.  The striking blond warrior laughs to himself, “yeah right, innocent my ass, that bitch was born with an attitude, and he ain’t never been innocent, much less a boy. He’s always been all-HE-man and then some.” He should know. The torrid late night romps between Tam-Rex, the radiant 19 year old King, and Boy, his beautiful 21 year old top aide, isthe talk of the village; all of it, the talk that is, carried on in thinly veiled secret conversations, of course.Of course, Boy and Tam-Rex have been carrying on a secret tryst for nearly half a year now, an affair started when Boy was still ostensibly serving his then King, Tarzan, now the enfeebled Jungle Slut groveling at the blond’s feet.

Superman groans weakly, arms violently trembling as they try to merely hold on against the impenetrable might of the Warrior King. And Tam-Rex now starts to really pour it on, sensing the end is near. His knees begin to tremble wildly and buckle under his majestic force.And with a weary groan of utter despair, he begins to sink down; down past those fiery green eyes which show no sign of mercy or pity, down past his sensuous smile which reveals his total delight at his helplessness.  He whispers now in a soft, erotic voice, “nice try, but you never really had a chance, Wimpy Boy”. He then laughs out loud as the collapsing Man of Steel sinks further. His descent to defeat continues, past that incredible full crotch that can hardly be contained by his loincloth. His spittle caked lips brush across the tip of the huge leather claded crotch, during his tortuously slow descent, and Tam-Rex laughs huskily, then coos sexily, “not now, Slut Boy; nursing time will come later, if you’re a good little slave boy!”

Superman’s stiff, swollen manhood, the bulbous, well lubricated head frantically pushing at the wringing wet clinging fabric of his pre-cum stained red shorts, thumps urgently against his rippling calf as his mouth brushes across his rock hard abs.. Finally he is on his knees, head bowed shamefully before his warrior conqueror. Only now does  Tam-Rex finally release his wrists, letting the defeated superhero fall exhausted to the ground at his feet. He is completely out of fight, his submission a mere formality at this point. 

Tam-Rex can do anything he wants with the vanquished Superman, and will.  He begs him , “no, no, please no”, but to little avail as he slides his legs down to encircle his waist again.  He bucks desperately, if weakly. Tam-Rex, toying with the enfeebled superhero, uses bursts of steely strength from his magnificent muscled thighs randomly, laughing haughtily at his weak cries of torment each time his taut, rippling thighs bite into his blue and red clad bod. He prods him, “come on, fight me, Wimpy BOY!  Give me some real resistance! Sheesh, what a total wimp you are!” Agonizing with each sensuous squeeze of his killer thighs, Superman can hear his lion-like purring as he alternately tightens and loosens the vice like grip around his waist. He shakes himlike a rag-doll as poor Superman’s desperate writhing becomes ever more feeble.  Very soon, he is no longer even struggling. His face is pale and sickly looking, his breaths coming in shallow, tortured gasps.. Sensing his enfeebled plaything is on the verge of passing out or possibly worse, he finally releases his deadly body scissors.. He lies motionless, flat on his back, deathly pale and barely conscious, sucking in air. His mighty warrior thighs have squeezed all but a few desperate choking breaths of air out of him, indeed have seemingly almost killed him. Only his still stiffly erect manhood shows any lingering signs of normal life. He laughs wickedly at the sight, pre-cum smeared all over his soiled red, tented up trunks.  Echoing Boy’s snide remarks earlier, he haughtily exclaims, “lookee here, Slut Boy is getting off on getting whupped.  Just like his slutty friend does, hah!” 

And he is not done with him.. not just yet.  Only the total humiliation of this once proud superhero and defender of justice will do for this young god of a man.  He reaches down now, displaying the incredible strength and endurance in his incomparable warrior’s body, most particularly those magnificently muscled legs, as he scoops poor Superman’s rag doll person up, tosses him over his broad shoulders, racks the vanquished blue clad Superhero and parades around the cleared square, one fist pumping the air while the other hand coyly reaches up, and, with yet another display of power and total dominance, shreds the front of his red shorts, tearing the frayed fabric away now, freeing his monstrous super dong, that can even compete with Tam-Rex’ s one, it points skyward, bouncing, pre-cum seeping out of its bulbous head, as he jostles him across his powerful shoulders, while the shamed, melted Man of Steel weakly groans.

Now it is time for the final surrender of yet another conquered Justice League member. He drops the helpless Superman to the ground like a sack of garbage. With his right hand he grabs hold of his matted dark hair and yanks him up to his knees. He whimpers pitiably, utterly defeated and demoralized, meekly begging, “please Tam-Rex, please no more, you’ve beaten me. Gods, please stop, Mister!”  His feeble pleas are not enough for the raging Teen Tyro, who brushes aside his dark-skinned aide, Even, when the match referee tries to raise his hand in victory upon Superman’s meek verbal submission.  “Who is your CONQUEROR, your MASTER? Say it Slut Boy!  Who, Who, WHO OWNS YOU NOW?”  Poor exhausted, beaten Superman only whimpers in response.  Tam-Rex, in a rage, grabs him by his hair and slaps his face, hard!  Again there is no response from the beaten superhero.  Again he slaps him, again, again, again… Finally, in a feeble little boy’s voice, he pleads,  “pleeeez stop, I am helpless;” then, “you are my Conqueror, please have mercy on me.  I am yours to do with as you please, my Master.  You own me now, I’ll do anything you ask, but please don’t hurt me!” That being said, the vanquished and totally emasculated  superhero can hold out no longer, his beaten body squirming, then jerking sharply, hot spurts of cum shooting up onto his chest and neck, accompanied by his weak moans, signaling his complete, unadulterated submission to the overvelming he-man majesty of his blond-haired tormentor. 

Smirking, Tam-Rex growls, “shut up already, ya wimpy slut!” Then he cocks his powerful right hand into a tight fist, hissing, “say nite nite, Superman, hah”, just before his clenched fist slams into the jaw of the kneeling, former Man of Steel. With blood and spittle flying everywhere, poor Superman, or rather the broken shell of the caped marvel once known as Superman, has his face busted open and head almost taken off as it jerks back violently.  His glazed over blue eyes roll back in their sockets and he falls senseless to the ground at the feet of his new Master.Tellingly, even as Tam-Rex  has cruelly, and needlessly, coldcocked the already conquered Superman, knocking the vanquished former superhero unconscious on his back with one mighty punch, his former friend, Tarzan, or rather Jungle Slut now,  Boy having dropped his leash, rushes on to the arena floor, not to comfort the battered senseless Man in Blue, but rather to fling himself lovingly around his adored Master.  Tam-Rex, full of himself and his uncommon mastery of both legendary crimefighters, lets his adoring Jungle Slut slavishly suckle his huge balls as the two studs stand right over Superman’s KO’d, spasmodically twitching body.  And in a final ironic touch, Jungle Slut, overcome as always by the sheer sensual magnificence of the young blond, soon enough climaxes and spurts waves of white cum over the defeated body of Superman. 

So there Kal lies, broken, battered and twitching, kayoed by the mighty arms of the imperious Teen Tyro Rex of Tiburra.  His own cum is smeared all over his massive chest and ridged stomach, his former friend’s “love juices” soiling his upturned, blankly staring face, his red shorts lying ripped asunder by Tam-Rex’s mighty  hands. His monstrous Super Dong is  keeled over in limp exhaustion like the rest of him.  It is over; for all intents and purposes, this appears to be the sad, humiliating end of the shattered legend once called Superman.  Well, it’s almost over.

Pushing the sexually satiated Jungle Slut away with one hand, then kicking him over to his back in the dirt of the arena floor, Tam-Rex reaches down to the still comatose, twitching, blue clad creature at his feet.  Using his deadly sharp claws, he rips and shreds the last symbol of the former Superhero, the blazing red “S” on his chest, tearing a big swatch of the supposedly impenetrable Kryptonian fabric away, much of it containing the mangled “S” and raking his claws across his now partially bared chest for good measure, leaving two thin trails of blood on that heaving chest. 

Then, with one final, amazing surge of power, he turns the big body over his belly, ready to take his winner prize. He brutally penetrates Superman, with two mighty trusts his balls slap Superman’s asscheeks. The rape is long and brutal, Superman has not even the force to cry, he mumbles and whinspers in agony, when Tam-Rex fills his gut of his hot white endless cum, he barely alive.

Tam-Rex with the red fabric clutched in his right hand around his huge, limp male member, before lifting his beaten body clear off the ground, holding him solely by his penis. He holds him aloft for several moments, biceps and forearms bulging, thighs and calves taut and unwavering, for all, including the video camera now being operated by Boy, to see. 

Here, captured for posterity, and perhaps later sale to some smutty tabloid, by Boy’s video cam, is the destroyed former Superhero, now conquered and  transformed into Tam-Rex’s meek, submissive, and newly christened, SLUT BOY! His head, arms and legs dangle limply; blood trickles down from the large gash on his face opened by Tam-Rex’s final, brutal fist. He resembles more a lifeless slab of meat from a local slaughterhouse than a once  superpowered specimen of the male race.  And young 19 year old Tam-Rex, glorying in his conquest like a wild, untamed lion lustily hoarding over his “kill”, has never looked so spectacularly beautiful, so sexy, so deadly, so utterly dominant and magnificent, as he does at this moment. 

The near lifeless slab of beef that used to be Superman, so-called protector of the free world, is soon enough unceremoniously dropped back to the dusty ground; whereupon Tam-Rex prances off, disdainfully calling to a few nearby servants, “get these worthless pieces of garbage out of my arena! Jungle Slut can go back to his normal duties. But put the Slut Boy in a cage overnight; give him water only, in a bowl. Let him lap it up like the common cur he is. Then, at dawn bring him to me so we can begin his formal training forthwith!”

All assembled, even his top lieutenants, bow their heads in worshipful reverence as their powerful King leaves the arena and walks by them.  Life is so very grand for the stunning young man, what with the savaged wrecks of now two former heroes lying in limp disarray back in the dirt, and only a third, truly significant Justice League cohort, Batman, standing between Tam-Rex and World Domination, in the young blond’s mind.  Tam-Rex doesn’t concern himself with any lesser Justice League types.  He is supremely confident that, with the former Tarzan and Superman already conquered, and Batman soon to follow, nobody, at least nobody in their right mind, will challenge his superiority or dominance after that. 

The muscular young blond-haired warrior smirks quietly to himself as he enters his private quarters and settles in to luxuriate in the warm bath already drawn for him, “Yes, Batman, poor brave, lovely, stupid thing that you are; you will soon be mine too. You are a formidable foe, older and stronger than Tarzan, and you have to be way tougher than that jerk off wimp of a hero of yours. Yes, my fight will be more difficult, but all the more sweeter when victory does arrive, and it WILL! Yes, Batman, you witless bimbo, you will soon be my Bat-Slut, for it is my DESTINY!”