The Murder of Clark Kent Chapter 9D
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The Murder of Clark Kent

by Sockrob


Chapter 9 New Friends, Old Friends and Enemies Galore

Chapter 9D. Superman’s new calling 


Back at Police HQ, Sgt. Walters was busy getting Superman aquainted with his new cellmate and jail daddy,  Bart Harrow. After explaining the situation to Bart in intricate detail, Walters had escorted the now unshackled real murderer into Interrogation K, where the set up “murderer” sat. 

Superman was still handcuffed to the chair, busily servicing his new lawyer.

Now the defeated super hero sat drooped over the younger man’s lap. Lane Tyler Dalton, the interrogated’s attorney,having taken a seat directly in front of the  Superman’s chair, had a firm grip on his former idol’s mussed black hair with one hand and the back of the hero’s new pink collar with his other. Luthor’s conspirator used the man-of-steel’s sweaty black locks to manipulate Superman’s cocksucking face up and down his very excited rock hard 7 inch erection. Superman weakly sucked as he knew it was what was required of him at the moment, in his drug and kryptonite addled state obedience was all he could muster. Just a short time before the hero would have easily been able to refuse and pound any mere mortal into dust who demanded such humiliating debauchery. Now here he was obediently sucking the penis of a human that was not even a very masculine example of the species. Superman’s enormous erect penis remained at attention, spewing alien ejaculate into the tube affixed to it’s rubber covered bulbous head.

To the entourage entering the interrogation room, it appeared that Superman, not the wimpy little lawyer was the sissy. Bart Harrow, especially, was taken aback by the sight of his once powerful foe in such a humble degrading position, dressed the way he was and visibly sexually excited. To Harrow, Superman didn’t look anything like the masculine power house that he’d done battle with. Bart Harrow had been one of few human men who had actually had the balls to stand up to the super alien, even though the man knew of Superman’s infamy. Now as Harrow looked down on the simpering cock sucker cuffed to the chair before him he felt disgust that he had ever let such a sissified weakling end his freedom. The sight enraged the mad criminal. He demanded, “What the fuck kind of stunt are you fucker’s trying to pull, here?” Free of the shackles that had held him at bay, Harrow backhanded Superman’s busy sucking face off of the attorney’s crotch. The force of the blow toppled Superman’s still massive frame ,and the chair to which he was cuffed, over on the hard floor. Superman’s head made contact with the concrete with an loud audible smack. The weakened hero groaned from the impact. Then as Superman tried to right the chair using his unbound stockinged feet, the kryptonite pins that had been injected there caused more excruciating pain, causing more shrieking unhumanly noises to fill the small room. The totally ashamed ex-crimefighter just lay there resigned to his fate, groaning and moaning as his entire body ached, physically and mentally.

“It is no stunt, I assure you!” Sgt. Walters explained as he reached down to pull the debased super hero and his chair from the foor. Grasping Superman under his arms Sgt Walters righted the chair and went on, “This is the once might Superman. He’s just suffered a bit of a setback. He’s finally learning his proper place here on our planet.” Then patting Superman’s swollen cheeks, Walters addessed the enfeebled captive, “Ain’t that right SuperFag?”

Superman just diverted his eyes to the floor as a new flow of tears began their journey down his reddening cheeks. He would have lowered his head in shame if that infernal collar would have allowed.  Sgt. Walters rared back and with a wide grin slapped Superman back and forth across those same embarrased cheeks, reddening them even more. “I asked you a question, Superfag! You answer men when they ask you a question, bitch!” The sadistic sergeant continued his assault on the weakened superhero’s face. 

Superman meekly whispered a “Yes” keeping his eyes on the floor.

“What was that, Supes? We couldn’t hear you.” Sgt. Walters slapped the back of the hero’s head. 

“Yes!” Superman said louder.

“Yes, what?” Sgt. Walters demanded, ramming two of his fingers into Superman’s nostrils and pulling his face up even higher than the collar did.”Look me in the eye, Superfag, so I know I have your attention!” The two men’s eyes met.

In total degrading resigned defeat, Superman answered, “Yes Sir!” once again immediately deverting his gaze to the concrete floor.

“Very good, Superfag. Just remember that this is all for your own good. We can’t have alien superbeings running around killing humans without some repercutions. You know good and well after all of our interrogations that this is your true calling.” Sgt. Walters patted Superman on the head like a school boy.

“Now, this is Mr. Harrow Superfag. He will be your new roomate while you are staying here with us. He’s going to be watching over you while you are locked away awaiting your trial.”

Bart Harrow spoke up at the mention of his name, “Wait just a minute, copper! I haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” Harrow stepped closer to the chair bound Superman. The career criminal reached out and grabbed hold of a shank of the seated captive’s messy black hair. Bart yanked Superman’s hair up and said, “I don’t know if this sissy is worth my time and attention! He didn’t really scare me when he was strutting around in his tights, all full of himself before, but he sure don’t do anything for me now in his present state. Maybe me and Supester here need to have a personal chat before I decide to move in and babysit him for you coppers. Get to know one another a little better, if ya know what I mean. And maybe Supester should be let out of his shackles just like I am so that we are on the same level, too. I think that me and him are probably on more fair ground now, and I’ve got a few old debts to pay our friend here, now that we are on more equal terms.” Bart Harrow hawked up a ball of phlegm and spat it right into Superman’s terrified face.

“I think that can be arranged, Mr. Harrow.” Sgt. Walters replied. “It’s ok with you, ain’t it, Superfag?” He gared down at Superman with a shit eating grin. Then he moved behind the captive and went to uncuff the prisoner’s wrists. As he did so he said to Bart Harrow. “We’ll be right in the other room, watching, remember the deal no permanent damage, like you could damage this super freak any way. Just call if you need us.” Sgt. Walters couldn’t control his excitement and began a maniacal laughing.

Twirling the handcuffs with glee Sgt Walters grasped Lane Tyler Dalton by the waste and guiding him towards the door said, “Come on Mr. Dalton, lets give these two some privacy. I think they’re gonna need it.” He coudn’t stop laughing.

When the other two men were gone Bart Harrow turned his attention to his old foe Superman. He began by positioning himself directly in front of the chair that held his old adversary.

Superman was busy rubbing the soreness from his wrists that the krytonite tainted handcuffs had caused. Superman stared in dejected awe at the red swollen rings of raised skin surrounding both of his previous flawless wrists. The fact that he had such wounds baffled and deepy saddened the former man-of-steel. Free of the infernal cuffs, Superman hardly noticed any difference. He had been permanently shacked by the small amounts of his homeland’s mineral that Dr. Schnell had impanted throughout his body. In total shock and amazement at the ease with which these mere mortals had been able to defeat  and disarm him, Superman was obivious to the actions of his newest tormentor.

Bart Harrow noticed the deep contemplation that Superman was in and used it to his advantage. He stepped even closer to the seated hero, pressing his meaty thighs up against Superman’s own muscular legs. When the seated hero seemed to ignore his advances, Harrow reached out and slapped the preoccupied former crime fighter out of his distraction. “Hey, Superman, it’s just you and me now, big man. Aren’t you even going to try to stand up to me” Bart belittled the weakened hero. The slap was a backhanded full force swing that caught the former man-of-steel off guard. It jolted his face once again and nearly knocked him to the floor again. Superman steadied himself as best he could and just looked up at Bart with a dumbfounded blank expression. The look on the superhero’s face only managed to anger the criminal more.        

“You are a pathetic excuse for a super hero, bitch. Super Man, my ass. Whatever have you done to yourself since we last met, stud?” Bart Harrow remembered the day that Superman had foiled his happy life of crime. He flashed back to the day that this supposed superhero ended his freedom and remembered how humilated he had been as Superman had wrapped his body in heavy chains to await the arrival of the local police force, who took him into custody.The evidence that had sent him to prison to await his death was the four dead bodies of his last family of victims. The last of his many many victims, as noone before Superman had been able to stop his reign of terror. Before meeting up with Superman, Bart had spent years taking what he wanted, killing, robbing and terrorizing anyone who crossed his path. That final day of his life outside prison had been interrupted by this pathetic being so femininely dressed sitting before him, now. Bart laughed out loud at the difference between the hulking masculine Superman that had captured him, when noone else could, and the pantyhosed simpering sissy he now encountered. “Stand up, man!” Bart bellowed down to Superman. 

When the alien just continued to look dazed and confused up into his eyes, Bart grabbed Superman by the bright pink collar locked around the hero’s neck and jerked the Superman to his feet. “Lord, have the decency to at least stand up to me, fucker. You sure had no problem standing up to me that day when I was armed with a gun and a knife. Here I am perfectly defenseless and you cower like a dog. What’s wrong with you, where has all the stagger gone, Superman?” Bart degraded.

Superman was too busy making sure to balance his massive frame on top of his toes to keep any weight off of the new glowing implants in his stockinged feet, to care what this crazed criminal was saying to him. Still woozy from the drugs and torture that he had been subjected to the past few hours, Superman hardly even knew that Bart was in the room.

Bart was not the kind of man to accept such blatant ignorance. Superman’s problems had no bearing on his current dominance, in his mind. He wanted acknowledgement and he was damn well going to get it. The brutal man had noticed that his new charge was diligently trying to avoid standing flat footed so, Bart reached up and grabbed Superman by the shoulders. He forcefully pushed the larger man’s body downward. Superman resisted with all he had but was unable to hold out more than a few seconds. As soon as Superman’s feet touched the concrete floor the implanted pins shot excruciating pain through the hero’s beaten muscular body. His calf musles were first to feel the pain. His massive thigh muscles spasmed. His crotch, extended, stretched balls and sheathed erect penis shuddered and shot another huge load of alien ejaculate into the tube. His ripped and beaten abs rippled like dominoes. Then the pain reached his chest and his sore clamped nipples swayed on his shuddering pecs. The electric pain shot through his beefy collared neck and into his mouth from which ghastly groans and moans spat. His tongue hung from his mouth and drool spilled over his lips. When the pain reached Superman’s brain, all of this actually only taking seconds, the even addled brain of the alien realized and computed that this torment had to be stopped. He instictively grabbed out to the man causing his newest pain. Superman placed his nylon covered hands on Bart Harrow’s shoulders just as the man had done his. With every bit of obstinance he had left in him, Superman tried to raise himself up off of his offending feet using Harrow’s body as leverage. This began a battle of wills and brawn, exactly what Bart Harrow wanted.

Bart wanted to see just how much fight was left in his prey’s massive physique. And amazingly enough Superman instictively still possessed quite an extraordinary amount of strength. No where near as much as he would have had, had his powers not been under the influence of the kryptonite rushing through is racked body, but still more than most human males. The two muscled brutes grappled, each one glaring into the eyes of the other. Superman managed to raise himself up onto his toes only to be pushed back down by his opponent. Bart realized that even without his powers, Superman was still an impressive being. Superman realized that he did actually have something left in him. Finally, the pain of the kryptonite embedded in his feet, was enough to take him to another level. He knew that he had to buck up and use everything he had in him to make sure that this torment came to an end right here and right now. The battle and the excruciating pain seemed to be sobering the beaten hero up a bit. 

The men in the anteroom watched with awe at the battle of muscle and will going on in Interrogation K. Sgt. Walters began to worry a bit as he watched the scene as Superman’s body rocked back and forth on it’s toes, as first Superman and then Harrow gained the upper hand. The grappling took on new dimentions as the two opponents hands made their way from shoulders down to biceps. Each foe grasping the others massive arms and pushing or pulling to gain a foothold or toe hold, as it were. Both man and alien were now red faced with exhaustion at the tug of war. Just as Sgt. Walters noticed that Superman was beginning to win the battle and had firmly perched his massive frame up onto his toes, not giving up any resistance to the pushing of Harrow’s muscles, and the sergeant decided that maybe he’d better intervene, Bart  took the upper hand, to end the stalemate. He’d only been toying with Superman at first, but was surprised to note that something about the fight had emboldened the boy scout. Harrow came to his senses and decided to end the battle once and for all when he found that his prey still had a bit more strength and stamina left in him, than any one thought. Bart was never one to fight fair and desperate times called for desperate measures. So, with a swift upward motion, Harrow brought his knee up into his opponents crotch. Superman was mentally unprepared, but physically perfectly prepared for this new assault, what with his scrotum entrapped and standing straight out in front of his body. Harrow’s knee cap made direct contact with Superman’s stretched leather and nylon covered nutsack. The impact and resulting ballbusting shame caused Superman to release his grasp on Harrow’s biceps and sent him crashing down onto his pin covered stocking feet. The immediate piercing electric jolts of pain resumed throughout the massive frame of the once again defeated hero’s body. He felt his body begin to give way and made to fall on the floor to release the tension between the floor and his feet, but his opponent would not allow it. Bart Harrow grasped Superman under his arms and held the pain racked body of his prey aloft. Screams of panic and pain filled the small interrogation chamber as Superman’s body went limp in his victor’s grasp.

On the other side of the wall the anteroom exploded with applause and laughter. In his penthouse, Lex Luthor sighed and exploded with laughter himself. Watching the entire battle on his wide screen, Luthor had experienced just a tinge of fear before the nutbusting resumption of control. “Way to go, you sadist, way to go!” he screamed to the screen.

Back in Interrogation K, Bart Harrow had Superman just where he wanted him. He forced the weakened hero down onto his pin cushioned feet and wrapped his arms around the weeping, screaming hero’s body. Superman’s body was like putty in the victor’s hands. 

Bart made Superman remain flat on the pins for a good minute or longer before letting up and pulling the pain wretched hero up to his toes. The pain had been the worst that Superman had endured since his arrest. It showed on his face. As his captor allowed him to perch on his toes releasing the painful aching to a dull thud, Superman lay his head on Bart’s shoulder and wept.

Bart knew that he had won at that moment. He reached up and petted the back of Superman’s sweat soaked hair. “There, there, sweety.” he cooed in Superman’s ear. “I guess we’d better keep ya on your toes from now on, huh? It’s alright cry it all out, baby. Daddy will keep ya on your toes. Don’t worry.

Supe…, oh know I guess that name just won’t do anymore will it, sweety. We both know that you are definately not so super anymore don’t we?” Bart petted Superman’s hair and continued to show his dominance. “Well, I guess we’re gonna have to come up a better name if I’m gonna take ya under my wing, bitch. I know, what was that name your homeland gave you, I think I read somewhere in some interview you did when you were so self boasting and arrogantly tauting your greatness that your real name is Kal-El or something like that. Isn’t that it, bitch?” 

Superman was now just breathing heavily and silently weeping on Bart’s shoulder. He shakily wobbled on his stocking toes as he let this man pet him and speak to him as if he were truly a weakling sissified bitch. His arms hung down at his side and he shuddered, now not so much from the pain as from the knowledge that he was in the grasp of his new caretaker. 

Harrow waited a few seconds and then slapped the back of his captive’s head. “I asked you a question, sissy? What was that name you were known by where you come from?”

Supeman weakly replied, “Yes, that was Kal El, Sir.” He didn’t know why he addressed this criminal as sir, it had just happened. It shocked him as much as it delighted his new tormentor.

“Yes that’s what I thought, sweety. But I really don’t like that name either so, tell ya what, I’ll just call ya Gal, El. How would that be, sissy? I think it’s very fitting, and since that’s what you’re gonna be I’ll just shorten it to Gal.” Harrow backed away from Superman and yanked a handful of the red faced hero’s hair and pushed the alien’s face back a bit. “Yep, you’re gonna be my number one gal, Gal!” He laughed and spat a wad of spittle into Superman’s shocked, reddened face. Then to the shock of all voyeurs and Superman, Bart Harrow puckered up and planted his lips firmly against Superman’s. 

Bart Harrow took control of the defeated hero, just like he would a two dollar whore. The hand that had been yanking hair felt it’s way down the hero’s wide muscular back, and slowly rested on the plump shivering globes of Superman’s firm plugged ass. Superman’s cock shuddered in it’s bonds and burped more cum as his new cell mate forced his long wet tongue down the former hero’s gasping throat.


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1 thought on “The Murder of Clark Kent Chapter 9D
5 (2)

  1. This entire stories is GREAT. Imaginative, sexy, with Walters and Bart the hot hot standouts. The scene with Luthor deflowering Supe was spectacularly hot (although all that weight on a sling??? But who cares. I'd have welcomed a couple more paragraphs there going micro on Lex's cock in Supe's ass and what each man is experiencing, slam by slam. SO inventive

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