Superman VS. Tam-Rex: The Ultimate Conclusion Chapter 2

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An entertaining bit of fan-fiction, Superman being the property of D.C. Comics. Story for mature readers only, male/male sex freely depicted.

Summary: Superman fights to free the enslaved Tarzan: against the Teen Titan, Tam-Rex.

Superman VS. Tam-Rex: The Ultimate Conclusion. 

Revised by Rick Henry (strawbridge88@att.net) enhanced, embellished, and expanded 04-2021. 

Original Author: Ashtonjacobs123

Chapter Two: Fall of the Man of Steel

The vanquished Kal lies motionless, flat on his broad lats, deathly pale and barely conscious, slow-sucking in air. His huge-breasted chest heaving laboriously. The blond king’s mighty thighs have squeezed all but a few desperate choking breaths out of him, indeed have seemingly almost killed him. Only his still involuntarily, stiffly mounded manhood shows any lingering signs of normal life. Tam laughs wickedly at the sight, pre-cum rivered and previously expended jism all over the soiled front of him, practically from knees to chest. Super potent and loaded, if nothing else. Echoing Boy’s snide remarks earlier, he haughtily exclaims, “Look’a here, Slut Boy, getting off on his own defeat… getting whipped. Just like his mind-gone slutty friend did, still does, hah!”

And no, 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, tigerish god of a man. He reaches down now, displaying the incredible strength and endurance of his incomparable warrior’s body (enhanced indeed from other-wordly chemical formulas and unknown plant sterols gained secretly), most particularly in those magnificently tapered but powerful legs… and scoops the worn, much heavier Superman’s prone body up like a sack of flour, tosses him over his broad shoulders, racks the conquered blue-clad superhero, and parades around the cleared square. His one fist pumping the air victoriously for the crowd, while the other hand boldly reaches up, and with yet another display of power and total dominance, shreds off the dampened front and back of his captive’s shorts, tearing the frayed fabric away… now freeing Kal’s unearthly super dong, noticeably able to equally compete with Tam-Rex’s own, but weakened, long and heavily limp, dangling openly… still dripping from his semi-turgid glans, strings of his copious juice, as Tam 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 burlapped garbage. With his right hand, he grabs hold of his matted dark hair and yanks him up onto his knees. The hero whimpers pitiably, utterly defeated and demoralized, meekly begging, “Please, Tam-Rex, no more; you’ve beaten me. By the gods, please stop…!” But his pleas are not enough for the raging Teen-Tyro, who brushes aside his dark-skinned aide, Evan, when the 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?” The listless, exhausted Superman only soft-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 hero. Again he slaps him; again, again, and again…. Finally, in a feeble little boy’s voice, he pleads, “Please, plea-se stop. I-I… I am—yu, you are my conqueror. My Master… have mercy. Yours. To do with as you please. Please spare, some… dignity? Da-don’t hurt…. I-I, am—yours…!”

All the while, his mighty cock, once more risen uncontrollably for all to see. Yes, the wonder of it from between his bent thighs, boldy up between his own pecs and turgid-thrust nipples, embarrassing him to no end, but unable to control ownership—though now owned by an obvious “other.”

“AAALLLLL-LLLLLL MINE!!!! Pussy–Man…!!”

The alien rocked to his core at the pronouncement. “Oh-Uhhh—Ahh-yyyaahhhhh-AAHHHHHH!!” ululating, almost a shriek, involuntarily arching.

Beyond torqued, and with an animalistic wail—the vanquished, totally emasculated superhero could hold no longer: body-shocked, convulsed, he arced sharply—hot jets of his volumetric cum shooting forwards, then up onto his chest and neck, face and beyond, near falling backwards, accompanied by his helpless moans, signaling his complete, unadulterated submission to the overwhelming He-man majesty of his blond-haired tormentor. Arms partially raised, then failing. Head falling forwards, slumping, still relatively upright.

The pink Kryptonite, of course, having thoroughly undone him: the insidious nearness of it, having snared his sexuality from the beginning, no fault of his own.

Gloating, Tam-Rex growls, “Shut up already, you wimpy shit!” Grasping the dazed hero’s hair once more to tilt his face upwards. He then cocks his powerful right hand into a tight fist, hissing, “Say nite-nite, Super Fuck—once Man of Steel!” just before his clenched fist slams into the jaw of the kneeling, former paragon of the world’s might. With blood and spittle flying everywhere, the dulled 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 sapphire eyes roll back in their sockets, and he falls senseless to the ground at the feet of his new Master. Gone. Huge muscled mass, still. His former existence terminated.

Strangely, even as Tam-Rex  has cruelly, and needlessly, cold-cocked the already conquered Superman, knocking the vanquished former hero unconscious and onto his back with one mighty punch—his former friend, Tarzan, rather Jungle Slut now (Boy enthralled, having  dropped his leash), rushes onto the arena floor. But not to comfort the battered senseless Man of Blue, but rather to fling himself lovingly around the waist of his ever-adored regal Master. Tam-Rex, full of himself and his uncommon mastery over both legendary crimefighters, lets his fawning Jungle Slut slavishly kneel to suckle his huge balls in bold public a few moments, then the two studs move close to appear over Superman’s KO’d, inert, yet still 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, expelling his own waves of Tarzan-cum over the defeated body of his once pal (the once-fucked by, and sucked-with, Superman—though it was a huge secret between them, years ago)… while now eagerly fist-shafting over his owner’s torpedo into a huge ejaculate of its own, no longer in his right mind from the drugs daily fed to him…. Howling loudly, the both of them, as Tam-Rex’s seed bursts forth in victory, anointing his more massively muscular and prone trophy. His flagpole phallus a wonderment to all—as much as his seen defeated foe’s had been. Determing he’d have to do something about that…. No competition allowed, whose was the mightiest. The irony almost laughable. Though equal: the one whose is still “standing” wins.

The young king, exhultant, but not overcome. Even seems renewed by his copious, “ownering” spurts. Marking his territory, like the creature he is.

 So there Kal Jor-El lies, broken, battered and twitching: kayoed by the iron  hands of the imperious Teen-Tyro, Tam-Rex of Tiburra half his age, (newly asserted ruler of this colony from another world, along with several highly selected minions the Elders had chosen… to explore, and possibly claim as their own). His own rich cum smeared all over the front of his massive chest, ridged stomach and face, along with his former friend’s “love juices” also soiling his upturned, blankly staring visage, plus the pooling, victorious spurts of his new owner-king. Over half of his well-known identity and costume lying ripped asunder by Tam-Rex’s mighty hands around him. His monstrous super dong, slack at 12 inches, is keeled over his thigh in limp exhaustion like the once fabled rest of him. He is finished. For all intents and purposes, this appears to be the sad, humiliating end of the shattered legend called Superman.

Pushing aside the sexually satiated Jungle Slut with one hand, then kicking him down and onto his side in the dirt of the arena floor, telling him to scamper away… Tam-Rex reaches down to the still comatose, sporadic-convulsing, blue-clad creature at his feet. Using his deadly sharp nail-claws, a skill acquired beyond the natural from his newly adopted jungle home, he rips and shreds at the last symbols of the former superhero from his defenseless body. Tearing a big swatch of the supposedly impenetrable Kryptonian fabric away—the blazing red “S” from his front, much of it containing the mangled letter, and raking his nails across his trophy’s now completely bared torso for good measure. Seeing he is indeed no longer invulnerable—.

He is in awe at the immensely delicious chest, overly laden with pendulous, large teats, thickly desirable, unlike any he’s ever seen on a man—dark-haired muscular mounds rising and falling in slow waves… leaving two thin trails of blood on the defeated, densely breathing pecs. Resealing his ownership, he slashes deeply across each huge-uddered nipple, watching how the man’s torso arches, his matchless wondrous cock surging instantly to swell again at the invasion upon them. Surely his Achilles’ heel, and once major power source: his own milk! To be sure, he presses hard, pushing down on one the superhero’s curved-tight pectorals; in moments, one of the abnormal teats moistens, begins to leak forth: a clear viscous syrup… like pre-cum. The light in his head clicks on. Take them, he won’t need any Kryptonite! (Stunningly revealed at last: much like his own chest power-sources, as secretly hidden as the famed MOS’s had been! And none but himself has ever touched. Though his are wanly small in comparision; but incredibly more lethal, as much as Superman’s laser-like vision: the energy they can project.)

The growing stimulation causes the unconscious captive to stir again, make strange sounds of “Oohhhhing,” and “Ahhh-ahnn-ahhhhing,” struggling, coming to. Tam then quickly proceeds to divest the downed alien of the rest of his blues. Denuding the “defeated,” part of the victor’s process: underscoring his mastery.

The soft-sighing pile of matured muscle is beginning to come around. Innocent, stunned blue eyes still cloudy, woozy… nothing making sense. Laying there.

The voice above him. “The pink assured me of scrambling your sexuality; the gold to extinquish your powers—for good, bit by bit.”

“Bu-but, the contract!” pleading.

“Contracts can be altered. Depends who holds them.”

“I-I gave you my word. Trusted...”

“Even in your world, ‘all’s fair in love and war!’”

“Mercy. Please, spare—save?!”

“Why? ‘To the victor belongs the spoils.’ Men of the Justice League, to be wimped- out and downed, one by one. Like your jungle friend. Told you at the beginning. Warned you: ‘Just like you’ll be doing soon.’ Didn’t believe me, did you, Horse-Cunt! Tomorrow, we’ll start the drugs.”

“No. Oh, God, no! Please…!” in more terror than he could ever have imagined.

“Cool it, Muscle Fuck! Now, I take my prize!”

Then moving to stand over him, the below alien’s eyes wide with apprehension and fear, he reaches down and onto, grasps him viciously by both of his huge, thumb-sized teats—each as large as a big man’s thumbs, no less than 4” long from base-root to tip—pulls, and harsh-lifts him up by his torso.

Superman near screamed: wailed, horrified, the pain, mingled with an unalterably sharp, paralyzing ecstasy, “Ohhh, OHHHHH! OHHHHHHHH!!!” His hands desperately risen up and flailing to stop him; but could not. The young blond’s strength astonishing… as he then let go and flip-rolled the bigger muscle-man over onto his belly, Kal’s monstrous arms weakly flagged, useless and sprawled forwards. Tam-Rex solidly crushing down over the wide V-sheath of his back, then grasped him by the hips, jerking them backwards, forcing him onto his knees, forehead to the dirt… reached under his armpits, found his already assaulted nipple shafts, fisted around and over them, and began to milk him—the head of his maleness at the same time seeking entrance into him through the cleft of his ass. The joy in the MOS’s breasts was tractably overwhelming, though his mind was laden with resistance— being primed to be taken, the nectars from both his now erected again horse-cock and sensitive swollen udders unleashed… flowing simultaneously.

Yet valiantly, masculinely pleading, “No, no, no, no, no….!” Can’t be happening, can’t be happening, can’t be happening. NO, NO, NO, NO! Not—never, not to him!!

The youth’s hands sopping wet with his milk, took one back, to guide his royal  shaft into the quavering, reluctant entrance. Slipped the side of his hand down the man-haired cleft, prying him apart, shoved his more than lemon-sized knob into and through the rose-guarded door, his own juices rivering copiously (the MOS’s anus already lubricated with his natural alien-want, though he still nearly jolted upright)… the thick-ridged glans more easily-in than he expected, and held…. Superman was moan-groaning almost incoherent; completely lost in the actual pain of the intrusion (though he had taken his own more than often, was used to the struggle, but had done so softly at first, gradually hardening)… only now the rod about to take him was more than conquering, not the least bit gentle—his terror mounting, his pain, his humiliation at being publicly subdued by a mere boy half his age, and by rights one who should have been much weaker, was incredibly immature—. Tears began to flow from his eyes in disbelief, his ego-stunned brokenness.

Tam-Rex, now in assertive position, moved both hands frontally again to continue milking the weeping alien, sometimes allowing one hand to grasp down over his monster shaft, to ride over and more excite him. Finally, considering it was time, both hands secure on the matching giant cock in front of him, pulling back hard and tight, he made his plunge. Impaling the Man of Steel in one instanteous thrust, his entire 14 inches spearing him all the way to its gold-wreathed root.

Kal-El screamed, almost passed out. A shock unlike he’d ever known before, unearthly! (Even by his own, of course, never having been able to be taken so far, so completely.) As if dying, impaled deep beyond his core-sources by the young king, whose rape of him was now finalized. The thrusting did not stop. His brain and senses seeing stars, bolts of light, piercing sharpnesses, and… a beyond, beyond ecstasy that erupted within him, geysered him insanely. And knew there was more. For Tam-Rex kept on and on and on and on. He begged, whimpered, cried, pleaded for him to stop, his insides being torn apart. Yet soon came again. Could not help himself. He was so torqued. In such sheer agony, such remarkable joy.

“What’s the matter, Big Blue? Tarzan takes most of it easy, now. Just a little getting used to. A few months, you’ll be begging for it like he does….!”

“Oh, ohhhh, ohhhhh! Ahhhhhh-yahhhhhhh!. Ouhhh-aahhuunnnnn-hhhhhhhh!!!!”

The plundering of his ass relentless, and mean-spirited. The heated teen in a frenzy. His torch aflame with his inflated narcissism, fucking the unconquerable Superman. Fagging-out the “Hero of Heroes.” Pussying him down, face into the dirt.

“Hold on, you Fucked-Muscle-Wuss—taken by a real man! Here it comes!!” And Tam-Rex, high as a loon, amidst the MOS’s cries and wails for mercy, blasts into him—his hot, white endless cum, practically murdering him, filling his innards with his effusions, as if scalding his very spirit… while Kal himself shoots again, and again. And goes lights out beneath him. Unconscious. Nectar dumbly slow-spurting from his nipples, seed draining abundantly from his cock. Fully naked, his boots still on.

An exultant, exhuberant cry from the Teen Tyro. What he has done!!

Vanquished, and raped the most powerful man in the universe. Simple as shit! Overcome the mightiest of the mighty. Robbed him of his strength, and his seed. His cock and his tits….

Then, Tam-Rex, with the red and blue fabric clutched in one hand raises it to the crowd, and with his right hand, and wrapping it around Kal’s huge, limp male member, lifts up the beaten mighty body of his conquest, cleanly off the ground—holding him solely by his remarkably gigantic, soft-used penis. Holds him aloft for several moments, biceps and forearms bulging, thighs and calves taut and unwavering (astonishingly, 250 pounds of masculine powerful muscle, inert and aloft, all in one hand?!!) for all to see. And being no less recorded by the video camera, operated by Boy… for instant relay to their superiors back home and far away. And also as a future threat for the remaining Justice League members, no less.

Here, captured for posterity, and perhaps for later sale to some smutty tabloids… is the forever destroyed former “kingpin” of all the superheroes—now conquered and  transformed into Tam-Rex’s meek, submissive, and newly christened, SLUT BOY! His head, thick muscled arms and legs dangle limply; clad only in his easily recognized red leather boots; handsome, chiseled face, eyes closed, splattered blood in tricklings down from the large gash opened by Tam-Rex’s final, brutal fist;, and his skin blot-gobbed with his own rich depleted essences, drying in crusts—shamefully obvious to any what has occurred. Not to mention his large as a horse-sized penis, finally revealed, ever having been wondered about…. Nor to mention the cow udders of his breasts no ordinary earthling has ever seen, nor expected to, finally exposed. A true alien freak, all in all! Powerless and finished as Earth’s invincible champion.

Superman’s red-streaimg blood, a true indication of his no more physical invinciblilty. Naked conquest.

Now the fabled Kal-El resembles more a lifeless slab of meat from a local slaughterhouse than a once super-powered, and mightily built specimen of the male race, 36 years old, (albeit not from Earth). And seeing then the young 19 year-old Tam-Rex, glorying in his victory like a wild, untamed lion, lustily lording over his “kill,” never looking so spectacularly potent, so sexy, so deadly, or so utterly confident and magnificent, as he does at this moment… having defeated a much greater built, older, and supposedly more skilled, known to be “undefeatable,” and matured man, forty pounds heavier than himself. It would be worse than world-shocking. That a mere boy could do this—no Kryptonite in evidence.

Thus, the clearly depleted hunk of male-cock 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 prandles 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 quarters. But put my new “Slut Boy” in a low body-length, cramped cage overnight—not able to curl, bend, or sit; give him water only, in a bowl, hands cuffed behind him, ankles tied. Just able to roll, lap it up like the common cur he is. Then, at noon bring him to me so we can begin his formal training. And hose him down. The other upright cage made ready.”

All assembled, Evan, and his top lieutenants, bow their heads in worshipful respect as their proven, beyond powerful King leaves the arena and walks past them. They hasten to comply. The inert body of the once mighty Superman is roped with both ankles together, another around his enormous male assets, and ignobly dragged by three men off the field. Slack and still, his great arms trailing behind him, head jouncing and jostled over the bumpy terrain as they go. Not a sound from him.

*                              *                              *

Life seems so very grand for the stunning young Tiburrian, what with the savaged wrecks now of two former heroes lying in limp disarray back in the dirt, and only a third, truly significant Justice League cohort, the one called Batman, standing between Tam-Rex and Planetary Domination, it was a reeling whirl of another game, festering in the young blond’s mind. Tam-Rex doesn’t concern himself with any of the other lesser Justice League types…. (Ahhh, except one, possibly; thinking of Aquaman, ruler of the seas. This planet was composed of 2/3 water. Well, he’d drain that ocean when he came to it, if he felt it was necessary. Then, there was that Thor—but he was so gone most of the time to his own planet; and who the fuck is a guy with just a hammer, to stand against the magnificence of a “proven” destroyer of men like himself?!!)  He is supremely confident that, with the former Tarzan (the smallest potato of them all), and (toughest of the lot) the super-great Superman already conquered—Batman would soon follow. No, 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, having earlier indicated to Boy to join him, for a truly intoxicating victory fuck.

“Yes, Batman—macho brave, lovely, stupid thing that you are—you will soon be mine, too. You are a formidable foe, older, stronger than Tarzan ever was; and you have to be way tougher than that jerk-suck of a wimp friend-hero of yours… once known as “Superman.” Your fighting skills and martial arts disciplines far greater than his. After all, he relied on “other worldly” powers, plus his mighty supernatural strength to overcome beings and things… without the actual skills to fight his way out of a paper bag, really, when up against another truly skilled warrior, man to man, like me…. Whose ultimate power was in his cock, but his cock betrayed him when he saw mine. I knew that. How I was able to lure him to his downfall. And weakened by his inner alien arousal, causing him to unconsciously want me so badly, his brain couldn’t function clear enough to save himself, his sexuality literally short-circuiting his strength. Needing to take my cum, shoot his own, or burst “inside”—destroying himself. His own hidden wishes, having shackled himself to me, at first sight.

“Yes, sir. Yes, my fight with you will be more difficult, you are far more superiorly skilled. But I hear you also have a weakeness for cock, that you almost begged that alien to marry you, in love with his horse-hung shaft, never having seen it, only imagined; only he shied away, afraid of losing his super powers if drained too much by your mouth. Or your ass. Should such contact’ve happened. (And then, with that enormous chest of yours, even thicker than Supes, here—those monster “pumped” nipples you like to play with…? Or be played by?) Secrets do get out, Dark Friend…. Once I take them, you’re mine. Completely, and forever. Intoxicated by your own big tits, making you weak as a kitten, your Achilles’ heel (like that dupe-fucked Supes’ are). Ahh, all the more sweeter when victory does arrive, and it WILL! Yes, Batman, I will fuck you witless, bimbo; you will soon be my Bat-Slut, for it is my DESTINY! And Yours! And you will marry my cock; never be able to get enough of it. Nor be free from it; once your mind is mine, your gloriously huge,  largely acorned-nipples owned and crowned by this master; and all your will….

“And your will, only to serve me—endlessly. Along with Super-Slut. While I fuck you, and he fucks me, you suck Boy, while Evan fucks Tarzan, and Tarzan fucks Aquaman, and Aquaman sucks himself. And I… fucking nut-out Thor with his own hammer; permanently!”

His thoughts interupted, Boy enters, slips into his bath with a grin. Mouths onto each other’s, arms around, no words. Just moans—rising bold and strong as their young male cock-towers, yearning to be savored, side by side, face to face….