THE CAPTURE OF SUPERMAN!
Originally “The Capture of Superboy,” story by L.Cross.
Modestly text-enhanced by Rick Henry, 05-2021, email@example.com.
Part Four – Superman in Chains
Superman, powerless, helpless and defeated kneels before the smaller man clutching his stomach in agony.
“I can end your suffering Superman; the Kryptonite is kicking your ass,” snickers Bart.
“Anyhow, while I’m waiting for you to break, FYI, Kryptonite is actually a piece of your home town, Superman.”
Bart circles the helpless Man of Steel and lights a smoke as he continues his explanation; “As Dumont explained it to me so eloquently, you are experiencing the Delphinium Theory of Reverse Effects whereas elements harmless to you in your own environment when transposed to Earth are harmful.” lectures young Bart.
“I wish I could take credit for discovering the secret of Kryptonite, but alas it is my uncle who is the brains of the outfit. Of course, my sniveling weasel of an uncle was not confident enough to confront you with his discovery himself. He obviously had his doubts about his little theory; thus, I was given the honor of exposing you to Kryptonite. Actually, it’s been an awesome experience bringing down a champion of your stature. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,” says Bart proudly; “And a real turn-on, too … dominating this beast feels really good!”, he thinks to himself.
A quarter hour passes as Bart smokes several cigarettes and continues to chide and mock the suffering, debilitated Man of Steel. Finally, the magnificent superhero sighs softly and looks up slowly at the young teen from his knees. Superman squints through his sweat soaked eyes with the pleading expression of submission Bart has been waiting patiently for. Bart flicks a cigarette butt at Superman and it bounces off his wet cape with a hiss and a flurry of sparks.
“That’s better! So, you’ve had enough Kryptonite, Superman! Are you finally convinced that Kryptonite is poison to you or shall I leave you here alone to think about it some more?” demands young Bart.
“No … more … please … (GASP) … it hurts … so much…” pleads Superman in a weak voice.
“Are you ready to surrender to me … and to beg? Beg me Superman! Beg me to put the Kryptonite back in the lead box! Beg a kid for mercy! Tell me that you surrender, Superman!” demands Bart.
Superman swallows hard and begs the young man, “No … more … sir. Now … please … sir, please … take it away. The pain … is so … bad. Ye-yes … I surrender…. I give up, sir,” begs Superman convincingly.
“That’s more like it, Superman; you will refer to me as SIR from this point on. Now, if I put the Kryptonite away in the lead box will you do what I tell to do without question? I want your word of honor that you will obey me, Superman.” says Bart cruelly.
His handsome face is soaked in sweat and drool and wracked in pain as Superman hangs his head low between his knees in utter defeat and gasps, “I’ll do … anything … you ask … of me, sir. The pain is unbearable, sir; the Kryptonite is—is killing me … sir, please help me…” Superman manages to gasp faintly in an exhausted voice. “I will. I’ll … obey … you …”
“Excellent! Beg me again, Superman; and louder!” demands Bart coldly.
Superman gasps in desperation and exhaustedly begs the man again, “I’ll do … anything … sir. Please … sir. I’m … begging … you … sir… please … put it … away … I give up. I’ll obey you … do what you want … I promise … anything … just stop the pain … please … sir …”
“Good man … I’m glad you finally understand who’s in charge…” says Bart as he smiles and picks up the small rock next to Superman, who remains motionless on his knees with his head bowed low in defeat.
“I’ll put the Kryptonite back in the box when the mood strikes me, Superman; you’re too much a pathetic failure and don’t deserve it. In the meantime, keep hugging the floor! As your new keeper it’s my duty to make sure you suffer long and hard so you’ll learn your lesson the first time.” says Bart coldly as he laughs and turns from the large muscular man in blue tights and red cape cringing on the floor, and enters the Containment Room taking the stone with him.
The temporary respite from close contact to the glowing stone is like a whoosh of fresh air for the stricken super hero, but moments later, before his head clears, before he can think, he groans in pain as Bart returns dragging a length of heavy black polished steel chain with shackles that will accommodate Superman’s neck, wrists and ankles.
He moves to where Superman is kneeling and smiles down at the defeated Man of Steel compressed tightly on his knees whimpering softly in agony, his body trembling. Bart drops the shackles and they rattle noisily to the concrete floor as he twice circles Superman who remains on his knees, clenching his stomach tightly, moaning and weeping softly.
Bart looks down at the defeated super hero and asks coldly, “How’s my uncle’s plan looking now, Superman? Let me see: Step one is done as Superman is here at the remote location. Step two is done as Superman is trapped in the basement. Step three is done as Superman has been stripped completely of his superpowers, and is quite helpless. All that’s left is step four, which is the part where the ill-advised nephew puts the defeated Superman in chains!”
As he finishes chiding the defeated Superman, an idea crosses Bart’s mind, and his face brightens. I might as well torment this has-been superhero mentally as well as physically. I already kicked the crap out of him; now I’ll screw with muscle man’s mind, thinks Bart.
“Let’s have a talk Superman; let’s get to know one another,” says Bart cynically.
Bart smiles as he kneels down next to the sweat soaked exhausted and defeated super hero. Bart grabs Superman by his wet hair, pulls up his loose head, rolls the green stone in his fingers inches from frightened face of the vanquished Man of Steel, and continues with feigned compassion and sincerity: “Dude, I’ve always wondered something about you. Now that you’ve been defeated, and you’re my prisoner …,” an idea that thrilled the young teen, “… and you’ve promised to obey me … now that I can do anything I want to you…. I need to know: Are you gay Superman? Do you like guys? You’re certainly one handsome, built big stud with rippling muscles; you can fly and have superpowers. I mean, you “used” to fly and “used” to have superpowers—you were the best. But really Superman, it’s always made me wonder about a guy who dresses in blue tights, red leather boots and wears a red cape. I mean it screams gay!
“I must admit you do have a killer body, an impressive tool box, and the face to go with it, but… and Dude, you really do carry it off—it fits you to a tee … you had me ready to cream my pants just seeing you close up and charged with super powers, watching you pump your muscles. But, hey Dude, who are you advertising this total package for? Are you into guys or chicks, Superman? You can tell me Superman. I have gay friends; after all it is the 21st century,” snickers Bart as he softly caresses the side of Superman’s sweat soaked face with the hand holding the small stone, and then playfully tugs at his distinctive split curl.
“Are you gay, Superman?”
Superman is overwhelmed by the close proximity of the stone, and it is only a small part of him that is both embarrassed and enraged and make his face turn crimson, but he does not respond; he remains compressed tightly in pain on the floor covered by his sweat soaked cape clutching his stomach in agony.
Bart laughs as he pats the powerfully muscled super hero playfully on his sweat soaked head, and then rises and looks at his watch and says, “We’ll talk again; later dude. I’ve got to roll so I better tuck you in for the night. I think its way past your bedtime Superman.”
He laughs, shoves the Kryptonite into his pant pocket, and picks up the shackles startling the kneeling and defeated super hero as Bart noisily rattles the shackles above Superman for several seconds as he separates and sorts out the chain. Then he takes the black steel collar attached to the chain and kneels down again next to the hapless, helpless and humiliated Man of Steel.
“I’M GOING TO LOCK THIS STEEL COLLAR AROUND YOUR NECK Superman! AFTER THAT YOU WILL CRAWL BEHIND ME ON YOUR HANDS AND KNEES INTO YOUR NEW HOME. IN THERE, I’M GOING TO TIE YOU UP IN THESE CHAINS… GOOD AND TIGHT. TOO TIGHT FOR YOU TO BREAK. IF YOU RESIST ME IN ANY OF THIS OR REFUSE TO CRAWL, I’LL PULL YOUR FANCY TIGHTS DOWN AND STICK THIS PIECE OF Kryptonite TIGHTLY INSIDE, WHERE THE SUN DOESN’T SHINE, AN’ LEAVE IT THERE!” promises Bart coldly, thinking it an idea for later consideration.
“Do you believe me? … that I’ll do it?… ANSWER ME Superman … do you think I’ll stick this shiny green stone up your ass, if you don’t behave?”
“Y-Y-Y-Yes,” stutters the vanquished super hero in a raspy, resigned and beaten whisper. “I believe you … I-I …” (in a desperate gasp) “please, no. Don’t … don’t put it … inside me! Please … I’ll do whatever you … say … I give up …” Superman trembles in unalterable fear as tears of true defeat and humiliation stream down his handsome face; he makes no protest and remains passive, head bowed in shame, as the smaller man now easily dominates him, slips the cold steel collar around his neck, and with an ominous ‘CLICK’, locks it into place.
“There!” announces Bart as the hero’s powerful body sags in defeat, “That seals it for you…. now you’re officially a ‘has-been’ hero,” announces Bart triumphantly. “It’s all over for you … you’re collared like a slave! … or like a dog! You’ll never be anything but, for the rest of your short life … in there, is where you’ll spend the rest of it …Do you understand, Superman? You’re defeated! SAY IT!” orders Bart.
“Yes … sir … I’m … I’m defeated. I’m completely… at your mercy….” Satisfied, grasping the heavy chain and the hand shackles, Bart grandly steps to the side and in front of Superman, looks down on his new pet and tugs forcefully as he walks proudly towards the Containment Room.
Signaled by the rough tug of the chain attached to the collar the defeated Man of Steel responds instinctively to the overt order, and moves slowly and with great effort forward on the palms of his hands and his knees; Superman crawls slowly and meekly behind Bart; his back and legs are covered by his sweat soaked red cape, that clings tightly to his large muscular body; he looks ever so much the defeated, helpless and broken super hero, now trained to the leash.
Bart is overwhelmed by his new ability to dominate and humiliate Superman, and he is near bursting with pleasure as he pulls the chain leash taut so as to hasten Superman’s slow labored crawl and smiles and says brightly.
“Come on, man! Let’s get a move on, I’ve got things to do!” as the once proud, heroic and powerful Man of Steel crawls subduedly on the dusty floor behind the punk kid.
“My uncle was right on the money about Kryptonite. I told you he was a genius. He set a trap for you Superman, and you fell right into it! …and you, thinking you were, (using your own words) ‘invincible’ … ‘invulnerable’ …. and I guess ‘unbeatable’. Well, Superman, you were none of that, and now you’re nothing, period! You’re nothing except a loser, now and forever! You’re DOOMED! AS GOOD AS DEAD! And you can’t do anything about it!” brags Bart as he proudly leads the slow crawling superhero into the Containment Room.
For sport, Bart guides the defeated and humiliated superhero on a slow laborious crawl around the dusty floor of the large Containment Room occasionally tugging on the chain to hasten Superman’s cowed crawl. As he crawls weakly behind the teenager the sweat from Superman’s costume mixes with the dust from the floor leaving the knees of his royal blue tights filthy.
After the completion of the lap Bart is satisfied that the crawl has humiliated Superman enough.
“Well, Superman, you sure are easy to train. I always thought that there must be a submissive side to you, and was I ever right. It looks good on you though …. you do submit, don’t you? DON’T YOU?” he snaps sternly.
Superman, now resigned to defeat, and even death, can no longer resist the young teen, and is compelled to respond: “Yes … (GASP) … I … submit to you, sir. I’m beaten … and you get to do what you want … to me …”, he replies in despair.
“Perfect!”, Bart laughs as he leads Superman grandly to the center of the room, stops and casually tosses the array of chains and shackles to the dirty concrete floor. As the chain rattles nosily to the floor, Bart cruelly pushes Superman down onto his stomach with his boat shoe. “OOOOFFFF!” gasps Superman in pain.
“Hug the floor, muscle man!” cackles Bart with glee as the muscle hunk super hero sprawls facedown onto the dusty floor with a gasp and a thud. Bart then places his shoe between Superman’s broad caped shoulders and applies his weight and flexes his unimpressive biceps in triumph.
“I wish I had a picture of this,” shouts Bart proudly. As Superman groans, Bart announces with delight, “This lesson will be nothing in comparison to the lesson my uncle intends to teach you, Superman!”
Bart steps off of Superman, pulls the fragment of Kryptonite out of his pocket and tosses it to the floor next to the helpless superhero. He kneels down next to the defeated Superman and drags the chain attached to the collar with the wrist and ankle shackles down across Superman’s back so it rests on his sweat soaked cape and extends down between his legs to his leather boots. Bart then moves quickly, straddles Superman’s back, roughly pulls the muscle hunk’s muscular arms behind his back on top of the red cape and secures his wrists tightly together in the wrist shackles. Superman has no strength to resist; Bart is stronger by far than he is now.
“Noooo… oh, please! Please, Bart… don’t…!” he groans in protest. Next Bart rises and kicks Superman’s legs together and locks the ankle shackles around the cowed man’s crimson leather boots. Such fear he has never known. Bart turns and takes a last look at the once mighty champion who lies collared and shackled on the Containment Room’s dusty floor.
“See ya later, Superman.” laughs Bart. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got to roll. You’re right. It’s late and I should be at home. Dumont will show up sooner or later. I’d hate to be in your tights and boots.”
And with that the man moves to the lead box, replaces the lead cover on the box and then places the lead box in the anteroom. He returns and stares down with both satisfaction and fascination at Superman, who lies cruelly restrained. Superman, rendered powerless by the strange fragment of Kryptonite can only struggle restlessly and weakly in the shackles on the dusty floor. He occasionally groans in agony illuminated brightly by the bright green hue of Kryptonite radiation.
“Sorry, Superman,” fibs Bart. “I’d love to help you out, and can the Kryptonite, but Dumont wants to make sure you’re completely out of it when he gets here. So, you’ll have to keep sucking on the Kryptonite.”
“NO!! I … mean…please, sir. Don’t … leave … me like … this. I’ll do … anything … anything … sir! The, the pain … is … horrible … please don’t do this to me!! Please… sir …” The Man of Steel manages to blurt out between labored breaths, his will to resist sapped by the intense searing pain of the Kryptonite radiation, and his panic that Bart was about to leave him in this horrible place. He tries to part his arms to raise off the dirty floor, but they are fettered by the steel shackles he could have simply snapped easier than a pretzel an hour ago!
“Then, answer my question, Superman! Are you gay Superman?” demands Bart. “Tell me the truth, and I might put the Kryptonite back in the lead container. You’re no longer a threat … your super powers are gone anyway, until you are exposed to direct sunlight again, and that’s not going to happen way down here.”
Superman, his face now grimy from the sweat and drool mixed with the dust on the floor, looks up at the younger man though sweat soaked eyes with a pleading expression.
“No, sir. I’m …. not, not … gay, sir… really…. ” says Superman in an exhausted voice.
“You disappoint me, Superman. I wanted the truth. I’ll offer you one last opportunity to be honest with me before I leave you here alone, to suffer the terrible effects of the Kryptonite,” offers Bart. “It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll leave you here all morning with the Kryptonite, until you tell me the truth Superman!”
Superman’s dirty face turns a crimson red as he sullenly says the humiliating words he now knows the cruel teenager wants to hear: “Ye-yes, sir. I am.… I’m gay. But not an, a normal one….” Desperately hoping the youth will help relieve his torment with such a forced confession. His horrifying self-secret revealed.
“I knew it!” screams Bart with feigned excitement. “How often do you suck cock, and whose?”
The broken super hero hesitates, and then says weakly, “As often … as I can … sir. And … whe-whenever … I can. But, bu-but… mostly, only my own. Could, can never find an equal match; and crave, need mine, daily. My, my only—my main release, salvation….” Struck to his core, mortified at his narcissistic revelation, coerced from him by a mere sniveling, much lesser kid. “No one else—.”
“Hmmmm…. and who’s cock do you want to suck right now, eh Superman? YOURS??!!” Bart asks seductively. Superman, worse than desperate, the Kryptonite exposure intolerable and unbearable, he’s ready to say or do anything. Oh, to get out of this mess!!!!
“(Gasp)… Yours …. uh, uhh your cock… sir. It’s, it’s … your… cock I want, need to suck …. (Gasp) Right now… oh please sir. Let me loose, so I can suck your cock… sir…. To please you.” Urgently thinking perhaps if his hands are loose, he might be able to muster enough strength, once engaged otherwise, to overcome the young man.
“I admire your honesty, Superman! We’ll talk more about your sexual orientation, later. Maybe if you beg me long enough, I’ll let you suck my cock, although it’s not really my thing, if you get my drift,” says Bart cruelly, as he kicks the Kryptonite even closer to Superman. “Imagine, got me a huge-muscled, self-sucking faggot, near and dear. Who would’a thought—the famous MOS sucks his own whanger like a lollypop! Craves his own jizz, daily!!”
Tears streamed down the completely embarrassed Superman’s cheeks as he rests his face on the dusty floor. Bart laughs and walks back to the anteroom and returns with the four remaining fragments of Kryptonite from the box. Bart tosses the fragments casually around Superman as he grins wickedly and says, “Whatever doesn’t kill you will make you stronger!”
The Kryptonite fragments all grow bright green and Superman wails aloud as the combined radiation from the additional elements hungrily sap-out any remaining potency or might Superman has.
“NO! PLEASE!! OH, Please!!! You … said you … would take … it away…” gasps a wide-eyed Superman.
“No can do, Superman. Uncle’s strict orders; leave all the Kryptonite next to Superman. He wants to kill you; he wants to dissect your cadaver and study it. He wants to know what makes you tick,” says Bart casually.
“Please, … NOOOO!!!” Superman begs, horrified at the cruelty of the teenager. What truly might become of him. Bart ignores the pleas and continues, “Dumont wants you dead, or at the very least unconscious when he shows up. He’s going to strip you out of that fancy red and blue costume of yours. He wants to put it on display in his study. If you’re still alive he’s going to take a few… “samples” from you,” snickers Bart as he squats down next to Superman to observe the combined effects of the Kryptonite fragments.
Bart watches for several minutes in fascination as Superman squirms and struggles wildly on the dusty floor in the collar and shackles, as the combined fragments devour his remaining energy. Superman twists and squirms in the restraints trying to crawl away from the fragments to a far corner but the shackles make it impossible. Finally, Superman is no match for the combined affect of all of the Kryptonite, and total exhaustion sets in. A moment later Superman stops his struggling completely as his body tenses tight and then remains motionless on the floor. Superman’s expression goes vacant and his craned head stares blankly out into space with a trickle of drool streaming out of his open mouth. The Kryptonite fragments fade in intensity to a dull glow as they sap the remaining scraps of Superman’s vitality. As brightness fades, the Containment Room is silent except for the sound of Superman’s labored breathing.
“Wow!” cackles a jubilant Bart as he rises and nudges the unconscious man’s shoulder several times with his boat shoe trying to wake Superman. Superman remains motionless unable to rouse from the vegetative state the combined fragments of Kryptonite have now placed him in. Bart smiles and lights a smoke and flicks the match at Superman. He takes a deep drag and exhales loudly as he takes a last look at the defeated and doomed Man of Steel. Bart grins wickedly as he turns and walks towards the anteroom.
Seconds later the sound of decompressing air fills the Containment Room and the steel blast door shifts slightly and grinds quickly downwards. The door slams shut with a loud thud followed by the sound of compressing air. Several seconds later the overhead lights flicker off completely, and there is silence in the room except for the sound of Superman’s labored breathing. He is no longer even aware of his surroundings as he lies tightly restrained on the cold dusty floor of the Containment Room. The room is dark and the prostrate figure of the proud Man of Steel clad in his world-famous blue tights and red cape is but dimly illuminated by the Kryptonite fragments that continue to suck away at the remaining snippets of his life force.