THE CAPTURE OF SUPERMAN!
Originally “The Capture of Superboy,” story by L.Cross.
Modestly text-enhanced by Rick Henry, 05-2021, firstname.lastname@example.org.
Part Six – Dumont’s Broomstick
Dumont shakes himself out of his rage and takes several deep breaths as he paces back and forth beside the powerless blue and red clad Man of Steel who is shackled from head to foot facedown on the dusty floor in a state of unconsciousness. He slowly regains his composure and turns his attention back to the man.
“Now I’ll have my broomstick,” announces Dumont grimly as he quickly moves to confiscate Superman famous costume. I’m going to display that fancy costume on a mannequin in my study!” promises Dumont. But it looks like I’ll have to run those tights through the washer first as you seem to have turned into a real slob Superman. Well, where do I begin? …The boots of course.” decides Dumont.
Dumont kneels and the shackles and chain clatter as he rolls the man off his belly and onto his back. Dumont laughs at Superman’s blank expression of incomprehension as he rises slightly and pulls a key from his jeans pant pocket. Dumont kneels down and unlocks the shackles from the subdued man’s leather boots. Dumont grabs hold of one of Superman’s red leather boots and rises as he roughly twists and pulls the boot until it slips off Superman’s foot; he casually tosses it across the floor as Superman continues to stare vacantly into space with his mouth agape.
Dumont wastes no time and he quickly repeats the procedure with the other leather boot. Superman’s mind is still completely vacant from the prolonged exposure to Kryptonite and he is still unaware of the presence of Dumont and that he is being relieved of his boots.
Dumont moves quickly to Superman’s head, kneels and unlocks the steel collar from around the man’s neck. He rises and straddles Superman’s legs and then sits on his knees. He grins wickedly at the comatose built man as he unbuckles Superman’s yellow belt and pulls the belt through the loops of his red briefs and tosses it in the direction of the discarded leather boots.
In one swift action Dumont rises and grabs Superman’s sweat soaked red briefs and pulls them down around his ankles. He pulls the red briefs off the muscular stud and tosses them casually next to Superman’s boots and belt on the dusty floor. As the wet briefs hit the floor with a splat Dumont turns and stands over the man who is now clad only in his red cape and royal blue bodysuit made of a conforming elastic material bearing Superman’s trademark “S” emblazoned across the chest.
“Now it’s time for the big enchilada! This is where I strip you of your identity Superman – your famous trademark,” proclaims Dumont coolly as he eyes the famous “S” of the bodysuit and rubs his hands together. Dumont grins and claps his hands together once and shoves his boot under Superman’s waist. Superman is vaguely aware of the sensation of a heavy boot under the small of his back as Dumont flips Superman and he rolls off his back and onto his belly nosily pulling the empty ankle shackles, and collar still attached to his wrists behind his back.
Dumont takes the key and unlocks the bound man’s wrists from the shackles and the man’s arms flop to his sides and remain motionless. Dumont grabs the chain and drags the shackles and chain off to one side creating a nosily clatter on the concrete floor. He pockets the key and returns and grabs the end of the red cape and drags the wet cape off Superman’s back and tosses it over the man’s head exposing the zipper to the bodysuit.
Dumont reaches down and yanks the bodysuit zipper down to Superman’s waist exposing his broad wet back. He roughly rolls Superman onto his back again with his boot. Both Superman’S arms flop to his sides and his head rolls and lies on his cape like a pillow. Dumont straddles the helpless man and grips the neck of the bodysuit with both hands. He begins to pull and tug roughly and the tight body conforming suit begins to peel off like a second skin from Superman’s body. Dumont slowly peels the suit down the man’s chest pulling the man’s arms from the sleeves of the blue bodysuit. He pulls and tugs until the suit is down to Superman’s waist exposing the great champion’s damp chiseled chest.
“Have you been working out?” mocks Dumont.
Superman is still oblivious as to what is happening. He merely lies on the dirty floor with a vacant stare as his chest rises and falls with each breath.
Dumont grins as he pulls the blue bodysuit down below the man’s six pack abs and waist revealing Superman’s thick dark patch of pubes, his male tool and his well-equipped toolbox. Dumont continues peeling the tight blue suit down the captive man’s muscled thighs past Superman’s knees and well-developed calves until the wet bodysuit is down around Superman’s ankles. Dumont steps away and yanks and tugs the light elastic suit with both hands until the suit comes off the man’s ankles with an elastic snapping sound. Superman lays naked on the floor wearing only his cape that is harnessed to his torso under his arms while Dumont takes a moment to feel and examine the grimy bodysuit’s fabric; filthy or not the fabric is fantastic; he observes the suit is light yet indestructible. It feels rubbery but is breathable as it is soaked through with sweat.
I must take my hat off to those Kryptonians, muses Dumont. They were an advanced and powerful civilization. Hum? …Since Superman is supposedly the last of his kind, I wonder if this lunk has the records of Krypton’s civilization stored in a closet somewhere gathering dust.
Dumont looks down at the naked man wearing only a cape harnessed to his powerful torso and for the first time wonders if he might be more valuable alive; at least for the short term.
“If I could get my hands on that lost civilization’s recorded history, and more importantly its technology, I would be a God on this planet. Krypton was eons ahead of us in science! It’s worth consideration,” decides Dumont as snaps back to the matter at hand and wades the inside out bodysuit up into a ball and tosses it towards the boots and other discarded items.
“I’ll have plenty of time to study the fabric later.” Dumont then turns and appraises his trophy, Superman, as he lays there helpless on the concrete floor naked wearing only his famous red cape emblazoned with an “S.” Superman is totally oblivious to what Dumont is saying or what is happening to him.
Dumont stares in fascination mesmerized by Superman’s tall perfectly proportioned, almost hairless, muscular body as it glistens with a fine sheen of sweat tinted green by the rays emanating from the Kryptonite fragments strewn about the room. The man is perfect thinks Dumont. He has a body like a Greek God, the strength of an untold number of men, and the good looks to package it all together.
Dumont circles the magnificent, god-like but defeated champion displayed naked before him several times thinking out loud. “Do you have the secrets of universe hidden away somewhere kid? Do you have the history of the Kryptonian Civilization? I mean you could have hidden the data anywhere on Earth: top of a mountain; bottom of the sea. My only goal was to stamp you out of existence Superman.
Maybe my hatred of you has kept me from seeing the big picture; maybe I have been thinking one dimensional; it is becoming clear that I have not considered all the possibilities. Dumont stops and snaps back to the moment and looks down at the naked man and observes him again.
“You certainly are an extraordinary specimen of a man!” muses Dumont as he appraises Superman’s impressive body: muscular arms, chiseled chest, six pack abs, powerful legs and so forth; even the little bit of body hair he has is perfect. Dumont kicks Superman’s muscled legs wide apart with his heavy boots and then does the same with his muscular arms so that the man lies displayed spread-eagle face up on the floor staring blankly into space.
Dumont kneels, grasps and raises one of the unconscious man’s large arms and examines it, pumping his bicep several times making note of the muscle’s large size and density.
“Impressive bicep; overall you are a very striking man,” observes Dumont. Satisfied Dumont drops the arm and rises to stand over the fallen champion.
“If it turns out you don’t have the secrets of the universe, or are unwilling to share them with me, I could still revert to my original plan and kill you by leaving you imprisoned down here to die a slow death from the Kryptonite. For fun I’d just stick a chunk of Kryptonite in your mouth and seal your mouth shut by wrapping duct tape around that handsome head of yours; or I could just ram a piece of Kryptonite up that tight ass of yours. Or… I could sell you into slavery for a king’s ransom. I’m sure there is a customer base that would pay dearly for a naked Superman and a piece of Kryptonite to persuade him to perform various tricks.
“Hum? Let’s see; an E-Bay auction featuring a powerless Superman wearing a Kryptonite collar; sold to the highest bidder who then free to inflict their darkest perversions upon a helpless Man of Steel! But Superman’s costume is not included; the broomstick is mine! Hum? The possibilities are endless!” remarks Dumont as he puts one foot between the man’s legs and begins to gently nudge the man’s ball sack and tool with his boot as he appraises the man’s equipment.
“Yes; you’ll fetch a good price. The possibilities are endless. Yes. I might have been too hasty setting my goal so low as to only kill you,” admits Dumont as he loses interest in the man’s equipment and starts circling Superman again. “I was blinded by rage and hatred. My goal should have been to subdue, capture, and exploit Superman for every copper penny he’s worth,” concludes Dumont.
Satisfied with his new course of action Dumont suddenly kneels down next to the naked man; Superman’s legs come together as Dumont roughly rolls the caped man back onto his stomach with his arms outstretched over his head. Dumont kicks the man’s arms to his sides and then drags the cape over Superman covering his naked backside. He then quickly straddles the man and grabs the back collar of the cape and pulls easing the cape down the man’s back towards the man’s feet. Dumont pulls the cape’s attachment harness down the length of Superman’s arms and chest freeing the red cape from the man’s strapping torso.
He drags the full-length cape deliberately across the dusty floor and discards it in the pile of other items of Superman’s costume that have been removed from him. Dumont returns and stares down at the man’s perfectly proportioned sweaty backside in fascination for a moment. He watches mesmerized for several moments as Superman’s broad back, buttocks, and legs reflect a glistening shade of green. Dumont’s face brightens as he remembers what’s next.
“It’s time to declare victory over Superman,” announces Dumont to the comatose champion.
There is a slapping sound as Dumont sharply spanks one of Superman’s bare buttocks trying to rouse him, “Superman! This is your lucky day!” Dumont gives the inert man another sharp slap with his open hand and yells again, “Superman! I’ve decided not to kill you… well, not just yet!”
Dumont gets no response and he sighs loudly, “I wish you were at least semi-conscious when I make my declaration of victory over you Superman! I want you to feel the pangs of humiliation as you squirm on the floor naked and feel my boot on your back!” Dumont cracks the man on his ass sharply once more but Superman does not stir.
Dumont sighs loudly again as he rises. He bends over, reaches down and grabs a fist full of Superman’s wet hair and pulls his head back roughly. Superman’s blue eyes are open but vacant.
“Pity you are not awake to witness this humiliation!” states Dumont disappointedly as he releases the man’s hair and his face thuds to the floor and cranes to one side with his mouth agape. Dumont slowly steps to left side of the naked prostrate man and ceremoniously plants his right boot slowly between Superman’s muscled shoulder blades and applies increasing pressure.
Dumont bows grandly and extends both hands outward in a grand gesture. The naked man groans softly under the increasing pressure and squirms slightly rubbing his bare arms and legs on the dirty floor as Dumont applies more and more of his weight on his boot. Here leers at the squirming man and yells, “Excellent! That’s more like it. Squirm and struggle under my boot Superman!” Dumont rises from his grand bow and flexes his arms in triumph and screams out loud, “I have vanquished Superman! I alone will decide his fate!”