The Capture of Superman Part 8
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Originally “The Capture of Superboy,” story by L.Cross.   

Modestly text-enhanced by Rick Henry, 05-2021,



Part Eight -Bart Returns


The next day Bart stands over the pathetic sight of the once mighty Superman holding the now familiar lead box and a black canvas bag as both sets of steel doors to the shaft leading to the hangar above slam shut with a loud metallic thud. Superman remains face down on the floor naked and shackled, ashamed and afraid, after an initial glance, to look the teenager in the face.

Bart dressed in desert camos, black T-shirt and polished black engineer’s boots circles Superman with an evil grin as he observes the hero whom he sees naked for the first time; Superman, the mighty champion is collared, restrained, completely naked and in chains with his wrists bound tightly behind his back and ankles shackled tightly together. His naked body is covered with a film of sweat and grime. Superman’s hair is disheveled and matted and his mouth is crusted with dried drool. His handsome face is streaked in some places from tears.

“Well Superman, what do you think of my uncle’s plan now? A tad better than a fire cracker, don’t you think Superman?” mocks Bart. Superman does not respond and his face remains buried in the floor ashamed to look at the smaller man. Bart sighs loudly and sets down the lead box and canvas bag near Superman.

“We might as well be civil Superman. I’m here to do a job and not to win a popularity contest.” says Bart coldly. “I asked you a question Superman, and I expect an answer,” repeats Bart as he nudges the naked muscleman in his rib cage hard with his heavy boot. Superman gulps audibly and with his head buried in the dirty floor obediently replies,

“It was a brilliant plan, sir.”

“Good. You remembered how to address me; you remember your training….” smiles the teenager. “ … so I won’t have to start from scratch. Anyway, yes, it is brilliant Superman; I admit I had my doubts … well OK, I was close to scared shitless when you started strutting around and showing me your big muscles… when you laughed at the Kryptonite, pumped up your arms and bragged about how you have never been defeated… but it was worth listening to all that crap to see you go down big time… to beat you up big time… to see you defeated, powerless and naked in chains at my feet.

“My uncle was here yesterday but you were out of it. You actually took all this better than he expected, so he’s decided to keep you alive a little bit longer than first planned and collect some samples from you; samples no one has had access to it until now. My uncle stripped you of your pretty costume piece by piece and left you chained up in the buff to humiliate you. Ha ha… don’t worry… he didn’t violate you. He’s straight and his only turn on is just destroying you. He has your precious costume on display in his study…boots, tights, cape and all. Hmmm…. I wonder if he ever jacks off on it?”, Bart laughs.

Superman’s dirty face is crimson red as he nervously listens in silence as Bart rambles on. “Now let’s have a look at you. …Hum. You certainly are a hunkly fuck of a man … plenty of muscles, although they don’t seem to be of any help to you right now,” observes Bart as he squats down and feels one of Superman’s large biceps.

“Flex it,” demands Bart. Superman obeys the teenager and he tightens his bicep pulling his wrists tightly together in the shackles to flex his biceps. “Rock hard bicep,” grants Bart as he releases his grip on Superman’s impressive bicep. Superman relaxes his arm as Bart continues his harangue, “Can those impressive muscles still break steel Superman?” asks Bart coldly.

“Try to break the chains, Superman,” demands Bart. Superman looks up at the cruel teenager bewildered. “I said try to break the chains, or I’ll put the boots to you Superman!”

Superman obeys the man and struggles and squirms naked on the floor twisting and grunting loudly trying with all his strength to snap the steel collar and shackles but the steel holds fast.

“TRY HARDER Superman OR FEEL THE BOOTS,” screams Bart. Superman complies and redoubles his efforts by bucking wildly rubbing his chest and legs on the filthy floor as he struggles, squirms, and sweats trying to break the steel restraints. Bart smirks, obviously amused, as he lights a cigarette and tosses the match in the direction of Superman.

After several minutes of watching Superman struggle futilely Bart tosses his cigarette away and commands loudly, “ENOUGH. I guess you can’t bend steel anymore. You have no more strength than a normal guy your age,” snickers a delighted Bart as an exhausted Superman stops his struggling and remains motionless on the floor at the man’s feet.

Bart circles the exhausted depowered man and observes, “You’re filthy and you smell Superman! … you definitely need a shower Superman … probably a real stiff drink of whiskey too, snickers Bart. “I have a bottle of Jack topside; I have all the comforts of home up there; satellite TV, a cooler stocked with beer and steaks, gas grill, nice comfy sleeping bag and a feather pillow,” brags Bart to the chained nude man laying helpless on the concrete floor.

“You Superman must remain down here on the cold dirty floor in chains. I on the other hand will be enjoying a two-inch-thick fillet and a frosty cold beer whilst you lay in anguish down here away from the bright sunshine,” brags Bart “It’s beautiful day topside Superman; there is not a cloud in the sky; the sun is out and the sky is a deep blue. I bet it would be a nice day to fly around performing superhero stuff,” snickers Bart.

Superman ignores the man as best he can as he chides him, “Well, might as well get right to work,” sighs Bart as he unzips the canvas bag and retrieves a pair of thin black gloves and puts them on as he leers at the wretched, naked man. Next Bart pulls a metal briefcase from the canvas bag. He smiles as he brings the briefcase over to the prostrate Superman, sets it on the floor next to him, grins widely and opens it. Superman ignores Bart as opens the case that houses a small unit consisting of several dry cell batteries, a voltage meter, rheostat and several toggle switches. The case also contains long metal cryogenic specimen tubes, one tube of anal lubricate, and a bullet shaped chrome anal probe wired to a wide black leather belt that is in turn attached via wiring harness to the unit in the briefcase.

“It’s best if you’re not awake for this part. I don’t think you’ll willingly let me insert this probe up your ass,” states Bart as matter-of-factly. The last comment clearly sparks Superman’s interest, and he strains as he rises up on his chest to see what the teenager has in store for him. Superman watches in horror as Bart un-cases the Kryptonite from the lead box and holds the five fragments of Kryptonite menacingly over the shackled Man of Steel.

“NO! Please! Not Kryptonite. Sir, I beg you,” cries Superman. Bart ignores the pleas and watches in fascination as the familiar green hue washes over the bound man’s naked body. Superman immediately begins to sweat and his body stiffens in the restraints as his blue eyes roll back in his head as Superman’s face and chest thud to the floor. Bart grins and drops the glowing fragments, two on either side of the powerless hero and tosses the last near his head. Superman moans in agony again as the fragments suck at his very life forces, and his mind goes blank and the vacant stare returns to his face.

“No delayed reaction this time Superman,” boasts Bart as he watches the strapping muscleman lapse back into a vegetated state.

“No need for shackles now,” observes Bart as he squats over the motionless Superman appraising the man’s sculpted backside as he waits for the Kryptonite to do its work. Satisfied that the defeated super hero is out cold, thanks to the Kryptonite, Bart unshackles the grimy, slack-still man starting with the ankles, then the wrists, and then the collar.

Finished, Bart drags the chain with shackles back to the anteroom and tosses them in the corner.

“There,” says Bart as he rubs his hands together and then lights a smoke as he walks back to the naked man lying prostrate on the floor with his arms at his sides. Bart kneels down next to the immobile man and takes a deep drag on his Marlboro as he makes note of the green sheen reflecting off the man’s sweaty back, buttocks, and thighs. He grins as he notices a trickle of drool running from the mouth of the man’s slack-turned head as his still open, stunned blue eyes stare vacantly into space.

Bart takes a few drags from the cigarette and tosses it away casually. He kneels down and rolls the stunningly built nude off his stomach and onto his back, and then rises to appraise the strapping male form. Large, olive- thick nipples, erected from a massive set of pecs; tiny cobbled waist; heavy slack penis, lemon-sized testicles slung between his perfect, mighty but tapered thighs.

“You have the body of a Greek God,” remarks Bart getting a first time look at the well-developed and perfectly proportioned muscles of the superb hero’s masculine nudity. Incredible big arms, shoulders, legs. Bart kneels again and rolls the unconscious man’s head side to side slowly as he studies the features of Superman’s handsome face. He then slaps Superman’s face sharply in quick secession to ensure the man is out cold.

Superman does not react to the slaps; he remains motionless with his chest rising and falling after each labored breath. Satisfied the man is out cold, Bart begins to physically examine Superman.

Although not gay, Bart cannot resist rubbing his hands over the wondrously built man’s well-developed biceps, pecs and abs as his sense of touch drinks in the hardness of the strapping man’s firm body.

“It’s a shame to destroy something so perfect; that body of yours would turn straight guys gay,” remarks Bart as he moves past the abs and fondles the man’s more than good-sized balls to make an appraisal. “Nuts like that, enough to breed an army. If not two; as you will,” he mused.

“You’re quite the bull, Superman; I know of more than one guy who’d pay dearly to be in my shoes right now; hell, it’s too bad I’m not into guys,” declares Bart, and he begins to slowly stroke the man’s silky, soft, sheathed prodigious tool. As Superman’s cock stirs and starts to quickly stiffen, Bart grins and releases his grip, “Everything seems to work! Sperm collection will be no problem at all,” snickers Bart as he draws his hand slowly down the man’s striated, grimy muscular thigh to his knee. Bart withdraws his hand and stares in fascination at the helpless champion, mesmerized by the green glow of the Kryptonite reflecting off the fine sheen of sweat.

“Well, it’s Showtime,” remarks Bart as he leans over and grabs the wide leather belt wired to the anal probe from the metal briefcase. Bart grins as he roughly rolls and maneuvers the unconscious man as he loops the wide black leather belt around Superman’s waist and buckles the belt tight and then lets him roll back onto his stomach facedown on the floor.

Bart stands and roughly kicks Superman’s muscular legs wide apart and then he grabs the lube from the case, spreads the defeated hero’s firm and rounded ass checks and applies the lube liberally to Superman’s furry hole pushing it deep into the hole with his middle finger.

Superman doesn’t even stir as Bart applies the lube and forces the slim, column-wired anal probe the size of an egg into Superman, and feeds the attached wire deep into the anal cavity. Using a finger up the hole, satisfied the probe is positioned correctly, Bart adjusts the slack of the wire attached to the probe until it rides tightly up between the muscular man’s ass crack back to the black belt around his waist.

“That’s not going to come loose,” announces Bart as he connects the wiring harness to the belt and then rolls the muscled hunk again onto his broad back and throws one of the toggle switches.

Instantly Superman’s cock stirs and grows erect in a matter of seconds and rises almost vertically from the thick dark pubes. Bart has to admit that it’s a remarkable erection; straight, thick, well beyond ten plus inches, maybe twelve, and crowned by a near plum-sized pink head. (No wonder he was addicted to sucking it, the big hero, ever alone… probably would have indulged myself if it were mine, he thought.)

Bart snickers and grabs one of the metal specimen tubes and uncaps it and seals it in place over the head of Superman’s erect cock. Bart rolls the naked man onto his side and steadies the helpless man by holding him by the hip as he throws the other toggle switch.

Superman groans with pleasure and twitches; and suddenly tenses and begins breathing harder as the anal probe does it job. Bart smiles and adjusts the rheostat and eyes the meter and after a moment the unconscious, defeated hero shakes then his body stiffens hard. Seconds later Superman moans and ejaculates into the tube, his hips pushing forward with each of his remarkable eight significant eruptions.

He then suddenly relaxes and remains motionless on his side steadied by an amused Bart, as his still throbbing pole continues to ooze thick white cum.

“That’s a good load, Superman,” laughs Bart as takes hold of the thick member and assists the final flow by squeezing and pushing up the rigid penis.

“Mustn’t miss a drop of this valuable stuff, huh?”, he laughs, “Got to give it to you, big guy, you’re the only one around who can make this special brew, and since you’re not going to be around any more, it’s just that more special and valuable….” He laughs joyfully as he enjoys his joke and the thought of Superman’s final defeat and demise. His great source-strength depleted further by his very own humongous cock and super testicles. Oh, the irony!!

When all of the precious goo has been captured, Bart carefully removes the sperm filled tube from the Superman’s cock, and screws on the cap tight and returns it to the case. Bart releases his hold on the man’s hip, stands and pushes Superman casually back onto his stomach with his boot leaving Superman’s stiff cock wedged between the dirty floor and his stomach. Bart leaves the belt and anal probe in place but disconnects the wiring harness from the belt and returns it to the case along with the lube and specimen tube. As Bart unhooks the wiring harnesses from the belt, Superman’s cock goes instantly limp, and the man moans softly as if in an inebriate frustration. 

Hell, he’d milked him dry for over two hours.  Must have a gallon of his jizz.  Needed a gallon more, he’d been told.

“Don’t worry Superman; we’ll do it again,” promises Bart. “Later, big fuck. After you rest up, a bit.”


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