Superman vs. Don Knotts Part 3 and 4
5 (1)

Our Score
Click to rate this post!
[Total: 1 Average: 5]


Author: Unknown

Moderately embellished/enhanced and re-spaced by Rick Henry, 06-2021, Fan fiction for adult readers.



Knotts lunged after him, shouting to “Please, give them back!” Superman had completely forgotten he still held the photos in his hands. Don grabbed them and a brief tug of war ensued. Superman was surprised at Knotts’ wiry strength, fueled by his desperation. Surprised still more that the comedian was actually beginning to win the battle, wresting the photos from Superman’s normally vise-like grip. Don eventually tore them away from Superman and ran around in front of the Man of Steel, slamming the open door shut and locking it. “You’re not going anywhere, Superman. Not until you promise not to say anything about these,” he shouted, tossing the photos aside.

“And what is supposed to stop me, that flimsy door, or you?” Superman laughed, pushing Don aside and kicking the door. To his surprise instead of exploding into splinters the thin wooden portal held fast.

“That all you got, Superman? Hell, I can kick harder than that!” Knotts laughed as he launched a swift and surprisingly powerful kick to Superman’s exposed backside. With one leg still in midair and Knott’s foot planted on his rump Superman was sent flying head first into the wall. With a sickening crunch his head was nearly buried in the plaster. Stunned, Superman wrenched himself free of the crater and staggered back, only to be met with a second kick to the side of his head that sent him sprawling onto his hands and knees. “Some Man of Steel! I always suspected you were an overrated fraud! You probably do those so-called super feats of yours just like your television proxy Reeve does—all smoke and wires, rubber bullets, knives and special effects. Let’s see if those “big muscles” are the real deal, or just imitation padding.”

Knotts dragged surprised Superman back to his feet by his shirtfront. Then, sizing him up he drew back and drove a bony fist hard into his ribcage. The shock was palpable. “UUUUHHHH-MMMPPHH!” Superman heard himself implode as Knotts drove his fist past the seemingly impregnable wall of his thickly muscled six-pack, collapsing his diaphragm and forcing the air from his lungs.

“Man of Steel, my Aunt Bee! More like a soft cream-puff. Course, I hit pretty hard. Didn’t teach “Hand-to-Hand, close-quarters unarmed-combat” to my troops for nothing. Yeah, that’s right. That routine I do in the show about bluffing about being a Karate master and having my hands registered as Lethal Weapons and all, well it’s true in real life! Try this ‘back fist’ move on for size, Big Man!” Knotts said, releasing a shrill Karate yell and spinning about on his back heel like a dervish. Extending his right fist, he swung it around to Superman’s left temple like a club.

Starbursts blinded his eyes and Superman found himself dancing a strange wobbly-legged jig. Steadying himself, he lost his usual composure and angrily launched a looping haymaker down at the smaller man. But Knotts caught his arm in a swift, fluid motion. Turning so as to lock his elbow over his right shoulder Knotts levered the 265 lb. muscleman into the air like he was a feather, and slammed him hard onto his back on the solid floor.

“Oh, Judo was part of the instruction course, too. Uses your opponent’s weight and strength against him. So it looks like it’s two against one, Big Boy. I told you that you aren’t going anywhere until I make you promise to keep your mouth shut about those pictures! My whole career is on the line—and looks like your phony shit-rig is too!! And if I have to lay hands on that hunky, wimp-bod of yours, and pound it like a two-dollar steak in the process—well, so be it. We can dance all night if that’s what it takes,” Knotts gloated. Confident of his skills as they were; a pussied muscle-boy before him, unable to seem man enough to even stay on his feet. A gym-buffed wonder, weaker than a puff of cotton candy…! What a surprise. Muscle Man, crap!!

He waited, poised, as Superman stumbled back onto his feet. Then he waded in, throwing straight punches into the Man of Steel’s exposed midsection. Superman grunted with each thunderous impact. Trying to ward off the blows with his crossed arms and hands, which only left his chin exposed to stiff uppercuts that snapped his thick neck back like a thin reed in a gale. Knotts forced Superman to retreat until his back was against the wall. Then he really leaned into the shots, massive karate blows that could shatter cement blocks or snap thick pine boards in two. It was a toss-up as to who screamed louder: Knotts uttering his fierce Karate Kiais, or Superman howling in pain like a banshee as each blow drove deeper into his vulnerable belly. Knotts worked him over like a heavy bag in a boxing gym. Just when Superman thought he had a blow timed and braced for a fist aimed square in his midsection, Knotts feinted and brought a lethal knee high up into his solar plexus, scrambling the mass of nerve endings beneath the muscular torso and paralyzing him momentarily. The nearby Kryptonite having done, and still doing its debilitating work on the MOS. His mighty muscles and skills failing big-time, mind-glazed, disoriented, co-ordinations short-circuited.

Superman gasped for air but his deflated lungs would not work. He tottered forward into Knott’s waiting grasp. Cinching his long arms around his waist, Knotts circled around behind Superman. Squatting slightly, he positioned himself under Superman’s center of gravity and suddenly heaved up, suplexing the huge man over his head and driving him onto his shoulders smack into the floor. Superman’s head was whipped backwards on impact, bouncing with a sickening thud against the unforgiving cement floor. Could have broken a normal man’s neck! Knotts refused to give up his reverse bear-hug. Instead, he wrestled Superman back onto his feet just long enough to launch him into the air once more. This strange dance went on several more times, until Superman was all but putty- helpless in his grasp. Every muscle in his body was sore and his head was pounded wreckage from the hard slams. Knotts, still keeping the waist-lock, slid back around in facing Superman once again. Grunting, he leaned back, tightening the embrace. Superman felt his mighty chest compress, and the bony wrists digging into his spine sent electric shocks up and down the length of his pain-wracked body. Superman could no longer draw a breath, and darkness threatened to close in like a storm cloud. A shock: how could this twerp be so strong?!

“Had enough, Superhero? Let me hear it, let me hear you say you give in. Let me hear you say you’ll do whatever I want. Say it, say it!!” Knotts screamed into his ear. Superman heard and felt Knott’s hot, alcoholic breathing as he labored to exert all his strength into the massive bear-hug. Sacrificing his last bit of breath Superman spat out a weak, “Never!”

“Never say ‘never,’ Super-cunt,” Knotts smirked. “But I’m glad you are holding out as long as you have. I’m really getting off crushing you like a bug under my heel, Muscle-boy. All my life I’ve been bullied and looked down on because of my frail build, reedy voice… nervous manner. Never the handsomest kid on the block. The schoolyard and army base were bad enough. But it only got worse in Hollywood. Always overlooked for starring roles in favor of big muscly, pretty boys like you. Having to play the clowning sidekick to jockish hunks like Tab Hunter and Rock Hudson. Guys who were invariably even bigger fairies than me—want to know the truth!

“Humph! Beginning to think you’re as big a fraud as them. Don’t even have a girlfriend, do you? Never seen you with one. Not even some paid starlet to beard for you. Maybe that’s why you paid me this surprise call tonight. Maybe you heard about all those cute boys, and wondered what Ol’ Donny Boy has in his pants that would attract all those young Adonises? Would you like to see for yourself, Big Boy? Tell you what, I’ll show you mine, you show me yours—.”

Knott’s grunted and heaved, amazingly lifting the bigger man clear off of his toes and squeezing until Superman heard something snap in his back. He tried to struggle free but felt himself going limp:“Oh, oh, na-nuh… noohhhh!” Those dark  clouds which had been circling overhead soon closed in and shut out the light.

When Superman came to, he was flat on his stomach on the floor. Knotts was squatting on his thighs, tugging at his shirt and cape. The cape soon gone, the shirt not as easily stripped off. Still grogged, realizing what was happening, but unable to stop it, he quailed unresistant…. Knotts determinedly wrested at and wrenched his skin-tight coverings up over his head and finally tossed them aside. “Whoo-eee! Those tight duds didn’t leave much to the imagination, but I still didn’t expect this. You’re hairless as a baby, and molded like a God-damn marble statue of a Greek god! I once saw Steve Reeves filming one of his Hercules movies; and baby, he’s got nothing on you! But let’s see the real goods now.”

With his captive’s face down, Knotts grabbed a fistful of tights and began yanking them down below his hips, both the tight red briefs and the longer blue tights together. “Sweet Jesus, look at that ass! It’s… it’s just magnificent! And those thighs, like sculpted pillars! Now that I’ve seen your back door, let’s see what kind of welcome mat you’ve got on the front porch,” Knotts joked, reaching under Superman’s hips and flipping him over onto his back.

Superman, laying there like a sack of useless flour, heard him suck in his breath in silent admiration. (Almost as enthralled as he was, every time he saw himself undressed to take a shower; knowing something unwelcome was inevitable—depowered as he was…. His nudity for the first time being viewed by another since high school. Ego-proud of his assets, yet worse than frightened at his subdued position.)

Knotts just stared, licking his lips.

“‘Shazaam!!’ as Gomer Pyle would say. That is the most beautiful piece of meat I have ever seen! You are as big and well-formed down there as everywhere else. But where are my manners?” Knots said, abruptly jumping up to his feet. “I neglected to show you mine.”

Superman saw for the first time that Knotts had already been nearly stripped naked himself, except for some longish, baggy boxers. The ugly little man was surprisingly well-muscled. Thin as a greyhound, but with wired, gnarly sinews. As Superman’s eyes drifted down below the slim hips though, he suddenly was caught short. If he was built proportionate to his massive frame—Knotts was freakishly huge for such a small man! DAMN!! And as he watched the scrawny man with a flourish kick out of his undergear, he nearly gasped. Knotts, wagging himself, boldly—bully-proud, and looking to be as near-siliconed as a younger, circus-ed “Muscle Eddie!” His thick, semi-hard dong hung to his bony knees, and was as big around or more than the circumference of his arms. His balls were the size of paired tight fists; (a bit less than Superman’s own, which hung heavier, lower, nor were comparatively as “beautiful”)—yet flushed with an angry reddish hue as the rushing blood plumped up his growing beast. How he’d kept all that hidden from the public must have been a masterful art… keeping himself fastened close to his thighs, ever in baggy trousers. (Much as the Man of Steel as Clark Kent attempted to disguise his own merits in loose-fitting suits; or Superman did in his custom-made, yet ever notable bulge-worthy cup.)


“Yes, you certainly are a feast for the eyes, Action Ace. In fact, before seeing you completely naked in all your considerable glory, I’ve been satisfied with my ‘Look but don’t touch rule.’ But no more; not for a freaking second more! I’m going to touch you, Superman, in ways beyond your Big Blue Boy Scout’s limited imagination. In ways I’ve only allowed myself to fantasize about my entire life!” Knotts seemed lost in reverie, speaking as much to himself in an interior dialogue and his better angel, than with the fallen Son of Krypton.

Don turned and lifted a large bottle from the dressing table. Superman had noted it earlier. It seemed odd to find so large a container of what appeared to be baby oil among the jars of makeup and various other dressing items. “My own special concoction; found long ago I’m allergic to the usual unguents used to remove the heavy pancake makeup we use in camera work.  So I had my makeup man formulate this—it’s made from pure coconut oil and exotic Hawaiian flower essences. So non-toxic you could actually drink the stuff. I love the way it smells and feels on my skin. I wonder how it would feel on yours.”

Don uncapped the bottle and poured it over Superman’s head and body. Superman sputtered as the viscous liquid ran over his nostrils and mouth. The torrent continued until his entire body was drenched and glistening, laying there like a dumb animal being anointed for sacrifice…. Then Don used the remaining oil to lubricate his own scrawny limbs. Still blinking away the excess liquid dripping from his raven locks, Superman was unprepared when Don suddenly pounced on him, slamming their naked bodies together with a wet “Splat!”

“Unn-unhh—!!” the startled MOS grunted.

And before Superman could react, Don was all over him, wrestling him in extremely close body contact. Superman was unused to such close in-fighting—   certainly never naked! He struggled vainly to buck Don off him, but both men were so slippery it was hard to grab onto and push the smaller, lighter man away.  Superman soon found the wiry little man extremely flexible. Knotts wound his arms and legs around Superman’s huge torso and limbs like an anaconda. While Superman found it almost impossible to gain a purchase on his foe’s thin frame, Don was able to grab hold of his beefy adversary in the most unexpected areas. Don’s thin, claw-like fingers even gripped the edges of Superman’s huge pectoral muscles, curved and edged like dinner-plates, and painfully dug his fingernails under the ridges of the massive mounds of muscle… who shuddered at their clutch. Superman’s abdominals, the partitions of which were cut as sharply as diamonds, allowed the probing fingers to claw and rip at the already abused muscles of his underbelly. Even his thick, luxuriant hair with its distinctive spit-curled forelock, allowed his foe to twine his fingers within the oily raven locks and jerk his head about, controlling the bigger man like a rider reining in a bucking steed.

But it was his nether regions where Superman proved most vulnerable. Don did not scruple to spread his sculptured buttocks apart, and work his fingers into the deep cleft between. Forcing a long finger deep inside the tight asshole, Knotts nearly hefted Superman’s ass, who howled out in surprise, like a bowling ball ready to be pitched down the alley. And finally, Don got around to touching the Holy Grail itself—Superman’s treasured twin weighty globes of manhood.

“OOOH!! As Merv Griffin likes to sing: ‘I’ve got a loverly bunch of coconuts!’” Don chirped merrily, claiming their subdued ownership. “They are absolutely perfect. Except perhaps they possibly could use a bit more ‘coconut.’ Oil, I mean, of course. No slur intended on their size and weight, which are more than quite acceptable.”

Don gathered some excess oil that had run off Superman’s body and pooled on the floor into his open palm and slapped it between the Man of Steel’s legs. Then he worked it roughly over his crotch. First squeezing his heavy balls in his fists, and then moving up. Seizing Superman’s huge, but as yet flaccid penis, he began to roughly work the oil over the smooth, “cut-ended” shaft. (Something that obviously had been done before he was ever placed in his rocket to Earth. But how he could be the true alien as claimed, and proven now a mere sham… a pussy-wimped pile of skill-less muscle under him?! He had to be a fake!)

“Well, well, if this isn’t déjà vu all over again. What do we have here, the

‘Incredible Mr. Limp It’?” There shouldn’t be anything soft on the Man of Steel now, should there? Well, I can fix that,” Don laughed as he began jacking over and  joy-stroking the thick organ, which started to fill and swell even larger, longer, and to leap in Knott’s hand like a fish in a net. “Always been aching to find even 2/3 of match to my own! And here he is! A true ‘Superman’—muscle and all. Though wimpy-strong as a twelve-year old, imagine that!”

Superman struggled to free himself, but Don kept the dominant position, mounting Superman’s back. Even when he managed to roll onto his side or partly so, Don would slide on top once again, adeptly pinning the giant muscleman beneath him, having his way with him. Superman was frustrated and confused. He’d never been manhandled so easily before. Nor had he felt such mixed feelings as when the little man touched his secret places. Fingering his ass, or mauling his magnificent erected tits, even tweaking and twisting his prominent larger than grape-sized nubs, electrifying him to his core—experiences he’d oft dreamed of when sucking, or taking them himself—never thought he’d encounter with another. But most disturbing of all was the masterful manipulation of his groin. His balls, more thickly swollen and tender than ever before, his super-charged penis erecting like a skyscraper… his genitals with a mind of their own. Fighting the idea of being controlled by such an ugly, skinny freak, at that! Trying as he might to discipline himself by sheer willpower, unable to prevent their natural response to such skillful pleasuring. The Kryptonite having undone him, his powers, who he was. Un-nerving him.

Don lay atop Superman’s chest, pinning his arms behind his back in a double wristlock. He leaned down and began licking the oil from Superman’s pecs, teasing the rocket nubs of the glistening nipples, causing him to tremor helplessly, with the curled tip of his tongue. “Mmmmmmm! Damn you taste so good. I wasn’t just kidding before, this stuff is actually delicious!” Don smiled as he continued to lick and slurp every inch of Superman’s upper torso, even beneath his armpits and continuing up his throat. Then he locked lips with the Man of Steel, and began tonguing his hot, moist mouth. The resistant Superman’s struggles only seemed to increase Don’s ardor as he made passionate love to the beautiful Adonis… who had no desire for his mouth or his body against him.

Nor was his helpless situation simply humiliating. Superman, who had not usually known fatigue, was tiring fast. Without his super-strength and vast reserves of solar energy—both depleted not just by the effects of the Kryptonite, but the skin-covering of the oil choking his oxygen starved pores, along with the torrid, non-stop erotic nature of their struggle… he was nearly at the point of exhaustion. His lighter foe wasn’t even breathing hard yet. But his massive, thickly muscled body felt like it weighed a ton. And because the odd-oil covering his pores was completely sealing in his body’s heat, he was sweating so profusely even the crevices of his body where the oil had not reached were now slick and slippery. He was huffing and chugging like a freight train.

Don sensed he was weakening, and began playing almost nonchalantly with the helpless superhero’s magnificent physique. His hands were everywhere, groping and feeling up the smoothly muscled giant. When Superman tried to mount a feeble defense, Don cranked up the grappling… twisting Superman’s thickly muscled limbs in directions they were not anatomically intended to go (yet due to his innate flexibility could be manipulated). He worked over the huge biceps with arm-locks, twisted the huge thighs into knots with ankle locks and toeholds. And finally smothered the Action Ace by slapping on what is known in Judo circles as a Rear Naked Choke. And never before has the hold been so aptly named. Wrapping his arms tightly around his neck and covering Superman’s nostrils and mouth with his interlocked fingers, Knotts slowly took the wind out of Superman’s sails. His taut muscles slackened, were conquered, and once more he briefly slipped off into an insensate oblivion.

He came to with an odd burning sensation and a shooting pain running up his spine. Lifting his head and peering over his shoulder he saw Don crouching between his widespread legs, which had been splayed apart so as to make his body look like a huge letter ‘Y’. One hand gripped his nut-sac at the base and lifted his hips just clear of the ground. The other was engaged in fingering his asshole again—far more invasively than before. The index finger was jammed in just past the second knuckle, while he was introducing a second fingertip as well.

“Uuuh-ohhhh,” Superman groaned at the intrusion and tried jerking away, but Knotts just gripped his vulnerable ball-sac even tighter and held him in place. Owning him completely, he realized. The MOS’s mind frantic with an approaching dread and true fear.

“So, Sleeping Beauty awakes. My kisses were having no effect (at least not on you), so I decided to try something a bit more… drastic,” Don chuckled. “It’s time to dance to the Piper’s Tune, ‘Man of Tomorrow.’ And don’t worry if you don’t know the steps—I’ll do the leading and you just follow along as best you can. I have a feeling you’ll be a natural.”

Don leaned over and whispered in his ear, “I know from your reactions you don’t find this entirely unpleasant…. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re no innocent to sex, either. Equipment like yours has no less been self-used, and well-enjoyed… if not with others (knowing your famed, honorable Boy Scout demeanor)—since you were a kid! Like mine. And no doubt in every flexible way possible. Well, neither am I all that privately innocent when it comes down to it… aside from a little voyeurism and a ton of self-abuse. But as it happens, I have the largest and most varied collection of gay pornography in Hollywood, which is no small boast, by the way. Like any good actor I’ve prepared for this role of a lifetime, with a lot of research and solo-rehearsals. And now, I’m ready to take the stage and “wow” my audience. My audience of one—the superlative You!”

Don continued to work his fingers inside the puckered ring until he had three digits worked in to the base knuckles of his fist. Superman groaned and squirmed but could do nothing but take the abuse. He felt himself being pried open and worked loose at the same time. Grimly he bore down on his sphincter, forcing the intruders out. It seemed to be working, but only a little.

“Damn, you are one tight-assed bitch!  Or have superior master-control. Especially for someone who’s no doubt been dicking his own self, too,” Knotts cried in frustration. Finally Don mysteriously relented and withdrew his fingers. Superman sighed with relief and momentarily relaxed. “Well, luckily I’ve used old firearms in period pieces in films. Way to load a tight-bored barrel is to grease both your barrel and ammunition before you shove it in with the iron ramrod.”

Don reached over and grabbed the bullet from the table, re-assembling it… leaving the stone shard still free atop the table. He rolled it over the mound of Superman’s oiled cleft, greasing it up. Then, pointing the tip of the wicked projectile at the puckered man-ring, suddenly jammed the sharp point into the pink bullseye of Superman’s ass. Screwing it adeptly, he brutally forced it into the base. Superman arced, cried out in shock and surprise as the cold metal jacket was lodged inside his (otherwise) virgin sanctum.

Having taken him off-guard, Knotts suddenly surged forward and applied a full nelson, pinning the mighty alien’s arms uselessly forwards, up and out at his sides, forcing his groaning face against the floor. Knotts then entwined his legs around Superman’s thick thighs like a creeping ivy, hooking his ankles under Superman’s knees and lifting them up and apart. Superman was now surf-boarded, his big body bent like a bow held taut by the wiry body of the diminutive actor.

Superman then felt Knotts oddly rubbing his forearm between the cleft of his ass cheeks and up the hollow of his back and along his ridged backbone. The knobby-like fist dragged across the ridges of his spine as it was extended up between his shoulder blades, and then withdrawn back to rest atop his buttocks. With a shock, Superman suddenly realized Knotts was already employing both arms to hold him in the full nelson… and somehow peering over his left shoulder he got the fright of his life. What he thought was a limb was nothing instead but Knott’s huge penis, now fully erect and engorged! It slid up the hollow of his back like a log in a flume. The huge glans was dripping precum like some slavering beast. It was monstrous, more like some other-worldly horror in a B-movie bursting from Knott’s entrails than a human sex organ.

The once invulnerable Superman now panicked at the thought of accepting that gigantic phallus inside him. It must be near 16 inches, thicker than a baseball bat, far greater than his own twelve and a half by eight… (which he had yes savored himself with often, but never could take it all, to but several inches from the hilt).  He begged Don to have mercy, struggled with every last ounce of his strength to resist. In utter panic. But his last-ditch heroics only served to enflame the beast-man. And just when Superman thought it could not possibly increase in size, it began to throb and thicken into a veiny shaft of horse-like male flesh. Don began rubbing the clubbed tool harder and faster between his clefted buns. Finally, he reared him up, lifting his ass high and poising the tip against the base of where the bullet firmly lodged in the tight asshole.

“Now we’ll see who the real Superman is, you costumed faggot! Say goodbye to your virginity, and hello to my superior asset!” Knotts braced himself and thrust forward with a scream, not unlike his Karate battle cries. His victorious shriek wed with Superman’s horrific howl of anguish, his pained protest as it slipped in passed the perimeter of his male-cherished never before taken chute by another’s assault. Only a few token inches within.

“YESSSSSSSSSS!!!!” Knotts gloated exultant.

“NOOOO-OOO—OOOHHHHHH!!!!!” cried the depowered, being raped Superman, pathetically. Rim-ruptured like a young girl, further plundering yet to come.

Knotts stiffly broke through Superman’s weakened defenses with the first sally. The bullet was rammed further deep inside him, clearing the way for Don’s larger tool. Once his glans had gained its foothold, he began inching more inside the weakening hole. He never pulled free after that, instead rotating his hips and literally screwing himself ever deeper inside the quivering ass. Superman wailed his ego-alarmed, wasted protest, but it only spurred his attacker on. Five inches in, and only the uncut glans and the wrinkled prepuce that once hooded it had disappeared inside. Another eleven inches waited its turn to be crammed inside his bowels. Superman gasped with each deadly thrust. Grimly, he tried to fight him off one last time. He applied all the strength in his mighty limbs, and at last broke free of the full nelson. Using his freed hands he pushed himself off the ground, tried twisting his whole body. He shook his legs vigorously until he freed himself of Knott’s grapevine hold. But the cock was still lodged in him.

Superman forced himself onto his hands and knees and then briefly rested, hoping to gather his strength for one last effort to break free. But Knotts just laughed at his attempt to fight back. “Glad to see you are still in the fight, Supes. Wouldn’t want you to just lie down and take it like some jaded old hooker. I told you we were going to dance, and it takes two to Tango. Let’s dance, asshole!” a firm grip still encircling in on his hips.

Knotts then began fucking Superman Doggy style, the Man of Steel in his attempt to slip free, began actually swaying backwards and forwards with each thrust and retreat. Receiving more of the actor’s member into him, he began moaning mindlessly, mumbling nearly incoherent, pleading noises… between protest and acceptance. The nature of his invulnerable body slowly adjusting.

“Your lips are mouthing ‘NO, NO,’ Action Ace, but your welcoming ass and ever stiffening dick are shouting ‘Yes! Oh, God, Yes! Fuck me harder!’ Which shall I listen too?” Don teased mirthfully. As if to remove all doubt, he began long-dicking the superhero, making him groan with each grinding, gyrating thrust deep inside his protesting guts. Every now and then the bullet, rolling about in the cavernous love chute of the giant, would slide under the huge dick pressing inexorably forward like a Juggernaut, and press against his sensitive fleshy bowel.

“UU-NNNNNN-GGAA-GGGGG-gggggaahhhhh!” was the closest Superman could get to a protest at the further, devouring pain. The MOS took the abuse for as long as could stand, then summoned up yet another last-ditch effort to rise once more. With what can only be called a superhuman effort, Superman managed to force himself to rise up onto his feet. Although clearly surprised, Don took it in stride, hanging onto him adeptly, still imprisoning the alien by his huge weapon, seeming to go further and further into him, if only an inch at a time. “I love it that you keep fighting the inevitable, Big Blue—it will only make it that much sweeter when I finally take your cherry—make you my bitch. You actually did me a favor. Much as I like riding you like the animal you are, now we really get to dance!”

“Na, na, nuh… no—Nnooo-hhhhhHHH!!” Superman continued to weakly sputter.

Still locked together in coitus, Don somehow managed to threw a sharp knee up between Superman’s legs and scored a hit directly into his solar plexus. The Man of Steel instantly doubled up in pain. Knotts then began sowing a deeper standing-fuck into the bent-over Titan, that made his knees buckle. A weird dance then ensued: Superman staggering about, trying to break free, Knotts continuing to manhandle the superhero and fucking him silly from one end of the room to the other—even reaching around to the front of him, and latching onto the alien’s super dick with both hands. Fuck/jacking him at the same time. Sometimes Don was able to maneuver/slam Superman face first against the wall, and really lean into the bigger man. Grinding against his powerful buttocks and making Superman moan, whether with pain or pleasure or anger or all, it was difficult to tell. Other times he just whaled away in his ass, thrusting and parrying as they wrestled for control, stumbling almost drunkenly and aimlessly about. For a while he quit jacking him, to grab once again onto his triceps for better control.

Finally Knotts reached under and up between his legs and seized Superman’s erect penis, and pulled it downwards. Using it much like a boat’s rudder, he steered the cowed Man of Steel towards the large dressing table and threw him against it. Superman gasped when the front edge of the table slammed into his crotch, almost crushing his nuts. Not just from the impact, but because the debilitating Kryptonite stone was still bared, laying amid the clutter of cosmetics… and as deeply lodged in his mind, as the bullet inside him—working its conquest, taking down his own self by the knowledge of his helplessness to save himself. Within him, as well, the agent of his own destruction, Knott’s overpowering phallus, and his complicity to it…. Those thoughts alone, decreasing further Superman’s rapidly dwindling power to resist being raped, or wanting to.

(And for the true want of a larger cock, much like his own, he’d often dreamed of knowing… to actually ravish him!! But certainly not by this one, this way!! Never, never, never!! But it was happening!)

Bending him over the large table Knotts kicked Superman’s legs apart, giving him free access to his splayed-open buttocks. Knotts could now lean into Superman with all his weight and power, driving forward with his legs while simultaneously gripping the sides of the table, pulling himself forward at the same time. Superman groaned loudly with every thrust, each more powerful and deeper than the last. Knotts was firmly in control now, and the dominance seemed to reawaken the Drill Sergeant in him. “Take it, Maggot, take it! You thought you could easily master a guy only one third your size, huh?! Well, now try taking one about one third more your size—where it counts!! Right up the ass, Man of Steel! Move your sweet buns, little girl. Swivel those hips good and slow. I said move that ass, slut! Move it! Move it! Move it!”

Knotts kept up a stream of verbal abuse, mixing gutter trash talk and stern military commands. So disoriented and dispirited was he that Superman actually began following his commands…. Perhaps he subconsciously felt it would be less painful if he cooperated, and surrendered to the inevitable. Perhaps Knotts had indeed broken him, dominating him as much psychologically as he had already done physically and sexually. In any case, the Man of Steel began circling his hips in rhythm with the screwing, even thrusting his buttocks back to meet the forward thrust head on. Bucking not to resist, but to angle his ass to better take the endless advance of stiff meat even deeper inside his loins.

Knotts saw Superman watching his own reflection and his as well in the mirror. “Like what you see, Action Ace? Can you see the defeat in your eyes? The triumph in mine? I can. Do you see me screwing your ass every which way but Sunday-go-to-Church style? Get a good look at the world’s greatest superhero—getting punked like a faggotty, macho prison bitch!”

The rape went on for nearly an hour. Superman’s body had finally become so accommodating that Knotts could step back and withdraw nearly all the way out, then cruelly thrust in all the way to the root in one savage charge. Only Knott’s inexperience had kept Superman from losing it long before. For all the size of the fleshly pole shafting him, the rape had been more a thing of pain and humiliation than true stimulation. He hadn’t taken the time to search out Superman’s magic button. Now Knotts slowed his savage assault and began probing about with his knob-sensitive dickhead. He bent his knees slightly and thrust high, then got onto his toes and went low. Finally, a relatively light thrust at just the right angle and location made Superman suddenly stiffen and catch his breath. His rock-hard dick, still trapped beneath his ridged abdomen and the desktop, gave a sudden lurch. Knotts smiled, knowing he’d found the Promised Land.

He adeptly hit Superman’s prostate gland dead center, again and again. And again. With both precision and power, he worked over the Man of Steel’s male G-spot. At first it was only an extremely discomforting irritation, then a seared burning in his loins. Then, it was as if a Fourth of July fireworks display went off in his head every time Knotts battered his gland. Superman writhed and howled like a wounded beast. But some inner pride kept him from giving in to the tremendous urge to orgasm. He knew Knotts must be close too, as he had ceased to trash talk and was moaning nearly as excitedly as Superman. If he could make him come first, perhaps Knotts would be satisfied and withdraw. At least Superman would be spared the ultimate humiliation of having his first mano-a-mano male orgasm caused by this skinny twerp’s dick thrust up his ass, even it was a super big one.

Superman gritted his teeth and took the blows in utter silence. First one thrust right on the money, then another. The sturdy dressing table shook and swayed beneath the powerful assault, threatening to literally shake apart into kindling. Six now. Then it was ten. Superman wanted to shout to the skies. He felt like a rocket blasting off from the launch tower while still tied and locked down to the gantry. He couldn’t last much longer. Twenty now, and Knotts just seemed to be picking up steam with each one. Thirty, or was it thirty-three? Superman had lost count. Knotts was jack-hammering him with incredible speed and power. His hips were a blur, Superman’s ass cheeks vibrating like jello on a rough train-ride.

Just when the Man of Steel thought it could get no worse the loose bullet still bouncing about loose in the little space left inside by the all-consuming dick popped out of whatever fold or crevice of Superman’s gut it had been and was caught between Knott’s on-rushing freight train of a dick and Superman’s sagging prostate. The sharp point nearly punctured the softened gland, making Superman jump like a live fish thrown on a hot skillet.

Superman wasn’t just begging and pleading for Knotts to stop his assault. He was literally weeping and calling on his alien god to save him.

“OHH—AAHHH—UHHHHHNNNNHHHHhhh!! Great Rao! Save me. Oh, God of Kryptonnnnnnn—gggggghhhhhhh!!! Rao….OW!…Ow!…..Ow! Oh, spare me! Pleassssssss-uuuuuhhhhh—nnnnhhhhh!!!!” he wailed through his tears. His entire body trembled, a leaf in a storm, and he nearly passed out several times from the pain and the terrible toll of his trying to fight/abhort his surging orgasm.

Superman heard Knotts suddenly yell, “Shiiii—iiiitttttt!!!!” And explode inside him. The Man of Steel felt every volley of hot jism course through his guts like a fire hose had been let loose inside him. Knotts pumped him like a madman, screaming obscenities into his ear all the while.

But there would be no victory, however hollow, for the Action Ace. Knotts was still in the midst of his orgasmic throes when Superman suddenly caved as well. Knotts had lost his grip on the table in his orgasm, and instinctively grabbed up and forwards, the first thing at hand. His fingers fisted over and around Superman’s sensitive nipples like handles, clawing and mauling his tits in a death grip. The MOS arched back with a true shriek, his doom sealed.

This last bit of unintentional titillation was the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. Like a dam bursting, Superman let lose a chilling animalistic roar and convulsed like a demoniac. Howling and frothing at the mouth, he went into spasm after spasm, sending volley after volley of foaming seed spewing into the large dressing table mirror. Superman bucked and thrust his hips, the exhausted actor hanging on for dear life but clearly enjoying the free ride now that he had done his part. Now Superman was fucking him, grinding his spasming asshole against his groin, and interiorly gripping his pole with his convulsing bowel muscles.

“Let ‘er rip, Super Slut!!” Knotts howled in gleeful encouragement. Superman unleashed a torrent of sperm, completely coating the surface of the mirror and mercifully blotting out the image of his final degradation. It took nearly three minutes for Superman to slow his pace, grinding to a halt like a burst steam engine. Cum still flowed from his dripping dickhead in short spurts. He leaned heavily against the tabletop, his great chest heaving and his nose snorting steam against the mirror’s besmirched face like a horse at the end of a long and grueling race.

“You were magnificent, Superman. It was worth a lifetime of self-denial for this moment. Better to go to the top of the heap and have one incredible, mind-blowing experience than waste years fooling around with little pretty boys on the make. The sweetest cherry in the universe is mine now, and I’ll savor this night to the end of my days. But the night is still young, Super-Cunt. I promised you we’d dance the night away, and now that we’ve broken the ice with a fast dance, we can get intimate and slow dance awhile.”

Still firmly implanted lance-deep in his butt, Knotts reached under Superman’s armpits and lifted the exhausted, limply muscled superhero off the tabletop. Using his never-lessened, aroused stiff dick like a ramrod (a sure sign he was no less than well-loaded, and a more than capable, unsated, potent being, at that, regardless of his ordeal), he straightened Superman up and waltzed him over to the far wall, where a bed had been set up for napping between long takes on the set. Knotts walked Superman over to it like he was moving a large piece of furniture, then simply toppled him over onto the mattress, falling atop him. And even more simply, stifled the muscly Titan’s feeble protests by stuffing his face into the pillow beneath him. The alien’s great arms floundered, powerless to resist. Beyond depleted, his major strength-source having been expelled and unleashed. Truly wimped-out, and in a sense, acquiescing to his possible demise…. Probably could have snuffed him for good, while he re-fucked him. But that wasn’t on Knotts’ agenda—having waited a lifetime for this most special of evenings’ fun, and their mutual un-masking charade.

Knotts whispered into the beaten superhero’s ear “Oh, yes, my friend, we are going to dance all night long, so we might as well be comfortable. The Horizontal Mambo will be so much less taxing than that wild standing Lambada we did. I know a hundred different positions from my porn collection, and I’ve even come up with a few more in my most lurid wet dreams. And I’m going to try them all out on your ass.” Superman moaned a muffled, knowingly futile protest, but it was lost in the billowing pillow. Then, he bit down on it to keep from crying out for mercy, when the vicious rape forthwith suddenly renewed.

 To be continued…

Our Score
Click to rate this post!
[Total: 1 Average: 5]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.