Testing Superman (updated illustrated version)
Author: Superman Fann
Enhanced, edited, and expanded by Rick Henry, 12-2021; firstname.lastname@example.org
This is the revised version by Rick Henry of this classic story writtenm originallly by Superman Fannn, Thanks Rick for sharing this version.
Major characters within are owned by D.C. Comics; this is a work of fan fiction. Though implausible in many respects, this is sexually explicit, m/m erotic material for mature readers only. Illustrations selected were those which basically matched the happenings within the story & not truly “exact,” but as close as possible to fit the text. Most used were given permission by the artists credited; but some unavailable factors were involved.
Instead of their coming here for the testing and expressing of his most glorious strengths, Superman had now been reduced to displaying his most vulnerable and susceptible weaknesses…. Right where Jimmy had suddenly decided he wanted him.
As the once powerful MOS began to groan, mumble his way back into consciousness, reawakening from his exhausted stupor, Jimmy got a small wet towel from the bar to clean both himself and the alien from their previous activities. “Boy, oh boy, that was quite something,” Jimmy sighed, wiping down the Man of Steel’s now heavily flaccid member.
“Oh, ah, ohhhhhh...” the alien murmured, coming to again. “Oh, Jimmy, that was so wonderful, taking me like that. Are you okay?” somewhat concerned his largeness might have been too much for his youthful friend.
“My ass is sore… but right as rain, Superman. The doses of your previous ejacs have worked a number on me, too—like that Trytonian’s did for you; can’t you tell?”
“Yeah, yeah,” weaving his head groggily. “When, when we get to Washington,” he flickered a smile, “maybe we can do this more regularly. Best of buddies, friends. Share. Men like us—need, crave… really rare.”
“’When we get to Washington….’’’ Jimmy gritted through his teeth. Knowing sadly now, it was a done deal, what he had to do.
“Never did this before. So wonderful, Jimmy. My, my only pal,” Kal, reaching up to kiss him, but sort of didn’t quite make it, his thick hand sliding off his shoulders, his mouth only hitting him mid chest. “Seems, seems I’ve expended myself too much. Really weak… plus that, that Kryptonite. The rays too strong, loose. You must, Jimmy, close that lid. Help me….” His giant arms relatively slack beside him, terribly heavy.
“I think, Superman, the best way I can help you, is to get you to ingest your own semen; like you told me before. How it makes you strong. And with the extra loads received from that other “thing,” how much greater you’ve become. So you lost a few spurts since, now’s the time to recoup. Might even become immune to this K-stuff. After all, it didn’t bother him. And you received a really huge dose of his.”
“Yes, but you’ll… you’ll have to help me. So tired, now. Don’t know if I—”
Cutting him off, Jimmy swiftly took his hands, and grasped the MOS by his nipples, near their bases, pulled them firmly down towards his legs, and each out as far to the right and left as they would allow him to stretch… holding tightly, firmly, he rolled the tips in his fingers. The effect was electrifying; the huge muscle man jolted boldly more upright and tense, wailed in a hopeless gasp: “Oh, Oh, Oh, OHHHHH!” his big cock nearly instantly erect, thickening and rising in moments up against his torso. Miraculous.
Then slumping forwards.
“Go ahead, all yours! While I milk these babies, good,” Jimmy urged, trying to work his way between Superman’s slightly sprawled, stretched out thighs. The alien easily tucking his rib cage in above his navel, bending forwards, and found his already leaking bulbous glans with his lips—simply slipped it into his mouth, inch by inch by inch, practically halfway to his pubic root in seconds, no problem… already gone into another world, intent as much as desperate. Nothing at all abnormal from years of self-pleasure. A good eight inches deep, and going for the other eight more. Though his increased length and thickness was something he had to be careful with, not used to.
Jimmy continued to work the MOS’s most vulnerable assets: his cow-teat breasts, seeming to flow continual rivers of his life-strengthening nectars. (Hadn’t he told him: ‘my greatest weakness’?) Of which Jimmy made sure his own mouth drank of, going from each to each. Then making his move, he let go, got down between the alien’s thighs, slowly getting under them, his knees, raising them, as the muscled giant’s torso slid further and further down-slanted against the back support of the couch, to accommodate his access.
Superman overwhelming absorbed, and moaning softly, yet consciously realizing what was going to happen, had his right leg spread wider, slightly crooked, his left drawn up, knee bending… still his own cock in his mouth, his eyes looking towards Jimmy, as Jimmy managed to enter between his so-willing cleft, his own turgid weapon now nearly the size Superman’s had once been: his increase more than amazing, and eased himself in… while the alien soft groaned and moaned, purred and sighed all at once, “Hhhhmmnn- mnnnnnnnn. Hhhummmnnnnnnn.” No resistance, still self-fellating… while Jimmy resumed to take each nipple separately in his fingers—thrust wonderfully into him in pure ecstasy… and impaled him. Whose legs quavered helplessly welcoming him, his richness.
His reasoning was simple. Besides actually being in heat enough to crave to do so… but also knowing the quicker Superman’s prostate were stimulated, the quicker he’d come—his finger was just not the ideal instrument for accomplishing that. Knowing his own larger cock was the preferred method for both of them. Their eyes met, each doing what each needed to do, yet the MOS still in a haze of barely comprehending wonderment, joy beyond joy.
Still, Jimmy had to be more than careful, watching astutely. He could not dare allow himself to come inside the MOS, replenishing him with his own youthfully potent seed—nor have the starving muscle hunk to receive any rejuvenation from his own innate resources. It had to be timed perfectly. And was.
And when he felt the MOS growing tenser and tenser, more frantic and overwhelmed by what was happening, moans and sighs rising higher and sharper, could even see his massive cock seeming to thicken and swell before his eyes—he struck. Wrenched Superman’s cock from his mouth just as he was beginning the throes of his ejaculate, and placed his own over the erupting fountain of it, drinking in the alien’s seed, pulse after spurt, after jerk, after jolt. While Superman cried aloud in sudden protest, true disbelief—“NO, NO, NO, NO—Jimmy, NO!! I need that, I need that, I need—!! My life’s blood, my life, my strength!! My only hope…!!! NO, NO, PLEASE!!!!”
But, of course, it was too late.
The giant muscle man flat on his back now, helpless, spewing and spewing into Jimmy’s ownering/devouring mouth. Moaning, bucking, while Jimmy also had to pull out of him, and watch. It really was too much… about to erupt himself, and he was not quite ready to do so. Superman wailing desperately, in a state of near shock, realizing he’d been somehow deceived, but why? Why? Why? Why? The juice he’d needed so urgently, Jimmy had stolen from him! Why? But he was now almost beyond exhausted, too depleted to think. Lay there in a failing stupor, practically again, nearly unconscious….
And what a sight he was, his titanic muscular form sprawled helplessly useless, all the sinew and might and power and massiveness of him, completely vulnerable and vanquished.
Jimmy arose and stood over him with a great sense of accomplishment, superiority, yet deep trepidation. The man who had once been his forever idol, turned into an even more impressive specimen of pure masculinity than one could ever imagine, now a wimped-out, failed heap of Herculean proportions… arms and legs askew, mighty genitals slack and expended. No longer, for all the wonder of him, anymore truly beautiful.
But a “warped” being—no longer the magnificent hero he’d known. Rather sad, he thought. Oh, well…. Watching him struggle to recapture his breath, he knew he had won.
He knew he had to let him rest for at least ten or fifteen minutes, as it were. So he got himself another sizeable slug of brandy. Good grief, the MOS must be weighing nearly 360 lbs. by now. Just an impossible burden to try to carry—even if he himself had straightened out a small crowbar earlier. But coming to the realization that from the massive loads of the alien’s sperm he’d received, he probably could have flung him over his shoulder and taken him anywhere; as long as he still remained a rather inept and de-manned pile of refuse. Though he wanted Superman to be on his feet walking himself down his own last path, where he needed to go. Just to reinforce things. Was only right. Make it for him a kind of very arbitrary choice.
Then, going off to the same mirror for a few moments, where Superman had preened so outrageously before… he really was impressed with himself, the changes occurring. Not bad, Olsen, not bad at all! Looking almost like a replicant of the earlier that day’s proud superhero as he had appeared… but maybe a good 30 pounds less. Betting in 12 hours, he just might wake up looking more and more that way completely.
Then back to the couch, taking a half-glass full of brandy, having pulled the insensate hunk into a semi-upright sitting position against it once more, arm cradled around him, he slowly brought him around, the brandy forcefully wetting at his lips, making him take it in small sips, letting the warmth of it get into his throat. The MOS’s eyes fluttered.
“Jimmy, oh Jimmy… it’s you. My pal. Best lover. Is everything okay? I feel… really, kind of silly. Strange. So glad, you are here… so glad.”
Jimmy kissed him, long and deep. The click and roar of the air conditioning system abruptly came on, seeming to fill the place with a more soothing sense of comfort, a less hollowed isolation. Jimmy stirred, time to get going… while the Man of Steel was relatively dazed.
“Come on, big guy. Up and at it. Though I bent that crowbar, still think that lid’s way too heavy for me. Need your help, your strength, if we’re going to get that thing closed—save your ass.”
“Yes. Must. Really, my only hope,” Superman mumbled, grimaced, knowing the ordeal he had to face. Not all that clear in his mind…. Jimmy’s arms around, assisted him to his feet. The muscle hunk wobbled a bit, both knowing he was severely depowered from whatever he might been; the effect of those nearby pulsing radiation waves continuing—the massive expulsions of his semen and breast power-resources having been expended so uncontrollably (even deceptively)… what, already FOUR times in a row—with no reciprocation!?!? Why had Jimmy so deprived him of his seed, hadn’t he been the one to suggest his taking of it himself? But could only chalk it up to the passion of the moment, having gotten somehow out of hand. Truly, he was running on empty. The “fumes” making him worse than light-headed….
Hard to get his arms around his mass, Jimmy determinedly kept egging him on, kept him stumbly-legged moving into the Lucite enclosure, towards his salvation—what they must do—endearing words of encouragement into the alien’s ear. “You can do it, now. I know you can. Just a little further… almost there. Then you can rest a minute, catch your breath.” Knowing no such thing was going to occur. He almost had him where he needed him. A few more steps.
Kal-El’s face tensed, tightened as he was led nearer and nearer to his worst nightmare: the glowing Kryptonite—from which he urgently needed to flee, but now had to closely confront, if he were to save himself. There just was no other option! Already his breath was worse than labored, and his muscles seemed like unsteady rubber. Heaving, his brow screwed with concern, he failed suddenly, directly in front of the container… Jimmy’s guiding hands firm under his shoulders, who also removed the covering of his clothes from the opening. Superman dropped to his knees, resting on the wide outer platform, his big hands gripping the edged-rims of the metallic box above to steady himself, not looking in… his dark-haired head slumping loose between his massive deltoids, daring to summon his strength for more—gather his waning resources for his last surge of power needed. His mighty torso trembling.
Then from behind, Jimmy eased himself down onto the giant “V” tapered slab of his back, whispering in his ear. “Yes, Superman, you must. Must recharge yourself. Now, the best way you know how—like you told me…. What gives you your strength!”
“But, but… JIMMY!!” And he suddenly stiffened upright, arching. In bolted surprise. His ginger-haired, having grown more muscular friend, had stealthily slipped his arms down and under his—moved to the sagging front of his heaving pecs, grasped hold of his huge teats, fastened over them and squeezed firmly, his fingernails digging into the tips of them. In shock, the MOS gripping the edges of the opened box for support—screamed.
“Uhhhh-HHHHH!! UH-UNNHHHHH!!” he cried. “No-no, Jimmy! NO—now is NOT THE TIME, THE WAY!!” howling desperately. As his enormous cock once again sprang to life, instantly thickening, an awakened python. Jimmy now fist-jacking down and over his four-plus-inch long/thick nipples, hard and firm, as far as they would go, at the same time pushing into him from the rear, while the MOS’s abs and groin were thus thrust close up and against the metal chest—his huge phallus not able to rise, but was crushed between the box and its down-slant along his thighs… whimpering, moaning. His desire peaked, but restricted and contained. He tried rising up frantically to his feet, Jimmy still mounted behind him. But failed. No, no. This shouldn’t be happening. Not now—of all times. NOT NOW!!
(“No, no, Jimmy. Not now—not this way. No, no, please!”)
Jimmy wanted this to be quick and fast. His captive alien arching up further along the box. Oh, the ecstasy of his breasts, as Jimmy knew, overtaking all his senses… he managed very easily to mount the titan, slipping his able member up and into his cleft once more, with hardly any ado—and deeply into him. While the muscled hunk shuddered, bolted, thrust, received him, wailing in both shock and joy. Jimmy putting his mouth to his ear, with a further shocking revelation: paralyzing him with a lance of fear unlike anything he’d ever known, deep into his soul. Trying to comprehend the words.
“I wanted you to “go out” in style—knowing you really had been FUCKED…!! Good! Really good!!”
Jimmy, knowing the assault to his prostate would bring his ensnared monolith of muscle to climax in the fewest minutes possible. Wanted him, in his heart, to know some joy in his last moments. After all, they had been close, hadn’t they? The wonderful things Superman had done all his life—not to be discarded like hunk of trash…. He didn’t want to be mean about it.
Sensing the Man of Steel’s rising climax, his teats pouring wet all down the front of him, his life-giving strength sources denied him, only the ecstasy of his explosions—not daring to erupt himself, Jimmy pulled out of him… saw the alien’s whole body going into the tremors of his last expulsions—the last he’d ever know—crying out like a castrated bull. Which was actually what was happening: no knife needed to de-nut him. His seed bursting out from his great cock, onto and all over the floor, spontaneously.
Realizing it was to be his very last: Jimmy was going to kill him! Pure panic exploding behind his huge nipples, monster chest, and throughout his cobbled guts—the burning rip within his mighty cock, a searing deep rush from out of his nuts… trying to will back, regain, withhold, retain his glorious strength. His seed going, going—forever gone!!
“AHHHH-AHHHHH-UUNNNHHH!! AAAYYAAA-HHHHHHH!!!!” collapsing.
(“Mercy! Oh, God, mercy! Jimmy… NO, please!!!!”)
Then, with the mighty hulk up-arched on his knees higher, Jimmy removed his hands from his front, while the giant still bucked, his loins expending himself… and slid his own up higher and behind his neck, locking the flailing man into a full nelson. Realizing at last what was happening, the MOS bellowed desperately. His great arms frozen into position… Jimmy behind, crushing down and hard on his neck. The whole upper part of his torso, bent from mid-waist, his great pecs, big nipples, his shoulders, his face—now tautly bowed—being viciously thrust forwards and down, head first into the murderous Kryptonite.
He screamed and struggled uselessly. Still wearing his calf-filling, signature red boots, which jerked, kicked, and slipped under him futilely. Tried to push with his oaken legs. His massive arms frantically trying to reach out and above, to grasp at, clasp onto the top of the chest to close it, before he himself was being cast into it—as well as trying to side- slam his powerfully muscled tri’s and bi’s, bring them down hard onto, break free from Jimmy’s hold. But all of his fabled strength was beyond gone. His might, his powers wet on the floor under his knees. In incomprehensible panic—the lesser Jimmy easily prevailing.
“JIMMY, NO—NO, NO, STOP!! MY FACE, MY EYES, MY EYES… ARE BURNING!! MY FACE… MY TITS, MY MILK!! JIMMY, PLEASE—MY EYES, MY EYES—!! MY-MY MILK, MY NIPPLES!!!! MY PECS, MY FACE!!! I-I-I CAN’T BREATHE—JIMMY! JIMMY, JIMMY!!!! OUUHHH-AHHHYYGGG… GGUUHHHHH!!—!!” Even the juice from his nipples, his spittle sizzling when it hit the rocks.
The horrified, buck-writhing mature alien under him—he, the younger, plunging him further, harder, and deeper into the cauldron. Then, Jimmy very calmly, in measured tones yelled back: “MR. PRESIDENT—MEET—YOUR CONGRESS!!!!”
The throes of the mighty body beneath him were pitiful; the struggling mass of his huge muscles unable to break free, save himself. His cries rapidly fading. “JIMMY! NO, NO, NO—SAVE ME!! HAVE MERCY!! SPARE, PLEASE!! JIMMY, JIMMY! JIMMY… JIMmy! Jim-mmy, Jimm-eeee!! Jim…mmm-eeee…. Ji-iii-mmm….” Gnarled fingers desperate… clawing hands slowly unclenched—the terrible tension in his back, neck, shoulders… failing, surrendering—body, great arms going slack. Gur-gargling choking sounds. A few quiet jerks, tremors. Soft shudders easing….
Until he was still.
To be sure, he finally let go, reached in, pulled the once powerful titan’s nude body up by its hair. The now marred, still handsome face was deeply etched with lines of a beyond horrified expression; faint burn-marks on the skin, the eyes bold-wide, yet blanched a pure gray-white… all color gone. The lips he had once kissed, full mouth ajar, drooling and open. He felt for a pulse, there seemed to be none in the neck. But detected a bare quivering in the ribcage, faint as it was. Well, then… none of that! He held one hand over the mouth of the inert face, squeezed shut the nostrils, and made a slow count to 500. A few of the thick fingers wiggled a bit, trying to rise to the face, then stopped. There was no more twitching after that.
He thoughtfully looked on, closed the eyelids. It was only right….
With some difficulty he straightened, knew what he had to do. The MOS’s limp form bent from the waist forwards, draped half-in and half-out of the casket… got his own arms up and under the hips, lifted, and managed to squirm the rest of him somehow all tucked into the box. Head down first, huge freaky arms folded under him, sort of slipped him onto his side, got his hefty thighs to crease up along his dead torso. Sort of making him look as if folded in half, large obscene genitals above his thighs between and against his chest… as if he could have been self-fellating in his final moments. No matter. A sight to astonish. Who would have dreamed the great Superman ended like this? Although as Jimmy surmised, Superman had really not been the one he extinguished—but some other thing that had needed to be dealt with. A minotaur slain. The great Goliath toppled.
Although the feel and taste of him… his DNA would be irrevocable in his system.
A great sigh of relief, even a tear or two forming in his eyes, he managed to close down the lead-covered lid. Refastened it with the broken locks. Not that it mattered. And while it was normally unthinkable, he bent down on the floor, and took up quite a few slugs and clots of the alien’s last expended seed puddled there into his hands, and ingested them. They were the last he would know, and yet incredibly potent he knew; almost shocked to find they were still quite warm, as if truly yet alive….
Finally, he got back into his clothes, already too small. Even slipped on the newly tailored Superman’s thong, still too big for him, and slip-stretched the hip straps up and over his shoulders, while his enlarged jewels fit snugly into the pouch now drawn tight. Cool! Something to remember him by. He was headed for Clark’s apartment. Knew the former MOS would have a costume or two he could use, get into. Probably a whole trove of information on his computer. Well, Jimmy, boy, you have a new role now. It’s going to be interesting, to say the least. And learning to fly!
* * *
While it was not his first idea, but after ten days, he finally settled on sending a registered letter to his person of choice. Oh, how he really would have liked to see the expression on his face when it was opened. But undoubtedly, some mention of the things to come would eventually hit the papers world-wide. Already rumors were rife—Superman had mysteriously “disappeared” after some failed weapons tests at a nearby military installation, along with the demise of a General and several of his soldiers. However, the truth would now be known, but only to the very few….
Dear Villain Lex,
Your wish has come true, Mr. Luthor. Although Kal-El has/had grown significantly larger, after that Trytonian debacle you tried to foist on us at the base—he still ended up the same: the once touted, no longer Man of Steel… safely snug and secure, contained in your box “as once dreamed about.” In the warehouse at 2630 N. Wilton Drive.
Nevertheless, don’t fuck with me, Wimp-tard. This is Jimmy Olsen, taking over from where our wondrous Superman failed—I got him good! (Had to, after his brain was hopelessly scrambled.) And FYI, Kryptonite doesn’t bother me a bit. Might as well dump your stash in the ocean. And plan to walk a straight line. Although I’m not at all opposed to any rough stuff which might be necessary, if you choose for us to tangle in the future.
Also, no need to hide my identity like the other pussy did.
New boy on the block—beware!
“The Ginger Man.”
Thanks to Rick Henry for finding this hot illustrations and for revising this story orirginally created by Superman Fannn.
There are more stories in this blog from both of these great writers, also you can check Rick’s book in Amazon.
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