The hunter sighs in relief that the Dark Knight is down, completely helpless—ready to be unmasked and restrained! He wipes his brow with the sleeve of his jacket and then tosses the whip’s handle casually to the floor. He approaches Batman stepping on Superman’s crimson cape and stands over him. Batman is face down on the metal deck with his black scalloped gloved hands clenching his throat.
It’s half past 11 PM by the clock on the nightstand. Ryan is clothed back in his jeans and t-shirt, and has just finished his whopper and rubbery fries… “birthday dinner,” courtesy of his friend Dick. He wipes his mouth with a paper napkin and looks over at Dick sleeping peacefully in his restraints.
It’s Ryan’s birthday. It is almost 9PM, and Ryan is in Room 10 at the Shooting Star Motel waiting for Dick. On the table is a package that arrived yesterday at Ryan’s PO Box.
Naturally the smug prick keeps me waiting again, thinks Ryan, as he scans the evening paper with Robin’s picture on the front page. Robin! Now there’s a guy I’d like to get in the sack with! I’ll wager he’s not near as big a dick as that swaggering prick, Dick Smith. Smith! And I was not even worth the effort to come up with a better alias! Well, Smith is my cash cow, now!
It is about 8AM. “Vince… wake him… Dick Grayson is leaving,” alerts Shawn with a nudge. Vince and Shawn are parked in a white Escalade backed into a parking space across the parking lot from Room 10 at the Shooting Star Motel. Vince wakes and rubs his eyes as Shawn sips his coffee and watches a tall young man exit the motel room and swagger towards a yellow Honda CBR600 backed up to the room’s door.
It is nearly midnight; Police Commissioner Gordon is anxiously pacing the roof of Gotham City’s Police Headquarters with a narrow FedEx box under his arm. The din rising from the large city below seems to add to the commissioner’s anxiety. He checks his watch again; it has been nearly an hour since he illuminated the large rooftop lantern that is projecting the Bat Signal high against the cloudy night sky of Gotham City.
“I heard enough of your sick, twisted, perverted fantasies, Martin! Have it your way, “replies Superman as he angrily steps away from Martin and faces Bomba’s cell; he grabs the black iron bars and prepares to rip the barred door off its iron frame.
“Wait, Superman… please, no more damage. It’s hard to get a repairman out here, and it’ll take ages to get the brig’s entrance replaced,” begs the old fat man with feigned sincerity.
“He is a mighty and very powerful warrior called Superman,” explains Bill to the old witch doctor. “He has the ability to fly and has tremendous strength and other powers; he is invulnerable to every known weapon. And Superman is coming here to turn me over to the authorities. Supermen will destroy my home, turning it to ashes. He can burn objects with a mere look from his eyes!”
It is near sunset and Bomba has arrived in the vicinity of the jungle airstrip. He moves stealthily towards the edge of the airstrip and pushes the dense jungle brush aside. He quickly spots a solitary C-130 aircraft parked on the old abandoned jungle airstrip.
The C-130 passes very low and slowly over the old jungle air field piloted by the ship’s copilot Jake, as the hunter and the pilot stand on either side of the large open rear cargo bay door assessing the condition of the old airstrip. Each of the men is wearing headsets plugged into a communications’ panel allowing conversation between the hunter, the pilot, and copilot.
At the edge of the tarmac, Bill takes a last hungry leer at young Jake, squatting under the C-130, his buttocks clearly defined in the snug jumpsuit, inspecting the interior of a wheel well. “So, forget about Red… Red is off limits to me… Red is not for sale. Such audacity, to set boundaries for me…we’ll just see about Red,” thinks Bill.
Mr. Martin waits alone at the end of the new landing strip he has had constructed on his island of San Miguel. He watches with interest as a C-130 transport appears first as a speck on the horizon and then grows larger as it draws closer losing altitude.
The hunter sips his coffee as the door to the cockpit opens and the copilot enters. “Everything checks out on the checklist, skipper – it should be smooth fast ride to San Miguel running with the bay empty,” announces Jake.
Tarzan is transported to his new home. The hunter watches from the co-pilot’s seat of the multi engine turbo prop transport as the coast of Africa disappears and the gray waters of the Atlantic appear. “So…what’s so special about the air cargo that that you need to lease my entire plane—just to move one mysterious cubical covered tightly with a tarp?” ask the pilot.
The Hunter and Tarzan take a walk. It’s been an hour since the hunter left the river clearing, leading the captive jungle man towards the trail which will take them to the drop-point many miles away… where a companion will meet him with transportation. The hunter looks behind occasionally to watch the Tarzan’s restrained rippling muscles as he leads his “catch of the day,” by the chain attached to Tarzan’s collar and ball shackle.
A half hour later Tarzan is fully awake and thrashing around blindly in the sand, grunting and snarling through the ball gag pulling at the leather restraints that bind his arms tightly behind his back. The hunter watches in amusement as the jungle man thrashes his head wildly, trying to free himself of the tight leather gorilla hood over his head, as he begins to panic and freak out at the darkness and his captivity. Rather expected, snorts the hunter to himself, with little compassion.
The story continues with The Hunter preparing for the taming of the Jungle Lord. Several minutes later, the hunter approaches Tarzan as he lays face down with his face buried in the sandy soil. The hunter stares down at the young jungle man clad only in a loin cloth as he circles his downed prey several times. The hunter drops the sack and nudges the big jungle man in the ribs hard with his foot, trying to arouse him. “The jungle boy is out cold,” says the hunter out loud.
The Jungle Lord has made a dangerous enemy, that sent a Hunter after him.
The hunter continually scans the silent night of the deep jungle from its high trees to the river’s edge, hoping to sight the young jungle man he seeks. It is nearly 5AM and the sun will rise soon. He has been watching since sunset having arrived at his present vantage point just before sun-up the day before.
Our Score Click to rate this post! [Total: 9 Average: 3.7] Allure of Krytonite Author: Lcross Chapter 4 Act Two A scene similar to one played out weeks ago repeats! Superman, stripped of his gear with the exception of his crimson cape, hangs naked, inverted by his ankles a couple feet or so above the theater’s small stage floor! The tall lanky Joker clad in his garish purple three piece suit, his hair a disheveled mop of bright seaweed colored hair, scurries about spryly ratcheting up the apparatuses numerous adjustment chains. The twin cone-shaped kryptonite projectors, positioned on either side of Superman, are alive now and busily hum a low dull buzz bathing Superman in an eerie green light. Rick Harvey has departed, claiming not to have the stomach to see Superman’s young life snuffed out. As the Joker pulls an adjustment chain here and one there Superman’s naked body jerks clumsily, jarred down, then upwards above the stage floor. His powerful bare legs are cast upwards, spread wide apart by a steel spreader bar, and stretched taut! Another pull and the single chain tethered to a steel cock ring tightens-up losing its slack tugging… Read More »Allure of Kryptonite Chapter 4
Our Score Click to rate this post! [Total: 0 Average: 0] Allure of Krytonite Author: Lcross Chapter 3 Act One The phone next to Clark’s bed is ringing. Superman, still prone on the bedroom floor shakes off the last effects of the now encapsulated kryptonite and looks wearily up at the digital clock…903 PM. He has fallen asleep for a several hours! Dazed, he awkwardly pulls up his red briefs before he stumbles clumsily up onto his red boots. He gropes through the darkness dragging his red cape towards the ringing phone and answers shortly, “Kent speaking.” “Hi Clark, sorry to call so late,” apologizes Inspector Henderson. Superman turns on the light near the phone. “I was up…it’s OKAY,” mumbles Superman sleepily as he looks down his costume at his soiled “S’ and unbuckled yellow belt and disheveled briefs. “The reason I called is because of the name you gave me to check out. I put feelers out and got a hit from a tipster just minutes ago. Indirectly I was told a Mr. Ricky Harvey can be reached at 337-5689. No other information…” Superman cuts across. “Got it; thanks inspector…I’ll check it out next… Read More »Allure of Kryptonite Chapter 3
Our Score Click to rate this post! [Total: 0 Average: 0] Allure of Krytonite Author: Lcross Chapter 2 Allure of kryptonite It is the evening before Thanksgiving. It has been several weeks since Superman’s ordeal with the dominant medical orderly at the police infirmary. Since then Superman’s young mind has dwelt on the ability of kryptonite to render him powerless and how it has irreversibly changed everything. Until recently Superman had never experienced the loss of his superpowers – the feelings of weakness and ordinary vulnerability. The concept of the existence of a small green crystal that can erase his super powers is unconceivable. But two recent encounters with kryptonite offer irrefutable evidence. His first exposure to kryptonite left him at the mercy of a crazed headmaster who strapped him naked to an electric chair and brutally tortured him. The second lead to his arrest and incarceration in a psychiatric infirmary for observation where he was sexually brutalized and sodomized by a handsome young orderly! Yet strangely it was the second encounter that seemed to have a profound effect on Superman. The time he spent in the custody of the handsome orderly seems to… Read More »Allure of Kryptonite Chapter 2
