m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt2

[Absman420]

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Pt 2

 

McGrath, the Sheriff’s Deputy from Oklahoma, was smoking a cigar while he fucked his buddy Zelinski in the “super-sling” that Zelinski had mounted in his San Francisco playroom. McGrath had been a big man before becoming one of the New Supermen -- corn and beef fed they said of the male stock in that region -- but since his transformation, he was one of the biggest men alive. (Really only two or three bigger.) 

 

Thick, brutish muscle, he was large before he’d played college ball for the Sooners, when he really bloomed to peak size (what he’d thought was his peak, till his transformation). But McGrath maintained a GPA that allowed him to graduate cum laude -- unlike most inside linebackers, he had the brawn AND the brains. With a Bachelor’s degree in Criminal Justice/ Law Enforcement, McGrath knew what he’d wanted to be long before football had come into the picture. 

 

And he loved being a lawman. 

 

He loved the badge and the power and the sexual fantasy that accompanied the job. How many women had big, hunky, Deputy McGrath seduced in his time with his muscular ass and husky thighs stretching his Sheriff’s uniform to the max? 

 

And again, McGrath had been well-equipped before becoming a New Superman. From simple observation in the team locker room, McGrath knew his cock was one of the biggest, too -- probably only two or three bigger. 

 

His wife had loved it -- and he’d loved giving it to her.

 

And honestly, if there were a down-side to being one of the New Supermen, it’s that he wasn’t able to fuck women anymore. He’d tried it with his wife -- her riding him -- but it wasn’t enough. They both liked down-and-dirty too much. And he knew that if he’d pounded into her the way he used to, he’d simply crush her beneath him.

 

So their sex life foundered. 

 

Who knew that it was more important to her than their marriage? (Their marriage had never stopped HIM from fucking around on the side.) Whatever. It’d been going stale, anyway -- and he enjoyed his role as Superman significantly more. 

 

Besides, fucking Zelinski’s tight ass was nearly as good as any pussy he’d ever had, including his wife’s. More, Zelinski liked it even harder than she ever had -- he could really cut loose and not worry for a second about damage or safe words. 

 

McGrath still considered himself straight -- he just took advantage of opportunity. He couldn’t fuck women anymore, so he fucked men -- he had to fuck something, after all. But he wasn’t gay -- he didn’t suck cock. He’d touched a couple of the other New Supermen, nipple play and stuff -- he’d gone so far as to kiss his buddy Tucker --  but he wasn’t gay. He didn’t DESIRE men -- he just fucked them because there was no other choice.

 

And Zelinski was a great fuck (plus he could take McGrath’s entire cock), so a couple times a week McGrath flew out to Zelinski’s San Francisco loft and dropped a load or two. Zelinski was exactly the type of guy McGrath preferred in a fuck-buddy -- he was grateful and adventurous and playful, but not demanding or clingy or caught in the mire of romantic feelings. They got together -- they fucked -- they went their separate ways. McGrath wished he could’ve had that kind of relationship with his former wife.

 

That Zelinski had gone so far as to make this “Super-Sling” only emphasized his commitment to giving all the New Supermen the sexual outlet they needed -- the ones who’d remained single, anyway. Some of the New Supermen had gotten together into “relationships”. McGrath knew that his buddy Tucker had paired off with Max Malone -- McGrath had played with them a couple of times, but he wasn’t into all the kissing and shit, so he finally gave up on them as anything other than friends and instead spent his sexual time with Zelinski. 

 

It was better (for him) when relationships were clearly defined. 

 

And nothing more clearly defined him as a top than the pounding he was giving Zelinski now while McGrath smoked a cigar, wearing only his work boots and a black baseball cap reading “DEPUTY” in block white letters. McGrath’s thick handlebar mustache and his perpetual five o’clock shadow gave him the look that every bottom fantasized about as their ultimate Daddy -- at least, that was how Zelinski lived the moment. He had the same Tom of Finland fantasy every time McGrath fucked him.

 

McGrath pumped to a fever pitch, his breath hitched, and he shot his load deep into Zelinski’s hole. “Fuckin’ hell yeah,” he groaned, exhaling a plume of cigar smoke. “Take that shit.”

 

It didn’t last long -- McGrath’s orgasms never did -- before he was pulling his generous dick out of Zelinski and wiping it down. 

 

He noticed Zelinski just lying in the sling, catching his breath. “You gonna cum?” McGrath asked, as he cleaned himself off.

 

Zelinski sighed contentedly. “You gonna help?” he asked with a smirk. 

 

McGrath snorted. “You know I ain’t gay, Z. I don’t do cock.”

 

Zelinski laughed as he started beating off. “Says the guy who just fucked my ass.”

 

McGrath turned back to face him. “And fucked it good,” he said, reaching in to grab Zelinski’s balls. With a firm hand, he squeezed the root of Zelinski’s sac until he heard a moan. “That what you like, you little homo?” he growled. 

 

“Yes, Sir,” Zelinski moaned, jerking himself hard. “Yes, Daddy…”

 

“Shoot your load, boy,” McGrath ordered, sucking on his stogie with his free hand. “Shoot it now while you’re all full of Daddy’s cum.”

 

And Zelinski did, blowing a load that landed across his throat and chin. Fuck, he loved these straight dudes. He screamed as he let go.

 

McGrath smiled. His job here was done.

 

“So,” McGrath said as he slid his underwear back on and Zelinski floated up out of the sling, landing by his cum towel, “we still good for Friday?”

 

Zelinski chuckled. “We’re good anytime you wanna give that big cock, my friend. I fuckin’ LOVE that dick,” he said, wiping himself down. “I just wish I could get you to love mine.”

 

McGrath shrugged his massive shoulders. “We are who we are,” he said, zipping up his black cargo pants. “Look, Z, if I were gay, you would…”

 

“I know, I know… I’m not trying to make a thing out of it -- I’m just sayin’...”

 

They stood there awkwardly facing each other, the sexual pull between them undeniable, but McGrath just couldn’t do it -- he couldn’t kiss Zelinski. Instead, he gave him a Bro-Hug. 

 

“Look, gimme some time…” McGrath whispered in Zelinski’s ear. “There’s no one else I’d want to do this with…”

 

Zelinski smirked. “That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me,” he laughed.

 

McGrath pushed him away. “Fuck you,” he said playfully, and reached for his shirt. 

 

“Yeah, you will,” Zelinski said, heading toward the bathroom. “On Friday. Have a good flight… daddy.”

 

McGrath wanted to throw something at him, but he knew his super-strength would be more destructive than playful, so he flipped Zelinski off instead (to Zelinski’s laughter), stubbed his cigar butt out and slid his t-shirt on -- the word “Sooners” stretched across his chest. He heard the shower come on, so without a formal goodbye, McGrath stepped out onto Zelinski’s balcony and flew off toward home. 

 

He’d done this flight a thousand times -- he could almost do it blindfolded, From San Francisco, he flew Easterly, though he preferred a more Northerly flight path over Nevada, Utah and Colorado, rather than the more direct Southerly pass over Arizona and New Mexico (and part of that shithole Texas). He liked the scenery of the Rockies versus the desert -- there was plenty of flat and boring in Oklahoma, thank you, give this man the mountains. 

 

But then, just as he was flying over Glen Canyon National Park in Southeastern Utah, just as he was settling into a post-orgasmic, blissful, trance-like flight (listening to a Tim McGraw album on his headphones), he was hit directly from beneath, unexpectedly, by what seemed like a missile -- it momentarily knocked the wind from him. 

 

“What the actual fuck?” he asked no one. Looking around for what hit him. Tim McGraw sang about being humble and kind.

 

Then it hit him again, this time from behind, and drove him -- at super-speed -- down onto the ground before he could get his bearings. 

 

It was a person -- a man -- it was a some-ONE, not a some-THING.

 

Someone with super powers.

 

McGrath forced himself up from the ground and back-handed the guy off him, knocking him about twenty or thirty feet back, where he landed in a puff. Regaining his feet, McGrath noticed a white, chalky dust on the back of his fist where he’d hit his adversary. He wiped a bit with the fingers of his other hand and sniffed it.

 

And he was suddenly horny.

 

It hit him like cocaine -- that’s what it reminded him of, this white, chalky dust -- except drugs weren’t supposed to affect him anymore. And what… was the guy covered in it or something? 

 

Why was McGrath’s dick hard?

 

The guy stood, shaking off McGrath’s wallop. He was a gigantic thing, six-four, six-five, close to three hundred pounds of muscle -- simply massive -- dressed only in a Superman compression shirt and a pair of over-stuffed red speedos. To look at him, he COULD be the actual Superman, he looked so similar, except for the fact that his skin lacked pigment and his hair was a disheveled mess -- he was a white as a snowman. Glancing at the powder on his own hands, McGrath wondered if the guy was covered in it… or if he was producing it somehow.

 

Whichever, he had a shit-eating grin on his face -- he looked like an idiot. He HAD to be coked out, McGrath thought.

 

(Although, horny as he was, McGrath couldn’t help but notice the guy’s huge, swollen ball sac, big to the point of being uncomfortable, causing Macrath to inadvertently lick his lips.)

 

“All right, pal,” he said, in a ready-stance, “what the fuck is goin’ on?”

 

The monster laughed, a big, fool’s laugh. “BAD WORD!” he said, pointing. “YOU NO AM SUPERMAN! YOU AM BAD WORD!”

 

“Are you okay?” McGrath asked, warily. “Are you on something?”

 

“ME WANT ON SUPERMAN! YOU NO AM SUPERMAN! YOU AM BAD WORD!”

 

Casually, McGrath pulled the Sooners tee over his head, revealing his own heavily-muscled torso, and the metallic S-shield that was tattooed across his mighty chest. “I think you’ll find me a worthy substitute,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. 

 

“YOU... AM... SUPERMAN!” the thing said, as if discovering something new. “ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN!”

 

“What…?”

 

And then, with a burst of super-speed, the creature was on him and knocked McGrath onto his back. “ME WANT FUCK SUPERMAN,” the thing said, and it began kissing McGrath, over and over again, like someone who’d never kissed an adult before. 

 

The dust that came off the creature -- that coated the creature? -- McGrath could smell it -- taste it -- it WAS like cocaine.

 

Horny cocaine.

 

As he wrestled with this creature, he got more of it on himself… in himself. He could feel the thing’s erection pressing against him.

 

He could feel his own pressing back.

 

What the fuck…?

 

“YOU AM FEEL IT NOW!” the creature rasped, as if his throat were dry, too -- or he didn’t know how to whisper. “YOU AM HORNY SUPERMAN!”

 

Lifting up into the air, McGrath tried to flip the creature over his head, but then ended up slamming them both into the ground on their backs, raising more dust -- he couldn’t break the thing’s hold. Admittedly, he wasn’t used to wrestling (seriously) with guys that had strength equal to his own -- even in his daily work as a deputy, he rarely came across anything that required his full strength. Sure, every now and again he’d lift a car, or a tree blocking the road, but nothing like this.

 

“ME AM SO HORNY FOR SUPERMAN!” Without even trying to, the creature easily flipped position and scissored McGrath’s head with its massive quads -- its over-sized balls right in McGrath’s face. Impossible to breath -- everything smelled like sex and horny energy. He was having trouble fighting back.

 

The creature squatted and t-bagged McGrath, his grapefruit-sized balls flopping to either side of McGrath’s face, smothering him in ecstasy. He reached up and grabbed the thing’s quads, perhaps in an effort to pull himself off the ground, instead he put himself deeper in the creature’s sac. 

 

He didn’t care. The way he was feeling right now -- he wasn’t caring about much of anything.

 

“YOUR COCK AM SO HARD!” the creature said, grabbing it. “YOU AM SO HORNY!”

 

McGrath drew in a deep breath, moaning -- his face was covered in powder, giving him the look of someone hit too hard by a makeup poof. He wiped it off and licked it -- he wanted it straight from the source.

 

“Yeah, gimme your cock,” McGrath panted, desperately. “I need that cock... ”

 

“ME FUCK SUPERMAN,” the creature said, laughing his stupid laugh. “ME MAKE SUPER HORNY!”

 

“Yeah, fuck me,” McGrath heaved, his desperation growing, pulling his pants off. “Put it in me!”

 

“ME FUCK YOU!” the creature said, playing with its own dick, sliding a dusty finger into McGrath’s hole. “ME FUCK YOU STUPID!”

 

It was the creature’s balls that were swollen, not its cock -- McGrath’s own was significantly bigger -- but McGrath had never had any cock at all, remember, so his virgin ass was going to be feeling it no matter what. 

 

Except something about the dust coming off the creature wasn’t making him feel much of anything other than lust and need. He felt its cock against his hole, pressing for entrance -- and briefly, he thought it might hurt, but he didn’t care -- he didn’t even care if it made him gay -- he just let it in. He needed it. And it was ecstasy from the moment it was inside.

 

The creature clung to him, humping him doggie-style, but wrapped around McGrath’s muscular torso, one hand in McGrath’s mouth, so that McGrath sucked on the creature’s fingers, licking the candy-coating straight off. He felt nothing but idiotic bliss as the creature’s enormous balls slapped against his hamstrings. 

 

“ME CUM NOW!” the creature roared. “ME GIVE SUPERMAN BIG LOAD!”

 

And then he did -- he slammed deep into McGrath’s muscular ass and filled him with cum, every ounce those giant balls could produce. 

 

Liquid ecstasy.

 

The creature stayed inside him, reaching around and grabbing McGrath’s rock hard cock. “NOW YOU,” the creature growled in his ear. “NOW YOU GET STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!”

 

McGrath’s balls started to swell, as if they were filling with the creature’s ejaculate. McGrath held his package, moaning, the weight of his nads increasing -- the sexual charge growing right along with them.

 

The creature jerked him with rough, clumsy strokes, but McGrath was so blissed out it didn’t matter. He was moments away from shooting -- moments away from losing all control. 

 

He felt so fucking good!

 

“SHOOT, HORNY SUPERMAN!”

 

McGrath, unable to help himself, threw his head back and yelled, “YES! FUCK, YES! HORNY SUPERMAN SHOOT!”

 

And then he did -- this huge, blinding, stupefying orgasm. His big, swollen balls pumped out ropes of thick, white jizz. More and more -- every little bit of him.

 

Even as the last drops dribbled out -- a line like thick, white snot descending from the open tip -- McGrath’s dick remained semi-erect. He continued to play with it, licking the dribs of cum from his fingers as if discovering the taste. He was nearly covered in white powder, making him look like a bodybuilding clown. For no reason, he found that funny and started giggling.

 

The creature chuckled with him, pulling his cock out of McGrath’s ass -- there was a tight “pop!” that made them both laugh out loud.

 

“YOU AM STUPID!” the creature said, delighted. “YOU AM STUPID NOW!”

 

McGrath laughed -- a big, braying, bovine laugh. “ME... AM... STUPID!” he said, smiling, looking around. “WHERE… WHERE BRAINS GO?”

 

The creature laughed, smacking McGrath on the ass. “YOU SHOT ALL YOUR BRAINS OUT, SUPER COCK! YOU AM STUPID NOW!”

 

The two of them looked at each other for a moment, trying to comprehend, then they broke out laughing and they hugged. “STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!” they sang and danced around each other, big balls flopping and cocks dribbling. 

 

They awkwardly kissed, suddenly reminding themselves they were horny and desperate, covering each other in the powder. McGrath felt a new kind of need — the need to pass it on. (Not that he was in a position to articulate it.) 

 

“WE NEED FUCK MORE SUPERMEN!” he said with a smile. (Okay, maybe he could articulate it.) “HORNY…”

 

The creature vigorously nodded. “YES! MAKE MORE HORNY SUPERMEN!”

 

“ME NEED SUPER COCK!”

 

The creature looked around. “WHERE AM MORE SUPERMEN?”

 

Putting his hand on the Creature’s mighty chest. “ONE SUPERMEN,” McGrath said with seriousness and intensity, as if this were taking all his concentration. “TWO SUPERMEN,” he continued, touching himself. “WE AM TWO SUPERMEN!” he laughed, clapping childishly. 

 

“YOU AM SO STUPID,” the Creature laughed. “WHERE MORE SUPERMEN AT?”

 

“ME KNOW! ME KNOW!” McGrath jumped up and down with his hand in the air. “THERE AM MORE SUPERMEN IN SAN FRANCISCO! SLUTTY SUPERMEN!”

 

“ME LOVE FUCK SLUTTY SUPERMEN!”

 

“YAY! MAKE SLUTTY SUPERMAN STUPID, TOO!”

 

Again, they danced joyfully together. 

 

“WE MAKE ALL SUPERMEN HORNY AND STUPID!”

 

They cheered, then stood there looking at each other blankly. 

 

“WHERE WE GO?”

 

“SLUTTY SUPERMEN’S HOUSE, HORNY STUPID!”

 

McGrath laughed. “RIGHT! ME NEW AT STUPID! NOT GOOD LIKE YOU!”

 

They laughed together, hugged and kissed again. “LET’S GO!” 

 

Holding hands, they flew off.

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