m/m THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt4

[Absman420]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

 

Pt4

 

Tucker McGee had a lot to be thankful for in life, but it all started with his overactive pituitary gland. He hadn’t been a big child, nothing that would make you look back at his baby pics and say, “you can see where he gets it,” but once his pituitary gland kicked in, once the growth hormone started being produced, Tucker’s life changed dramatically. Seemingly overnight, Tucker… thickened -- it was the summer his mother nearly gave up on buying clothes for him, he outgrew them so fast. 

 

And once the Middle School PE teacher saw him -- once the football coach saw him -- football became part of Tucker’s life. (Understanding that in Texas, this was known as the “father’s fantasy” track, so he had nothing but patriarchal support.)

 

Tucker loved football -- and football loved Tucker.

 

It was easy -- he just had to push guys to the left or to the right or just knock them on their ass, depending on the play. It was fun. And the bigger he got, the easier it got -- and the more fun it became. 

 

He started to get off on it.

 

So he applied himself and began lifting (and eating) in earnest -- he took to both like a fish to water (water with food in it). It wasn’t until he was in college that he started juicing -- his frat brothers introduced him -- and that bumped him another notch. He graduated college at 275, proud of his round, hard roid-gut (he called it his tortoise-shell) and his impossibly massive legs. Tucker was simply mass personified -- he wasn’t sloppy bulky like some offensive linemen, he was thick and hard. When people saw Tucker coming, they got out of his way.

 

He played pro-ball for a couple of years -- but it was for Buffalo and he’d hated how cold it was there, so he opted to come home to Texas and join law enforcement. Again, a perfect fit -- he thrived in that environment.

 

And then to be recruited to be one of the New Supermen! For Tucker, that was perhaps the greatest honor of his life, better than any sports award or superbowl ring -- he eagerly accepted. 

 

The transformations were significantly more dramatic for most of the guys than it had been for him -- or at least, that’s what he thought. At 6’4”, Tucker seemed to harden, but he lost none of his curves. It was like his bulk became solid muscle. Still with the impossible thickness, but he didn’t have the stereotypical “superman” body, the pretty abs and lean hips. He didn’t care -- he’d always liked his gut, now as rock hard as the rest of him. 

 

Tucker’s other secret weapon was his Texas Horse Cock. Uncut and thick, Tucker won the lottery there, too. Sure, he’d pretty much beat his balls to death with steroids, all atrophy and ignorance, but at least genetics had balanced that loss with ample dick. If he hadn’t been a cop, he joked to himself, he could’ve easily been a porn star -- and that was true. Tucker did like to fuck and he did like to fuck for an audience.

 

That discovery happened in college, too, at a frat party -- he and his buddies had chipped in for a prostitute and they were all taking their turns -- when they saw how big his cock was and how well he used it, they’d all started jerking off watching him. And Tucker realized he was getting off on them watching him more than he was with the actual fucking. That’s when he knew he could be a porn star!

 

He didn’t define himself by his sexuality. He liked fucking women well enough -- he liked fucking men, too. He liked fucking. Dominating. But the thing about being with a guy was the possibility of Tucker getting fucked, too. He preferred being the top, but sometimes he felt like taking a dick, too -- it was a completely different experience. Not often, but often enough that it mattered. He also found relationships with men easier, too -- probably from being such a frat boy. 

 

Once he’d become a New Superman and women were pretty much out of the picture, Tucker found identifying himself as gay was a lot easier.

 

And then there was Max. And he was surprised how easily and naturally he’d fallen for Max, how well they fit together, how comfortable it was to be with him. The big, muscular lug had won his heart and he was planning on sealing the deal with an engagement ring on Max’s birthday. That Max understood -- and encouraged -- Tucker to play with the others, so confident in their relationship as to bely jealousy, made Tucker love him all the more. 

 

It didn’t even qualify as a “long-distance” relationship, either -- though Tucker worked in Houston and Max in DC, they could fly to each other’s homes in less than ten minutes. That was faster than some people who lived in the same city! 

 

Tonight, though, it wasn’t a Making Love with Max he was looking forward to, it was one of those no-holds-barred, all-out Man-Fucks with Zelinski instead. Tucker sure wasn’t pretty enough for Zelinski to date, but that sweet little bottom loved Tucker’s thick cock. Tucker was Zelinski’s Go-To when Z was looking to be serious about getting dicked.

 

He’d heard -- through the grapevine -- that Zelinski was trying to get serious with Tucker’s buddy Frank McGrath from Oklahoma. Tucker knew about McGrath’s ugly little divorce and his difficulty adjusting to his new sexuality (or at least the expression of it). They’d tried to play together a couple of times -- and though McGrath had enjoyed tag-teaming Max’s ass, he wasn’t able to do anything orally and could barely touch anybody else. In Tucker’s view, it was a shame -- McGrath had an ass that deserved some dick -- it was even more of a shame that alcohol didn’t affect them anymore. Maybe after a few stiff drinks, McGrath would’ve found some courage.

 

Whatever. McGrath was Zelinski’s problem -- Tucker had his own man.

 

Not that that was stopping him from flying to San Francisco after shift to pound Zelinski’s super-hole. When -- finally -- his beat was up (and after he filed some necessary paperwork on the computer at super speed), he changed clothes, gym shorts and sleeveless t-shirt emblazened with a rainbow-unicorn and the word “butch,” and brushed his teeth. 

 

He quickly texted Z. “OMW,” he wrote.

 

The reply was a smiley-face emoji, a flexed arm emoji, a peach, an eggplant, then some spurts.

 

Tucker shook his head, chuckling to himself -- his dick shifting a little in the jockstrap he wore beneath, making him remember to throw on a cock ring -- Zelinski was a trip. 

 

Tucker locked his front door and flew west, looking forward to the fuck.

 

*************************************

 

In San Fran, the sun wasn’t completely down, casting a few last colorful rays over the horizon. As much as he loved Texas -- and cherished Houston -- there was nothing like the mountains and the way the lights of this city appeared out of nowhere. It just said “romance’. 

 

Not that he was here for romance -- he was here for fucking -- still, it was hard not to get caught up in the scenery.

 

Landing on Zelinski’s patio, he saw that the balcony door was shattered and destroyed, not even a blanket or a piece of plywood over the hole. (Hell, Zelinsky was a New Superman -- he could fix that door in seconds if he’d put his mind to it.) Was there a problem? Was it part of some “scene”?

 

He entered without worry, glancing around for anything suspicious -- as he got deeper into the house, he noticed some kind of… dust in the air. Didn’t matter -- he was suddenly too horny to think about it, the outline of his cock becoming obvious beneath his gym shorts. 

 

God damn, he was ready for some action! (He’d already forgotten about the door.) Tucker hadn’t realized he’d been this horny -- and it was getting worse by the second. He’d fucked Max just yesterday, but it felt like he hadn’t gotten any in weeks -- his balls felt heavy. Literally, his dick was starting to lead the way. 

 

He knew the way to Zelinski’s playroom even without his dick -- but his dick, like a good dog, was eager to lead. 

 

It was dark, but he could still see enough. There was Zelinski’s “Super-Sling”, but the body laying in it wasn’t Z -- WAY too big to be Z…

 

“Frank?” Tucker asked -- it couldn’t be. “McGrath?”

 

The big muscle-beast stirred, giggling in his low-pitched voice. “TUCKER FUCKER!” he said, letting his head roll back. “FUCK ME!” Something sounded… wrong about his voice, like he was tripping. 

 

Tucker stepped up between McGrath’s thick, muscular thighs, McGrath’s legs up in the stirrups. He’d known McGrath had a big cock, but look at the size of those balls -- damn! 

 

Was there some sort of powder all over him? It was too dark to tell…

 

“What’s up, buddy?” he asked, pulling his t-shirt off and lowering his shorts, leaving himself in only the jockstrap, distended as it was by his own thick piece of meat. (A suddenly very excited piece of meat.) “Finally want to get fucked by a man?”

 

Standing between McGrath’s legs, Tucker reached forward and grabbed McGrath’s tiny nipples. (There WAS something all over him -- what the fuck?) As he did, McGrath raised a hand and blew fistfull of powder into Tucker’s face. 

 

He pulled back in reaction, still breathing most of it in. And before he could react or strike out, the rush hit him. It had been years since he’d done any kind of drugs -- not just that, as a New Superman, drugs and alcohol weren’t supposed to affect him anymore -- but even before becoming a lawman, Tucker had only done coke a couple of times in college. And whatever this stuff was put that buzz in a (very) distant second place. 

 

This was incredible! FUCK, he was horny!

 

McGrath giggled like a stupid idiot, wiping his hand down Tucker’s face, leaving a white streak in its path -- Tucker licked McGrath’s palm as it traveled over his mouth. More of it! More!

 

“FUCK ME, TUCKER FUCKER,” McGrath said, a dopey smile on his face. “ME NEED COCK.”

 

“Oh, I got a cock for you,” Tucker growled, pulling his big rod out of his jock. “I been wanting to give this to you for a long time.”

 

McGrath looked at it, drooling. “FUCK ME!” he begged, shifting his massive body in the sling, waving his ass. “GIVE… COCK…”

 

Tucker snorted, spitting on himself to lube up -- he had to lift McGrath’s massive balls to get to his hole. But once he had, Tucker put the head of his dick against McGrath’s virgin bud. “Gonna turn you into a little bottom bitch,” Tucker said.

 

McGrath blew another load of powder into Tucker’s face.

 

Tucker simultaneously inhaled and shoved. 

 

Fuck!!!

 

“FUCK!” McGrath yelled. “YES!”

 

“Take my big fuckin’ cock… bitch!” Tucker said, balls deep already. He slowly began thrusting. McGrath’s eyes rolled back in his head, leaving the dumb smile across his face -- ecstasy. 

 

“OHHH…. FUCK…” McGrath moaned. 

 

“Yeah, you like that,” Tucker kept mumbling. “Now that you got one inside you, you’re gonna be a bottom bitch…”

 

“TUCKER’S BITCH,” McGrath laughed dumbly. “SO FUCKIN’ STUPID!”

 

More powder -- this time it wasn’t McGrath, tho. 

 

Floating down from above came Zelinski, until his package was right in front of Tucker’s face. “TUCKER FUCKER!” Zelinski said. Zelinski was covered in the same weird powder that McGrath was, mixed with dried-on cum. 

 

Big, orange-sized balls in Tucker’s face -- he couldn’t resist, burying his face in Zelinski’s ample package, licking the delicious powder and addictive cum like a man with a hunger he’d never known he had.

 

Zelinski wrapped his legs around Tucker’s head, burying the big lawman in his smell -- Tucker didn’t care. Fucking and licking and thrusting and the dust and the lusty high and the stupid moans that filled the room. 

 

And then there was someone else. Tucker didn’t know who -- Tucker didn’t care who -- just that there was suddenly someone behind him. Taller -- hard cock -- muscular arms reaching around Tucker’s torso -- white -- dusty -- so fucking horny!

 

“ME FUCK!” the guy behind him said, sliding his not insubstantial dick into Tucker’s ass. 

 

It was almost too much stimulation. 

 

Zelinski’s balls in his mouth -- Tucker’s dick in McGrath’s tight hole -- some guy’s cock in Tucker’s butt -- the perfect set-up, but they couldn’t find the rhythm. Tucker couldn’t think how to coordinate them -- fuck, he couldn’t think at all.

 

It all felt so good. 

 

“ME CUM!” the guy behind him said, way too soon, as if he were some inexperienced teenager incapable of controlling himself. “ME GONNA CUM!”

 

“No,” mumbled Tucker. “Not yet…”

 

The guy fucking Tucker suddenly thrust in deep and let go -- Tucker could feel the guy’s cum filling him, spilling down the insides of his legs. So much — it didn’t seem like it would ever stop. 

 

The guy didn’t get soft, tho. After his impressive orgasm, he stayed hard, staying inside Tucker. “NOW YOU…” he whispered to Tucker. “NOW YOU GET STUPID…”

 

Tucker was only half-listening, he was thrusting like a man on a mission, showing what a man who could squat heavy was capable of doing -- a Superman -- to McGrath’s stupid tight hole. 

 

He felt like he was wearing ball weights -- he could feel a definite tug on his nads. He could feel them swinging. 

 

They felt like they were getting bigger. (And for a guy who’d atrophied his nuts years ago from steroid abuse, this was a welcome change.)

 

Then he had a moment of clarity -- of realization. He remembered noting the size of McGrath’s balls when he’d first seen him in the sling -- he was sucking these massive nads of Zelinski’s -- oranges! -- were HIS getting bigger, too? Why…?

 

“Oh, fuck,” Tucker moaned. “Gonna shoot…”

 

McGrath laughed. “BRAINS…” he snorted. “GIVE ME BRAINS!”

 

Zelinski laughed like a hyena, high-pitched and hysterical. “GIVE HIM ALL STUPID BRAINS! ME CUM, TOO!” And he shot a geyser all over Tucker’s face -- it tasted like the powder. Liquid lust. Big balls -- big loads. 

 

So fucking hot.

 

Tucker drove deep and unloaded, surprising himself with the intensity of the orgasm -- it just went on and on, seemed like forever. Tucker couldn’t keep track of time -- he’d never had an orgasm like this. 

 

As he emptied into McGrath, Tucker lost his legs for a second and slumped slightly forward, leaning on McGraths rock-hard abs. 

 

McGrath raised his hands in triumph! “NOW ME GOT ALL BRAINS!” he shouted. “ME AM SUPER-SMART!”

 

They all laughed -- Tucker, too. He wanted to make a joke, but he couldn’t find the words. 

 

“WHERE ME BRAINS?” he asked, concerned, looking around.

 

Chuckling, rolling his head back, McGrath said, “YOU BRAINS AM NOW IN ME ASS!”

 

Tucker sunk to the floor, looking directly into McGrath’s asshole. “GIVE BACK,” he whined. “GIVE BRAINS BACK!” He started eating McGrath’s hole, trying to suck his cum out. 

 

McGrath clenched his ass. “NO WAY, TUCKER FUCKER. ME AM SMARTEST NOW!”

 

“WE AM ALL STUPID,” the guy who’d fucked Tucker said. Tucker looked up from McGrath’s tasty hole to see the guy -- a big, muscular guy who looked like the original Superman except covered in baby powder. 

 

And those ridiculously big balls.

 

“ME AM BALLS!” Tucker shouted joyfully, grabbing his own package and waving it like show-and-tell. “ME AM BIG STUPID BALLS! TUCKER FUCKER AM BALLS LIKE YOU!”

 

“SEE? YOU AM STUPID LIKE US! WE MAKE ALL SUPERMEN STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!”

 

They all sang. “HORNY AND STUPID! HORNY AND STUPID!”

 

“ME AM BALLS NOW,” giggled Tucker, cradling his sac as he continued to rim McGrath.

 

They fucked until Tucker was just as covered in dust as the rest of them.

 

*******************************

 

Tucker’s boyfriend, Officer Max Malone, the New Superman for the District of Columbia, had just come off-shift and was trying to chill by binge-watching “The British Baking Show” in his Adams Morgan loft when there was a knock on his door.

 

Strange. Why didn’t the doorman call up? 

 

With his x-ray vision, Max scanned the front door and saw an unarmed man standing there -- he seemed normal, if not slightly agitated. No threat that Max could detect.

 

Max, dressed only in a pair of old gym shorts, showing not only his massive musculature, but the translucent S-shield adorning his chest, clearly identifying him as one of the New Supermen -- the biggest of them, frankly -- opened the door, knowing how intimidating he looked. He was easily a foot taller and a couple hundred pounds heavier than his visitor, an Asian man dressed in a suit and a lab coat.

 

“Can I help you?” Max said with the steely-resolve of a patrol officer, crossing his arms before his massive pecs.. 

 

“Officer Malone,” said the man, “I am Doctor Teng.”

 

He raised his hand then -- Max thought it was to shake -- and blew a handful of white powder in Max’s face.

 

TO BE CONCLUDED

[Mdlftr]

Wild!  It seems like the white powdwer is the new Kryptonite for the new Supermen!

 

P.S.  I love the contemporary touch -- including binge-watching on "The British Baking Show"!  Nice detail!

[Absman420]

2 hours ago, Mdlftr said:

Wild!  It seems like the white podwer is the new Kryptonite for the new Supermen!

Next chapter, you'll find out what the powder really IS... and it's not quite Kryptonite...

2 hours ago, Mdlftr said:

P.S.  I love the contemporary touch -- including binge-watching on "The British Baking Show"!  Nice detail!

I agree, but details like that end up really dating a piece in the long run. I reread something where the character thought he was cool shit cuz he was running a Mac Power Quad. Heeheehee... stories before smartphones and 9/11... 

[Mdlftr]

2 hours ago, Absman420 said:

Next chapter, you'll find out what the powder really IS... and it's not quite Kryptonite...

I agree, but details like that end up really dating a piece in the long run. I reread something where the character thought he was cool shit cuz he was running a Mac Power Quad. Heeheehee... stories before smartphones and 9/11... 

Agreed about the dating.  I wrote a story where the action was moved along by a tv piece hosted by Mary Hart  and Mark Steines on "Entertainment Tonight"!

Talk about DATED!  Most readers today would be going "Who?" and "I don't get the reference!"

Oh, BTW:   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Steines    https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Hart

Mary is wearing the red dress. Mark is on her left, standing next to John Tesh.