New World Order - A Race of Bodybuilder Gods Install a New World Government to Force Mankind to Worship Their Bodies

[IronKing]

New World Order 

WARNING: EXTREME MUSCLE DOMINATION SNUFF

Author's Note

As a horny teenager, I was most turned on by Chip Masterson's muscle snuff stories. I would go to bed touching myself, imagining my own. I imagined a race of bodybuilder gods brutally taking over the world and crushing everyone in their path. Effortlessly ripping apart superheroes, flexing and posing over their enemies. Merciless. Unstoppable.

I've decided to put my imaginations into writing and revive the old-school Masterson-styled muscle snuff stories.

Except I put a little bit of me on it.

I have an un-named technique of writing (at least I don't know if it has such a term).

I call it "prosetry" which combines elements of prose and poetry.

I weave in and out of poetry, and it's difficult to differentiate at times but it seems to flow together.

It might be somewhat uncanny at first but I think you'll enjoy it.

SUMMARY

A humanoid race of giant, immortal, handsome, ultra-masculine naked bodybuilder gods appear out of nowhere, taking over the world. 

Brutus the Iron King is the leader of this god race. His aim is to install a new world government and force the world to worship their bodies.

All the world's superheroes like Captain America, Superman, and the Hulk try to stop the gods from taking over.

Their efforts are futile. The bodybuilder gods have no weakness; their bodies are impenetrable.

They effortlessly tear apart or crush their opponents and remain unscathed.

Chapter 1

Brutus the Iron King was an enormous figure, the most colossal being in existence. His body was packed with layers of impenetrable muscle, so dense and thick it seemed as if His veins were about to burst from His skin. He was a leader of an immortal race of bodybuilders, and they had arrived on Earth with the purpose of dominating it.

Naked, Brutus stood outside the city limits dripping with tanning oil, admiring His own form in awe. The veins on His biceps popped out like knotted ropes. His legs stood up like two colossal tree trunks, capable of crushing any puny mortal beneath him with a single flex. 

"It's time," He declared, gazing sternly upon the hundred bodybuilders that had materialized behind him. Each of them was blessed with an impressive physique - their muscular frames coated in thick dense slabs of muscle.

Brutus sparked a smile. "My brothers," He began. "Today is the day we take control of this planet."

The throng of bodybuilder gods roared with thunderous bravado, their testosterone-fueled spirits brimming with enthusiasm and confidence as they set their sights on total planetary domination.

"We'll crush them!" One shouted.

"No! They'll serve us!" Another yelled.

Brutus silenced the uproar by raising His arms into the air, flexing His magnificently bulging biceps and back muscles, "Yes! Soon, everyone living on this Earth will become slaves to our magnificent bodies!"

He inhaled deeply and began to flex His muscles, the power of His strength visible to all as His biceps swelled and quads pumped like pistons. His back muscles jutted up like mountains, while His chest seemed to expand as if He were about to burst from it.

The bodybuilders behind him erupted into a frenzy as they watched their leader flex in all of His glory. They themselves began to flex, each immaculate physique bulging under the skin. Everywhere you looked, Herculean physiques were popping up and down in unison - each one more impressive than the last. 

Brutus bared His chest and bellowed out "Go!" His voice roared like thunder as the group charged towards the city limits, emboldened by their strength and virility.

The city was unprepared for the onslaught of bodybuilder gods barreling through the streets and smashing down buildings, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. In the face of this oncoming storm, people fled in terror.

But soon, the police arrived on the scene to try and quell the chaos. Armed with batons and firearms, they prepared to confront Brutus' army of bodybuilders and put an end to their rampage.

The gods moved as one impenetrable unit, their rippling muscles casting a formidable shadow over the battlefield. They were a pack of wild naked beasts, marked by their unbelievable size and unrestrained ferocity in their eyes. 

The officers were completely overwhelmed by the gods’ power and strength. They could only watch in horror as the bodybuilder gods ripped them apart with ease and savage brutality, tearing limbs from their bodies without hesitation. 

One bodybuilder god grabbed an officer's head and put it between his thighs before squeezing until it exploded, splattering blood and brains across the area. Another bodybuilder god crushed an officer with his bare hands until he was nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh and bones. Another wrenched an officer's arms off, before throwing them into the crowd in a gory display of power. And another raised an officer with one arm and hurled him into a building.

Brutus smiled wide, admiring the carnage He had wrought. With a satisfied smirk, He ejaculated a fiery proclamation, addressed to the terrified citizens who were left trembling with fear in the wake of the bodybuilder gods. Brutus saved a few to execute one-by-one in front of the crowd.

The officer’s body is trembling in the air, his muscles tense and his expression filled with terror. Eyes flickering from side to side, desperately seeking help from the crowd, but they remain silent and still. The grip of the Iron King is strong and confident, his expression smug and triumphant. He stares deep into the officer’s eyes.

"This is what happens when mortals dare to challenge gods."

With a swift motion, He snaps the officer's neck with a loud crack and his body is thrown through the air, limp and lifeless. The body flops onto the ground, adding to the gruesome scene of carnage. 

Brutus flexes His bulging biceps and towers over the crowd with an aura of supremacy. His imposing figure and stern expressions fill the air with authority, and He moves with trained precision, as if His body and mind are one. He commands attention with every glance, flexing His muscles to demonstrate His strength and power.

"This is the fate that awaits any who oppose us! You will worship this cock, or you will die!" Brutus bellows, the sound echoing off of the walls. His enormous manhood oscillates menacingly in between His legs, a symbol of absolute power and vengeance.

Without hesitation, He grasps the second officer's arms, lifting them in the air and tugging with such force that they separate from his body with a sickening CRACK. The screams of agony and terror that erupt from his lips are deafening as he writes in inexplicable pain and shock on the ground.

"Behold! I am your God!" He declares with a satisfied roar. "You will bow to my will and worship these arms, or suffer the same fate as this foolish fuck!"

Brutus strides forward, His muscles quivering with rage. He stops in front of the limbless officer and strikes a fierce double bicep pose, as if to signify His dominance. Throwing His arms back getting ready the deliver a death clap, the Iron King waits a few seconds until the officer realizes his pending doom. Before the officer can scream, Brutus delivers a thundering CLAP to his entire body, exploding him into tiny pieces, leaving only a splash of crimson sludge in its place. His face full of anger, Brutus slowly brings his arms back up into a glorious double bicep.

The bodybuilder gods roar with approval. The muscles of the bodybuilder gods bulge like mountains, each flex demonstrating their superior strength and power. The mere mortals around them quiver in fear, feeling the overwhelming masculinity radiating off the gods.

On his knees, the third captive officer stared up at Brutus with wide, terror-filled eyes. He was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the sheer power of the bodybuilder God before him.

Brutus grasped him tightly in His mighty arms, pulling the officer between his two pecs. The man squirmed and tried to break free from his grasp, but it was futile.

Brutus tightened His grip and squeezed the man's head between His bulging pecs. With a quick and powerful flex of the pecs, He crushed the officer's head like an eggshell. The crowd gasped in horror as they watched the gruesome scene unfold. The mangled body of the unfortunate patrolman lay lifelessly on the ground in a pool of blood, his head and brains splattered across the pavement like roadkill. Crushed by the King's deathpecs.

Brutus stood imperiously over all of them, victorious in His demonstration of strength and dominance over those that dared to challenge him. He continued to flex His muscles, daring someone to challenge Him and receive a similar fate. 

No one had anything to prove. They could only watch in awe as Brutus moved from one victim to another with startling accuracy and speed. Each time he crushed another life between His ironclad muscles, it was as if he was exerting some form of sadistic pleasure from it all; or perhaps this murderous rampage was simply a way for Him to demonstrate His power–the strongest being this universe has ever seen and will ever see. No one dared utter a word about what had just happened; there wasn't a single soul who would risk incurring the King's wrath by speaking out against him now. As quickly as it began, it ended; leaving nothing but death behind in its wake. 

Brutus finally turned around triumphantly, surveying the area with a satisfied smirk on His face before looking down at the lifeless bodies surrounding him with prideful contempt.

"Do not be afraid," he said, as he looked out over the crowd. 

He surveyed them with an intimidating stare and then continued, "I have come to bring order to this chaos. You will obey my commands or face grave consequences." He paused for emphasis before adding, "And know this. I am not just any bodybuilder god. I am the God of all bodybuilder gods!"

With that declaration, he flexed His biceps and threw His hands up in the air triumphantly. His message was clear; He was in control and He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Everyone in attendance knew it.

[MrAlice]

Looking forward to see where this goes!

[elton]

Love this.

[IronKing]

Chapter 2: The Brutal Defeat of Superman

Suddenly, Superman appears and interrupts the Iron King's glorious posing.

"I am Superman, the Man of Steel. Identify yourself." Superman commands as he soars up to Brutus. 

"I am Brutus, the Iron King. I am your God," the Iron King said in a stern tone.

Superman rolls his eyes. Not a second of this insolence, Brutus reaches out His beefy hand and GRABS him by the neck before he can react. Despite struggling, it's to no avail. The God pulls Superman's head between His thighs, intending to humiliate and show off His infinite strength to the world.

Brutus stares contemptuously at the crowd, "The man you call Superman has no power against me. I am the God above all gods."

Without effort, Brutus flexed His quads for a quick second. A small twitch leading to horrible crack filled the city. Superman wailed in profound agony. Veins bulging. Eyes bulging. Superman resorted to desperate measures—clawing and scraping the gargantuan legs like a crazed animal trying to escape.

Brutus releases Superman and rips off his outfit and cape. A half-conscious naked Superman met with resistance. With one arm, Brutus grabbed him by the back of the neck and violently shook him into still compliance.

"Look at him," Brutus said with a handsome cocky grin.

"Now look at me," Brutus flexed His other arm like a naked douchebag bro. Superman was tiny in comparison to the Iron King's hulking frame.

Holding the Kryptonian with one hand, the King extends his arm, ensuring everyone saw the result of His quad-flex masterpiece, "LOOK WHAT I DID TO HIS FACE."

Streaks of red dripped around—a Pollock.
Eyes misaligned, nose to side—a Picasso.
A weird shaped head, a profound horror—The Scream.

Tears rolling down, Superman looks down in naked humiliation, trying to cover what the King did to his face with an effortless quad flex.

The crowd compared body, face and cock:
One the size of sun. The other a small moon.
The face of domination. The face of defeat.
One big anaconda. One tiny little worm.

The King started laughing. An evil laugh. Superman tries to pry himself out. Caught up with laughter and not paying attention, Brutus rips off the tiny little worm like paper. A piercing scream echoed the city. Intermittent yells with every breath. His eyes widened in shock and pain. No longer focusing on what was behind him—but rather what was (not) in front of him: a hole of blood once home to his manhood.

Brutus still uncontrollably laughing, "Your name is not Superman. Your name is SuperBITCH! Look at the bitch! She's on her period!"

Like a bad joke, the crowd stayed silent.

Brutus stopped laughing.

The Iron King remembered, "I like a good bitch."

The anaconda engorges to full girth and full height. Held up high in the air by His hands, Superbitch looked down and saw the God-cock beneath. Grabbing the bitch at the sides, Brutus moved the bitch's ass to His God-cock like a slow elevator. A slow countdown to cock.

Fulfilling her role, the bitch begins to whine. Begging for forgiveness. Bargains for redemption. Cries for mercy. Anything but big bodybuilder God-cock.

Brutus snarled, not halting for a second. 

The air around Superbitch was filled with terror. The Iron King's Iron-cock was seconds from impact: Bitch-ass to God-cock. Incoming. Approaching the tip.

Closer and closer. Almost there. The bitch closed her eyes.

The King stopped.

A sigh of relief. Superbitch opened her eyes.

Hot air down the side of her neck, the King whispered in her ear.

"Who's your Daddy?" 

The hole touches the tip.

A billion orgasms at the same time. A high-pitched scream. Eyes rolled back. Looking up. An exorcism. Stupid slut noises from getting fucked by a real man. Your Daddy. Your God. Foaming at the mouth. Sliding down slowly. Wailing. Wanting. Uncontrollable vibrations. The entire body. Extreme ecstasy. Cries of pleasure. An unholy seizure. But wait. There's more. Much much more. More inches. More cock. A long long way to go.

Daddy stopped.

The bitch was halfway in. 

A confused and curious crowd. The bitch looked stupid—vigorously, violently vibrating in an electric chair of ecstasy. A trillion orgasms. This was next-level. The crowd accepted her new role as Superbitch.

Daddy puts the bitch in reverse. A slow dramatic pull out. Like New York City on New Year's Eve. The ball slowly moving up.

Making slut noises, the bitch begged Him not to stop, "I want the Daddy dick!" 

Daddy dismissed.

"I'll be a good girl!" The bitch exclaimed, still foaming at the mouth.

Daddy dissented.

"I'll worship you!" she pleaded, grabbing Daddy King's big biceps, feeling them, worshipping them, wanting them.

Daddy declined.

"I'LL SELL MY SOUL!" The bitch was desperate.

The bottom of Maslow's hierarchy, the bitch needed Daddy dick.

A needy soul-selling bottom bitch, she cried for Daddy.

The bitch needed punishment: a rejection of The Ultimate Ecstasy.

And then death.

Brutus lifts Superbitch over His head, one hand gripping the head, the other clamped the feet. An earth-shattering bellow, Brutus starts to tear the bitch apart with His hands. Kryptonian muscle and skin come apart as Brutus slowly, relentlessly continues to rip the naked bitch in two.

"BEHOLD! THE AWESOME POWER OF YOUR GOD!" The King's body tenses, flexes, bulges as He grasps the bitch with a deathgrip. Unholy Iron-body Iron-hard musculature. Millions of flexed striations of Godly power and strength. His horsecock hardens in preparation for the climax: A final grunt so deep, so angry, so malevolent, without mercy or compassion, He brings His arms down in a powerful arc, executing THE MOST MUSCULAR most-muscular pose for the crowd (ripping that bitch in half).

Upperhalf shrieks in agony. Held in two halves. Arms flailing everywhere.

Brutus holding still, muscles in fully-flexed naked glory—Biceps. Triceps. Shoulders. Pecs. Legs. Abs. Ass. Calves. Neck. Back.

Maintaining that most-muscular with a deathstare into the crowd as Upperhalf whirls around everywhere in final desperation.

The Death of Superman

Hitting and clawing anything she can find.

An arm.

A pec.

Hard abs.

The air.

Shrieking like a fire alarm.

Each shriek dissipating.

A whiny moan.

A sudden silence.

Holding THE MOST MUSCULAR most-muscular pose a few seconds, the scene soaks in—a fully-erect Musclegod statue in tanned oiled naked glory. Their beloved hero held in halves. Motionless. Mouth wide open. Dead. Cockless. Dominated. A stupid fucked face in horror facing the crowd.

The King disposes both halves to the ground LIKE TRASH. Like NOTHING.

Brutus strides over to Upperhalf, cock swinging, every inch of His body radiating with violence.

His voice a deafening roar as He commands:

"WITNESS THE INFINITE POWER OF THESE LEGS!"

"WORSHIP THESE LEGS!"

"LOSE ALL HOPE!"

"BE IN DESPAIR!"

Hands behind head, Brutus maniacally laughs as He shakes His quads, showcasing His pet Quadzillas. Big slabs of beef moving left and right. Each quad more powerful than a quadrillion Kryptonians.

A quick and unexpected movement.

Standing naked. 

His foot raises.

Directly underneath—a stupid mouth-opened deathface looking up.

The crowd gasps.

A powerful Jay Cutler Quad Stomp directly to the face.

A stomp exploding Upperhalf like Mortal Kombat.

Pieces fly everywhere, a bloodied mist drenches the crowd—His Unholy Reign of Supreme Carnage.

Fear gripping their hearts, the crowd trembled to bow before His Body. His Masculinity. His Muscle. His Face. His Cock. They dared not disobey, for the price of insolence: Overwhelming Daddy Domination—Physically. Mentally. Sexually. Spiritually. Existentially. The totality of being. An infinite power turning the formidable finite to its opposite: Superman. Symbol of strength and power. Head effortlessly crushed into a quad-flex masterpiece. Stripped of his manhood. Skewered on His cock. A billion trillion orgasms. Next-level Superbitch. A soul-selling cock-hungry slut. Reduced to not even that. Half of that. Ripped in half. Upperhalf exploding into pieces. A stupid face stomped out of existence by His Unholy Quadzilla.

[boardman]

Damn that chapter was hot. Handling Superman like he was a rag doll. Strength of a god 

[AlphaLustSean]

On 2/5/2023 at 3:52 AM, IronKing said:

New World Order 

WARNING: EXTREME MUSCLE DOMINATION SNUFF

Author's Note

As a horny teenager, I was most turned on by Chip Masterson's muscle snuff stories. I would go to bed touching myself, imagining my own muscle snuff stories. I imagined a race of bodybuilder gods brutally taking over the world and crushing everyone in their path. Effortlessly ripping apart superheroes, flexing and posing over their enemies. Merciless. Unstoppable.

I've decided to put my imaginations into writing and revive the old-school Masterson-styled muscle snuff stories.

SUMMARY

An humanoid race of giant, immortal, handsome, ultra-masculine naked bodybuilder gods appear out of nowhere, taking over the world. 

Brutus the Iron King is the leader of this god race. His aim is to install a new world government and force the world to worship their bodies.

All the world's superheroes like Captain America, Superman, and the Hulk try to stop the gods from taking over.

Their efforts are futile. The bodybuilder gods have no weakness; their bodies are impenetrable.

They effortlessly tear apart or crush their opponents and remain unscathed.

Chapter 1

Brutus the Iron King was an enormous figure, the most colossal being in existence. His body was packed with layers of impenetrable muscle, so dense and thick it seemed as if his veins were about to burst from his skin. He was a leader of an immortal race of bodybuilders, and they had arrived on Earth with the purpose of dominating it.

Naked, Brutus stood outside the city limits dripping with tanning oil, admiring his own form in awe. The veins on his biceps popped out like knotted ropes. His legs stood up like two colossal tree trunks, capable of crushing any puny mortal beneath him with a single flex. 

"It's time," he declared, gazing sternly upon the hundred bodybuilders that had materialized behind him. Each of them was blessed with an impressive physique—their muscular frames coated in thick dense slabs of muscle.

Brutus sparked a smile. "My brothers," he began. "Today is the day we take control of this planet."

The throng of bodybuilder gods roared with thunderous bravado, their testosterone-fueled spirits brimming with enthusiasm and confidence as they set their sights on total planetary domination.

"We'll crush them!" One shouted.

"No! They'll serve us!" Another yelled.

Brutus silenced the uproar by raising his arms into the air, flexing his magnificently bulging biceps, "Yes! Soon, everyone living on this Earth will become slaves to our magnificent bodies!"

He inhaled deeply and began to flex his muscles, the power of his strength visible to all as his biceps swelled and quads pumped like pistons. His back muscles jutted up like mountains, while his chest seemed to expand as if he were about to burst from it.

The bodybuilders behind him erupted into a frenzy as they watched their leader flex in all of his glory. They themselves began to flex, each immaculate physique bulging under the skin—everywhere you looked, Herculean muscles popping up and down in unison.

Brutus bared his chest and bellowed out "Go!" His voice roared like thunder as the group charged towards the city limits, emboldened by their strength and virility.

The city was unprepared for the onslaught of bodybuilder gods barreling through the streets and smashing down buildings, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. In the face of this oncoming storm, people fled in terror.

But soon, the police arrived on the scene to try and quell the chaos. Armed with batons and firearms, they prepared to confront Brutus' army of bodybuilders and put an end to their rampage.

The gods moved as one impenetrable unit, their rippling muscles casting a formidable shadow over the battlefield. They were a pack of wild naked beasts, marked by their unbelievable size and unrestrained ferocity in their eyes. 

The officers were completely overwhelmed by the gods’ power and strength. They could only watch in horror as the bodybuilder gods ripped them apart with ease and savage brutality, tearing limbs from their bodies without hesitation. 

One bodybuilder god grabbed an officer's head and put it between his thighs before squeezing until it exploded, splattering blood and brains across the area. Another bodybuilder god crushed an officer with his bare hands until he was nothing more than a mangled heap of flesh and bones. Another wrenched an officer's arms off, before throwing them into the crowd in a gory display of power. And another raised an officer with one arm and hurled him into a building.

Brutus smiled wide, admiring the carnage he had wrought. With a satisfied smirk, he ejaculated a fiery proclamation, addressed to the terrified citizens who were left trembling with fear in the wake of the bodybuilder gods.

Brutus saved a few to execute one-by-one in front of the crowd.

Brutus grabbed one officer by the throat. The officer’s body is trembling in the air, his muscles tense and his expression filled with terror. His eyes flicker from side to side, desperately seeking help from the crowd, but they remain silent and still. The grip of the Iron King is strong and confident, his expression smug and triumphant. He stares deep into the officer’s eyes.

"This is what happens when mortals dare to challenge gods."

With a swift motion, he snaps the officer's neck with a loud crack and his body is thrown through the air, limp and lifeless. His body flops onto the ground, adding to the gruesome scene of carnage. 

Brutus flexes his bulging biceps and towers over the crowd with an aura of supremacy. His imposing figure and stern expressions fill the air with authority, and he moves with trained precision, as if his body and mind are one. He commands attention with every glance, flexing his muscles to demonstrate his strength and power.

"You will worship this cock, or you will die!" Brutus bellows, the sound echoing off of the walls. His enormous manhood oscillates menacingly in between his legs, a symbol of absolute power and vengeance.

Without hesitation, he grasps the second officer's arms, lifting them in the air and tugging with such force that they separate from his body with a sickening CRACK. The screams of agony and terror that erupt from his lips are deafening as he writes in inexplicable pain and shock on the ground.

"Behold! I am your god!" He declares with a satisfied roar. "You will bow to my will and worship these legs, or suffer the same fate as this foolish fuck!"

Brutus moves towards the limbless officer and raises his foot, ready to deliver a crushing stomp to his entire body. The crowd holds their breath, mesmerized by the god's domination over the poor man. Brutus looks around at them, sneering at their meekness before finally bringing down his foot onto the officer's chest in an act of pure supremacy. The man’s body explodes into hundreds of bloody pieces, his life taken by a single flex of the Iron King's gargantuan quadriceps.

The bodybuilder gods roar with approval. The muscles of the bodybuilder gods bulge like mountains, each flex proving their superior strength and machismo. The mere mortals around them quiver in fear, tasting the oppressive masculinity that radiates off the gods.

The third officer stared up at Brutus with wide, terror-filled eyes. He was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the sheer power of the bodybuilder god before him.

Brutus grasped him tightly in his mighty arms, pulling the officer closer to his chest. The man squirmed and tried to break free from his grasp, but it was futile.

Brutus tightened his grip and squeezed the man's head between his bulging pecs. With a quick and powerful flex of his muscles, he crushed the officer's head like an eggshell. 

The crowd gasped in horror as they watched the gruesome scene unfold. The mangled body of the unfortunate patrolman lay lifelessly on the ground in a pool of blood, his head and brains splattered across the pavement like roadkill.

Brutus stood imperiously over them, victorious in his demonstration of strength and dominance over those that dared to challenge him. He continued to flex his muscles as if daring anyone else present to challenge him and receive a similar fate. 

It seemed no one had anything left to prove however; they could only watch in awe as Brutus moved from one victim to another with startling accuracy and speed. Each time he crushed another life between his ironclad muscles, it was as if he was exerting some form of sadistic pleasure from it all; or perhaps this murderous rampage was simply a way for him to demonstrate how powerful he really was–the strongest being alive!  

No one dared utter a word about what had just happened; there wasn't a single soul who would risk incurring the Iron King's wrath by speaking out against him now. As quickly as it began, it ended; leaving nothing but death behind in its wake. 

Brutus finally turned around triumphantly, surveying the area with a satisfied smirk on his face before looking down at the lifeless bodies surrounding him with prideful contempt.

"Do not be afraid," he said, as he looked out over the crowd. 

He surveyed them with an intimidating stare and then continued, "I have come to bring order to this chaos. You will obey my commands or face grave consequences." He paused for emphasis before adding, "And know this. I am not just any bodybuilder god. I am the god of all bodybuilder gods!"

With that declaration, he flexed his biceps and threw his hands up in the air triumphantly. His message was clear; he was in control and he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Everyone in attendance knew it.

Oh . . . my . . . GOD! THANK YOU!!!

[IronKing]

3 hours ago, boardman said:

Damn that chapter was hot. Handling Superman like he was a rag doll. Strength of a god 

Wait until you see what he does to the Hulk.

And also when he enters the Mortal Kombat realm and takes over that too.

[MuscleNStuff]

Wow!!! Great story, I can’t wait to see what you write, I’ve missed these kinds of stories!

[IronKing]

I heavily edited some parts of the story (especially chapter 2).

I have an un-named technique of writing (at least I don't know if it has such a term).

I call it "prosetry" which combines elements of prose and poetry.

It might be somewhat uncanny at first but I think you'll enjoy it.

Superman's death sequence is a poem 

I'm somewhat obsessed with every little word, space, capitalization and punctuation mark.

I'm thinking about making a job out of it and dream of doing it full time.

Patreon?

[HLC012855]

On 2/6/2023 at 5:30 AM, IronKing said:

Chapter 2: The Brutal Defeat of Superman

Suddenly, Superman appears and interrupts the Iron King's glorious posing.

"I am Superman, the Man of Steel. Identify yourself." Superman command as he soars up to Brutus. 

"I am Brutus, the Iron King. I am your God," the Iron King said in a stern tone.

Superman rolls his eyes. Not a second of this insolence, Brutus reaches out His beefy hand and grabs Superman by the neck before he can react. Despite struggling, it's to no avail. A finite power trying to overcome an infinite power. Pathetic fool. The God pulls Superman's head between His thighs, intending to humiliate and show off His infinite strength to the world.

Brutus stares contemptuously at the crowd, "The man you call Superman has no power against me. I am the God above all gods."

Without effort, Brutus flexed His quads for a quick second. A small twitch leading to horrible crack filled the city. Superman wailed in profound agony. Veins bulging. Eyes bulging. Superman resorted to desperate measures—clawing and scraping the gargantuan legs like a crazed animal trying to escape.

Brutus releases Superman and rips off his outfit and cape. A half-conscious naked Superman met with resistance. With one arm, Brutus grabbed him by the back of the neck and violently shook him into still compliance. The Iron King ensured everyone saw the result of His quad flex masterpiece: Streaks of blood like Jackson Pollock. Eyes misaligned, nose to one side like Picasso. An expression of horror rivaling The Scream.

"Look at him," Brutus said with a cocky handsome grin, "Weak, frail, and pathetic compared to me." Like a naked douchebag bro, Brutus flexed His other arm. A side-by-side comparison of power and weakness: a godly bicep juxtaposed with the face of defeat. Superman was tiny in comparison to the Iron King's hulking frame. Tears rolling down his misaligned eyes, Superman looks down in naked humiliation, trying to cover what the King did to his face. With an evil laugh, Brutus holds the fully-grown Kryptonian with one hand and continues a cocky muscle flex pose.

The crowd compared body, face and cock:
One the size of sun. The other a fragile moon.
The face of domination. The face of defeat.
One big anaconda. One tiny little worm.

The evil laugh extended over a period. Superman tries to pry himself out. Caught up with laughter and not even paying attention, Brutus rips off the tiny little worm like paper. A piercing scream echoed through the city. Turning into intermittent yells with every breath, his eyes widened in shock and pain, he was no longer focusing on what was behind him—but rather was (not) in front of him: a hole of blood once home to his manhood.

Brutus still uncontrollably laughing, "Your name is not Superman. Your name is SuperBITCH! Look at the bitch! She's on her period!" Like a bad joke, the crowd stayed silent.

Brutus stopped laughing. The Iron King remembered, "I like a good bitch."

The anaconda starts to engorge to full girth and full height. Being held up high in the air, Superbitch looked down and saw the massive God-cock beneath. The Iron King wanted the bitch to feel the full extent of His unforgiving domination—physically, mentally, and now sexually.

Grabbing the bitch by the shoulders, Brutus slowly moved the bitch's ass to His God-cock. Fulfilling her role, the bitch begins to whine. Begging for forgiveness. Bargains for redemption. Cries for mercy. Anything but big bodybuilder God-cock. Brutus snarled, not halting for a second. The air around Superbitch was filled with terror as the Iron King's beastly rage sparkled in His eyes.

Closer and closer. Like counting down for New Year's, the crowd watched as Superbitch was landing on big bodybuilder God-cock. The hole was approaching the tip. About to make a perfect landing. Just a few more seconds. Almost there. Superbitch closed her eyes.

The King stopped right before the tip. A sigh of relief. Superbitch opened her eyes.

Breathing hot air down the side of her neck, the King whispered in her ear.

"Who's your Daddy?" 

The slightest contact of cock, Superbitch immediately looks up, unleashing the highest pitched screams, higher than any girl, eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth. An unholy seizure. An exorcism. An electrocution.

The crowd discovered what happens when you come into contact with massive bodybuilder God-cock: cries of pleasure, slowly sliding down with more to go, moans wanting more, a billion trillion orgasms at once. Stupid slut sounds from getting fucked by a real man. Ultimate ecstasy.

Brutus stopped.

Slowly pulling her out, the bitch begged for big bodybuilder God-cock, making stupid female slut noises in the process.

"I'll be a good little girl," the bitch begged.

Nothing happened. The King continues to pull her out.

"I'll suck you off every day for the rest of my life," she pleaded.

Brutus had a cold emotionless face.

Desperate for cock, the bitch would have said anything for it.

Done anything for it.

She would have made a deal with the devil. Sold her soul to the devil.

She needed big bodybuilder God-cock.

The bitch needed punishment.

And this was the punishment—being denied the ultimate ecstasy.

And then death.

Brutus lifts Superbitch over His head, one hand gripping the head while the other clamped the feet. With an earth-shattering bellow, Brutus starts to tear the bitch apart with His hands. Muscles and skin coming apart as Brutus slowly, relentlessly continues to rip the naked bitch in two.

"BEHOLD! The awesome power of your God!" The Iron King's body tenses, flexes, bulges with striations as He grasps the bitch with a deathgrip. A final grunt so deep, so angry, so malevolent, without mercy or compassion, He brings His arms down in a powerful arc, executing THE MOST MUSCULAR most-muscular pose for the crowd (ripping that bitch in half).

Upperhalf shrieks in agony. Held in two halves. Arms flailing everywhere.

Brutus holding still: His muscles in fully-flexed naked glory—Biceps. Triceps. Shoulders. Pecs. Legs. Abs. Ass. Calves. Neck. Back.

Maintaining that most-muscular with a deathstare into the crowd as Upperhalf whirls around everywhere in final desperation.

The Death of Superman

Hitting and clawing anything she can find.

An arm.

A pec.

Hard abs.

The air.

Frequent shrills like a fire alarm.

Each final shriek dissipating.

A whiny moan.

A sudden silence.

Holding THE MOST MUSCULAR most-muscular pose a few seconds to let the scene soak in—the death of their beloved hero held in halves by a fully-flexed erect Musclegod statue in tanned oiled naked glory.

He disposes both halves onto the ground LIKE TRASH. Like NOTHING.

Brutus strides over to Upperhalf, every inch of His powerfully-built body radiating with unholy energy.

His voice a deafening roar as He commands, "Watch the infinite power of these legs! Worship these legs! Lose all hope! Be in despair!" Hands behind head, Brutus maniacally laughs as He shakes His quads, showcasing His pet Quadzillas. Big slabs of beef moving left and right. Each quad more powerful than a quadrillion Kryptonians. A quick and unexpected movement. He raises His leg and delivers the most powerful Jay Cutler Quad Stomp on Upperhalf's stupid mouth-opened deathface. The shockwave completely explodes Upperhalf like Mortal Kombat. A bloodied mist of flesh and brain drenches the crowd—His Reign of Supreme Carnage.

Fear grips their hearts as they tremble to bow to their master. His imposing figure towers above them. Muscles bulging and flexing in rage. The crowd saw what He did to Superman in seconds: A symbol of strength and power quickly dissolving into a bitch. Stripped of his manhood. A horny bitch begging for cock. Not even that. But half of that. Ripped in half with Upperhalf turning into a bloody mist. The mist was something. Then nothing. Stomped out of existence under The Infinite Power of His Unholy Quadzilla.

Destroying Superman with ease! Super Hot story! Hope to see more!