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THE NEW SUPERMEN: BIZARRO pt5: Conclusion


Absman420

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER

 

Pt5 

 

An average jet can span the US continent in about five hours -- the official record is 64 minutes, held by an SR-71. The Batplane has probably done it in less, but there aren’t any stats to support it. There were several heroes capable of flying coast to coast under their own power -- any of the Green Lanterns, J’onn J’onzz, Wonder Woman -- but few who would win a race with the original Superman (who once flew fast enough around the Earth to reverse time, remember) much less one of the New Supermen, especially one with the right motivation. 

 

Like massively swollen balls.

 

Like massively swollen balls that desperately needed release.

 

Still, a phenomenon like that wasn’t likely to go unnoticed (the speed, not the balls -- not from space). There were several satellite tracking systems that picked up on a biological object speeding across the country -- one of them was LexCorp’s. Once the object was identified as one of the Earth paranormals -- one of the New Supermen -- most systems catalogued but ignored it.

 

Not Luthor. Not with what he knew. 

 

There was only one reason the DC Superman was flying to San Francisco with that kind of speed. 

 

Luthor pressed a button on his desk. “Have Dr. Teng come to my office,” he said plainly.

 

There had better be a good explanation.

 

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

 

“WE NEED MORE SUPERMEN!” Bizarro whined in his raspy, cow-like voice. He was fucking Tucker, now in the Super-Sling, his own balls swollen to the size of oranges, covered in the dust coming off Bizarro like sweat. Each thrust was like a clap of chalk-filled erasers, little puffs of dust adding to the mist in the air. 

 

Tucker was sucking his buddy McGrath’s cock as McGrath floated above him in a 69, greedily sucking Tucker’s meat in return. McGrath’s swollen, oversized, infected balls covered Tucker’s eyes, so all Tucker could do was breathe the scent of McGrath’s dusty sac, making him even hornier.

 

Stupider.

 

Above the two of them floated Zelinski, holding on to the top chains of the Super-Sling while he slow-fucked McGrath’s leaking hole, the ecstasy on his face made it clear this was a dream cum true. How long had he fantasized about getting into McGrath’s ass? Honestly, how long? He couldn’t remember. Thinking was no longer his strength -- not that it ever was, really.

 

“MORE SUPERMEN,” Zelinski agreed, the only one able to talk -- the others tried, but instead giggled with their mouths full. In a push-up position on McGrath’s back as he continued to fuck the deputy, Zelinski leaned forward and kissed Bizarro full on the mouth, soaking himself in the clone’s infected spit and dust -- the same dust that gave Zelinski this incredible high. This mind-fucking incredible high.

 

Was Bizarro getting dustier? Was that possible? Zelinski may have realized it, but he couldn’t understand it. For him, more dust meant more high -- more sex. More balls.

 

He had no idea that the clone may be degrading.

 

And there was a crash from downstairs -- the plate-glass window on the balcony smashing. All four of them looked up. “MORE SUPERMEN?” asked Bizarro. 

 

From downstairs, a deep, resonant, masculine voice. “TUCKER?” 

 

Tucker turned his head to look, continuing to lick the head of McGrath’s cock like a lolly. He laughed. “THAT SOUND LIKE…”

 

A massive man appeared in the doorway, bigger than any of them, the biggest of all -- the sheen of the tattooed S-shield on his mighty chest glowing in the dimness, otherwise dressed only in tiny red gym shorts that were clearly struggling to contain his oversized package. Even through his anger, the obvious shock and surprise were evident on his face. 

 

“MAX!” Tucker squealed, clapping his hands together with McGrath’s cock in his mouth. “ME LOVE MAX!”

 

Bizarro turned to face him just as Max back-handed the clone across the room -- the “pop” of Bizarro’s cock obvious as it came out of Tucker’s ass. Bizarro slammed into the wall (the one with the Roman Cross on it), creating a huge cloud of dust. He sank to the floor. “WHAT AM HAP…?”

 

Max was on him just that quick, sliding into a hip throw and taking Bizarro to the floor. The two of them began wrestling, though it was clear Bizarro had no idea what was happening -- he was reactionary, not aggressive. Even in his limited experience, guys who started out angry and rough ended up horny and desperate -- something was wrong. 

 

Tucker in the sling and McGrath in a 69 above him, both watched the wrestling match while idly sucking the other’s cock. Zelinski kept inside McGrath’s ass, but definitely slowed his pace, confused by the action before him -- was this some sort of prelude to fucking?

 

His entire front side covered in dust, Max had Bizarro in a full-nelson, locking the clone up from behind -- he pressed himself into Bizarro’s ass. “Ready to fuck, clone?” he growled, slamming his hips against Bizarro. “You ready for a REAL cock?”

 

“NO!” shouted Bizarro. “ME NO…”

 

But Max didn’t listen -- without further ado, he shoved his cock (the biggest of all the New Supermen, remember) into Bizarro’s ass. Bizarro screamed, a weird mix of pleasure and pain -- it was clear he didn’t want the invasion, but he wasn’t trying to get away, either. 

 

Max began thrusting, shoving the clone face-down into the floor to get a better angle. The three Super-witnesses could see Max’s own balls swollen to nearly the same size as Bizarro’s. The two sacs pendulously swung together with each of Max’s thrusts. 

 

At first, it just seemed like an aggressive fuck, like the hard poundings McGrath used to give before he became a big, dumb bottom. Long-dicking him, almost all the way out, slamming back in -- Max began speeding up, appearing almost like a piston, mechanical and purposeful, little puffs of dust rising from the clone’s ass like smoke from an engine. 

 

Bizarro couldn’t help but moan, a low, bovine sound.

 

“You like that, clone?” Max growled. “You won’t for long…”

 

Wrapping his powerful arms around Bizarro’s torso, Max easily lifted the clone into an upright position, pressing its face into the wall with the Roman Cross, fucking it even faster, the mass of Max’s glutes and hamstrings standing out with each thrust -- the clone began to shake like it was sitting on a washing machine in the spin cycle. “N-N-N-N-N-N-N-NOOOOO!” 

 

The faster it vibrated, the more dust that came off -- Max stood in an ankle-deep pile already, aside from the front side of his body being nearly coated in it. It was as if Bizarro was turning into white sand. “Gonna cum, clone,” Max barked. “Enjoy….”

 

He thrust in deep and deposited his load -- and those oversized balls of his produced copious amounts, more and more and still more cum. The creature’s eyes rolled back in its head, and Bizarro began to cum as well, a dry, dusty stream of thick, mulchy ejaculate. He moaned in a voiceless ecstasy. 

 

They began to shake together, the New Superman and the clone, each of them continuing to cum, both their hips bucking with instinctive need, but something was happening to Bizarro.

 

It was collapsing, dissolving, literally turning to dust. Like a sculpture made from the whitest sands of the most virgin island, eventually the lack of moisture caused collapse. The longer and harder Bizarro came, the less of the creature there was. Before their eyes, it became a pile of chalky sand at Max’s feet.

 

Max turned to the rest of them, this three-hundred pound beast, his muscles pumped, his balls still swollen, the tip of his huge dick dripping, his translucent “S” still glowing oh his rounded, muscular pecs beneath the white powder that had been Bizarro.

 

Max sneered. “Who’s next?”

 

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

 

Together, they watched the man in the video open a secure cabinet and remove a small container, where he read the label and then dropped it into his lab coat pocket. Turning away from the cabinet put him face first to the hidden camera -- his identity was clear. 

 

The video looped over and over, showing the theft and the identity reveal.

 

Lex Luthor leaned back in his chair, putting his hands together and tenting his fingers. “So, Dr. Teng,” he said calmly and quietly, “would you care to explain this?”

 

Teng shifted in his chair, beads of sweat on his forehead. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke. “It was communicable to humans,” he said.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The Bizarro Virus,” Teng said, gaining confidence as he went. “It was targeted to have a specific effect on the New Supermen -- who, as you know, are humans given the powers of a Kryptonian, not Kryptonian themselves. Although the activation of the virus required the presence of the New Supermen’s altered DNA -- meaning Bizarro could infect only them -- once they’re infected, though, the New Supermen become communicable to normal humans…”

 

A moment of dramatic silence, begging for Luthor’s “...So…?”

 

“So, in an effort to avoid a major pandemic, I chose to take action.” Teng sat tall and still in his chair, though his heart pounded in his chest.

 

Again, the forced drama was almost annoying. “And you…?”

 

“I infected one of the New Supermen with the antidote.”

 

The silence between them was now tense for a new reason: the truth was out -- clear and plain -- there was nothing to do but acknowledge it. And pay the price. 

 

“I see,” Luthor said, finally. “That puts you in a rather… tenuous position.”

 

“I was aware there would be consequences.” 

 

Luthor grunted.

 

“In my defense,” Teng offered, “there is little doubt that had there been a large-scale infection the cause would’ve been traced back to you and LexCorp.”

 

Luthor’s eyebrows raised. “Me?” he asked. “I’ve done nothing but discover a rogue scientist in my employ -- AND a thief.” His eyes indicated the looping video. “For all anyone knows watching that video, you could be stealing the virus yourself, intent on unleashing it on an unsuspecting populace. What a monster!”

 

Teng was unreadable. “You wouldn’t do that,” he said. “It would indicate you’re developing viruses here at LexCorp. That’s a secret you don’t want getting out.”

 

Luthor leaned forward, forearms on his desk. “Well then, perhaps we’ll have to find a more… internal way of dealing with you.” 

 

Without missing a beat, Luthor pressed a button and some little device on the top of his computer monitor turned and released a powdery dispense directly at Teng’s face. It made its way in his mouth and up his nose before he even reacted to its happening. 

 

“What the…?”

 

Luthor leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “There you are, Teng,” he said. “Your virus.”

 

“What?” said the doctor at the beginnings of panic -- he could already feel his dick come to life in his pants. “No!”

 

Luthor pressed another button and two security guards entered -- they were wearing face masks. “Take Dr. Teng to one of the sub-basement holding cells,” he quietly commanded. “Make sure he gets plenty of… stimulation.”

 

As the two security guards escorted him out of the room, Teng tried to maintain his dignity, but it was hard to ignore the way his balls were flopping around in his pants, getting bigger and bigger. He had no final words for Luthor -- all he had was the knowledge that he’d done the right thing.

 

He’d saved humanity.

 

Now if he could just deny his own, maybe he’d save his intellect -- if he could ignore that incessant tug on his balls.

 

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

 

Although a good ninety percent of the time their positions were reversed, Max did occasionally fuck Tucker. The circumstances had to be exactly right -- and most of the time, it was about what Max wanted -- but it did happen. Tucker had these long, rounded muscle-bellies, so his ass was bubbly, thick and spectacular -- the kind of ass that could (and did) stop traffic. It was the reverse of the big-dicked bottom, the top with the perfectly fuckable ass. 

 

And Max was going at it in a mix of desperation and rage that made him look like a true Alpha, just hard, masculine fucking. McGrath, who’d been floating above Tucker in a 69-position, pushed himself upright, straddling Tucker’s neck, his balls nearly smothering his Texan buddy. McGrath dumbly watched Max fuck, having never had this perspective before -- McGrath was usually the Alpha, certainly not the witness, and the action held him rapt. Tucker, for his part, rolled his eyes back in his head, leaking copious amounts of pre-cum, which Zelinski kept trying to sneak in and lick until Max would slap him away. 

 

“ME AM FUCK!” Tucker moaned, muted by McGrath’s balls. 

 

Max’s own balls swung like pendulums with each thrust into Tucker’s hole. “Gonna cum, fucker,” he said. “This better work…”

 

And he pushed in deep and released into Tucker, his orgasm deep and powerful -- he felt like he pumped a gallon of cum into Tucker’s ass. Tucker bucked his hips and shot himself, spraying all over McGrath’s torso -- McGrath, giggling like an idiot, wiped Tucker’s cum off himself (mixing it with the powder that still covered them all) and licked both from his hands. 

 

Pulling himself out of Tucker, Max was about to wipe himself down when Zelinski suddenly appeared before him, kneeling, licking his cock clean. “You next?” Max asked, as Zelinski cupped Max’s swollen balls. “I gotta fuck all three of ya…”

 

“ONLY ONE ME!” Zelinski snorted, laughing at his own joke. 

 

Max sighed. “Fucking idiot,” he mumbled, pushing Zelinski’s face to the floor, and started fucking him down-doggie style. 

 

In the sling, Tucker shook his head and sat up, disoriented and confused. “Wha…? What happened?” he asked, looking up at McGrath, whose balls were inches from his face. “Frank? What’s going on?”

 

“TUCKER FUCKER GOT FUCKED!”

 

“What…?”

 

“Hang on tight, babe,” Max said, picking up his pace on Zelinski’s ass. “Let me finish fucking these guys and I’ll explain everything.”

 

Tucker shrugged. “Okay…” he said. “How’d our balls get so big…?”

 

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

 

NEARLY A WEEK LATER

 

McGrath got off-shift as usual, but rather than change in the department’s locker room, he flew to his house instead. These gigantic balls he had now, he hadn’t gotten used to them yet, and it made him uncomfortable in front of the other deputies. The way they stared.

 

In private, of course, he loved them! He loved the way they contributed to his whole hypermasculine appearance, truly making him a “super” man. He loved the way they swung when he fucked and the copious amount of cum they produced. But having balls the size of oranges was something he couldn’t hide -- they forced Frank into a spotlight where he hadn’t yet learned to be comfortable. 

 

In his bedroom, however, he liked the lighting. Removing his uniform, leaving the compression shorts he wore in place, his huge nads tested the strength of the material as they stretched the pouch out of shape. McGrath couldn’t help but hit a few poses in the mirror -- a front double-bi then an ab/ thigh, which thrust his package forward, his already mind-blowing cock emphasized by its two swollen back-up singers. If he wanted a pair of posers -- and he did -- he was going to have to have them specially made.

 

The idea of someone measuring his balls for gear turned him on more than a little bit.

 

He slid on his Jed North gym shorts -- the short ones, the ones his legs exploded out of -- the ones that made his not-so-secret groin into a public spectacle, and his usual Sooners t-shirt, that made no secret of the incredible rest of him, either. 

 

It was Friday. And though he hadn’t seen Zelinski since… well, since everything that’d happened (he unconsciously stroked his balls), he still wanted to keep their... date.

 

McGrath didn’t remember much -- what he did remember was hazy and dreamy -- from when he was under the spell of the virus (what Max called a virus), but what he did remember was a sense of sexual freedom and giddiness, a naive and completely unrepressed expression of his true sexual self. Everything had been easy and guilt-free when he hadn’t known better.

 

Being stupid actually educated him.

 

As he flew to San Francisco -- the southerly route over the desert (he’d learned his lesson) -- he went over it again: Lex Luthor had created this Bizarro-creature and infected it with a virus that would turn the New Supermen into over-sexed Bizarro clones. (This was the second time Luthor had attacked them through their sexuality -- what was it with that guy and kinky superhero sex?) Of course, they lacked the evidence to trace it back to Luthor -- the scientist who’d given Max the cure had disappeared, as well -- so all they could do was press on until his next crazy plot.

 

That it had left the four of them with these ridiculously oversized balls, turning them into even greater sexual icons than they’d been, was the best part of the irony in Luthor trying to destroy them in the first place. Fuck you, you rich bald fuck!

 

And just like that, the bay loomed before him. And before he’d even had the chance to take in the view, he was landing on Zelinski’s balcony. The door had been fixed, of course -- not that McGrath remembered breaking it, exactly -- but he was even happier to discover it wasn’t locked.

 

Before he even had the chance, the door slid open, revealing Zelinski in just some fancy pink jockstrap, his own monstrous balls barely held by the cotton webbing. “Well, well,” Z said, leaning against the door jamb and crossing his arms, “look who’s….”

 

He was interrupted by McGrath pulling him in for a kiss. 

 

Not that he tried to fight it -- he didn’t -- he just melted into McGrath’s big arms and enjoyed a moment he’d fantasized about since they’d become New Supermen. 

 

When the kiss finally broke, the two of them looked into each other’s eyes and McGrath said, quietly, “I wonder if we might try something different this time? I wonder if… uh… you might let ME ride the super-sling…?”

 

A smile slowly broke out on Zelinski’s face, full of deviltry and desire. “Oh… yes,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss. “Yes, yes, yes. But FIRST….”

 

He stepped into the house and motioned McGrath to follow him. As they walked to the bedroom, McGrath pulled his t-shirt off and threw it aside. As tempting as Zelinski’s hot little ass was in that pink jock, McGrath knew it was his own ass that needed the attention. 

 

The playroom was clean, meticulously clean -- the leather shone and the metal sparkled -- it didn’t even smell the way McGrath was used to, like old sex and cigars. It was like Zelinski had had the room detailed like a fine car.

 

Zelinski opened the case he kept his dildos and toys in (it looked like a road box) and pulled out one of two gallon-sized glass jars he’d stored in there. They were stuffed full of a white powder.

 

McGrath looked at him suspiciously, his eyebrows pushed together. “What is that?”

 

Zelinski smiled. “It’s Bizarro,” he said. “The dust that came off him, anyway. I… gathered it all together after everybody left. If I remember correctly, it packed quite a punch.”

 

McGrath’s cock was already getting hard -- it remembered correctly even if his brain didn’t. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Really?” Since they’d become New Supermen, their metabolisms had altered so that drugs and alcohol had no effect on them. If there was something that could get them high…

 

Zelinski flicked his eyebrows. “Let me cut us a couple lines and I’ll show you. It’s fucking hot as fuck.”

 

And McGrath, who’d never done cocaine before -- he’d only seen it in movies -- and who’d missed beer more than he cared to admit, anxiously took the rolled up dollar from Z and snorted his line right up, like he’d done it a million times. 

 

From the way it hit him, he knew he’d be likely to do it a million more. 

 

“FUCK ME,” he giggled, letting intellect go for a moment, and embracing idiotic pleasure. “FUCK ME FRANK-HOLE!”

 

And Zelinski was more than happy to do just that. He even sprinkled a little Bizarro on his cock and gave McGrath a booty bump. 

 

They fucked the entire weekend away -- it surprised no one to learn they became a couple soon after that. None of the New Supermen, anyway, though they were a tiny bit jealous -- pretty much everybody wanted one of the other of them. And they pretty much all assumed that McGrath was the top and Zelinski was the bottom. 

 

But they’d be wrong.

 

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

 

FIVE DAYS LATER

 

Discipline.

 

That’s all it took. 

 

Discipline.

 

Deep, deep in the sub-basements of the LexCorps Tower (he didn’t know how far down), he’d maintained himself for at least ten days (he didn’t know if he was right about time -- he had no clock, no window for reference, nothing but the non-stop porn that played on the video screens). He assumed the meals were regular -- unless they were purposefully trying to mess with his sense of time, too -- so ten days seemed right.

 

Otherwise healthy, Teng’s gonads were the size of basketballs, swollen and painfully tender. 

 

“That’s a lot of brains,” he mumbled to himself, trying to be humorous, trying to fight off the abject horror, though it was getting harder and harder.

 

He wouldn’t cum -- he wouldn’t allow it of himself. 

 

It just took discipline. 

 

Ten days.

 

How big would these things get before he finally gave in?

 

They’d all find out together.

 

Teng took a deep breath and settled into his meditation.

 

Discipline.

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13 hours ago, Spandexmuscle said:

Fuck yeah! Thanks for that story mate.

The pleasure's all mine! It's been a while since I've been here, so I have quite a few stories to share here. Working on one right now that's super meta. Been hard to write.

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10 minutes ago, neuheimeer said:

Wow, this story has its own potential!

I agree! I always felt the NEW SUPERMEN universe was rich in possibility. I mean, there are a hundred characters to look in on and explore. The four showcased in this tale are my favorites -- although Max (the focus of the last story and the "protagonist" barely makes a cameo here). As I've said, I've had a Parasite story in the back of my mind for years -- funny that this Bizarro tale came out. 

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1 minute ago, Absman420 said:

I agree! I always felt the NEW SUPERMEN universe was rich in possibility. I mean, there are a hundred characters to look in on and explore. The four showcased in this tale are my favorites -- although Max (the focus of the last story and the "protagonist" barely makes a cameo here). As I've said, I've had a Parasite story in the back of my mind for years -- funny that this Bizarro tale came out. 

And you inspired me to write my own story!

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8 hours ago, Trekka said:

I love the New Supermen series, I so hope there are more!

Thank you! I do, too -- and I was just sitting here thinking about why. Obviously, for all of my usual tropes: muscle growth, cock growth, super-powers, spandex -- but what really works for me (as opposed to some/most of my other stories) is there's no sinister mind-control or weird enslavement uber-arcs. It's just a bunch of GOOD guys in their own fraternity  learning to adapt to their new circumstances. And comic books. And great superhero sex.

As I've said, I have a Parasite story that's been in the back my mind for years. It was my intent to write it when this Bizarro story came out instead, allowing me to focus on some of my favorite characters -- though Max barely entered the action. 

I'm in the middle of a story about the Pandemic right now, but maybe I'll cum back to the New Supermen again after....?

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