WARNING: THIS PIECE OF ANTI-FAN FICTION IS INTENDED FOR ADULT READERS. IT INCLUDES GORE AND VIOLENCE, OBSCENITY AND BLASPHEMY. IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THESE THINGS OR BELOW THE AGE OF CONSENT, DESTROY YOUR COMPUTER TO ERASE ALL MEMORY OF THIS PIECE. DO IT NOW. THE REST OF YOU, ENJOY AS YOU MAY. SUPERMANHANDLED By Chip Masterson “Sir, we have something approaching us from behind,” the ensign said nervously. “In the water, Sir. Early indications are that it is not a craft of any sort.” The Sea Fighter cruised along evenly on its run from Guam to Honolulu. The captain turned and looked out at the clear blue sky. “We’re doing nearly 40 knots. It’s probably a school of tuna. Hungry?” “Sir,” the ensign said, his agitation expanding slowly as his words made the readings more and more real. “Sir, the object is steady on the surface and appears to be a single … thing.” “But not a craft,” the captain confirmed with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Something swimming, in other words.” “That’s … correct, Sir.” “You think maybe Michael Phelps had too much Red Bull and is burning off lunch?” “I propose we send a helo to investigate, Sir. Before.… “ The ensign’s voice died. “Before what, exactly?” Annoyance began to win out over amusement. “Before it catches up, Sir.” “Lieutenant, take us to 45 knots and dispatch that helo to see how big a fish is skimming our garbage?” The captain turned away and said, “Dismissed, ensign.” He could feel the ensign hesitating behind him, tugged in two directions at once. Finally, the boy turned on his heel and left. Always the rookie, the captain thought, chomping down on his unlit cigar. A few minutes later, the radio crackled with the helicopter pilot’s report. “Honest to God, Captain, it looks exactly like a swimmer.” “A swimmer?” the Captain growled. “The sea’s filled with things that swim.” “If it weren’t for the speed and precision of the strokes – and the size of the wake it’s creating – I’d say it’s a human male. A young, very large, very muscular human male.” “But since you can’t believe your eyes,” the captain said. “I’ve never seen so many muscles in a man’s back, and I fought Golden Gloves. Whoa! He just broke into a breast stroke and picked up speed. Let me see if I can get ahead of him.” After a minute of static, the pilot came on again. “Good God, his huge chest pounds the sea like a freighter. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The captain ordered the helo home and pondered that question: no known robotics involve anything resembling human musculature. What kind of thing was this? It sounded like a job for Superman. But they were in the middle of the Pacific. He hated to call for the ultimate back-up simply for an unarmed, preternaturally gifted swimmer. He decided to report the swimmer’s location to have him tracked by satellites but then the ensign returned. “Sir, he’s already pulling astern. The swimmer, Sir.” As if it might be anything else. The captain looked up. Where did this swimmer come from? They were a thousand miles out of Guam, meaning a thousand miles from nowhere. There was no air traffic whatsoever, no subs either. He checked the ship’s speed – still 45 knots. “It can’t be,” he muttered to himself. He went out back to see for himself. The fastest ship in the navy, the Sea Fighter was a gigantic catamaran with Rolls Royce turbines in an aluminum hull. Small crew, two helicopters, it was still experimental, and the run from Guam to Honolulu – 3700 miles – was about as far as she went without refueling. His skin prickled as he wondered again what exactly was out there in the water with them, and what kind of fuel it ran on. The crew was on deck, marveling at the rippling muscles that tore through the water beside them, gaining steadily. His wake rivaled that of a navy cutter but his legs hardly raise a spume whatsoever – they powered him through the ocean as efficiently as their Rolls turbines. Maybe moreso. “Get everyone back to his post!” he commanded. Looking though binoculars, he felt a sheepshank knot tighten around his stomach. The first shock was how beautiful it was, he was, breaking the water with such speed his arms were blur and his back surging like sharks in a frenzy as it roiled in the sun. Despite the obviously perfect symmetry and densely-carved musculature, it was the power itself he felt so beautiful – so much power, such perfect control, continuing on and on in perfect form without a break. Like some perfect machine, except … so clearly a man. Something just below his gut tingled and told him it was nothing other than a man, a kind of man he’d never encountered in his hard-bitten military career. A man to rival Superman himself. The captain caught his breath, suddenly winded – and realized his pants were suddenly tight. He had a wife and a son at Annapolis so this couldn’t be … THAT … but he couldn’t take his eyes off the swimmer … not the chiseled concentration of his confident face or the densely-packed sinews radiating out of his armpits. The man swam as if the ship weren’t even there. The captain reached out unconsciously for the railing and realized the formerly steady ship was now … rocking. The thing in the water … the thing in his pants ... couldn’t possibly be true. Or real. Feeling the kind of fury he hadn’t felt since his date to the annual ball at Annapolis had changed her mind and asked to be taken home, he stormed back onto the bridge and barked “Full speed ahead! I want to put as much distance between us and that THING as possible. Then we can call in a strike.” Except his gut wrenched at the thought of firing on it. On HIM. And making HIM angry. The sea ahead of them was calm and still but the ship continued to heave and buck like in high swells. Soon the Sea Fighter was skimming over the waves at its top speed of 55 knots – breaking its own record. He felt a queer relief when he went back out and searched the sea behind them, seeing nothing but choppy whitecaps – until the ensign tapped him on the shoulder and directed his attention hard aport. The captain dropped the glasses and gasped openly: the swimmer was smack beside them and pulling ahead at an even faster pace than before. “He has to be going sixty knots!” the Captain gaped. Wind whipped the drool out of his open mouth and the ensign corrected him. “Sixty-seven knots and gaining, according to the instruments. At this rate he’ll beat us to Honolulu by over an hour.” A siren went off and they both broke back onto the bridge. “It’s the stabilizers, captain,” the Second Lieutenant reported. “The wake caused by that … that swimmer is overtaxing the stabilizers. He’s creating too much turbulence.” “Too much--!” The captain sputtered. “What can he weigh, a couple hundred pounds? We’re 1100 tons of advance military warcraft! HOW CAN HE BE ROCKING US?!?” But the bridge continued to pitch more and more severely until the captain ordered a course correction, to take them farther from the swimmer – in effect, letting him bump them out of the way. But distance only made it worse as the swimmer’s muscles generated mountains of water that tossed the military craft around like a toy boat in a tub. By now he had cleared the bow and they were taking the full punishing brunt of his wake. “Can’t you give me anything more?” the captain yelled. “Is this all we’ve got?” “The engines are all at full speed, captain! Two are getting too hot from battling the waves!” “Captain,” the Ensign said quietly, “the engines aren’t designed to take on a foe such as this. We can’t keep this pace up for much longer.” “He can!” the Captain screamed, flecking the ensign with spit. “What’s he burning, sunlight?” “At this rate, we’ll run out of fuel before we reach port, Sir,” the ensign said. “We have to face it: we just can’t keep up with him. He’s too strong. Too fast.” The captain nearly wept as he pounded the bulkhead in fury and ordered the ship to slow and seek a course into calmer waters. He ordered an alert to central command to warn Honolulu and points west of this approaching threat, and requested a call be made to Superman. Then he went to his bunk and masturbated so furiously he was sore for a week. +++ A small tsunami carried sailboats half a mile though the streets of Honolulu but the damage could have been worse if Superman hadn’t arrived in time to use his super-breath to blow the wave back out to sea. Of course, the wind damage compounded the water damage, but that was the side-effect they were willing to live with. Superman sped back to the west coast to wait for the Swimmer, as he was currently called; he didn’t want to confront the creature in the water, if that was his native element. The damage rippling out through the Pacific would be impossible to contain. Still, the man swam so fast Superman barely beat him to shore – as if the Swimmer knew the Man of Steel was up there and had kicked into an even higher gear to race him. The man seemed bound for Half Moon Bay, south of San Francisco. Fortunately it was typical weather – foggy. The man had slowed down enough to not sweep ashore on the crest of another flooding surge, and simply walked out of the water, shaking his hair. Apart from a single tattoo encircling one mammoth biceps, he was completely naked – and semi-erect, his low-curving schlong bouncing ahead of him like a thick-capped tentacle. The Swimmer ignored Superman as he stretched out his thick, full muscles and rapidly twisted his tight-waisted torso back and forth, like a boxer. Superman realized his mouth was open so he shut it. This looked exactly like a man, only more muscular. He focused his X-ray vision on the man but couldn’t see inside him – his vision wouldn’t penetrate past the skin. He focused harder but could only scan the surface of the subcutaneous musculature, which appeared to contain two or possibly three times as many muscle fibers per square inch than any normal man. Still rubbing the salt off his body, the Swimmer said, “Trying to get under my skin, Supes? Good luck. These muscles are denser than lead.” He looked at Superman for the first time, a penetrating gaze in a face so handsome it that caused Superman to intake breath. “For a twenty generations, my family has married and bred with a single goal in mind: to produce ever stronger sons. One of my ancestors is Thomas Topham, considered by many the strongest man in modern times to have ever lived. He could bend iron pokers into right angles by slamming them against his outstretched arm and once pulled a coach with four horses backwards in the street. He was the superman of 18th century England. Now there’s me. He’s like an infant compare to me.” “Who are you?” Superman asked. For some reason, he was having trouble catching his breath, though there was no sign of kryptonite anywhere. In the fog, perhaps? “I’m known by many names, but most people just call me Master or Sir,” the Swimmer said, flexing and rubbing his fists so that his meaty pecs swelled like the vast ocean he had just conquered in a few hours’ time. His lats kept jutting out sideways disconcertingly. “But I think we’re going to become more intimate with each other in a moment, so you can call me Adonis.” He smiled, a brilliant shark’s grin that made Superman dizzy. “Adonis,” Superman repeated. “What’s the matter, Supes?” Adonis said, jamming his elbows back to stretch out his perfectly square pecs. His abs were like corrugated steel, or irrigation pipes traversing the sunken field of his belly. Intercostals bit down around them sawblade teeth. His quads spread out in every direction. “What’s that?” Superman said, blinking. “I said, What’s … the … matter?” Adonis repeated loudly. “Having trouble concentrating?” A knowing look came into his eyes as he nodded, and looked sideways. His profile was perfect, his strong jaw clenching and relaxing. He looked back and said, “I have that effect on people. No matter what I’m saying, my body seems to be speaking to them in some more direct way, and their brains can’t handle the overload of my compelling voice and more compelling physique.” “I’m not – you’re not compelling me--” Superman stuttered. He shook his head and with his hands on his hips, spread his lats and flexed his pecs … only somehow, this conscious effort to intimidate his opponent had no effect, and even seemed a little silly, given how more impressive Adonis’ body was just standing there. ‘More impressive?’ Superman thought. ‘Why did I think that? It’s not true. It can’t be.’ But Adonis continued talking. “I’ve often wondered what would happen if I went to heaven. I’m not talking about dying. I’m talking about walking right up to the gates to see the man in charge – alleged. I could see St Peter tugging furiously to get the gates open before I got there, and the crowds of adoring saints and angels parting as I walked right up to the throne of God. And God would take one look at this,” Adonis said, splaying his fingers down along his hard torso, “and these,” he added, raising his arm to make his warhead biceps tower over the hemispheric scope of his triceps, “And God would be like, ‘Oh, sorry, I’m in your seat.’ And I’d fold my arms and rap my fingers ‘gainst my ‘cep, and cocking my head, I’d say, ‘Still waiting.’ And God would slide off his throne and stumble down the stairs and I’d catch up by his glory and pull him up close to my face, like this--” Adonis imitated hauling a punk up by his twisted shirt, and went on, “and I’d say, ‘Don’t let it happen again,’ and God would be hanging off my big arm and saying, ‘No, no, sir, no it won’t.’ I’d let him go and turn my back to walk up those stairs but just before I turn around the sit, I’d flex a little back muscle so all those angels and saints that have been staring at God for the last ten thousand years would know what a real man looked like. Then I’d sit on my throne and wait for God to crawl up the steps on his belly to start licking my feet. One look at this face and no one would dare say a word, even when God starts bucking his Godhead against the steps and grinding himself against them, and I’m like, ‘Whoa, God, really? Right here before yourself and everybody?’ But God would have his mouth too full of my feet to answer. Then all those angels and saints could stop the rehearsal they been having the last ten thousand years and start singing praise for real. For me.” Adonis put his hands behind his head, the boulders of his arms swelling sideways, and with his mouth slightly open, stuck his tongue out behind his lower lip. Two balls of fire spurt out of Superman’s eyes and hit Adonis square in the chest. Superman gasped in panic, and panic transformed into amazement – Adonis’ chest showed two red spots singed clean of hair, but that was all. “Gee, Supes, most slaves buy me dinner first.” Ignoring the slave remark, Superman said, “You should be dead – toast!” “Take more than some weak-ass heat vision to damage these muscles.” He put his hands on his hips in imitation of Superman’s earlier pose, only now it looked like it was meant to – massive and commanding and filling the entire space. “Go ahead,” Adonis taunted, “Give me your best shot.” “That would atomize a small island,” Superman warned. Adonis just smirked. “Chicken? Maybe little Superboy wants to come out to play. I see he’s already up.” Adonis winked at Superman’s crotch which had become very tight. Superman felt a burst of blinding rage and fired his heat-vision full bore into Adonis’ torso. Adonis staggered back two steps but planted his legs and stopped. All around them the fog sizzled to steam and dissipated but Adonis actually leaned into the blast. A full minute passed during which the top of Mt Everest would have been sheared off but Adonis withstood it and took a step forward. The radiating heat began to melt the sand around them into glass and the waves began to boil before they broke on the shore. Superman’s head throbbed with the strain and heat and pain of it until finally, after two more minutes, he stopped, out of breath and head splitting. A stretch of beach the size of a football field had glassified around them; instantly it cracked beneath Adonis’ weight. The burnt air smelled of boiled shellfish. Superman, bent over with his hands on his knees, looked up to see Adonis’ red skin already fading into a darker tan. Adonis brushed his taut pecs lightly and said, “I hope this lasts longer than six months. At these prices.” “It’s impossible,” Superman panted. “Nothing on this planet could stand up to my heat vision for that long – nothing!” “And yet,” Adonis smirked. He walked closer to Superman, causing the hero’s chest to tighten with alarm. “I told you. Dozens of generations to produce denser and denser muscles. Of course, it isn’t all genes. I’ve increased my natural strength by a factor of four or five through hard training and diet. Twice as strong as before, then twice as strong as that, then double THAT….” “What other powers do you have?” Superman asked. “Powers?” Adonis replied. “I’m a man – a real man – not some mutated monster. My power is in my brute muscle strength,” he went on, crabbing into a most-muscular that made traps rise like mountain chains around his thick neck and heightening the staggering relief between the size of his muscles and the male form that owned them. “And in my superior intelligence. And in the overwhelming force of my mere presence that reduces the strongest men to drooling slaves and prompts cops and soldiers to surrender their weapons the moment I enter the scene.“ Adonis shook his head, lips curled with amused contempt. “You think because you have some alien physique and draw energy from our sun – like any weed – you can rest on that? I think you need to hit the gym, old man. Now, I took your best hit. Why don’t you take MINE!” Before Superman’s mind could register it, Adonis cocked his arm and struck him in the face. Instantly knocked out, Superman sailed for six miles before crashing into the cliff beneath Capistrano Road. The roadway collapsed, sending vehicles tumbling. But the impact woke Superman, who groggily shoved the boulders and debris away to crawl to the surface. A pinpoint in the sky suddenly grew as Adonis traced his trajectory with a single leap, straddling Superman in a scissors hold and spinning them both around. Superman felt the force of planets colliding his torso from both directions. Superman strained with both arms to pry Adonis’ leg away off his chest but nothing happened, as if he were a child. Adonis cocked his head and flexed his quads – Superman momentarily blacked out amid galaxies exploding behind his eyes. A savage shake brought him back to see Adonis shaking his head, lips pursed and going “tsk tsk tsk.” Then the grinned, impossibly handsome, and REALLY squeezed. Superman’s face turned red as veins popped out all over his face and neck. He flailed his massive arms helplessly, digging his heels in to try to bridge and twist away. Adonis’ high-peaked abs rippled as he twisted back, controlling Superman like a dog. Adonis' eyes narrowed as he watched Superman choke and labor to free himself. Superman realized Adonis was simply too strong to defeat head on, but had two weaknesses – neither his ears nor his eyes were covered with muscle. Summoning every ounce of draining strength, Superman clapped his hands together as hard as he could. The sonic blast uprooted trees, flattened houses and knocked trucks off Highway 1 – and it stunned Adonis for the split-second necessary to squeeze out the death scissors. Adonis shook his head to clear it and Superman, banking that Adonis told the truth when he said he had no extraordinary powers, flew away. But before he had time to even think of a destination, he felt the air thicken around him and the sound barrier burst as Adonis appeared and caught Superman in a bearhug. “I thought you couldn’t fly!” Superman yelled. “Can’t,” Adonis yelled back. “But I can leap faster than you can fly. Next time you need to take evasive action. But there won’t be a next time.” With that, Adonis began wrenching Superman away from his trajectory. Superman’s flight began to obey Adonis’ superior torque as he kept twisting them both down towards earth. Superman tried to exert himself and fly higher, reach a height where Adonis would weaken, but Adonis kept spinning and pulling them downward. The huge weight of Adonis’ muscles taxed the Man of Steel after his bruising encounter with Adonis’ fist and legs. He battled for control with every ounce of sinew left. They were lowering into San Francisco. Superman panicked as jumbo-jets swerved to avoid them over the airport. They spiraled through the air, Superman increasing his speed to exert more G-forces against his adversary while producing explosive bursts with his arms and chest to break free. Adonis held him even tighter, containing the explosions as they hurtled into the Bank of America skyscraper… And out the other side. Superman gazed back at the structure, shattered chunks of I-bar raining out of the hole as the top of the building began to collapse. He looked back at Adonis to his skin covered with cuts – with nothing penetrating below. They CRASHED through the top of the Transamerica Pyramid and the air filled with pulverized concrete and glass. He saw the building rock from the impact as they sailed on, past Alcatraz and finally slamming into Angel Island. The dust of atomized rock clogged the air. Fires burst into the skyline behind them and sirens filled the air. Superman twitched to return to the city, try to fix things – but Adonis still hadn’t let go. Adonis arms rippled and Superman felt the fibers drum against his defenseless musculature. He tried to fly again but Adonis pressed his back into the bedrock, anchoring himself, preventing Superman’s flight. That evil smirk returned and Superman decided to try his only other weapon –heat vision directly into this muscleman’s eyes. He looked into Adonis’ eyes and tried to take a deep breath against the splitting headache, but … something … something changed … it became hard to concentrate … to focus. … Adonis said nothing this time, only held Superman in his arms and with his magnetic gaze, and just as the Kryptonian’s planet-bullying superstrength failed to match the brawn in this he-man’s arms, his will faltered. He could see the gloat rise deep in his captor’s eyes, the expectation of triumph as his due, as Adonis felt Superman’s will to resist wither into limpness. He clenched his jaw and cinched his arms ever so slightly tighter, relishing the way Superman’s cock hardened in response to losing his battle to break free. The way the rest of Superman’s bones bent beneath his compulsion to bend. And Superman saw in Adonis’ eyes that if he so compelled those bones to break, they would obediently break – and there was nothing he do to stop it. Adonis nodded slowly, his proud nostrils flaring – and then his expression hardened like the bicep-tomb encasing his prey. Superman felt his heart break at this glimpse of disappointment in The Man – and ten thousand daggers stabbed him as his heart thundered and his ribs began to crack. Adonis’ pecs popped his sternum, pressing the air out of his lungs with power his superbreath couldn’t compete against. Adonis groaned with pleasure and lowered his head slightly as his delts pulled backwards and the circle of death closed more tightly around the Kryptonian. But then panic detonated in Superman’s chest. Fireballs ejaculated from his eyes spontaneously – straight into Adonis’ eyes. Adonis rocked back, automatically reaching for his face – and Superman shoved away. Blinded, Adonis reached out and grabbed Superman’s forearm. Superman tried to leap into flight away but Adonis held him cruelly in place – with one hand – while the other felt at his eyes. Superman toiled to get away but Adonis kept dragging him back, deeper into the island with a force he couldn’t overcome. Superman looked at Adonis in terror to see true anger – even hatred – turn that handsome face to stone and then the free fist brought blackness. +++ A bone-jarring WHUMP and shrill screeching wheels brought Superman back to the light. Every inch of him hurt – one forearm felt crushed - as he opened his blackened eyes to see Adonis stopping traffic with a ripped-out streetlamp. He held it sideways across the three lanes of northbound traffic, rammed against the front ends of two squealing SUVs on either side of a Hummer bouncing from power build-up being frustrated by Adonis’ arms and pecs. A line of cars behind each one had joined the fray, revving and bucking bumper to bumper. Superman gingerly turned his head to see they were on the Golden Gate Bridge – the roadway crack from the impact of their landing and now being gouged by Adonis’ bare feet as he muscled the line of cars back. Southbound traffic had stopped of its own accord – witnessing the half-dozen cars that had tried to squeeze past, now smashed and tangled in the cables, their passengers struggling to free themselves. Acrid burnt rubber filled the air as tires shred uselessly against Adonis’ obdurance. The outgunned engines began to overheat and sputter. One by one the drivers abandoned their vehicles and fled, only to be smashed as Adonis shoved the mass of metal backwards in an ear-splitting mangle of steel and broken glass. Adonis then reached forward and grabbed the Hummer, wrenching it free of the tangle and carrying it like a picnic basket to the center of the bridge. With a few savage blows of his fists he hammered it flat, then compressed it and molded it into a giant throne. He sat in the throne, his mere weight flattening the bridge’s arc. His forearms rested on his outspread thighs like a king waiting to be serviced, his veined-throbbing cock and heavy sack resting on the creased and folded metal. Superman got up onto one knee with his good fist against the ground but body kept tightening against further movement. His swelling face looked up at his adversary. Adonis nodded slowly at him with expectant eyebrows – daring … waiting …. Finally, satisfied Superman would not speak unless spoken to, Adonis said, “You have one chance to live, ‘Super’-man. Become my slave and obey me unquestioningly. A being of your strength could speed up my accumulation of the world’s wealth. The nations are sure to resist, and while I could deal with each of them, or all united, with you serving me, I could conquer them--” he shrugged “—let’s say thirty percent more quickly. Your reward for such tireless servitude would be great – I will give you your life, so that you may continue catering to my every whim. You would be the envy of mankind – the right to grovel before me and clean my feet with your mouth and slurp my cum drool off my legs. Let’s start now, before all these witnesses. He cocked an eye upward to indicate the news helicopters circling above them, as well as the people lining each side of the stalled traffic. He fingered himself, squeezing out thick drops of holy nectar and drizzling it across flexing calves as they further dented and caved the crushed metal beneath them. “Don’t do it, Superman!” someone called safely, anonymously, from far back. “Save us!” “You can do it!” the chorus began. Someone nearer worked up the courage to yell “Kick his ass!” before ducking out of sight. “Come on,” Adonis taunted, waggling his fingers, “Come on, Man of Tinfoil. Your fans want a show. Except you’re barely qualified to lick my ass. I’ll handle the ass-kicking.” He cracked his knuckles and popped his neck. “Daddy’s waiting, Superbitch.” Humiliated, desperate, Superman leapt at Adonis with his good fist. Adonis caught it in his hand and squeezed with bone-crackling power, yanking Superman back against his chest to make his head snap back. He strong-armed Superman to his knees with one hand, his other stroking his meat as though preparing to face-fuck him. Superman tried to pull away but Adonis merely toyed with him, forcing him to slap himself with own hand. When Adonis finally let go of the crippled digits and reached for the sides of Superman’s head, the Man of Steel threw himself back into the air in an attempt to flee. Adonis grabbed Superman’s cape and tugged hard, jerking the hero back and around into his fist, then whipping him into the pavement with it. Adonis leapt down, straddling him, and pulling him up by the front of his suit, began pounding his face bloody. Superman struggled to crawl away but Adonis stepped on his ankle, trapping him and making him scrape at the asphalt. “Pathetic,” Adonis said. “How could you ever save them if you can’t even save yourself? Now see what your weakness has led to.” With that, Adonis jumped up into the bend of the 3-foot thick main cable. The size and scale of the cables and towers seemed to dwarf Adonis. He squatted down and thrust his hands straight into the densely-woven cable, cracking the protective shell. Securing his grip on either side, he began to rise, quads flaring, his arms curling the cable out shape, toward his body. Adonis’ biceps and forearms bulged as the cable groaned and writhed. Instantly the 746- foot tall towers began to sway and twist down toward, spraying deadly rivets as the huge steel plating warped beneath his brawn. Nearby vertical suspension cables pooled slack – while beyond the tilting towers, they twanged and snapped from the strain. Deep-sea moans terrified the onlookers as they stamped for land and tried to evade the slivering cables that sliced through trucks and people alike. Still Adonis straightened his body, his broad shoulders and inches-deep chest expanding, his head straight and determined between traps striated to rival the cables they conquered. He kept pulling the cable tonnage higher and closer while pressing down with his feet. Deafening KRAKs reported out of the skewing towers that torqued inward toward him, rippling the roadway before breaking it apart. Chunks and cars began to spill down to the sea as the tower foundations began to crack. Soon the sound of splitting, curving steel drowned out the screams of the people as the north tower bent ten degrees … fifteen degrees … … rivets peppering the Marin headland like massive bullets from a giant gun … … twenty degrees …. The south tower now reaching fifteen degrees … … cables whipping the air like snakes on the head of Medusa, taking out helicopters and rescue boats … … Suddenly the north tower cracked down one side and collapsed, slipping the remaining roadway sideways into the water. Adonis’ lats swelled as he wrenched the south tower so hard it spiraled free of its foundation with a thunderous crash, splitting the artificial island that held it and swamping three coast guard ships. Superman, with one arm broken and the other hand crushed, his face beaten to a pulp, let himself fall into the water, unwilling to attempt flight in the face of his powerlessness to help anyone. Adonis wrenched his hands free as the bridge fell around them and executed a perfect swan dive into the water. He wrapped Superman’s cape around his fist and swam towards the city, each stroke dragging the superhero against his will. Superman tried to swim away with all his strength but Adonis’ arm stroke overpowered him again and again and again until they reached Fisherman’s Wharf. Adonis simply breached the water with a kick of his legs, powering himself and Superman up onto the wharf. He adjusted his hold, grabbing Superman by the front of his suit and dragging him along behind him. Tourists and residents alike had gathered to gape in horror at the bridge collapsing; on rooftops, people watched the fires raging in the financial district from the two smashed skyscrapers. Chaos packed the streets but somehow it always parted wherever Adonis walked: people huddled back in awe at the sight of him, then gasped to see how easily he mistreated Superman with one hand. Emergency vehicles screeched to a halt, yielding to him, not daring to challenge his right of way. The crowd left the ruin of the bridge to follow them at a wary distance. Adonis made for the art deco Coit tower on Telegraph Hill, uprooting the 60-year-old trees in his swath with blows of his fist or kicks of his feet. In the middle of the traffic circle next to the tower, he looked up at the big bronze statue of Columbus on its large stone podium. A look of contempt crossed his face – but first he had to secure his prey. Pulling Superman up, he trapped the hero’s head between his arm and lat and with this his other arm, tightened the vise. Superman gagged and screamed. Adonis said, “What? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” and expanded his chest as he squeezed harder. Superman’s arm and hand had already begun to heal but were still too weak to resist. Adonis walked around the circle with Superman’s legs trying to make a stand, only to skid and stumble along like a child. Adonis yawned and spread his shoulders as if stretching, making his fiercely striated pecs mound as he decreased the space Superman’s head was trying to occupy. Superman vomited and Adonis made one last cracking squash before letting the Kryptonian fall to his hands and knees in agony. Adonis grabbed the big stone base of the statue and ripped it loose, cracking the concrete and dragging rebar out of it like string. Holding it overhead so people could get a glimpse of his biceps and lats. “Chris,” he said, “I think it’s time you discovered a really new world.” With that, he hocked the statue and its multi-ton base straight into the air. People skittered back in terror, then crept forward again, craning their necks to follow the immense statue as it rose higher and higher into the sky … getting smaller and smaller and smaller … until the realized it wasn’t coming back down. Ever. “Guess I don’t know my own strength,” he said with that dazzling smile. “Got carried away with poor old Superman there. I’d ask him to go fetch it, but I’m afraid he might not come back. Beat dogs usually don’t.” Then he put his hands on his knees and bent down to look in Superman’s aching face. “But slaves always come back, because they know they can’t escape. And they know the penalty for trying is worse than anything they imagined they could endure. But then, not having permission to die, they HAVE to endure it. That’s the part that really sucks.” “I’ll never be your slave,” Superman groaned. He staggered to his feet and considered his one last hope – if he could freeze this Adonis with his superbreath, it would give him a chance to figure something out, get him to the Fortress where there might be hope of restraining him. Using the compressive powers of his pecs and abdominals, he knew he could pressurize the air to bring it down to a degree or two above zero Kelvin – but he needed a distraction. Using his ventriloquist ability, Superman threw his voice to a point behind the crowd, pitched to disguise it. “Adonis, show us your muscles!” Adonis looked for the voice but others in the crowd seemed worshipful, so he struck a few poses for them. But then he heard the hiss of Superman’s inhalation. Whipping around with a wicked gleam in his eye, Adonis began sucking all the air into his own lungs. Tempest-force winds began tearing up the hill from all sides. People flattened themselves against the ground or tried to hold onto trees. Parked cars skittered sideways across the pavement and a tour bus groaned and fell over onto its side. Superman’s face registered panic as even the air in his lungs was sucked back out by this powerhouse standing ten feet away. Superman gasped for air, feeling his lungs collapse. A spike of ice-cold jet stream air rushed down to fill in the sudden vacuum created by Adonis’ lung capacity, creating a vortex that twisted into a tornado. Superman knew the most violent forces of nature could not stand up to a single blast of his superbreath, but HE COULDN’T GET HIS BREATH. Again he fell to the pavement, clutching at his throat. “Shall I let it wreak havoc through the city you are too weak to save?” Adonis cried. “No – that shall be my personal prerogative.” Turning up to face the descending twister, Adonis let loose the force of his own super-breath. The ferociously spiraling winds bulged outward in the center, spun out of control and then collapsed onto itself. The storm died but the clouds above continue to roil as if in time- lapse photography, as miles of atmospheric currents struggled to cope with this unexpected blast from below. Superman’s chest heaved for breath. He knew now his other tricks – sound and heat- vision – were of no use. Adonis would be prepared and move too quickly to counter them, heedlessly risking the lives around them. Yet every time he looked into that strong, handsome face, it became harder and harder to think of any alternative – as if two hands were on the steering wheel of his will, and only one was his own. And it was starting to cramp. “Gee, Superman,” Adonis mocked. “I really thought this would be a fair fight. Not completely fair – I knew you were no match for a real man – but honestly? I expected more. So tell you what. You know that if I hit the ground with my fist, I could knock down every building for miles. Hit it again, and the entire city would shake for half a minute. Keep wailing on it, and how long you think before the earth can’t take anymore, starts to fall apart, crack open, literally quake before me? Think I could keep it up long enough to shake this entire state back to the stone age? Think I CAN’T?” “But … why?” Superman asked. “You know, after awhile, crap from Amazon just starts to build up. I haven’t even unpacked the last few crates of tributes my slaves have sent me, on top of the taxes they pay before they pay their rent or buy food or clothing for their families. I’m feeling the need to expand – and see if this big broad world is big enough to support me in the style I deserve. I need to show the world I mean business. But – I’m not unreasonable. So here’s the deal. “I’ll use just one arm. You get to use your entire body. If you can prevent the earthquake, I’ll grant you an amnesty. You get to live – just stay out of my way. But if I’ve got more muscle in one arm than you have in your whole body, well then. What’s the point of you?” He grinned winningly. Superman’s head swam in the glow of that face. But he couldn’t let this man destroy so much as this one tower, much less the entire west coast. Even if he had to die trying. Adonis dropped to his knees, batting his semi-erect cock affectionately. Looking Superman in the eye and feeling his will begin to melt under the heat of his gaze, Adonis smirked. “One … “Two … “Threeeeeee …. “Go!” Adonis cocked his fist back, the mass of back muscle surging like the limbs of the damned. Superman shot forward and hooked his arms around that gigantic, tattooed biceps. Setting his legs and back, Superman pulled up with all his might, the strain popping veins out of his neck, traps and shoulders. Adonis’ fist hit the ground. A few cars jumped but that was it. Hope bloomed in Superman’s chest and he switched gears and pressed his chest down into the triceps, to keep it from cocking again. Adonis grunted – the first sign he’d ever given of the toll his stamina was taking. But he felt Superman’s artillery-proof pecs give as his triceps drove up into them, and with a rowing motion, he practically lifted Superman off the ground. Superman set his feet and strained even harder than before … … the fist plummeted towards the ground … … Superman’s lats flared to stop it … … his quads solidified to prevent it …. … and inches from the ground … IT STOPPED. Superman sucked breath through his teeth, his squatting thighs driving him up, striving to drag the fist backwards, his quads shaking, his calves splitting the mesh of his suit … .. then Adonis chuckled low in his throat … … and from a distance of only two inches, with Superman’s fullest strength resisting him, Adonis popped the ground so hard it cratered around them. The shock wave ran down the hill and made Coit Tower sway … and crack … and fall … And building fell like dominos up the surrounding hills until one of the bell towers of the big Jesuit church fell into the other one with the clang of disaster. Adonis leapt to his feet and shook Superman off his arm like a flea. The ground slowly calmed down – a major quake hadn’t yet been triggered. When Adonis cracked his knuckles, Superman knew he wasn’t joking around. He got up on his knees and shakily gained his feet, glowering at his foe but unable to hide the despair of knowing how powerless he was to stand in Adonis’ way. Adonis’ smile faded, and disappointment took its place. “You know, you could have been the most useful slave of all,” Adonis said sadly. “And the most rewarded. You could have done amazing things for me. But your behavior – your constant rebellion – is unacceptable. And it sets a bad example. Whether the world is big enough for me remains to be seen. But already, it’s not big enough for the both of us.” He shook his head remorsefully and added, “Remember – you made me do this to you.” Before Superman could blink, Adonis was there, behind him, trapping his arms at his side in a bearhug straight around the chest. But Superman was facing away – unable to try to blind Adonis again. He knew it was now or never. They were both so pumped from the epic battling that Adonis’ thick arms could not longer lock around Superman’s massive lats, arms and chest. If Superman could free himself, gain the air and evasively make his way into space … and if he could dodge the enormous objects Adonis would hurl at near-light speeds in every direction … he might have a chance to regroup and get to the Fortress. The Fortress’ computer might be able to outthink this man and come up with a weakness, a plan, a means of stopping his relentless domination— Instantaneous, all-consuming pain shattered these thoughts as Adonis’ fingers pried their way into Superman’s pecs the way they’d dug into the suspension cable. Superman’s muscles were harder but still no match for Adonis – those fingers separate muscle fibers and reached deep for a deathgrip. Adonis’ biceps began to contract, their peaks threatening Superman’s bones with fracturing hardness, their constriction approaching the stresses within a star’s core. Then doubled. Sweat sprang out all over Superman as he kicked at Adonis’ knees. His struggled to fly but Adonis wouldn’t let him. He tensed his muscles hard enough to withstand nuclear blasts but Adonis’ arms and pecs bruised and macerated them. Veins pulsed through his skin with absolute exertion as he struggled to get free. Adonis’ shoulders worked around and around as his lats spread to three – no, four times the width of a big man his height. His back cracked as he lifted Superman back off the ground and through gritted teeth, contracted his arms to burst the resistant pressure of Superman’s explosive bursts. Groaning, he squeeeeeeeezed the thrashing Man of Steel until his own muscles glowed red … then purple…. Superman felt the fingers savaging his pecs began to crawl closer together. Adonis’ contracted his own pecs to collapse Superman’s chest, their density biting into Superman’s traps as they winched his arms tighter … and tighter … and tighter still. Superman’s breath began to labor as Adonis crunched down into every exhale. He twisted and threw himself forward, forcing Adonis to lose his footing and step this way, then that. But Adonis never lost his balance and with a high thin wheezing moan, began to crush Superman with forces no other object in nature could create … … or withstand…. Snot and spit flew from Adonis’ face with the effort as he jerked Superman hard, snapping his head back and forth, and crunching his arms and pecs until they burned. He ignored the protests and willed his muscles contract even more savagely, felt them pump bigger than ever before, until his own skin began to tear and Superman’s grunts became ragged groans of despair. Adonis mastered the pain and forced one hand to grasp the other wrist. Superman’s arms shattered. Adonis stopped the spasms and hardened his lats to bring them down with atom-smashing power. Superman’s ribs bowed and fractures formed. Adonis’ mouth opened in silent agony as his quivering arms cracked the Man of Steel’s chest like a walnut. Superman’s kicking legs began to jerk uncontrollably as his spine compressed between his own muscles and impenetrable iron of his attacker’s chest. With a supreme bellow, Adonis made his biceps compact Superman like trash. Superman’s torso caved inward, forcing gore jets from his mouth and nose. His bones began to grind together as Adonis folded the Man of Steel like dirty laundry against his spreading chest, then dropped the refuse with a triumphant roar and willed his overtaxed muscles to flex their size and power for the horrified crowd. His bloody musculature bulged through its own ripped skin, so full and hard his fists, forearms, biceps, shoulders, pecs and traps looked like boulders stacked atop each other, teetering on a brick wall of abs balanced on two spherical quads above elephantine calves. From the back, his glutes and back looked inhumanly ripped and rippling, a dark star of radiant power. He turned so all could witness his glory, relishing the way people passed out, or died, or jerked themselves raw at the sight of him. With a victory flourish, Adonis picked up Superman’s head and spiked it against the ground. The head disintegrated and ground cracked, initiating a fiercer quake than before, one that spread disaster throughout the city. Then he looked up at the helicopter cameras and smiled … And the whole world trembled before him. THE END chipmasterson@yahoo.com Afterword: I must give a shout out to mbbbbb, whose artwork The Death of Superman at deviantart.com inspired a revised ending to the original story. Alas, I deleted the email with the link, cannot find the group it was posted in, deviantart is chaotic and Firefox only seems to allow 10 favorites ever, so my link to the page has also vanished. Like mist in the desert ….