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The rogue wizard cursed to every god under the sun as Hal led him away, tied tightly in glowing green chains. For days, he’d been subjecting the people of Metropolis to transfigurations just for the fun of it, turning unsuspecting civilians into trees, baristas into coffee cups, and even a teacher being transformed into a blow-up doll, just for the fun of it.
They had found him after a gruelling, non-stop 72-hour search. He had been smart, holing himself up in a self-made lead-lined hovel in the industrial district. The fight was over in seconds, really. It turned out that once the wizard was disarmed from his wand, he posed no threat to a Krytonian demi-god and a formidable Green Lantern.
“I’ll take this wacko up to HQ for questioning, big blue,” Hal whistled casually as he strolled by Clark, who was in the process of collecting his most dangerous-looking magic devices and carefully placing them in a box to be analyzed later. He grimaced when a chattering skull hissed at him in Latin as he placed it in the box.
“Gotcha,” He murmured in response, focusing intently on his task. He bent down, squinting when an ordinary-looking briefcase on a bookshelf nearby caught his eye. He reached for it. “This shouldn’t take me too long. I’ll head up when I’m done.” He insisted, placing it in the box atop the other oddities.
“Roger that,” Hal mused. With a flicker of light, a strip of green duct tape manifested in thin air and slapped over the mouth of the cursing magician. Without another word, the pair vanished from sight.
Clark sighed wearily once he was alone. He was tired and wanted to take off his suit as soon as possible. Yet, he continued his work, adding more and more to the box. Even so, his gaze kept drifting toward that briefcase. It was so modern, so… sterile compared to the wizard’s other items of importance. His curiosity began to gnaw at him.
Carefully, he slid it out of the box and set it on the table in front of him. With a simple flick of his thumbs, it opened.
The last thing he expected to see, nestled in the black velvet lining, was a sex toy.
Clark blinked, unsure if what he was seeing was real. He picked it up, turning over the toy in his hand. The main body was matte black, while the handle gleamed. What caught his eye, however, was the unmistakable bat symbol etched into the handle. When he saw it, Clark’s mouth went dry instantly.
He carefully turned it to glance at the thankfully clean entry point. It was moulded with hyper-realistic precision, in his opinion. The skin was a milky, alabaster white, and perfectly hairless. The tight little hole was framed by perfectly sculpted, dusky pink pussy lips.
It was exactly what Clark had imagined Bruce’s cunt to look like.
A soft sigh escaped him. He shook his head shamefully. This is absurd. He went to toss the obscene object into the box with the other evidence. In the process, his large thumb hooked between those sculpted lips, sinking in half an inch before he could stop it.
He hadn’t expected the toy to clench around the digit.
The inner walls fluttered subtly, warm as they clung to him.
Clark froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly and deliberately, he sank that same finger in a little further, his eyes widening as he focused on the way that the toy seemed to suck him in, the slick passage yielding to his touch. He gave it a few experimental thrusts, watching as his finger emerged glistening with slick with each plunge into it.
He swallowed thickly as he pulled his finger out, a thin strand of slick connecting him to the toy’s twitching hole. With both thumbs, he spread those pretty pink pussy lips apart, revealing the dripping hole. “So… realistic…” He whispered.
Suddenly, a wicked, utterly depraved idea began to grow in his mind, fuelled by years of longing and frustration.
Shame burned on his cheeks for even thinking of keeping this toy, but he couldn’t just… hand this over to Bruce for examination. What would he even say? That the wizard managed to make a hyper-realistic fleshlight modelled after the man’s own juicy, fat cunt?
No. It would be better if he handled this on his own. What Bruce didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.
And… well.. He’d been harbouring a crush on the stubborn, petulant bat as long as he’s known him. There were countless times that he thought that the tense vigilante was in need of a good fucking to help him unwind.
So… If he could simply let out his frustrations on this fake Bruce-pussy… nobody would be any the wiser.
Clark carefully tucked the toy into its briefcase. Without a second thought, he stepped out of the lead room, closing the door behind him and melting the hinges with his heat vision, just in case anyone got the bright idea of breaking in before it could be cleaned out properly.
And with that, he was flying back to his apartment.
It took no time at all, thanks to superspeed, to get back to his middle-class apartment across Metropolis. In less time than it takes a human to blink, he was stripped out of his suit and leaning against his wooden headboard in only his tented boxers.
He felt slightly guilty for stealing the Bruce-Toy, he really did, just… not that guilty. The thrill of this fantasy being fulfilled drowned out his conscience.
He reached over to pop the clasps on the briefcase open once again, his skin buzzing with a nervous energy as he carefully removed the Fleshlight from its velvet bed. He brushed his thumb over the bat symbol slowly as he brought it to his face, inhaling deeply as he closed his eyes.
It wasn’t as though this was really Bruce, but… it was like he could almost smell the unique scent of the man’s expensive cologne, paired with the musk of his pretty little pussy.
He flicked his tongue out to lick a stripe down that perfect, peachy little slit as he tugged his boxers down with the other. His cock jutted out, heavy and flushed as it slapped against the hard plane of his stomach with a wet smack. He was larger than a human, that much he knew for sure. At nearly a foot in length and the girth of a soda can, it took a lot of preparation for someone to accommodate him without pain.
He glanced at the toy, at its small, tight little entrance. He wasn’t too sure he would even manage to fit in something like this.
But, well, there was only one way to find out.
He brought the toy to his cock, rubbing his drooling, pre-cum slick tip against those plush lips. He didn’t see a point in bothering with lubrication if the toy was capable of producing its own slickness as it had before. With a sharp breath in, he began to press the head of his cock against those tight, pink lips.
The resistance was immediate; firm, and unyielding as he tried so carefully to avoid applying too much pressure. He didn’t want to break the toy after all, not on the first use. Clenching his jaw, he pushed harder, hips rolling forward with a fraction of his strength. Only then, with a soft, wet sound, did the toy’s entrance finally give, allowing his flared cockhead to sink inside.
He was blown away by the realistic sensation of the cuntlips clenching around him. This pussy was tight, impossibly so, with slick velvety walls clenching erratically. He could almost swear that this was a real pussy.
Almost.
“Rao,” He hissed with reverence as he sank in deeper, inch by agonizing inch, into those perfect pussy lips, watching as they stretched taut around his formidable girth. He stopped when his cockhead pressed into something spongy and firm at the end, the natural barrier of the toy. He supposed it was designed to mimic a cervix.
His cock twitched violently at the thought.
With nearly three-quarters of his impressive cock buried inside the deceptively deep toy, he tilted his head back, groaning loudly.
This was perfect. It was almost everything he had ever wanted.
As he began to move, his thrusts were slow at first. He pulled out almost all the way, watching the way his shaft glistened with the toy’s slick lubricant before plunging back in. His pace quickened rapidly, the rhythm growing more desperate with each thrust into the responsive little toy.
Years of pent-up desire, of unspoken words and longing glances came flooding out. He was imagining Bruce beneath him, picturing his dark hair splayed against his pillows, the way he would arch his back so prettily as those blue eyes filled with overstimulated tears.
“Fuck, Bruce,” He snarled, his voice low and guttural. “You feel so good, baby, so tight for me.”
He gripped the toy’s handle tighter, fucking into it with a ferocity that would have shattered a normal object. The toy, however, held firm. It was designed to absorb superhuman strength, at the very least.
He groaned loudly as it clenched around him with each violent thrust, the simulated response driving him absolutely wild. With a twitch of his hips, his new angle hit a spot that made the toy’s walls convulse and spasm in a way that was so realistic, it stole his breath.
And then… It happened.
As he drove himself particularly deep, a sudden gush of wetness surged from the toy, dripping down his length and pooling in the curls at the base of his cock. He froze, buried as deep as he could in the toy as his mind struggled to process what had just happened.
The toy had just… squirted. It squirted on him.
There was no possible way that the toy was designed to do something like that.
His thumb brushed against the etched bat symbol as a shiver went down his spine.
In a heartbeat, he filtered out the sounds of the world around him with his superhearing, focusing in on one heartbeat that he knew better than his own. He listened to it jackrabbit away, miles away across Gotham Bay. Then, he heard something else.
He thrust his hips slowly, cock twitching as the small action earned him a hitched, ragged gasp. A choked-off sob fell from a pair of sinfully delicious lips,
From Bruce’s lips.
The connection took his breath away when he finally made it. The wizard hadn’t just made a replica of Bruce’s cunt, he had tethered it to the man himself. Which meant that everything that Clark had been doing to the toy… Bruce felt. The clenching and fluttering had been Bruce’s body responding to an unknown assault.
Most of all… Bruce had come on his cock, from being raped by him.
Clark’s tongue darted out to lick his lips before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face.
The wizard, for all his twisted arrogance, had just handed Clark the ultimate tool of ownership. Now, no matter who Bruce was with as he whored himself around Gotham, it was Clark who owned his juicy little cunt.
And he was going to make good use of it.
That same choked sob echoed in his ears from Gotham, and his cock grew impossibly harder. He could picture Bruce now, alone in the dark of his bedroom, as he was raped by some unknown, otherworldly assailant. Even as he cries and begs, his body yearns for it. It must, or else he wouldn’t have cum so hard.
Right now, he belonged entirely to Clark. Every shudder, every gasp, every sob proved it.
Gripping onto the toy’s handle, he resumed his assault of the petulant little bat with a renewed, brutal fervour. He fucked the conduit with all the pent-up lust of the last decade, his hips a blur of motion. He could feel Bruce’s body clenching around him desperately, as wet, broken wails poured from the vigilante’s lips.
Clark didn’t care. The sensation, the sound, the thrill… he wanted more.
He tugged the toy harder onto his stiff cock, his tip battering the cervix hard and fast. With a particularly vicious thrust, he slammed through it with a roar of triumph. Bruce’s frantic heartbeat was music to his ears, as was the raw scream that tore from his throat.
Clark buried his cock as deep as he could into the little bat’s open womb, feeling Bruce’s cunt spasm uncontrollably around him as another gush of cum squirted from him.
“Such a slut, Brucie,” Clark groaned possessively, “You like when I rape your womb, huh, baby?” He grunted.
The sight, the sound, the feeling, everything was too much. Clark’s own climax hit him hard and fast, flooding Bruce’s womb with a torrent of thick, Kryptonian cum. The toy absorbed rope after rope, filling Bruce’s slutty little womb until he was utterly and completely stuffed.
Clark waited until he was sure that each drop was as deep into Bruce as it could be, stray spurts spraying out with each soft sob of the wrecked vigilante. He could hear the ragged breaths from the man he owned, from the man he loved from afar.
With a satisfied sigh, Clark slowly pulled his still-hard cock from the toy. A thick stream of milky-white cum gushed from the gaping, well-fucked hole.
He admired it for a long moment, watching as it twitched desperately. He couldn’t help but frown, however, as each pulse of that abused cunt made more of his precious seed slide out.
With a patronizing sigh, Clark shook his head. This simply wouldn’t do. “I’ll buy you a plug tomorrow, baby, so we don’t make a mess,” Clark promised, instead sliding his cock back inside of it, burying himself to past Bruce’s abused cervix until he was sheathed to the hilt again. “You can warm me for tonight. You don’t mind, do you?”
Across the bay, as the intrusion filled him again, Bruce choked out a ragged plea in response, unaware of what was happening to him.