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[Note: The "Mightyman" in this story is not the superhero of the 1985 Image Comics or any of the other iterations of the name since then. I have put the name into one word instead of two as all the others have, but even that is used in a lot of places. Fact is, all the good superhero names are taken, and I hope that everyone treats this as just a one-use name that I don't intend to use anywhere else. If sued by someone, I plan to show all the various other people using that same name and ask where they are in any litigation!]
Mightyman was in a heavy battle with Armageddon, a fearsome combat that was destroying the neighborhood with every blow struck on either side. The superhero and supervillain both possessed similar powers on the whole; both were invulnerable, both had superstrength and superspeed, both could fly and a few other powers that were only slightly different. When two powers like this clash, all that mortal men can do is seek shelter and wait for them to either finish or go somewhere else.
The battle did finish, Armageddon's weakness was that his power had a limit to it, he could fight until it was drained, then he was weak and helpless. Mightyman was counting on this, he kept fighting on and on, knowing that if he could wear out the grotesque thing that became a man when he was out of power, he could end this manifestation of evil.
David Fleischman, the man cursed with Armageddon's demon, was a decent human being and a friend of Mightyman's alter-ego, Darian Fuller. Armageddon in his manifestation was a fearsome, purple-red-toned, three-horned, four-red-eyed, fanged and taloned man-beast that stood twenty feet tall.
Mightyman was a strong, handsome, square-jawed figure with jet-black hair, gray eyes and fair skin, majestic in his pale blue form-fitting costume, the lightning-lined "MM" on his chest in a fluorescent-yellow color, the same color on his forearms from a third of the way down from his elbows to where it ended at his wrists, and on his legs where the yellow formed boot-like shapes from just below his knee down to cover both feet. This image of honor, compassion and rescue was well-known and honored throughout the world but most often in this, his native city, a huge metropolis named after the semi-precious gems found in the vicinity by the early explorers, Moonstone City. And this story begins twenty-four years ago.
Mightyman was wearying, he was powerful but he was human, albeit a superior version of one, and he fought on and on, slowly wearing down the immense monster before him. Armageddon was not a fool, despite his bestial form, and with the last bolt of his energy, he sent a final blast of power at Mightyman.
The bolt struck Mightyman and in his weakened state, it was one that felled Mightyman, even though Armageddon was himself vanquished once and for all by the use of this power, and David Fleishman was henceforth freed of the curse of Armageddon, who was sent back to the infernal plane he had come from, and could not return to Earth for another thousand years.
But Mightyman was in the air and he fell down, frozen in his position like a statue. He crashed into a sub-basement of a building that was unfortunately already slated for demolition, so the destruction of it by the battle was a touch of silver lining in the cloud that was the combat. He was buried in that rubble of the basement and though he was searched for, he was not found for twenty-four years.
Frozen as he was, Mightyman remained as he was, unaging, unaware of the passage of time, while above and around him, the building wreckage was removed, a development was put in its place, with a small park that held a statue to the fallen superhero "In Memoriam." Around it and the other wreckage, a housing project was put up, housing for people of limited financial means, and a house was built over the undiscovered subbasement of Mightyman, and the house's basement that was dug almost broke into the roof of the tomb-like cubby where he lay insensible to all while time went by, for twenty-four years, two months, twelve days, six hours and twenty-three minutes of time.
Max was just playing after school, in a way. He had been told about time capsules, and thought it was a good idea to bury a time capsule in the basement where a water problem had caused one part of the floor to crack where he could lift up an entire section of the concrete. His mother (his father was not in the picture) had placed the pieces together as well as she could and told Max to leave it alone. Max intended to...but saw this as a terrific way to bury a time capsule really deep.
Max was a rather typical seven-year-old boy, into the capsule (a metal box which had held some very hard and bad-tasting Christmas cookies), he had put some treasured items, such as a boy treasures most and would want to see some decades in the future, into the box, and sealed it carefully along with a letter to himself of the future, and now he was ready to bury it.
He pulled out the concrete pieces, making a hole only about two feet in diameter and, using a shovel, he dug into the ground below.
His shovel, to his surprise, sunk down to the very hilt. He pulled at the dirt and instead of getting a spadeful, a huge clod of dirt fell downwards and inside the hole that created, he saw a figure lying in a cavity below. A dead body?
Max should have immediately gone back upstairs and called the police, but his family didn't believe in the police that much, and he was also only seven years old, how often does a seven-year-old get to investigate a dead man? He wasn't grossed out, he was curious, he wanted to see if the man was actually dead (the body wasn't decayed or nothing) or just passed out from being drunk who had crawled into a cave or something. He set to work digging out the rest of the hole, and covering the person up even more with dirt (who still didn't move), and then he went next door to borrow the neighbor's ladder under the pretense he had to get a Frisbee off the roof, and used it to step down into the cavity.
He brushed away the dirt and revealed the MM lightning insignia of Mightyman and gasped. "Mightyman! It's him!" He would be famous for this but...what was wrong with Mightyman. He was alive, he was warm to the touch, but he didn't move. Max could move his limbs, with effort (they didn't want to move) but once he moved them, they stayed where he moved them to, even in mid-air. It was like he was a human-sized action figure!
Max decided to get Mightyman out of that hole which was kind of stuffy and think about it later. He tried to lift Mightyman and couldn't, but he had rope and a couple of pulleys and knew how to use them, and he set it all up (which trebled his pulling power) and soon he had the superhero's paralyzed body out of the hole and into the basement. He had to do it all over again to get the iron-stiff figure up the basement stairs, but then he was able to drag the man's body into his bedroom and a herculean effort on his part got him up onto his bed. Good enough, his mother never came into his room so long as an occasional look in showed her he was keeping it neat enough, he even ran his own vacuum cleaner on the rug once a week.
Now that he had things done his own way, he sat down and considered. Mightyman was here, alive for all he could tell, unchanged after--what was it, a century?--and here in his room. He didn't know what to do. But for now, this was his own secret. This man was here, in his room. Max was seven and he was curious and he was also a boy to whom men were having a special sort of interest in his innermost mind that even he didn't fully understand, but he wanted to view this man who was superpowered very, very closely. And since Mightyman (the mountain) couldn't come to him, he would go to Mightyman.
He crawled onto the bed and looked at the pale blue uniform and the muscles that showed so clearly beneath it, the costume fit him so tightly. His young hands moved over and across the powerful biceps (he could move the arm and make the arm flex the bicep) and he traced the muscles to his heart's content. Chest, shoulders, abdominals, downward he worked and soon he was at the one place his innermost desires had driven him to, the bulge at the nexus of his legs that the uniform didn't even allow a pair of trunks to conceal, leaving it all as a bulge to be stared at and adored.
It was there, in all its glory, the amorphous bulge that lay to be explored. He felt at it and found that the reason it was amorphous was that the cock lay atop the balls in a softened state, and that distorted the shape of the entire basket. The area was soft and warm, so warm, his hand cupped it and caressed it, so yielding to the touch, and as he fondled it, he saw the shaft of the cock firming up and getting rigid. Amazing, motion from this motionless man. The prick swelled but soon the fabric of the costume began to constrict and confine it and Max looked at the waistband. Surely the man had some way to open this costume to relieve himself when he needed to.
It was there, an almost invisible partition between the top and bottom of the costume and an equally near-invisible line downward toward the crotch, the fly. He fumbled at it for a time and one touch caused the fly (he wasn't sure which) to slide open and that let the prong fly out, free as a bird and it swelled at once to its full rigor.
Max looked quickly at the face, but it was still rock-still and unchanged. Only the cock was warm, rigid, virile and eager for attention.
Max licked his lips and debated with himself, he had long desired to have a man's cock to work on for his own, so to speak, but the man was supposed to be with it, smiling and eager and willing. Mightyman was, if not unconscious, at least helpless. He had been so for so many years. If he had been so and able to think and feel for that long, how horrible his life must have been, and was. Any experience he could now receive would be so very, very welcome, no doubt. This train of thought may have been self-serving but Max decided it couldn't do any lasting damage that a long term of life in utter darkness and silence wouldn't have already wreaked.
He gripped the pillar of prurience firmly and began to pump it, his young hand making swift strokes back and forth. He had done this any number of times on himself, though not so long or so strongly, pumping two inches of kid dick is not the same as jacking a nine-inch neatly circumcised, bell-headed prong of a powerful hero. The thick shaft was hard but warm, so warm, and grew warmer as he jerked it, the skin over it was just as warm but as soft as thick cotton pajamas that you had warmed before a fire before putting on during a winter storm at night.
The pumping quickly brought out a juicy gray pearl of precome on the tip of the glans and the gleaming globe looked creamy and appetizing to the boy, and he dared to lean over and press his tongue to the tip and drew away the bead, which did not come away cleanly but formed a long rope that stretched out and drooped before Max brought up his hand and caught the lowest part before it broke apart. Some fell onto the shaft, some slapped onto Max's chin and dangled there, the rest was on his palm. Max looked at the gray strand and raised his palm up to his face and lapped it off. The flavor was...magical, flavorful, salty, with a tint of sweet, and very, very masculine. Max scooped the precome off his chin with his finger and gulped that down as well, and then regarded the remains of the precome on the shaft, licked his lips, then looked again at the unmoving face of Mightyman. The superhero, so frozen, he didn't even know what was going on! He remained as Max had last left him, his face staring at the ceiling, his right hand bent at the elbow, the hand extended out at forty-five degrees, uncomfortable for any man. It remained as Max had left it, like the gnomon of a sundial.
Max licked with his tongue up the shaft of the dong, tasting on the shaft that same delicious flavor that he had tasted in the precome. When he got to the top, he found a new pearl had formed and he swiftly sucked it off the tip this time and the contact with the tip of the glans was all he needed to break the last barrier to his lust, and Max dove down the prong with his mouth, covering the glans and the first three inches of dong, his saliva bathing it with his own warm, bubbling slobber. He drew up on the cockskin as he rose, his mouth salivating more drool for his use as he did so, and when he dove down again, he took over five inches of the whanger into his mouth and partially down his throat. He held it there, it felt so good, so warm and comforting, like it belonged there.
His third jab downwards got his nose buried in the costume and he rose up off the prong, now glowing from his saliva, and he turned his attention to the connection between the top and bottom of the costume. Mightyman had to have a way to take off this costume, the line at the waist must have a similar way to unfasten the bottom from the top.
He fumbled, but his memory of how he had touched from the last time served him well and he had the two parts of the costume separated and he began to worm the skintight costume down from the slim waist. It was some unusual material Max had never seen before, it stayed in shape no matter how he tugged at it, and conformed to the body as it came down until it was past the junction of the legs, when it released all at once and became loose. After that, pulling it completely off was easy.
Mightyman's muscles, when uncovered, were as majestic as he looked in the costume. He had little to no body hair, and it was a near-white color, blending in to his pale skin color. Max licked his lips, saw the huge pud and thought, "It's now or never." He had one more desire to quench while this opportunity remained to him.
He stripped off his own clothes and quickly climbed back up on the bed. His saliva on Mightyman's prick had dried somewhat and he hastily reapplied it by dribbling onto it from his mouth, which reliquified what was already there, the shaft was now a grey column of drool-covered manhood.
He stood on the bed and got straddle of the slender waist of the handsome hero and looked down into the unmoving face. "I sure hope you appreciate this as much as I appreciate having you here to do this with," he said. He then squatted down and aimed his young anal sphincter at the huge glans of Mightyman, hoping that getting his cherry popped this way wouldn't be too unpleasant.
Losing one's anal virginity mimics the loss of a woman's in much the same way. A lot of the pain is connected to the amount of desire and trust in the partner. If you love the man and trust him, there is less pain than having a stranger puncturing your soft nether regions. Max had long held the exploits of Mightyman in awe and to have the hero here and now to be the one that pierced his lower barrier and take his tender virtue was very much a dream he had had once and forgotten as impossible. Now that was reality and his young passion was intense and he sank onto the divine pillar of manhood like a worshiper bows before his god.
Max felt the glans impact his asshole and he sighed, his greatest dream was being fulfilled, his greatest wish was being granted, his greatest desire was coming true. He bore down and his ass parted like the Red Sea parted for Moses and the glans entered into Max's inner realm. Max groaned and quivered as he felt the huge shaft follow the glans, it was like he would burst into halves from the massiveness of it, but what a way to go! He sighed, and kept pressing his body down.
It took the boy some ten minutes of worming and squirming and a certain amount of pain, but Max did it at last, he took the entirety of that colossal column into his body and he rested his buttocks onto the furry balls, and shuddered in his accomplishment. He had done it!
His body grew accustomed to the visitor to its innermost sanctum and Max slipped his body from a squat to a kneeling position atop Mightyman, this would ensure he didn't fall over and off of the superhero. Done with that, he began to move up and down on the muscular form of unmoving mound of masculine man. The rigid face looked back at him and Max smiled into it and said, "I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am." Perhaps a sparkle twinkled at him from one eye, or it might have not.
Max kept up his movements as his pleasure slowly rose inside of him. How warm, warm, that cock was, it was getting warmer by the second. Felt nice and warm, like the feeling of a fire in a fireplace after coming in from the cold.
A touch on his left leg, Mightyman's right hand had fallen down and landed on his upper thigh. Not gripping it, it fell against it and rolled off, but it had moved! Max looked at the face with his eyes glazed with lust and the face was unchanged.
"I don't know if that was accidental or you're waking up, but I'm assuming the second one. If this gets you out of the funk you're in, I'm more than willing to keep right on bouncing!" He kept moving and even managed to speed up, as his glory seeped into his body, rising rapidly toward his brain.
Mightyman's face began to move, small moves, the lips parted, the tongue came out and licked at them and returned inside, the jaw worked. "Uhhhhhhhhhh!" came out, a soft groan barely audible.
"Mmmmmm!" Max groaned over and over to himself, his body demanded primary attention now. He was too caught up in his joy to pay attention to how this motionless man was behaving. He was rocking his body as fast as he could and it took him a moment to realize the right hand of Mightyman was back, resting again on his thigh and this time it was holding on. He only noticed when the head rose up to look at him fully.
"Hah, hah, hah, hah, hah!" Mightyman said to him in this moment of his revivication. The right hand squeezed his thigh and the left hand came up to join in the fun on the other thigh.
"Muh, muh, muh, muh, muh, muh!" Max grunted as he approached his climax.
"Uhhh-uhh-uhh-uhh-uhhh!" Mightyman groaned. The man must have attained enough ability to move that he felt he could and should take charge, for he rolled the two of them over and put Max underneath and began to thrust into the boy with the energy and power that made him Mightyman.
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh!" Max gasped for the Man of Might was fucking him with a speed that few men could attain but the body was only too happy to receive and translate into the ultimate of joy. Nobody, boy or man, could withstand this speed of rapture for any length of time, and as he jackhammer-fucked the boy, both hit orgasm at the same moment less than fifteen seconds later.
"GAH-AH-AH-AH-AH-AHHHHHH, HAH-AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mightyman groaned in his ecstasy, his cock spraying into the boy's ass and it was lucky for Max that the body's superpowers did not tap the fantastic strength of his other muscles in jetting the jizz into Max's young ass.
"OH-OH-OH-OHHHHHH, OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Max whined in his passion, shuddering and spasming under the lusty crimefighter, and the boy held to the brightly colored costume and reveled in the knowledge that this man, this legendary figure, had come back to life here and now, making love to him.
Mightyman was mighty indeed, but even he felt the extreme fatigue moment that follows a man when he has climaxed, and he slumped down and breathed hard just as any mortal man would in Max's arms, as Max patted and fondled his hero's back solicitously.
"I...I...where am I?" Mightyman asked the boy as he was able to resume regular breathing and rolled off of Max to lie beside him. "One moment I was fighting Armageddon and the next, I was here, caught in the power of orgasm."
Max told him of all he knew and the date, and Mightyman shook his head. "Twenty years and more," he lamented. "I was lost for twenty years underground in a cavern while the world went on without me."
"But you defeated Armageddon," Max emphasized. "The entire city mourned you, they thought you had died in the effort. There is a statue not far from here they set up in your memory. You are remembered as a hero."
"Yes, but what am I now?" Mightyman pondered. "I was not always Mightyman, I had another life, friends, a job, so much, and now. Things, have they changed very much?"
Max smiled. "Quite a lot, I'm afraid. But don't worry, we'll help you, Mom and I."
"She and you...I must trust you, totally," Mightyman mused. "Help me to rebuild my normal life so that I can resume my superhero life after a time. But for now, let us keep secret the fact I have returned."
"I'll be happy to keep your secret," Max said, then, after a brief pause, he added, "but I will have to be bribed now and then."
"What sort of bribe were you thinking of?" Mightyman asked him.
Max reached over and gripped the man's limp cock and that answered the question, and Mightyman sealed the deal with a very willing kiss.
Max's mother listened to all of it and was more than happy to have the man behind Mightyman live with them. Darian Fuller resumed his career as a free-lance writer after a long hiatus under his pen name of Dirk Stafford, and the life of Max was greatly improved for him and his mother, and the two shared the boy's bed for all the time it took for him to rebuild his fortunes, and even after.
THE END
Comments, Complaints or Suggestions?
Send E-mail to Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM.
NOW ON SALE!
USE THE "CLICK TO LOOK INSIDE"
FOR MORE FREE STUFF!
(The Story You Just Read is Available in The "Dancing Naked" book)