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Return of Lester, The
|Lester did a double take. Was this some crazy fuck just dressed up like a comic
book character? A crazy fuck who could lift and throw a car? It couldn’t be. It
had to be…him. Superman. All of a sudden, Lester remembered how he’d jerk off
reading Superman comics as a kid. He always pictured himself in the in the role
of the evil muscle madman who dismantled Superman with his bare hands. And now,
with 400 pounds of muscle beef packed on his frame and the strength of ten
bodybuilders, he had his chance.
Lester walked over the rubble and met the Man of Steel face to face. He couldn’t help but notice that he towered over him and looked about three times his width. He must’ve outweighed Superman by 300 pounds.
“Go figure,” Lester remarked. “Turns out Superman’s real…and he’s a fucking twink.” He growled and flexed in the Man of Steel’s face. “People always tell me that I’m what Superman would look like. Mostly chicks. They like to call me The Man of Steel when I’m fuckin their brains out. Guess you got the short end of the gene pool, huh boy?”
Superman retorted, “Don’t think so,” as he delivered a lightning quick punch to Lester’s abdomen. Lester flew back into the store and landed on top of the automobile. Although he’d been tossed like a wet fish, the strange thing was…he didn’t feel a thing on his abs. Superstrength my ass, Lester thought as he rolled over and wiped a trickle of blood off of his face. He would take this chump apart just like he manhandled Mikey. He eyed Superman across the intersection and grinned, saying, “This is gonna be fun.”
Superman and Lester charged one another, locking arms in a power struggle. Feels good to actually have a challenge, Lester thought as he struggled against the Man of Steel’s ultra-powerful twig-sized arms. To his surprise, Superman was the one being powered backwards. Lester gave it every ounce of power and strength that he had, as opposed to his other fights when he gave it about 50% so that no one would be turned to dust.
Things were looking good for the L-man until Superman pivoted and slammed Lester’s body into a nearby truck. The truck skidded across the street against the force of Lester’s mastodon back, which left a four-foot wide imprint on the truck door. Superman started to work Lester over with mind-blowing kicks and punches, unlike any Lester had ever felt. Lester had used so much power already that he was useless to fight back or even block Superman’s onslaught. He felt pangs of pain in his muscle for the first time in months – hell, years. And this wasn’t the “good” pain he felt like when he was throwing around heavy ass weights in the gym. Lester was being grilled, and he knew it.
Superman stopped for long enough to lift up Lester by his jockey shorts and heave him into the air. Lester landed about a block away, his back crashing against and taking apart the rest of his dealer’s steps. In between the numbing pain he felt across his mastodon back, Lester remembered that he had left the fanny pack with the drugs there on the steps in his rush to decimate the city with his power. He quick grabbed it and snorted up a couple of vials. He had never done this much meth in this short a timeframe, but he wasn’t about to be anybody’s bitch. Not even Superman’s.
Superman flew over right as Lester was starting to feel the effects of the meth. His entire body surged with an intense, otherworldly power unlike he had ever felt on or off the meth. He looked down at his body and literally watched his muscle pump up bigger and fuller right before his eyes, almost like he’d just pumped iron for a couple of days straight. He must’ve gained an inch or more of rock hard thickness all around as he felt his skin cling tighter to his pumped beef and veins spring out all over, feeding his mass with more and more hot power.
“Now we’re about to have some fun,” Lester roared as he jumped off the stairs and onto Superman, anxious to see just how strong he’d gotten. The two rolled on the sidewalk, battling for domination and crumbling the ground beneath their super-dense frames. Finally, Lester came out on top. He manhandled Superman’s frame like he was tossing around a fish, flipping the Man of Steel over so that he straddled his backside with his tree trunk quads and donkey dick.
Superman tried valiantly to arch himself up and throw Lester off of him, but he could barely maneuver under the big methed-up juicehead’s insane mass. He’d been crushed by skyscrapers or piles of cars before, and it didn’t feel much different than being crushed by the L-Man. Lester watched the Man of Steel struggle and started getting wood when he thought about his total domination…his shoulder pressing rows of cars with ease…his crushing another guy’s hand with his grip…his fucking around with that hot ass jockboy Mikey. It all flooded into him as he grinded Superman to the pavement and growled, “I’m just as strong as you, big guy. Probably stronger now. And I’m gonna make you my bitch.”
But Superman wasn’t done just yet. He wasn’t about to be defeated by a white trash thug, regardless of how big and tough he thought he was. He’s only a human, Superman kept telling himself. But his precarious position and the steaming muscle gorilla on top of him seemed to say otherwise. In a last-ditch effort, Superman reared his head up and slammed it into the pavement.
The sidewalk was already partially cracked from their tussle before, and now it gave way completely as the duo tumbled into the sewers below. Lester was back up in an instant, splashing through the sewer water to get to Superman. He grabbed his red cape and picked him up out of the water, driving a massive quad into his stomach and sending him flying a hundred feet through the sewer tunnel. Lester smirked as he watched Superman’s limp frame fly into the other side of the sewer tunnel, then twisted his leg and watched his quad muscle balloon with power. Lester’s squat bests were measured in tons of pounds, not hundreds – and it showed.
Turning away from himself for a moment, Lester saw Superman starting to stand up at the end of the tunnel. He eyed his own body, which looked more unbreakable and menacing than ever after a triple-dose of meth and roids, then eyed Superman again. His body. Superman. His body. Superman. He wanted to see which one was stronger. He wanted the ultimate test of his muscle. And he knew that the test was standing at the end of the tunnel.
Lester yelled down the hall, “Come try to break this muscle, Superman.” He clenched his teeth, stuck his hands above his head, and flexed his abs hard. Immediately, his muscle gut solidified into ten steel-tough concrete blocks of ab muscle. Superman knew he could take down the big muscle man this way – he’d flown into planets and knocked them out of rotation, after all. He flew down the tunnel, full-force, eyeing Lester in the distance, and Lester braced for the impact...
The two superforces collided so hard it created a sonic boom that must’ve shook the entire city for blocks. Parts of the sewer tunnel crumbled…and Lester was left standing when the rubble cleared. “Heh heh, fuck yeah,” he grumbled as he continued to flex and eye his body, his dick stiffening in his shorts and threatening to bust right through his pants. Meanwhile, Superman bounced off the L-Man and careened through the wall into a storage room.
Immediately, Lester needed to feel it again. The intense, otherworldly, primal sensation he felt when Superman came at him full force and lost. It was almost like the power of the blow seeped into his body and made his muscles bigger. Harder. More powerful. Like a vicious cycle of superhuman strength. Lester couldn’t be stopped. And he loved it.
He ripped right through the wall and approached Superman again. Before he could get up from the rubble, Lester had lifted the Man of Steel out and stood him up. “Try to work me over some more, runt. Come on, give it all ya got.” Superman brought back his arm then delivered a full-force blow into Lester’s delt. Lester, unaffected, eyed his sweaty, vein-covered, unstoppable shoulder muscle and felt the power flowing into it.
“Again!” he ordered. Superman came at his arms, his back, his quads…fuck, even his calves! In the process he used up nearly every ounce of superstrength he had. And each time Lester felt a little more powerful, a little more dominant. By the time Superman had started testing Lester’s lower body, applying a full-force bearhug to Lester's powder keg quads, the L-man's head was on fire and his dick was throbbing. “Can’t break this muscle” he growled at Superman right as his zipper gave way and his huge tool burst out of his pants, oozing with precum.
Superman’s eyes bulged at the sight of the man-beast in front of him. Lester grabbed hold of Superman’s shoulders and drew him in closer. “You got me so horned up, boy,” Lester growled as he started to power Superman down to the ground with ease. Superman put forth one last surge of power to try to escape from the L-Man’s death grip, but it was useless. If the Man of Steel was no match for him before, than he certainly wouldn’t be now that Lester was horned up and ready to get off.
“There’s just one more part you gotta work over, boy,” Lester said as he pushed his tool into Superman’s face. “C’mon, boy, make Big Lester cum and maybe I’ll let you live.” Surprisingly, Superman grabbed onto Lester’s tool with both hands and started working it good. Lester moaned in ecstasy at the feeling of those super-strong hands pleasuring him. These were hands that could lift buildings. Crush machines. Fuck, crush astronomical bodies. And they were just powerful enough to make Lester satisfied.
It wasn’t long before he could feel the streams of cum rising through his body. In one red-hot instant, he shot his load all over the Man of Steel and the surrounding tunnel. But he wasn’t done yet. Superman grabbed hold of Lester’s balls with one hand and started milking his cock, squeezing out more muscle-man juice that went flying around the room.
“MotherFUCKEEERRR!! FUCK YEAAAAH!!” Lester yelled as he kept cumming for nearly five minutes in what was the most powerful orgasm of his life...
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