Date: Mon, 26 Apr 2010 03:20:05 -0700 (PDT)
From: Thoby Andover <thobyandover@y7mail.com>
Subject: Costumed Superheroes 05

Copyright 2010 by the author

thobyandover@y7mail.com

*****

The story is taking a convoluted path.  In the previous episode, the
discipline of the sidekicks was found to be wanting, and now they face
their various punishments.  Oh for a good healthy dose of superhero action
and a properly constructed crime-plot with evil mastermind CAPTAIN VON
HECKLE making a plan of genius!  Not to be, it is feared, for Captain Von
Heckle and the superheroes seem intent on providing their audience with a
sordid series of low-grade, titillating vignettes designed for those with
certain unsavoury enthusiasms!  The Costumed Superheroes are dealing with
concerns of a domestic nature and the villainous Captain is banging his
whip and demanding the simplest of plot-elements – the capture of a
sidekick so his antique Taiwanese dancing-rack can be tested.  Well, read
on if you must...

*****

***COSTUMED SUPERHEROES***  #5!!!


An icy chill nipped at the bare skin of the KID BUCK.  His little nipples
pouted and turned into hard stones.  In the dark, he blew his long,
dangling, lollipop fringe from his mouth and wiggled his knees for warmth.
An uncomfortable, up-curving erection strained for attention at his belly
as he thought of the epic indiscretion of the drunken night out with TEEN
RANGER and SPARKY, and the battered beer-cans left rolling on the floor of
the VEHICLE INTRUDER.

He stood naked in his yellow, winged boots facing the wall of a tiny cell
– sixteen inches by sixteen inches – in the toy prison in the
basement headquarters of the COSTUMED SUPERHEROES.  One arm was bent up
over and down behind his head, baring a deep pit, and the other bent
upwards and behind from below, handcuffed at his shoulder blades.

NOCTURNAL INTRUDER's anger had been controlled, ominous, and palpable.  Two
weeks `grounding,' – under punishment – had been the Intruder's
judgement.  The `grounding' would be hell, and had begun in short order
with the sidekick being dispatched immediately to fetch the long,
black-leather buggy-whip.  Then to the electric machine-hoist in the
underground garage.

Upside-down and with his ankles spread wide, the bare-butted sidekick had
filled the concrete cellars and corridors with noise.  A young man's
energetic shouting and hooting had ricocheted through the chambers, mixed
with the shocking *cracks* of the whip as its bending, flying tail had
broken the sound-barrier.  Everyone had heard.

TEEN RANGER shuddered with a tingling mixture of horror and excitement four
rooms away as he scrubbed tiles with a worn toothbrush under the angry eye
of TITAN MAN.  SPARKY had uttered little `ulps,' sucking in sharply as he
heard the echoing cracking and yowling, writing a thousand times; "I must
not come home drunk after having fallen asleep in the back of the VEHICLE
INTRUDER and pissed in my shiny green latex hot-pants with lace-up crotch."

***** Dear reader, it is a sombre occasion.  The sidekicks have worked
themselves into an unenviable situation of trouble!  Everyone is angry, and
the COSTUMED SUPERHEROES are dealing with an unpleasant set of
circumstances.  The reader will *not* disagree that the sidekicks are in
need of a hard degree of punishment – for NOCTURNAL INTRUDER, TITAN MAN
et. al. have finally run out of patience, and rigid discipline is a
requirement for the efficient crime-fighter!  But it is difficult not to
feel some sympathy.  Poor TEEN RANGER has spent the day cleaning with his
toothbrush.  No breaks.  SPARKY has been hard at work at his lines at a
school-desk.  And KID BUCK?  With his hot-fired backside bearing twenty
sharp cuts, the Kid was ordered to the dank little lower-level prison where
we find him at this moment – handcuffed and confined. Read on!  *****

The superhero Kid Buck stood in the dark on a cold, hard floor.  There was
nothing else except the close walls of the underground dungeon.  So small
was the cell, in fact, that his upward elbow could touch the unyielding
surface of the ceiling.  The compartment was about one-and-a-half foot
square, without room to crouch, bend, or sit.  In the pitch blackness, his
fingertips – fluttering behind him near his shoulder-blades where his
wrists were locked – found the rusty iron of the door.  At the same
time, his nose, forehead, or penis was able to feel the slimy cement of the
cell's back wall, depending on which of the few postures available the
young superhero chose to adopt.  With some bumping and scraping, he
manoeuvred and rotated to face the door.  Through narrow chinks around the
iron gate's perimeter, there was some light, but it soon extinguished.  He
was alone – locked up in the low basement of Superhero Headquarters.

"Prisoner of the NOCTURNAL INTRUDER!" the Kid thought to himself.  "This is
supposed to be the fate of crooks we catch!  I always wondered what it
would be like...  It sounds like a movie.  On one of the DVDs Teen Ranger
and I rent from Adult Emporium World.  It could be all about how Nocturnal
Intruder catches a porn-star and keeps him locked up in a prison cell.  Who
would play me?  Strype Hoser?  No.  I don't like him as much as Jonathan
Thumpdong because Jonathan Thumpding was in *Firemen's Blaze* where he went
up in a cherry-picker to rescue those dorm-boys and I've never been up in a
cherry-picker but actually Jonathan Thumpdong doesn't have as big a cock as
Strype Hoser so obviously Strype Hoser should play me and wouldn't it be
good if Teen Ranger could be in it too and Nocturnal Intruder could put us
both in the same cage..."

The confined Kid wriggled in the handcuffs and arched his back to ease his
double-bent arms behind him – one up, one down.  He wondered how much
time had passed, and guessed maybe a minute.  How long would he be here?
All night!  He hadn't thought about this when he'd gone out nightclubbing
with Teen Ranger and Sparky.  That had been some night!  He remembered
lip-locking with some cowboy on the dance-floor of *Whiz-Bang*, and
scrabbling on the tiled floor of the bathroom while the guy grunted in his
ear from behind.  Then, Teen Ranger had found him and said "we gotta go!
Sparky's spewed-up on the pool-table!"

Now, in the dark cell, Kid Buck listened to the sound of his own breathing.
His cock lurched suddenly, and stiffened.  He felt the torpedo-styled
flesh-head of it kiss his navel, and the cool air brushed its thrusting
underside and the ripening skin of his scrotum.  He squeezed, and felt his
balls draw upwards.

Time passed.  A dribble of fluid ran down the swollen underside of his
shaft – a tantalizing trail of warmth – and trickled into the hair of
his ballsack.  After an indeterminate period, there was another, and the
painfully throbbing head-spout seeped the oily stuff, drip after agonizing
drip.  The distressed sidekick longed to stroke his creaking, begging
shaft, but restrained uncomfortably with the handcuffs, he found whatever
solace he could in pitiful, puppy-like whimpers which were amplified
somewhat in the compact cell.

A second seemed like a minute and a minute seemed an hour.  His tragically
neglected member lubricated itself with its liquid bubbling from its
reaching head and slicked its shank in futile anticipation.  It streamed to
the bottom of his sack and dripped to his inner thighs where it itched and
trickled down his legs in an excruciating marking of time.

He felt a roach crawling on his leg.  The insect, drawn possibly by the
warmth and taste of his cock-fluid, meandered its way up.  It found its way
into the cleft of his butt-crack where he crushed it with a swift clench
and a loud pop.

He could push his aching member against the steel of the door, but the
metal was cold and rough.  He twisted, wrenching his arms and banging his
head on the door with a *thump*.  He moved this way and that.  He lifted a
leg, striking his knee against the wall of his enclosure.  After every
frustrating contortion allowed to him by his confines, he cried out in
genuine, pitched distress, and his cock continued to leak and throb.

*

Sparky curled-up in his cot in Superhero Headquarters.  Surely he was the
most miserable and unhappy sidekick in seven superhero universes!  His hand
was sore from grasping the HB pencil.  "From now on," Sparky vowed.  "I'll
be the *best* and most choicest superhero ever!  See if I don't!"

Teen Ranger crawled off to bed at 2:30am after having cleaned every commode
in Headquarter to a high shine.  "Tomorrow you'll polish every leather
article in the entire Costumed Superheroes inventory!"  Titan Man had said,
gravely.  "Starting at six!"  "Yikes!" thought the Teen as he nuzzled the
pillow.  "Guess we better take it a bit easier next time we go out
clubbing!  I've never seen Titan Man so mad!... Oh...!  Golly...!  I've
just time for a wank before I go to sleep!"  In the next moment he was
snoring, dreaming a strange dream of an angry Titan Man with a flexing,
swishing riding-crop, and a young, purple-suited sidekick tied spreadeagled
between iron-rail posts.

A droop-eyed Kid Buck was shocked fully awake by the ear-splitting crash of
the iron cell-door as it slammed open against the concrete wall.  In the
next moment he was hit by an ice-cold jet from a fire-hose.

"YEEOOOOW...!!!"

"TO THE LINE, PUNK-BOY!  MOVE!  FULL-ATTENTION!  COCK ERECT!  MOVE IT!!!"
The Intruder yelled as he clanged the slide-bolts.  Kid Buck leapt.  His
muscles sprang as he jumped, lively and quick.  He got his toes onto the
painted line in seconds flat and was immediately at attention posture –
but his arms were still folded behind and cuffed, one over, the other
under.  The tedium and deadliness of the sleepless night in the jail-slot
was suddenly forgotten.

"GET THAT FUCKING COCK UP, BOY!  FULL-ATTENTION, I SAID!!!"

No problem.  The striving, bending male-meat surged and thrusted despite
the cold hosing.  The Intruder's voice assumed an icy gravity.

"You'll shape up as a sidekick, boy!  You're grounded now.  You're under
orders at every waking moment!  One whisker out of line, and there'll be
another horsewhippin'!"

The Kid felt keenly the hot cuts across his backside.  The first slash had
stung the breath out of him and its incisive, loud *crack* had radiated to
his being.  The second had caught him while the intensity of the first was
still rising and had blinded him with white light.  The third... it had
flashed like sudden strike of lightning... and then blended with the
fourth.  There had been sixteen more...

***** Dear reader, as Kid Buck considers his unfortunate situation and
savours the possibility of further additions to the stripes already on his
quivering rump – and Nocturnal Intruder sternly lectures him on this
prospect, let us now proceed to see what SPARKY is doing!  For he is on an
early morning errand!  *****

SPARKY raced up the street from Sylvester Swinburne's Sheertown Steam and
Bath (home of the Costumed Superheroes Headquarters) in his tight green
hot-pants and PVC lace-up vest.

"Yoinks!" he thought.  "I must collect the Superheroes' bread and milk and
papers from the corner shop!"

As he zipped along the pavement, Nocturnal Intruder's VEHICLE INTRUDER came
grumbling by, heading into Sheertown.

"Early for a patrol," Sparky thought.  "The Intruder usually does his
crook-catching after dark."

The slap of superhero boots followed behind, and there, sprinting on the
road behind the Jaguar XJS came Kid Buck, his bare torso and legs gleaming
with a glaze of sweat, his cape flailing at full stretch, and his small
Speedo hoisted firmly into a whip-striped ass.  Sparky marvelled at the
fast moving Buck, the flowing muscle and the sheer speed.  The Kid's eyes
were narrowed in tight concentration and he blew concerted, timed breaths
from his cheeks as he flew past, eager... no... *intent* on staying right
behind the black Jaguar.

"Yoinks!" said Sparky.  His fingertips crackled with the electronic zaps of
his unique super-power.

As the Vehicle Intruder surged on its gas and picked up speed and the
striding young superhero followed obediently on foot, another vehicle
pulled-up.  Sparky noticed the white van as the Vehicle Intruder and Kid
Buck receded along the Parkway.

"Hello.  What's this?" the electrically-super-powered sidekick wondered.

"Hey, kid!" said the prawn-faced, tobacco-chewing fellow from the passenger
window.  "You're one o' them super-heroes, ain't ya?"

"That's right mister."  Sparky had been warned often enough by ELECTRO MAN
about crooks in black vans.  Well, this was a *white* van, but still.
Perhaps these were crooks in disguise!  Sparky pursed his lips with wary
suspicion.

"Yeah.  We could tell by the super-hero getup," the wizened man said.  "You
shore are a purty little feller!"

"Offer him some sweets!" said the van's driver.

CAPTAIN VON HECKLE had sent out his men in small teams.  "Get me a
sidekick!"  he had thundered!  "*Any* sidekick!  I don't care which!  But
there'll be a huge bonus for the men who bring me TEEN RANGER or KID BUCK!
Do you hear!?  You slovenly pack of incompetent cretins!!!"  *Whack* went
Captain Von Heckle's riding-crop on the table!

Whipper Daly and Trusty Joe had cruised the Parkway.  "This is where we'll
hook our undersized fish!" said Whipper.  "The superheroes are always seen
hangin' around these parts!"

"*You* might call them undersized!" Trusty Joe said.  "That KID BUCK is a
strapping big lad.  I don't know how we'll catch that punk!  Have you seen
the muscles on him?"

"I have a special plan," Whipper said.  "If we meet up with any sidekick!"

"Hey!  Look over there!"  said Trusty Joe.  "Pull over, Whipper!  It's one
of the Superheroes on the sidewalk!"

"Which one?"

"The one in green hot-pants!"

"Which one is that?"

"How the fuck should I know!?"

***** Dear reader, the earliest ancestors of the creatures known as
`Costumed Superheroes' were designed, in some way, to be instructive to
youngsters.  They formed a moral universe in which Good was good and Evil
was bad, and in any universe young people should not get into vans driven
by sinister-looking men chewing tobacco!  In this community spirit and in
keeping with the Comix Code of Conduct, drawn up by the good men and women
of the Gay Erotic Decency Board for Cock-Thrusting, Butt-Busting
Literature, The superhero-sidekick SPARKY will not climb into the
afore-described white-van.  Instead, he will exercise a *very sensible*
course of action and gather intelligence on the suspicious vehicle and its
occupants.  The reader will breath a sigh of relief!  *****

"You shore look like a fine young super-hero, kid," Trusty Joe said through
his spittle-soaked gob of tobacco.  "Why not climb in the back o' this here
ve-heecle and ol' Whipper an' me here`ll give yer a tasty suck of our
cocks!?"

"I'm not so sure, mister.  I'm busy!"

"Them's a nice tight little pair o' pants yer wearin' super-kid!  Are yer
sure yer won't strip `em off an' show ol' Whipper here an' me yer cute
little butt?  In the back o' this here van?"

"I've got important superhero business to attend to, mister.  Another time,
perhaps."

"Well can yer tell us where we might find Kid Buck then?  The blue an'
yeller one.  Kid Buck's got a snappy little ass an' he was featured in the
papers the other day.  A man has a hankerin' for some tight, accommodatin'
ass!"

"He went up the Parkway.  Just now.  That way," Sparky said, indicating
with his super-tingling finger.

*

TEEN RANGER vigorously brushed a black leather codpiece with a rag, shining
its hard, bulbous surface.  Piled on the floor nearby lay a heap of similar
leather articles.

"Damn!" he said.  "Didn't Kid Buck make a noise yesterday when he was
whipped!?  Did you hear him squeak, Titan Man?  Huh?"

"You have a fair amount of work to do, boy," said the blue-suited Titan.
"If I were you, I'd concentrate on that, and not on the whip-cracking
discipline of your fellow sidekick!"

The teen-aged Ranger licked his lips and quickly adjusted his purple
Speedo.  "Say, Titan Man," he said.  "I counted twenty cuts!  And KB was
hanging upside-down from the hydraulic engine-hoist!  I'm going to ask him
what it was like!  Getting thrashed with a buggy-whip on the backside while
hanging from his ankles in the garage!  Oh boy!  I bet it hurt, I bet!"

"You won't get a chance to ask Kid Buck anything!" the Titan informed his
hard-working sidekick sternly.  "He's attending Century City Council
Chambers with Nocturnal Intruder for important meetings with Mayor
Vilkinsword!  And after that, he's still grounded for two weeks!  No video
games!  No nightclubs...!"

"And he spent the night in one of the underground jail-slots!" the excited
young sidekick interjected.  "Being grounded by Nocturnal Intruder must be
a lot of fun!  I've always wanted to spend the night locked-up down there!
Hey, Titan Man!  How come you never put me in the secret jail?  I've been
just as bad as Kid Buck!  How come I don't get to be locked-up in the
secret, underground jail?"

Titan Man squared his manly jaw and narrowed his eyes under his rubber
hood.  "Watch it, boy!  Quit jabbering and get on with your work!... And
adjust your Speedo!"

"Ulp..." said the Ranger as he hooked an adroit thumb into his stretchy
nylon waistband and hoisted the electric-purple fabric into the
hard-muscled contours of its wearer.  "On Wikipedia it said that Kid Buck
is the most respected sidekick in the Costumed Superheroes Club of Century
City and it said heaps more and it said that he's a `fiercely disciplined'
crime-fighter and for me it just said that I'm the purple-costumed `callow'
one and what does `callow' mean?  And how come Wikipedia doesn't make sure
all the writing on there is correct and how come it doesn't say anything
more about me except my purple costume and...?"

Titan Man banged a mighty fist onto the table where he was working.  "*Teen
Ranger!!!* I'm *trying* to update the Costumed Superheroes website!  Now
will you please shut-up before you find yourself locked in irons in the
underground jail you're so interested in!"

"Oh golly!" Teen Ranger said as he attacked the leather codpiece with the
polishing rag and renewed energy.

The teen-aged super-spunk stuck his tongue between his teeth, determined to
perform his superhero chores to his upmost.  But his electric-purple Speedo
was causing him some discomfort.  Again, he slipped his thumb into the
tight garment and made certain adjustments.  The velvety nylon slid across
the bulging, swelling surface of his sensitive flesh as he thought of the
distinct possibility of being clapped in confinement by Titan Man in the
Costumed Superheroes' underground prison.

He groaned as his stiff member cranked and strained against stretched
fabric.  His balls lurched, and his hand went to his crotch as he felt a
warm, oncoming rush.

"What the...?"  Titan Man said as he glanced toward his whimpering
sidekick.  His brow creased with anger as he saw for himself the cause of
the Teen Ranger's discomfort.  The small purple Speedo with white lightning
stripes filled with thick jelly and overflowed to the concrete floor with
glistening pearls of cream.  Two pleading eyes turned toward the fuming
Titan as the young sidekick unloaded his tensions in the spouting streams
of his white-liquid manhood.

"Right!  That does it!"  Titan Man snapped.  "*Strip!*"


***** At this juncture, the reader will feel some small degree of
irritation, for the purple-suited Teen Ranger has led his audience down
this path before, and his cock has an unfortunate habit of erupting at
inconvenient moments, but such is the life of a healthy lad at the height
of his sexual dynamism.  Observe then, as the streamlined youth strips off
his brief purple suit!  In swift obedience, his cape is unattached from the
silver-soldered chain about his neck.  His tight t-shirt is whisked away
– slipped over soft skin and rippling muscle – and scrunched into a
ball, its versatile fabric no longer gripping the efficient V-shaped torso
of the whip-waisted sidekick.  Next, the basketball shoes and socks are
torn away.  Fast.  For Teen Ranger can sense the impatience of the glaring
Titan Man, and enticing thoughts of the secret underground Superheroes'
prison still linger.  Lastly, a quick wiggle of the hips and a hooked thumb
sees the sodden Speedo removed.  It snaps from the tightly-muscled bum and
is thrown hither, soaked and laden with gooey spunk.  The superhero is
uncostumed!  Naked and quivering, Teen Ranger awaits further discipline!
*****


Titan Man snapped his fingers.  "You sidekicks have been mollycoddled quite
enough!  Nocturnal Intruder has placed Kid Buck under hard punishment!  Now
it's your turn, Teen Ranger!  Your antics are at an end!  For you, the
carousel is over!"

Teen Ranger's hands played unconsciously with his upstanding cock.  Still
firmly rigid and slick with recently expended come, it twanged this way and
that.  The Ranger's belly fluttered as he gaped, slack-jawed, at the mighty
figure of the angry Titan Man.

"AND STOP PLAYING WITH YOUR COCK!!!"  the T-Man roared.

"... B... But Titan Man..."

"ENOUGH!!!  GET DOWNSTAIRS TO THE SECRET UNDERGROUND PRISON!!!  **NOW**!!!"

As the naked sidekick fled smartly to the manhole and ladder which led
underground, he thought to himself; "luckily, the only adventures of the
Costumed Superheroes depicted in comic-book form will be our crook-catching
capers!  And not the private goings-on in the underground headquarters!"

*

Kid Buck sprinted with the Parkway traffic.  The VEHICLE INTRUDER had
vroomed ahead, carrying the Nocturnal One to his appointment with Mayor
Vilkinsword and leaving the barely costumed boy-superhero hurrying behind.
His cape snapped and fluttered behind and his shiny, winged boots thumped
on the road.  He ran swiftly, and his long blue-and-yellow hair streamed
and bounced in time with his pace.  He felt his tiny blue Speedo draw up
into his rear crack where it formed a knotted cord, sucked tightly between
his hard-muscled rump-cheeks.

"Hey, Kid Buck!  Can I have your autograph!?"  came a cry from a laughing
gaggle of schoolboys running beside him on the sidewalk.  They were soon
left behind.

"Hey!  There's Kid Buck!" yelled a shaven-headed man wearing knee-length
shorts, loafers, and a pastel golf-shirt, with his partner who was wearing
chisel-toed leather shoes, denim jeans and white collared shirt with black
vest, carrying their shopping consisting of two French loaves, boutique
coffee-beans and various fashionable vegetables.  "Hey, Kid Buck!  Caught
any crooks lately?"

"I cut him out of the paper the other day," said the other one to his
partner.  "And stuck the pictures on our stainless-steel Smeg refrigerator
with the doggy magnets.  But of course you already know that.  But shit!
Here he is in the flesh!  Look at that ass, will you!  Narrower than the
span of my hand!"

Their voices receded.

A white van drew up alongside the speeding, fleet-footed superhero.  "We've
lucked out!" said Trusty Joe.  "Here's our mark!  Kid Buck himself!"  The
evil faced villain rested his elbow on the window sill and leered through
his black gob of chewing tobacco.

"Yeah, great," said Whipper Daly.  "Whaddeyer suppose we do?  Ask him back
fer a snort o' coke and a turn on Captain Von Heckle's antique Taiwanese
dancing rack?  How'll we get the punk inter the van?  Lollies an' sweets
ain't gonna work wi' dis one, genius!"

"Why, it's der super-spunk Kid Buck!" said Joe from the window, grinning a
horrid yellow grin of rotten teeth and black, tobacco-stained saliva.
"Hey, Whipper!  Check out da muscles on dis kid's ass an' thighs!  Ain't
Century City a lucky burg to have such a fine super-hero pro-tectin' it
from all manner er' crooks an' baddies!?  Whaddeyer say Whipper?  Ain't dat
a picher of a super-hero?  Runnin' fast to catch some criminal, I espect!"

Kid Buck blew hard through his mouth.  He had not the time or breath to
interact with these course removalists in their van!  He ran toward City
Hall.

"Hey, Whipper!" Trusty Joe said again, grinning and leering.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up!?" said Whipper.  "Talkin's one thing
but we've got ter figger some way o' catchin' that runnin' colt!  Look et
how fast it moves!"

Trusty Joe turned to his partner in evil-doing and gave a wicked look and a
vile laugh.  "Hee hee hee hee!" he giggled.  "I got just the instru-ment!
Looky here!  It's full-charged"

Whipper Daly glanced down, and his thick, ugly lips spread in a disgusting
smile.  The silver and black tazer-gun glinted ominously in Joe's pudgy,
sausage-like fingers.

*

"What've you been up to, dude?" said college-jock Cody Swingcock to his
fellow college-jock Mathew Crack.

"Well, this morning," said Mathew.  "The alarm-clock woke me up with its
buzz.  The first thing I thought was `oh great, no classes today.'  I went
to the bathroom with a boner.  My 8" cock was a rigid pole.  I made a lazy
inspection of my 5'11" swimmer's bod' in the mirror.  I am really in great
shape and my blonde pubes set off my shapely balls.  My swim-training with
Coach Evans has really given me a bod' that the girls admire when I'm by
the pool.  So I thought to myself; `why don't I phone my pal Cody –
that's you – and ask him what he's up to today?  Maybe we can swing by
the Parkway and check out the hot guys – I mean girls – and get a
coffee.'  So then I phoned you up and you said; `yeah.  We college-jocks
have no classes today and me – with my 5'10" wrestler's bod' and 10"
cock – and you – with your 5'11" swimmer's bod' and 8" cock –
could hang-out and shoot the shit about Coach Evans and think about our
respective hot bods and the possibility of thrusting our pulsating
cockshafts into our waiting asses.'"

"Yeah.  That's what I thought too," said Cody.

"But you *did* think it," Mathew said.  "You already told me about it."

"That's what I said.  That was you talking just now."

"Yes.  But I was telling you what you said to me.  On the phone."

"But I already said all that to you."

"Yes.  That's right.  And I was repeating it back to you."

"Hey, look!  Here comes a superhero!"

From their pavement coffee-shop table, the college-jocks eagerly viewed the
swift-moving Kid Buck as he approached.

"It's the Kid Buck one!" said Cody.  "He's got a 10" cock and tight
Speedos!  So hot!"

*

Trusty Joe aimed the tazer-gun from the van window and pulled the trigger.
The small electronic dart, trailed by a coiled, invisible wire, shot out to
its target.  There was the sound of a *zzzt* as the dart punctured the skin
of a firmly muscled rump-cheek, and Kid Buck felt a brief, agonizing jolt
as his body collapsed.

*

"Did you see what I saw?" said Cody to Mathew.  "It looked like Kid Buck
collapsed in the road and those guys in the white van very quickly pulled
over and bundled him into the back!  Kid Buck seemed unconscious and one
guy picked him up by his cape and the other guy reached down and gripped
the superhero's Speedo and lifted him, making his Speedo wrench into his
butt-crack!"

"Yes, I saw it," Mathew said.  "But at the same time I was thinking about
how Coach Evans once pulled my Speedo into my tight butt-crack whilst I was
at swim-training and how my butt looked so hot and tight.  And Coach Evans
said so.  And all the other guys on the swim team commented on how my
Speedo was pulled up like that, into my butt.  Fuck!  I'd love to be a
superhero and wear a Speedo all the time!"

"I learnt about this in Psychological class," said Cody.  "At CCU, from
Professor Edel Gold.  He said that the superhero/sidekick relationship was
a warm enveloping psychological enticement, replacing the ideal father/son
bond lost during childhood and forever sought thereafter in
life-situations.  Professor Gold said that any college-jock was welcome to
explore this field of study in his office, with Professor Gold as personal
mentor, but not nerds, only jocks with tight, firmly rippled asses and
preferably with smooth pecs and nipples like quarters.  But I wasn't
listening because I was making out with Sam in the back row of the lecture
theatre – that's Sam from the CCU gymnastics team.  No!  I mean *Sally*.
Sally from the Ballet squad."

"All the same," said the other college-jock.  "I think I'll make a note of
that white van's licence-plate.  You never know when a Century City
Superhero might be kidnapped and captured by a gang of crooks!"


***** Dear reader, at this juncture you will be wondering what on earth two
college-jocks can possibly contribute to the well thought-out storyline.
Wonder no longer.  It is nothing.  Excepting whereupon one college-jock has
obtained the licence-plate number of the white van where Kid Buck has been
captured.  Remember this.  For it is very possible that the author will
remember also, and use this information in the story's happy conclusion.
But right now, Kid Buck is unconscious in the back of a baddie's van,
zapped with a Tazer, and Teen Ranger is clapped into an iron yoke in the
basement of Superhero Headquarters.  Titan Man has run out of patience with
his errant sidekick and the Ranger – with his wrists locked – cannot
stroke his heaving cock!  Read on!  *****


The muscular teen-aged typhoon groaned and writhed in his iron constraints.
"Ohhh!" he moaned.  "I thought this would be fun!"

His straining member thrust to his belly and begged for attention.  "Titan
Man!" he wailed.  "My cock's hard again!  And I'm *uncomfortable*"

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Titan Man said sternly as he
jingled the keys to the padlocks.  "You always said you wanted to be locked
up in that thing!  You'll just have to remain here with a hard cock until
you learn to settle down!"

"Titan Maaaaaaan!  Let me *out* of this thing!"

The tightly tressed teen-aged typhoon struggled and wiggled.  His ankles
were parted wide, fettered to the lower iron bar which, with the uprights
and the horizontal top-piece, formed a square.  He rattled the bits and
pieces, his neck and wrists locked in place to the frame.

"Well, this *is* kind of horny," he said.  "But only for a few minutes."

"You'll be here for more than a few minutes, boy!  I need a good long break
from your ridiculous outbursts!  I should have followed Nocturnal
Intruder's example and started using this equipment a long time ago!"

"You'll come back in half an hour, right?" said the stringently secured
sidekick.

"We'll see."

"By then I'll have learnt my lesson, right?  Oh golly!  This is horny all
right!  I can hardly move!"

With a final jingle of the keys, Titan Man departed from the gloomy,
underground room.

"How about you let one of my arms out?" the rigidly restrained Ranger
shouted.  "Titan Man?  I want to have a wank!"

"Hey!  Titan Man!  My nose is itchy!  Hey...!"


***** At this juncture it may be prudent for the reader to withdraw,
leaving the Teen Ranger to his chastisement, worrying about his itching
nose and his painfully throbbing member.  Now, Sylvester Swinburne.
Remember him?  The proprietor of Sheertown Steam and Bath, and the only
person outside the Costumed Superheroes Club of Century City to know the
whereabouts of the secret headquarters – underneath his famous
establishment.  What is he up to?  Read on!  *****


"Tsk!  It's a long time since I've been down here," Mr. Swinburne muttered,
making his way along the dark corridor.  "It certainly needs sweeping.
Now, I think there's a cleaning-gear room along here somewhere.  I'm sure
the superheroes will appreciate my tidying-up.  In here perhaps.  Gads!
It's dark!"

"... Hello... What's this?  Why, young Mr. Teen Ranger!  What are *you*
doing here?"

"...Erm... Hello Mr. Swinburne..."

"Why, that's the old iron manacled pillory I purchased when Grimme Prison
had a cleaning-out sale.  Thought the superheroes could use it.  And I see
they *have*."

"... Erm, I'm just testing it out, Mr. Swinburne..."

"Well, you certainly seem excited to be doing so, young Mr. Ranger, If I
may say.  Makes one wonder where the young Mr. Teen Ranger may have
misplaced his costume."

"Oh... er... I think I just forgot to put it on this morning.  Thanks for
reminding me, Mr. Swinburne..."

"...Ah yes... Seeing your naked, lithe young body stretched to the
extremities of that device reminds me of old Governor Hardebarr of Grimme
Prison.  In the good-old days, he would select an inmate from the Punkers'
Dun every Sunday, to be pilloried like that at Flush Market Square.  The
Governor and I used to get along quite well at the Codger Club, you know.
Cigars in the smoking-machine while we viewed the latest stereoscopes.  He
showed me quite a few stereoscopic images he'd taken of his pilloried
delinquents.  Well-conditioned young colts, every one of them, from
Governor Hardebarr's rock-smashing regime.  Many of them exhibited a
healthy forwardness, as you do now, Mr. Teen Ranger.  Quite a thing to see
on a stereoscope!  Fully naked they were, of course, as you are, and
twisting and sweating in that penal device while the throngs threw rotten
fruit and vegetables!  *Those* were the good-old days!"

"Oh, golly!"

"Haven't laid eyes on it for quite a while.  Workmanship's a bit rough, but
it's sturdy enough.  Has to be, to hold onto a stout younker such as
yourself, eh, Mr. Teen Ranger?  They knew how to make things in those days.
Nowadays, I understand they fasten the punkers with plastic cable-ties in
the punishment block.  Ptchou!  Soft!  That's what they are!  How's a
glue-sniffing, graffiti-tagging delinquent to learn his lesson unless he's
fucked with a greased tow-ball, splayed out in public and spray-painted
with his own aerosol cans?  Governor Hardebarr knew how to treat the
anti-social fuckers!  There was far less crime in those days you know,
Mr. Ranger.  Thanks to people like Governor Hardebarr.  Yes.  Old George
was a jolly nice fellow..."

"Um, Mr. Swinburne... what about the punkers in the penile device, in
stereo?"

"... And he knew how throw a horsewhip.  You should have heard them yelp
and yowl, Mr. Ranger, when Hardebarr's lash caught them smartly on the
behind!  *Crack*!!!"

"Gosh!"

"Tied to the prison flogging post they were.  And you know something,
Mr. Teen Ranger?  Sometimes the end of the leather tail would curl around
and catch them on the balls!  Ha!  Yes indeed!  Governor Hardebarr was an
expert in a lost art!  Some officials used to like to crack the tail right
up between the cheeks and flick the howling punk's butt-hole!  How'd you
like *that*, young Mr. Teen Ranger?"

"Yow!"

"Yes.  That old iron pillory you're in has taught many a lad a valuable
lesson!  I hope you haven't lost the keys."

"No.  Titan Man's minding them."

"Good.  When I think back to the good-old days and how George Hardebarr and
I used to share tales of bondage and discipline in the Codger Club, it
makes me wish he were still here, still governing Grimme Prison, and still
fastening some well-muscled street punk into that iron for an arse-fucking
and a spray of rotten tomatoes!"

"Me too, Mr. Swinburne!  Maybe Titan Man will give me an arse-fucking with
a tow-ball!"

"Maybe he will."

"It's just so uncomfortable!"

"Meant to be, young Mr. Ranger.  If you broke a window or ripped the top
off a gas-candle, or stole a shepherd's pie, and Governor Hardebarr got
hold of you, you'd be nailed up like that all Sunday, in the middle of
Flush Market Square!  And that was your day off!  The rest of the week
would be spent rock-smashing in the Grimme Prison Compound!"

"Brrr!"

"And that's not all!  Governor Hardebarr kept a locker full of army-navy
discipline harnesses, with scrotum-cuffs and rear-fitting compliance
batons..."


***** Dear reader, at this juncture it may be prudent to leave off from
Mr. Swinburne and his interesting tales.  He has Teen Ranger's rapt
attention, and fascinating though the prattlesome gent's accounts may be,
we must remember that Kid Buck has been captured by Captain Von Heckle's
hold-up men, and in the next episode, all the Costumed Superheroes'
attentions will be focussed on that quarter!  Until then, think of Teen
Ranger, locked upright in the iron yoke from Grimme Prison!  And here's one
final epilogue!  *****


"Shit!  That old Mr. Swinburne can sure talk!"  Teen Ranger thought to
himself after the white-haired gentleman had left.  "But it was interesting
hearing about the army-navy discipline harnesses with scrotum-locks and
rear-fitting insertion batons!  I had no idea the history of Grimme Prison
was so interesting!  Hey!  Someone's coming!  I hope it's Titan Man to let
me out!"

"Teen Ranger!  What are you doing here?" said Sparky.

"Well, not much, obviously!"

"You're locked up in that old iron pillory thing!"

"Yes, I am aware of that!"

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Pull me off!  Quick!  I'm dying to blow!"

"Oh... yeah... sure..." Sparky's fingertips sizzled suddenly with his
electrical power.  He approached the writhing form of the naked, manacled
superhero and reached out with his tingling hand.

"Hey!!!  Yeow!!!  Oh boy!!!" the confined Teen Ranger yapped as his
inflated member was filled with a surge of exquisite, vibrating power.

"Hooo boy!!!  That's fantastic!!!  Don't stop, whatever you do!!!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"Just touch it!!!  Touch it again!!!  Damn!!!"

There was a crackle in the air and small blue sparks flitted from Sparky's
fingers.

"AAAHHH!!!  AAAHHH!!!..."

*SPLAT*

"Ohhhhhhhhhh!!!..."

"Yoinks, Teen Ranger!  You just splurted up to the roof!  How are you going
to clean it up?  We've been in enough trouble already!"

"Sparks," the Ranger panted.  "How come you don't wank yourself twenty-four
hours a day?!"

thobyandover@y7mail.com