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Not So Super Man, Part 2
🕑 Added 2021-05-09 16:30:58 +0000 UTCWhen Clark awoke a few hours later, he was in the ER with two broken arms. Oscar was there waiting for him and explained that just before he passed out, Clark had raised his arms to shield his face, but Brick's mighty blows had still kept on coming and eventually cracked some bones in his arms.
Clark was relieved that Oscar had stayed, hoping that the two might eventually pick up where they left off, but it quickly became clear once they returned to the complex later that night that Oscar was no longer interested in the fallen stud. As he laid in bed recovering with casts on both of his arms, Clark could hear Oscar through the thin walls of the building greet a more virile source of strength and confidence: Brick. Even without his super-hearing, Clark could unfortunately make out everything that was going on. Lots of dirty talk, kissing, and at least three blowjobs for Brick thanks to Oscar’s intense love of “gobbling it all down.”
After that night, Brick started coming over quite often to Oscar’s apartment – first it was a couple times a week, then almost every night, and by the end of the first month, he had moved back in.
Clark, not wanting to risk another run-in with either neighbor, decided to stay at home as much as possible. And given that he had both of his arms in casts, it wasn’t a hard decision to make. So he dropped out of the classes he had signed up for and sat on his couch, watched Netflix, and ordered DoorDash three or four times a day. Over the next few months, other than visits to the doctor, he only left the apartment to collect his mail from the box in the parking lot, and he made sure to do so during the day when both Brick and Oscar would be at work.
He thought his life would resume once he got the arm casts of after four weeks, but it didn’t turn out that way. Clark became very comfortable in his hibernation, and enjoyed the freedom of not having his schedule filled with “save-the-world” heroics or all the form chores he used to do when growing up in Smallville. He started bingeing series on Netflix that he had never heard of, playing video games, and watching TikTok videos. Instead of hanging out with friends like Diana Prince and Bruce Wayne, his new buddies were his couch, TV, and smartphone. And after a big dinner each night and a carton of ice cream, he would go to bed and jack off while listening to Brock and Oscar get it on next door.
By the end of the third month of his impromptu sabbatical, Clark's once-solid muscles had shriveled due to the lack of exercise – he had never had to do anything to maintain his physique as Superman, of course, so working out was not something he knew anything about. Even worse, since he spent his days sitting around his house eating whatever food he could get delivered, the pounds began to pile on since he no longer had his super metabolism. Clark’s weight jumped up from 200 pounds to 220 after the first month and 250 pounds after the second. By the end of the third month, he had porked up to 275 pounds and no longer resembled Earth's greatest hero – he had a soft droopy chest, quivering belly, saggy love handles, and a giant dimpled ass that jiggled when he walked. None of the clothes he had bought for his “wild oats sowing” fit anymore, so he ordered XXL and XXXL sweatshirts and sweatpants from Amazon to cover his new bulk.
It was in this form in which he finally had some contact with the outside world, but it was exactly what he was trying to avoid. Thinking it was Friday when it was really Saturday (all the days began to blend together), Clark waddled outside in the early afternoon to get his mail – he hadn’t showered or shaved for the past few days, and his hair was a mess since he hadn’t gotten it cut in the past three months. He also had Taco Bell Chalupa stains on his sweatshirt and had a donut in his left hand. Clark was halfway down the apartment steps when Oscar and Brick suddenly appeared at the bottom – both men were shirtless and sweaty and looked like they had finished a run.
Brick looked the same as he had the night of the beatdown – he was still built like a tank and had clearly kept up (or maybe even stepped up) his gym routine. Every muscle in his body was thick and full and ready for any challenge they encountered.
Oscar, however, had completely changed. Gone was the extra flab and in its place were a sturdy set of glistening muscles, and he had shaved his floppy mane very close to his scalp, giving him a resemblance to Chris Evans in the Fantastic Four movies.
Before Clark could say anything about the changes to Oscar, however, Brick jumped up the stairs to Clark’s level and pulled up his tight sweatshirt to reveal his bloated gut. The muscleman grabbed a huge handful of the soft flesh and shook it up and down. “Fuckin’ A, that is a serious belly, Lardass. Hard to believe you had abs a few months back.”
Brick then turned to his boyfriend. “Aren’t you glad you dumped this chump, Oscar?”
Oscar smiled and also ascended the steps. “Definitely, Brick. I need a real stud like you – with these big ol’ muscles and all that manly testosterone – not some blob who can’t even go for short walk without shoveling a donut in his mouth.”
Clark tried to get Brick’s hand off his sweatshirt so he could cover up his stomach, but he was in such a weak state and Brick was still very, very strong. He muttered “Please let go!” and tugged and tugged on Brick’s arm but couldn’t budge it an inch.
Brick laughed at Clark’s feeble attempt to overpower him. “Fuck, this guy is such a pansy. I’m using about 10% of my strength and he still can’t take me. What did you ever see in this weakling, Oscar?”
“All he did was pay for dinner, I swear. He was just a way to save me some money,” replied Oscar. He then leaned in and kissed Brick hard right in front of Clark, and then he reached down inside Brick’s shorts and fondled his lover’s groin.
Brick returned the kiss to Oscar. “Oh, I see you wanna go inside and play, Baby. You ready to gobble it down again?”
“Very ready, Brick,” replied Oscar. I want to suck every drop of cum out of you, and I want to lick all the sweat off your body.”
Brick smiled again, but even wider this time. “Then let’s go…but first, we need Tubbo out of the way.” Brick then hoisted the bottom of Clark’s sweatshirt up over and behind his head to reveal his full jiggling torso. Clark immediately lifted his arms to try and pull it back, but he didn’t have the mobility to reach the hem, which Brick had pulled so tight it was stuck around the back of his neck.
When Clark’s arms were up in the air, Brick picked up Clark under his armpits – a not easy feat considering his 275-pound body – and effortlessly tossed him over railing and into the hedge next to the steps. He and Oscar both laughed loudly at the site of half-naked Clark struggling to stand up. “Look at that jelly belly!” said Oscar.
“You’re so fucking strong, Brick,” said Oscar, giving his boyfriend another long kiss. “I’m so glad I get to experience every inch of all this muscle!”
Clark was eventually able to pull down his sweatshirt, but his neighbors were gone by the time he did. He wasn’t hurt thanks to all the excess padding on his rear end, so he got up, grabbed his mail, and headed back inside. On the way up the stairs, Clark saw the donut he had dropped earlier and bent down to pick it up – not an easy task considering his gut was in the way, but he eventually was able to reach it. He knew he should have thrown it away, but instead he brushed off the dirt and crammed it in his mouth. “Fuck, I am a weakling,” he thought. “No willpower at all.”
Once safe back in his cocoon, Clark’s frustration turned into anger, but not just about being tossed off the porch or that we was too weak to resist temptation. For starters, he didn’t like that there were any bullies out in the world and that he couldn’t do anything about them. He was here on Earth for a reason, and it wasn’t just to waste time stuffing his face and watching episode after episode of Nailed It! – he was supposed to be protecting those who needed protection.
Secondly, the mail he got from his box was filled with bills he needed to pay, and he had almost depleted his bankroll. Clark had set aside some funds to pay for his new life, figuring he had enough to have fun for about a year to 18 months, but the doctor's visits had been incredible expensive and had wiped him out after only three months. He wasn't going to be able to continue on in the same manner.
As a result, Clark decided right then and there that he needed to resume his duties as Superman. It had been foolish of him to even consider trying to live a normal life, and the experiment had been a total flop. "I need to get back to doing what I do best," he thought. "Nobody is going to find me attractive now that I'm a huge tub of lard, and I only did this stunt to get a little action, and that never even happened. Maybe I can try it again sometime in the future."
He trudged over to the closet and open the secret panel where he had stored his Superman suit. He pulled out the red and blue fabric, sighed, and decided to put it on before things got any worse. "At least once I get this back on, I'll get all my powers back and I can forget about all the weight problems I'm having."
Clark took off his clothes and tossed them on his bed. He pulled on the suit, straining as hard as he could to get it on over his bloated torso, but he was simply too fat to get it on all the way. His giant flabby belly proved too large from the top to stretch down over it, and the immense amount of fat that had accumulated on his ass and thighs prevented him from wearing the bottom half.
Unsure how to proceed, he wiggled and wriggled out of the Superman costume and stood in the nude. Clark could see his reflection in the bedroom mirror, and honestly didn't recognize what he had become. Once the strongest man in the universe, he now resembled a guy who had never participated in a single athletic endeavor and who was constantly gorging on snacks. He had soft doughy arms, big floppy breasts, a giant rounded stomach that hung well below his waistline, and fat-covered legs that looked so weak it was a miracle they could hold up the rest of his body. On top of all that, his penis had become deeply submerged into an ever-growing fat pad so that it only looked to be about 2 or 3 inches long now, and that was certainly not going to please anyone.
“Fuck!” said Clark, as he listened to his neighbors having sex and his own cock started to yearn for attention. “What am I going to do now?”
