Operation Manpower Chapter ten: Into the Alien Machine
This is the final chapter of a fan fiction.
All characters depicted in it belong to and are trademarked and copyrighted by DC Comics and/or its subsidiaries. I am not related to the company and make no claim of ownership over the characters.
Given how many continuities DC has run through in the past 30 years, it's anyone's guess which one this is set in.
This story should in no way be considered a true representation of the true sexuality of either the actors or the characters.
The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If that offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Lex Luthor, evil genius and now pimp extraordinaire and proprietor of the most exclusive sperm bank on the planet, knew that his meta/super whore house had only a limited lifetime, so he was disappointed but not really surprised when only a couple of weeks later the aliens let him know their housing for the "volunteers" was ready to receive them. The villain gave the command, and his henchmen loaded the horny metas and supers, snug in their holding tubes, into a fleet of big-rig trailers and drove them by night to the harbor in Metropolis.
Luthor had arranged a diversionary incident on the other side of the planet, and activated a bug he'd left in the JLA's computers shutting down their teleportation device, but just to be on the safe side all the delivery trucks, the dock, and the alien ship itself were fitted with XX-Clusion shields.
The aliens used some sort of TK beam to load the now-shrouded tubes into the ship's hold while Luthor and several of the more important governmental liaisons went aboard the vessel as honored guests. The aliens, mysterious behind their color-shifting robes and face masks, led the humans to what Luthor, in a rare moment of humor, thought of as the engineering deck.
"It's huge!" Luthor said in (grudging) admiration.
"For as long as it needs to be, yes," the alien Luthor thought of as The Engineer agreed.
"So, for curiosity's sake, where do you plug in the studs?"
The alien regarded Luthor for a few seconds before speaking. Luthor cursed himself for slipping into colloquialisms that the aliens would have to run through a secondary translation matrix.
"The extraction device is here," the Engineer said, pointing to a door—just a door, an opening in a wall. Luthor looked inside and saw—nothing. He wasn't sure what he expected to see. He had imagined at first that the aliens might have something as primitive (but as effective) as a dairy barn, with the metas bent over and restrained while aliens physically worked the human cocks over, milking the living jizz out of their herd of super cum-cows. But he had also entertained a sci-fi fantasy where his hunks would be forced into bio-mechanical stalls that would violating their bodies and teasing their cocks for the white gold that would take the vessel home. Or maybe something similar but wholly biological, a tentacle-pit of eternal sexual damnation. The reality, of course, was nothing like any of those.
The vast chamber beyond the door was filled with a golden purple radiance and nothing else.
Luthor looked at the Engineer.
"How does it work?" he demanded.
"First we load the Sources. Is there any order you recommend we should do that?"
There was indeed.
"That tube there, and the one next to it," he said pointing at Superman and Superboy, "They should be the first to go into the machine."
The Kryptonian studs, though conscious, were too sex-addled to wonder at anything other than "How do I get to cum next?" Luthor approached the tubes, and derezzed the fabric of the walls.
"Bring the boy," he ordered one of the government reps, "Supes, you're coming with me!"
He took the naked Kryptonian's upper arm and led him to the door. At the villain's touch, Supes' hard cock leapt and started dripping.
"Remove his garments," the Engineer said.
"Garments?" Luthor said, confused, "Oh, you mean the cuffs. Certainly," and he released Superman's hands, leaving them free for the first time in many days.
"And the other garments."
Luthor looked at the named superhero. Unlike many, Superman had never had a mask, so the only things that could even remotely be construed as garments were...
"You mean the cock-ring and the butt-plug?" he asked, "Because those are what are keeping him in a manageable state."
"Yes, the ring and the plug--on this Source and all his fellows. Once they have been loaded into the extraction device, it will see to their management."
"Right, if you say so. But I should let you know that these two are aliens, and the green metal keeps their superpowers repressed."
"Kryptonians," the Engineer said, "Yes. That was taken into account when we designed the mechanism. Strip them."
Shrugging, Luthor had his minions remove the subjugation devices (and set them aside since he could sell them for a hefty price to some specialized clients).
"He's all yours," he said with a half bow.
Before Superman could recover his wits and his strength, the aliens had him at the door and had pushed him into the chamber. Luthor watched in awe as a field, sex-ray purple, alien gold, and Kryptonite green (with just a hint of pink), coalesced around his nemesis and lifted the magnificent body into the air. The Man of Steel's head, as he floated away, lolled back, and his face took on a look of ecstatic revelation that transcended even the look he'd had when he was captured or when he sucked Luthor's dick in the time since then.
"Yes," Superman moaned, "More!"
Luthor looked at the Engineer in shock.
He's talking," he said baldly, "How can he be talking?"
"Your device, while effective, was crude. You sought mere subjugation, but Sources must also be cooperative parts of the machine. Of course, they must be able to talk."
"Wow," Luthor thought, "Enslaved but still operational. What couldn't I do with that sort of technology?"
Superboy followed suit, and then all the other metas, one by one, starting with the other Kryptonians. The men, the studs, the slaves, the whores, the Sources as the aliens called them, were stripped of every last thing that tied them to the Earth. The sex-control devices on their genitals and lodged in their asses were removed, and even masks (for those that Luthor had permitted to remain incognito) were pulled off before the men were pushed into the chamber where they floated about in some weird Brownian motion. The U.S. representative gasped when Batman's cowl came off. Bruce Wayne?! It made so much sense in retrospect. The fallout from this man's disappearance would be considerable. Of course, most of the metas elicited no reaction. Well, there was a sigh of relief when the Joker was installed, but that was only to be expected. That psychopath had international notoriety, and nobody regretted the prospect of a world without him in it. Inside the chamber, most of the metas just languished in their sexual haze, but a few writhed gently, and all moaned out their mounting sexual frustration. Nightwing was the last to be loaded, and Luthor gave the stud's hard dick a tug of farewell. Nightwing moaned and writhed under the touch, and Luthor knew he had to get to work on cloning up a copy of this hunk the minute he got back to the lab.
"So, how does your device work?" Luthor said when Nightwing had at last been loaded, "I mean, I don't even see anything that looks like what we know as a machine."
"We require a test in any case. Watch the device at work," the Engineer said.
The two prize metas, Superman and Batman, separated themselves from the floating stud stock and hovered down to the door's level right in front of Luthor and the government representatives.
"Once we are ready to get under way, you understand, this door will be sealed, and all engineering functions will be handled from what you would call the control room.
Luthor nodded. Of course, unlike himself the aliens could have no sexual interest in all these men. What Luthor had seen and used as a source of power, of income, and of vengeance was nothing more than a means of deliverance to these dimensional castaways. Poor bastards, they'd never know the joy of fucking Arsenal's ass.
"What will you do with them when you have gotten home?" the British representative asked.
"Who cares," thought Luthor, but of course The Engineer had an answer, even as he prepared the machine to run his test.
"They will be cared for, and perhaps, if one of our ships ever comes this way again, they will be returned. Why?"
"They've done great service for the Earth in the past."
"And so they do again. The machine is ready. Watch."
The two hero studs floated together until they were upright, standing in air, face to face and frenulum to frenulum. Almost but not quite touching, their eyes met, and hard cocks began to glisten with pre-cum at the tips as they fixated on one another.
"Bruce..." Superman managed.
"Clark," Batman acknowledged.
"So hot, so sexy," the no-longer red-caped hero managed, "I so want to fuck..."
"Yeah," the dark knight husked, "Look at that big dick. So hard. I want to suck it!"
The glows that encased the heroes merged, and their arms rose until they touched, palm to palm. Luthor waited, but no additional contact was allowed or, apparently, necessary. Then, hand to hand, eye to eye, cockhead to cockhead the studs began to experience obvious increasing stages of sexual excitement.
"God, Bruce," Superman sighed, "I can feel you in me!"
"I can feel you!" Batman said in surprise, "Fuck my ass, you super-stud!"
Luthor was beside himself. Some sort of mind-sharing happening right before his eyes. He would find out how this technology worked if it was the last thing he did. Until then he watched as saliva drooled out of the heroes' open mouths and thick strands of pre-cum ran down their manly shafts. The pair spread their legs and their pelvises writhed.
"Suck me. Yeah, like that!" Superman groaned, "And keep on fucking me!"
"Yeah," Batman signed, "Fuck me; suck my cock!"
Their heads rolled from one side to the other from the non-physical fucking they were getting, but these paragons of masculine beauty never broke their hand contact. Meanwhile their muscles twitched in sympathy with the stimulation that was clearly flooding their minds. Obscene sounds escaped their throats, increasing in volume as they got closer to orgasm. Luthor looked for something like the white level 10 button of his purple ray guns, but there was nothing so obvious. The aliens were apparently letting the men find the level of excitement necessary to trigger orgasm on their own.
"Fuck," cried Batman, "Yeah, you and Dick and Jason and Tim. You're driving me crazy!"
"And Conner!" Superman cried, "God, so many hands, hard cocks, suck, yeah, deep in my ASS!"
Suddenly, the glow surrounding the two men burned pure white, and they flew apart. On their backs now, arms and legs spread wide and bodies shining with perspiration, their pelvises thrusting desperately up into the air.
"Yes, yes, yes, ARGH!" they cried, almost in unison.
Great animal howls drowned out the gentle moans of other metas that filled the chamber as their dicks spewed out wad after wad of jism—a greater volume than they had shot at the time of their capture or at any time during their captivity in the Bunker. Luthor was distinctly jealous. He hoped to hell that the secret of this extraction system would be in the delivery of tech that was payment for denuding the planet of its male metas. He as even then concocting a list of famous men that desperately needed to be forcibly man-milked so their cum could be added to his sperm bank, and the more he could get in a single milking the better.
Each gob of the heroes' meta sperm was enveloped by its own golden glow and then "evaporated" or "teleported" away. Luthor wasn't sure which. Finally, glowing points like fireflies ran over the two superheroes' limp cocks and exhausted bodies, hoovering up any remaining sperm as they went. Once it was all collected, the general brightness of the room had increased by a minor, but still noticeable, degree.
A voice resounded in the alien speech.
"Test results positive," The Engineer translated.
Nobody actually cheered, but Luthor felt sure that all around him in the ship, aliens were celebrating their immanent delivery from a dimension in which they'd been imprisoned for far too long.
The Engineer, with no ceremony, turned to other tasks, and it was The Diplomat who took the human delegation in hand and saw them back to the entrance hatch.
"As per our agreement, the technology we discussed, as well as supporting technical documentation, has been transported to the designated laboratory. What you do with it does not concern us, but we caution you to use it wisely, for in the wrong hands it could prove disastrous."
Luthor smirked. On the way out he had been contemplating his new industry of supplying cloned metas—for a price. He had also handed off the sex-control devices, butt-plugs and cock-rings, he'd used on Superman and Superboy to Henchman #32 to carry out so he could add them to his collection of super-memorabilia. They'd look good alongside his masturbation fodder collection of things like old pairs of Superman's and Robin's (from a few years ago when Dick Grayson still was "filling out" the role) trunks. With a smile, he turned to face his partners in this ultimate endeavor, but because of his preoccupation, he never saw the American rep pull the trigger on the purple ray gun he suddenly held in his hand. It immobilized the evil genius in half a second. Luthor's body felt like it was trying to explode, but that was only because the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced was ravaging every fiber of his being.
Level ten, in one fell swoop.
"Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" the villainous billionaire screamed as rivers of cum flooded out of his balls, staining the crotch (and, in fact, the legs) of his pants. Then he fell to the floor, insensate.
Luthor's thugs suddenly found themselves facing enough firepower to make even the stupidest not need to think twice. Not being stupid, the henchmen held up their hands in surrender. To the bemusement of the aliens, the government reps pulled Luthor to his feet and handed him over to The Diplomat.
"You should get this last meta into the extraction device as fast as you can," the Chinese rep said, "If you give him time, he may figure out some way to escape."
The Diplomat made a half bow and took the evil genius' limp body in his arms. Whether he appreciated the humans' success in eliminating a dangerous future adversary was a thing they would never know.
"It shall be done. A brilliant future to you and your people. Perhaps someday we will meet again."
"We look forward to that day," The American said, as he and the others stepped away from the ship, "A fair return home to you and your crew."
From the ground the humans watched for a few minutes as the alien ship took on an air of disquieting otherness. A sudden flash that was not light blinded them all, and when they could see again, the ship was entirely gone except for a lingering feeling of "Something was here"-ness.
"How many heroes cumming do you suppose it took to achieve that?" the Brit rep mused.
The American rep shrugged, "We'll never know."
"I suppose we did do the right thing. Yes?" the French rep said.
"They were--they are--heroes," the American rep said, "Saving the planet was their thing. Who knows but that they haven't done that for one last time?"
"The ultimate sacrifice," the Russian rep said.
They stood silent for a moment.
"Let's go take control of that technology stockpile," the German said, "Perhaps someday we'll be able to figure out what really happened here today."
"Maybe," the American agreed, but on the sly he keyed in the authorization for his forces to move on Luthor's holdings, especially the bunker. Add Luthor's inventions to whatever they found in the stockpile, and... Well, the future could be interesting.