Dean's Big Night At The Kents (Part 4: A New Head of the Household)

Written in collaboration with Namichwan

It was quite the shocking scene taking place in the bedroom of Clark Kent and Lois Lane's Metropolis high-rise apartment.

Dean Wayne sat against the headboard of the bed like a king surveying his domain, his massive cock, veiny and slick with the attention of two eager women, standing proudly as the centerpiece of the room. To his left, Lois Lane worked with delicate precision, her violet negligee clinging to her toned, elegant frame. Her lips teased along the head of Dean’s cock, her dark hair framing her flushed cheeks, and her slender hands caressing the thick shaft with reverence.

On his right, Karen Starr—Power Girl—was the very opposite of Lois’s refined touch. Her straining blue lingerie was all but falling off her curvaceous body, her massive tits jiggling wildly as she pressed them against Dean’s thigh while lavishing his shaft with sloppy, enthusiastic licks. Her blonde hair spilled in a chaotic wave around her face, and her tongue explored every vein and ridge of Dean’s cock with a hunger that bordered on feral.

Across the room, on the floor in the corner, Clark Kent squat on the dog bed fully nude. His huge frame was the pinnacle of Kryptonian perfection. His broad shoulders and thick arms looked like, and could crush steel, while his shredded abs rippled with tension. His narrow waist and powerful legs added to the impression of a living titan, an invincible god among mortals.

Yet here, with his cock in hand, he was dwarfed—in size, yes, but in status too. Watching his wife and cousin worship another man’s superior manhood, Clark knew this was where he belonged. To be a cuckold was human, a quiet surrender that made him feel closer to the humanity he cherished.

As he stroked himself, his thick cock leaking steadily, Clark’s eyes stayed fixed on the action. Dean’s hands moved with authority, tangling in Lois’s dark hair and sliding down to knead Karen’s overflowing tits. Lois moaned softly as she pressed a tender kiss to the swollen head of his cock, while Karen giggled, her massive breasts jiggling as she nuzzled them against Dean’s thighs, smearing her own saliva and his precum across her creamy skin.

Dean’s voice rumbled through the room, commanding and self-assured. “Good boy, Clark. Just keep watching.”

Clark groaned softly in response, his hand speeding up on his shaft, every pulse and twitch a testament to his arousal. It wasn’t humiliation he felt—it was release, the weight of being Superman lifted as he accepted his place in this intimate tableau.

He couldn’t help but mentally awe at Dean’s mammoth sized meat. Even with all the slurps and suckles of two attractive women, a quick x-ray scan showed that his cum was nowhere near ready to bubble to the surface, even while Clark’s member could blow at any second.

“Now that our voyeur is settled, let’s get you two talking again,” said Dean, taking Karen by the hair and dragging her moaning mouth upwards.

Power Girl clearly wanted to suck more cock, but was so subservient she daren’t refuse his will, “When I kiss you, the speech I stole shall be returned to you.” He instructed, apparently going through extra steps to make sure his grand reveal was not interrupted by anything.

It took but two simple, yet extremely passionate, sloppy kisses to return the reporter and heroine’s power of speech.

“Master, thank you,” Lois hummed as her mouth left his, “I know you have power over any woman you choose, yet with access to the Justice League you still allow this humble reporter into your bed.”

“Hmm, the deplorable cries of a wife unsatisfied,” the words of the psychiatrist were clearly directed at the one on the dog bed, “Lois, you are not some constellation prize or stepping stone. You are a beautiful woman, one who shall carry my child by the end of the night. Understand?”

Somehow that made both Lois and Clark moan out in anticipation.

“I understand. Thank you, master Dean.” She smiled a shaky smile while leaning in to kiss him once more.

Even with the small moment with his wife in this erotic scene, Clark still found his cousin butting in to make it all about her, “What about me, master?! Are you planning to impregnate me too?!”

“Of course! I would not miss the chance to make the world’s greatest pair of tits even bigger!” He laughed, grabbing her floating body to move her effortlessly into his face and bury himself in her chest. Karen giggled at his actions, squishing the powerful mounds into his bites and gropes with pure happiness on her face.

Though their words had returned, their mouths found greater pleasures in worshipping Dean’s cock. He sat there, legs wide, with Superman’s wife and cousin both eagerly licking his vast pole. Each had an arm on one of Dean’s hairy thighs, fingertips playfully running along the bulbous balls below.

Lois’ blowjob was more demure than her powered contemporary. Licking long laps against his vast skin, moving it left and right to make trails up the side of it. She was revelling in the taste, keeping a big smile on her lips the more she worshipped another man. Lois had given blowjobs to her husband before, so she knew how to treat powered cocks with respect, though nothing could have prepared her for Dean’s size.

Meanwhile, Power Girl just went completely hog wild with it. Her blonde hair bobbed rapidly up and down, trying to keep her superspeed down else she hurt Dean but so eager in her desires to taste every part of him. She made sure to press her vast cleavage into his leg.

Both had their own methods, and Dean appreciated them both. Feeling so powerful on his pseudo throne, rubbing the two suckling armrests by gently fingering each of their pussies. It didn’t take much to have his digits become soaked with their juices, especially as he released more juicy pheromones into the air that were designed to raise the sensitivity of private parts.

Dean’s smirk widened as he surveyed the two women before him, their eager mouths worshiping his monstrous cock with starkly different styles. Lois was the picture of reverent devotion, her delicate tongue tracing deliberate, worshipful paths along his shaft, while Karen was unrestrained, her blonde head bobbing frantically as she sucked and slurped with **** enthusiasm.

Dean’s hand settled on Karen’s head, his fingers threading into her golden locks. He tugged gently, pulling her back until her mouth left his cock with a wet pop. She blinked up at him, her lips swollen and slick, confusion flashing in her bright blue eyes.

"Karen," he began, his voice calm yet commanding, "enough with the eager little amateur act. You’re not just any woman. You’re a Kryptonian, the most powerful and perfect of your kind. And you’re going to prove it to me." He tightened his grip on her hair, his smirk turning cruel. "I want you to become the perfect big-titty Kryptonian cock-sleeve. Take me down your throat—all of me—and don’t stop until your lips are kissing my pubes."

Karen’s breath hitched, her pupils dilating at the order. Her cheeks flushed as her body trembled with arousal at the idea. “Yes, Master,” she breathed, her voice filled with submission and determination.

Dean released her hair, giving her an encouraging pat on the cheek. “Good girl. Now, show me what you’re really made of.”

Karen immediately shifted, getting onto all fours in front of him. Both massive, whale-like tits had already escaped the confines of her strained deep blue lingerie during her eager movements. One swollen nipple pressed firmly against the bed, the sensitive flesh flattening slightly under her weight, while the other squashed out to the side, partially wrapping around Dean's thigh. Her position pushed her skirt higher, fully exposing the globes of her ass and the thin strip of her g-string, which was soaked through and practically devoured by her swollen, glistening lips.

Gripping Dean’s cock with both hands, Karen angled it downward, nearly parallel to the mattress. She opened her mouth wide, her jaw stretching to its absolute limit as she began to consume his monstrous length. Inch by inch, the thick, veiny shaft disappeared into her mouth, her lips forming a perfect seal around him as she moved.

Dean groaned in satisfaction, his hands finding her hair again and guiding her gently but firmly. "That’s it," he growled, watching intently as she worked. "Take it all, Karen. Show me that even every Kryptonian can be trained to serve a superior cock."

His eyes glowed as they met Clark's over her back.

Clark, from his place on the dog bed, was utterly transfixed. His hand slowed on his own cock as he activated his x-ray vision, unable to resist the voyeuristic urge to see what was happening inside his cousin. The massive crown of Dean’s cock pushed deeper, forcing her throat to bulge visibly as it stretched around the girth, the shape of his glans defined as it traveled downward. Her Kryptonian physiology allowed her to take him in ways no human could, her muscles flexing and accommodating the impossible size. The cockhead pressed lower, sliding down her esophagus, forcing the walls of her throat apart before plunging past her collarbone and into her chest cavity. Finally, the thick glans breached the tight opening of her stomach, finding a small pocket of empty space amidst the swirling stomach acids.

Dean’s smirk deepened as he looked down at Karen. Her face was completely buried in his crotch, her lips pressed tightly against his base. With her blonde hair cascading around his hips, it looked for all the world like his groin was wearing a Power Girl wig. He gave her hair a possessive tug, eliciting a muffled moan that sent vibrations down his shaft and made him groan with pleasure.

Beside Karen, Lois paused her own ministrations to watch in awe. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of his cousin completely hilted on Dean’s cock, her neck visibly distended by its size. She reached out to pat Karen’s back, a gesture of encouragement, then turned her gaze to Clark. Her expression was one of incredulous arousal, as if to say, Are you seeing this?

Karen, her face pressed to the hilt in Dean’s groin, shifted slightly, her massive breasts flattening and spilling out to the sides as she leaned into him. Her fingers dug into his thighs for support as she began to pull back slightly, only to slide forward again, swallowing him all over again with practiced precision. Her throat worked rhythmically, the visible bulge moving up and down with each motion.

Dean’s groan turned into a chuckle as he looked down at her. “You’re a natural,” he praised, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you’d be the perfect cock-sleeve.” He glanced at Lois, smirking. “You should take notes.”

Lois, always quick with a retort, arched a brow and quipped, “Notes? Sure. But if you’re planning on me like that, I doubt I’d survive to write them.” Her voice was laced with dry humor, but there was a flicker of nervousness beneath her playful tone.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you deep-torso it like Karen here,” he assured, gesturing to the Kryptonian blonde who was currently impaled on his cock, her throat bulging obscenely. Lois and Clark both let out faint breaths of relief at the reassurance, though their respite was short-lived. “However,” Dean continued, his smirk widening, “your human asshole is more than capable of taking all of me.”

Lois’s jaw dropped, her sharp wit momentarily failing her as her cheeks turned a deeper shade of crimson. “Y-you’ve got to be kidding,” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clark’s protective instincts flared to life, but they were laced with a twisted sense of arousal he couldn’t deny. The thought of his beloved wife being taken in such an intimate, taboo way stirred something primal within him. His hand tightened around his cock, his strokes growing firmer as he watched Lois’s hesitation transform into a hesitant smile.

“Well,” she muttered, her tone dripping with wry humor despite her obvious arousal, “I guess if Karen can suck-start that leaf blower, I can play ring-toss with a telephone pole.”

Dean’s laughter was rich and indulgent as he reached down to caress her cheek. “That’s the spirit,” he said, his voice a velvet promise of things to come.

Clark was completely spellbound by the scene in front of him. Dean had been so right about feeling weak having such an erotic thrill for the strongest man alive. His wife was stolen just because his penis wasn’t big enough to satisfy her, and to sully a family member too was amazing. One of the last pieces of Krypton was becoming Dean’s property, and that made his own penis throb with shameful need.

It was like Dean was a villain, ready to take over the world because Superman failed. In fact, imagining the cock was attached to Braniac, then Metallo… then Luthor? That was enough for his rigorous fapping to reach a far earlier apex than anyone else.

“Clark. I forgot to mention we don’t want to spill any of your semen, so you’re only allowed to cum inside a jar or your cousin’s asshole.”

Just at the last second, Superman had to hold back his roaring climax. An order from Dean felt so palpable against his soul, and so, faster than a speeding bullet, he raced out of the bedroom towards the kitchen. He’d always been a little annoyed whenever Lois rearranged her kitchen, so finding the box of jars was a truly grating experience as his super speed kept him trapped in an edged moment of time. Cock mid orgasm as he tried to find any empty jars. Finally he found them and unloaded his super sperm directly into the container, filling it up about half way and making his torment finally end.

Superman’s colossal form filled the tiny kitchen, his powerful silhouette dominating the ordinary domestic space. His broad chest heaved with each strained breath, his muscles taut and glistening under the dim light of the fixtures above. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling down the planes of his impossibly chiseled torso. Every inch of him radiated strength and perfection, yet here he stood, naked, his face flushed with a deep, carnal need that belied his godlike stature.

Clark’s massive hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. His body quaked as he tried to stave off the inevitable, but Dean’s command echoed in his mind like a chain binding him to this act. Faster than a thought, he had darted to the kitchen in search of the jars Lois had obsessively reorganized last week—a task both humiliating and maddening.

His fingers had torn through the cabinets, his frustration mounting as he finally uncovered a cardboard box of jam jars. The box rattled as he dragged it onto the counter, every second an eternity as his superhuman senses honed in on his body’s urgent demands. His cock twitched, the pressure of his impending release too much to bear.

Gripping the first jar with one hand, he steadied himself against the counter with the other, his legs trembling as the first eruption hit. His groan was guttural, primal, reverberating through the kitchen as the jar filled instantly with thick, hot seed. The viscous liquid reached the rim in a blink, forcing him to grab another jar with lightning speed to catch the torrent that followed.

Jar after jar filled in quick succession, each one almost overwhelmed by the sheer volume of his climax. His godlike body shuddered with each pulse, his muscles rippling with the strain as he worked through the box. Eleven jars filled completely, their lids clinking as he spun them on in a blur. The twelfth jar sat precariously on the edge of the counter, catching the last of his release—a mere quarter full before his body finally relented.

The cardboard box, once an innocuous kitchen staple, was now a surreal tableau of Superman’s humiliation. Eleven jars, their contents thick and pearlescent, stood neatly sealed, with the twelfth jar capping off the display. Clark stared down at his work, chest heaving, his cock still twitching with the ghost of its recent exertion. The absurdity of the scene didn’t escape him, his powerful hands trembling as he carefully arranged the jars back into the box.

He stepped back, his nude form catching the faint light, the sight both majestic and incongruous in the confines of their modest kitchen. For a man who could stop bullets and move planets, this act felt both degrading and devastatingly human. He picked up the box, its weight trivial in his hands but monumental in its meaning, and sped back to the bedroom, his face flushed with both exertion and shame.

In less than a heartbeat, he was back where he had been, placing the box at Dean’s feet. The sound of the jars settling was the only indication he had left. Lois and Kara hadn’t noticed his absence, their attention fully devoted to Dean.

Dean, however, glanced down at the box with a raised brow and a knowing smirk. "Clark," he said, dragging out the syllables with deliberate amusement. "Twelve jars, really? You couldn’t manage a little restraint?"

Superman swallowed hard, his body trembling as his cock began to harden again, a fresh wave of humiliation washing over him. “I—I tried, Dean,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Guess we’ll need to work on your control. But for now…” He gestured toward the dog bed. “Get back in your place.”

Clark obeyed instantly, kneeling on the bed with the grace of a man who had been broken but found a twisted solace in his submission. The box of jars sat on the floor, a silent testament to his fall, while Dean turned his attention back to the women, leaving Superman in his humiliated arousal to watch, wait, and endure.