Continuing Clark's Second Session

Written in collaboration with Cross C

“Clark, maybe it’s time you come inside.”

Superman blinked back to reality. Suddenly feeling the biggest amount of shame and awkwardness he’d ever felt on this planet.

Doctor Wayne was standing before him, face impassive. He was still wearing only his necktie in a manner that seemed blatantly phallic with the way his very recently used gargantuan member swayed down to a similar length from his groin, its spongy, apple-sized glans almost reaching his knees.

Cum was dripping off the walls of the hallways. His seed’s smell etched into every part of this walkway up to Dean’s office. Splatters on the carpet, some on the assistant’s computer, and most of it pooled underneath his dribbling floppy member.

A member that Dean Wayne was looking at with a frown.

Clark was mortified and stunned. He couldn’t believe what had happened! He had no explanation for this behavior! He slapped his hands over his privates, “I’m so sorry. So so so sorry, I-I’ll clean it up! Let me just… just leave me be for two seconds and I’ll-!”

“No Clark,” stated the stern therapist firmly and Clark was not only uncomfortably aware of the man looming over him as he sat upon the couch but of the presence of the other man's massive genitals, seemingly absolutely lathered with his secretary's vaginal juices dangling right in front of him. “I said it’s time for your therapy now.”

There it was. Truly being treated like a teenager who had used his mother’s panties to get off. Clark had never really had anyone use that tone with him before, being such a boy scout as he is, so the walk of shame with cock in hand as he waddled into the office was almost too much for his wee heart to bear.

Once inside he was presented with the naked bottom of Miss. Aniston. She was sprawled face down across the doctor's desk, her sex a battered pink mess with a truly enormous amount of semen so thick and glossy as to look like ice cream oozing out of her, a veritable pile of the stuff sitting on the desk beneath her hips.

Clark was so startled he was left standing in the doorway of the office, gawking at this poor secretary's ravaged vagina as Dean walked over and leaned back against his desk to gaze at Clark He reached down to squeeze Nicole's rump.

"Wait. I can-" Clark stammered.

"Ignore her entirely and don't even think about it." the doctor said, the statement a firm command, before he continued more casually, "Come in. Come in already."

Clark did so, feeling compelled to remain standing, barely able to look Dean in the eyes, and continuing to mumble apologies under his breath in the vague sense of it helping.

The alien posing as a therapist sat on the edge of his desk as the alien posing as a mild mannered reporter, but who was actually Superman, the Man of Steel, peeled himself out of his clothes at Dean's calm reminder that the protocol was clear on this matter.

There could be no barriers between them in therapy. No garments to hide behind or to provide even the most shallow of defences to a therapeutic process that was specifically designed to break down the walls erected by a patient's own psyche in an attempt to deny themselves the help they so desperately needed.

This was a common sense alteration that he'd recently set up in his office with subliminal messages embedded in the various pieces of artwork adorning the walls, the statues, and the lighting fixtures. What would have once seemed ridiculous, unnatural, or obscene would seem like the most obvious course of action.

That didn't mean Superman was unembarrassed, on the contrary his recent uncontrollable and incomprehensibly pleasurable ejaculation had left him feeling incredibly **** and absolutely humiliated.

Dean found humans' and indeed, most races' preoccupation with clothing their physical forms to be utterly ridiculous and fascinating. He took a perverse pleasure in using his mental powers to strip away their modesty, to rip away their facades and expose them for who they truly are underneath all of those cumbersome layers of cloth and social mores.

As the Kryptonian finished removing all of his clothing to stand there awkwardly with his arms folded and his penis drooping, Dean silently regarded him.

The hero's body was a monument to strength, each muscle a granite slab sculpted by Kryptonian genetic engineering and Yellow Sun radiation. His torso, broad as a truck's engine block with muscles like corded steel rippling just beneath the surface, tapered down to a surprisingly narrow waist, only to explode again into the powerful planes of his thighs and calves. Just like that first day when Dean had commanded him to strip like a ****, the fairly spacious office seemed to shrink in comparison to his sheer physical presence.

Amidst this monumental display of power, a flicker of vulnerability betrayed itself. Superman's face, usually radiating unwavering confidence, held a faint blush, his gaze averted from the doctor’s. His arms, thick as tree trunks, were crossed defensively across his chest, drawing attention to the incongruous sight below. His dick hung limply over his testicles, ostensibly impressive in size for a human yet dwarfed by the sheer scale of his own physique.

The remnants of his recent pleasure glistened and clung to his glans and Dean smirked at the sight, recalling the frantic sounds of the Kryptonian masturbating outside his door mere minutes ago.

He slowly stroked Nicole's hips as she remained slumped over my desk, her buxom frame still shaking slightly with the after-effects of her own numerous orgasms.

A pregnant paused hung in the room. Dean was letting the dour vibe of what had just occurred settle on Clark’s mind before starting anything more. The uncomfortable dual nudity adding an extra layer of vulnerability for the mighty Kryptonian. The only hope the farm boy had was doctor-patient confidentiality stopped the rumours of news reporter Clark Kent jizzing in a waiting room before they began…

“I think it’s obvious what we need to talk about.” Dean finally began after what felt like an eternity. “You arrived early before your appointment and found me doing somewhat untoward things to my assistant. I’d feel worried for my career here, if you hadn’t just besmirched my property and turned my hallway into a boulevard of sour jism.” He tried not to give any emotions away, mostly because anger wasn’t truly flowing through the alien’s heart but instead happiness. Sighing with concealed glee at the whimpering Superman, “Clark, let’s cut to the chase. How is your sex life going? Are you feeling… pent up?”

Another pause, this time not from the judge but from the guilty one on trial. Superman wanted to close his thighs together tightly or hide his fallen manhood with what felt like a long rope of sperm dangling from it with his hands, but the doctor's own casual stance with his own massive tool hanging in plain sight **** him to ignore the feelings of overexposure burned into his soul.

Nudity was an important part of the therapeutic process after all.

“I guess so…” He sighed, “I definitely didn’t think I felt this way until recently. There was never anything wrong with me and Lois, nothing that couldn’t be fixed without us talking, ya know?”

“Stable relationships are always good.” confirmed Dean.

The guilt had to be swallowed back down to continue, “But… something’s changed. I have no idea what, but I seem to be finding myself struggling to… perform. First it was Lois being unable to reach orgasm, no matter how hard we try… then I started having troubles too…”

“Hmm. You seemed to have no problem with it while listening to me.”

“That’s just it! The reason I’m here alone today and not with Lois is, well, because I found a way to get around MY problems… in a way that I didn’t expect and somewhat troubles me.”

More barriers were opening, some through his courage and others through simple mind control, “Go on. This is a safe space, Clark.””

“So a few night ago we were having a go… getting randy in the bedsheets, you know-”

“I know what sex is, yes.”

“Yes, sorry. We were having sex but as I was nearing orgasm my penis really struggled to… finish. I somehow lost all sense of fun and so did my penis. Like somehow I was unattracted to Lois all of a sudden.”

“Hmm, interesting.”

“And as I was trying to think of a way to get back to that place, to find my wife sexy again while I was inside of her… I started imagining things. Now instead of a mental image of myself and Lois in romantic locations, it was in this office and it was you wi-”

“With Lois.”

“Wha-?” Clark asked surprised, quickly finding his question morphing into, “H-how did you know?!”

Ah, memory alteration. Perhaps one of the easiest to learn yet hardest to master tricks up Dean’s metaphorical sleeve. It wasn’t hard to remove sections of a person's memory and replace it with easy to fill in details, he had done it already several times to both Clark and Lois to keep them off his trail and make their visits to him just a hazy positive experience. But the mind can work quickly to fill in the details.

If Dean had made Superman instantly think he’d always been a cuckold then there would be pushback. Evidence to the contrary. Why marry Lois if he was a cuck? Why had he never told Lois? Why was he visiting this strange man again? And then it all falls apart.

But subtle memory alteration is much more effective. Superman DID orgasm heavily when he thought of Dean. He DID cum his brains out at the idea of Dean’s cock. That was already there. All Dean had to do was change who it was he was fucking… so now Clark Kent’s memory told him he’d been fucking Lois and only managed to achieve orgasm when he imagined Dean Wayne fucking… Lois.

There was a certain detachment Clark could make when he was imagining Dean and Nicole. Like when one watches porn, he could lie to himself and say it was just like that. But in this new world where he had orgasmed to Dean and Lois? That was much worse. Much more intimate.

So now all Dean needed to do was push it further.

“Clark, are you familiar with the term ‘netori’?”

Superman frowned, feeling sick at himself so much, “I… I dunno doc… maybe heard something about it. Cheating girls and sad guys, right?”

“Close, that is netorare. Netori is where men are happy that they are being cheated on. A more… supportive ideal for a kink such as yours.”

“K-kink?”

Dean chuckled, “Of course, I forgot how much of a boy scout from Smallville you are. A kink, Mr Kent. Your sex life with Lois has become mundane and routine enough for you that the idea of having sex with her is no longer as appealing to you. Spice is the variety of life, and your mind wishes to watch your wife have sex with other men.”

“Th-that’s… that can’t be right. Isn’t that wrong? Sick?” Clark pushed back. His uptight morals even managing to get around certain mind control blocks that Dean was placing into him. But not enough. A flicker of shame flared in Superman's chest, the warmth spreading downwards, creating an almost imperceptible stirring in his groin.

“Imagine a weak man, Clark. Fat, nerdish, acne, glasses, the whole works. It is not his fault he is this way, but cruel genetics. He is still kind, he is still good to those around him, but bullies and those that would take advantage of him have made him an outcast. A loner.”

The bizarre heel turn of a conversation seemed to do the trick as Clark tilted his head, “That is sad, but I don’t understand what it has to do with me?”

“Is it wrong that this man’s fetish is to feel empowered? That he wishes, sexually, to get the kind of domination on a woman that he is denied most of his life? This is under the assumption that the woman is totally accepting and open to his nature, of course. But is it wrong for him to feel this way?”

“No. I don’t see why that would be wrong if both parties agree to it.” Clark spoke and tried very hard to stare into space, mortified as he continued to feel it.

A slight twitch, a hardening of the flesh, like water starting to simmer. Then, the slow, steady rise began. Inch by agonizing inch, it defied gravity, pulling away from the cradle of his balls, asserting its presence. Blood rushed in, filling its spongy chambers, transforming the once-passive appendage into a rigid pillar in full view of the other man as they simply discussed this sensitive topic.

Dean snapped his fingers, “Exactly! A man’s fetish can be born from a simple a thing as role reversal from his real life! Are you seeing where I’m going with this now?”

Oh, he did. And for all the butterflies and bad feelings in his stomach, Clark thought this man was making a frightening amount of sense.

“You are a strong man. Big muscles, built like a warehouse, and a beautiful wife worthy of modelling. You already have power, you already have all you need. Shame and humiliation sound like unworthy fetishes to most, because most do not have the power over others you already have.” Dean’s snakelike tongue worked its way through the hero’s subconscious like it was a pre dug hole. No more barriers to hold back the control.

All throughout their conversation, Clark's member had continued its defiant march north. Four inches became five, then six, then seven. Each new milestone sent a jolt of nervous energy through him. He saw the doctor's gaze flicker downwards, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. His own endowment, in stark contrast, remained a picture of calm serenity, draped heavily between his legs like a python guarding its melon-sized eggs. A pillar of confidence compared to Superman's increasingly frantic beacon of depraved desire.

This was hardly the first time Clark had been naked in front of someone else and yet he felt far more **** than ever before. His dick's perpetual twitching and throbbing in tandem with the slow pounding of his heart was impossible to ignore as he struggled to maintain eye contact with the doctor, a fire spreading across his cheeks that he couldn't possibly blame on his Kryptonian biology.

“To wish another man to have sex with your wife is not wrong, Clark. That excited shame you feel is not because of it being wrong, but because it is right. Denying your fetish in unhealthy and can cause you to lash out against others in bad ways. If you do not explore this with Lois then I’m afraid you’ll be looking at divorce papers before the end of the year.”

"Now Clark, can you tell me... do you want to sit here and listen to me about how your life is going to fall apart unless you embrace this about yourself? Or would you rather take action?"

The option was given... but Dean already knew what Clark would say. He was a man of action after all, and his mind was in chaos, not willing to think logically at this point in time.

“No!” He gasped out, seeing that event in his mind’s eye, “But… would Lois accept it?”

Yes. Easily.

"Lois craves strength," Dean continued, his eyes dropping pointedly to the thick swollen member that was so furiously erect it was fully vertical smashing back against Clark's bulging abs, "She adores you... but I think it is clear that given the size of your body, women expect a certain size from you, correct?"

Clark's eyes dropped downwards at the mention of size and saw that the doctor's cock was still nearly completely limp. It hung down almost to his knees, swaying lazily in a lethargic fashion. And it was still colossal. Still clearly longer and thicker than Superman's own engorged manhood, even at its best! The great, heavy apple-sized head pointed towards the ground like the end of a firehose. The man had to have the biggest cock Clark had ever seen.

"Y-yeah... " Clark answered in a quiet voice as he thought of Lois' lips around it. Thought of his wife **** on its obscene thickness.

Dean continued his smooth patter. "Most men would be quite inadequate, wouldn't they? You know that, but Lois doesn't. Not instinctively, not down deep in those slutty ovaries where it matters. She sees how much your physique dwarfs other men and she expects your cock to match your build, does she not? If you're not careful.... Ms. Lane is the type of prominent outspoken professional woman who finds herself **** by criminal types and super-powered villains, correct? You think she might give in with some immoral stud with a proper cock?"

"I... no..." Clark whispered, thinking of an immense hung stud fucking his wife's mind into mush, filling her womb with a potent load far more pleasurable than his own. He wasn't sure why his erection seemed to throb at the idea or why his balls ached at the notion, but his dick somehow swelled even further in size as Dean spoke.

"You'll never be able to please her, Clark, unless you let her know the truth."

"Truth?" he whispered, his heart seeming to swell within his chest with anticipation.

"That you want her to have sex with other men," Dean said slowly, "A man with a huge cock... a man who can show her how a real cock feels."

"Show her how a real cock feels...?" repeated Clark, his mouth working on automatic as the hypnotic suggestions spun their web, cocooning him in arousal and helplessness.

"Clark..." Doctor Wayne's tone was soft but firm, "Do you want to make love to your wife or do you want her to experience the pleasure you can never give her?"

The words echoed within Clark's head as though it was a cavernous tunnel, sending the idea out into the cosmos before ricocheting back to him in a roaring echo of affirmation. "I... want Lois to be pleased..." he admitted in a very soft voice, feeling an unexpected surge of sexual desire when he voiced the words aloud.

“But… who do I ask?” He asked, already leaning into the eventuality that she said yes and feeling his boner rise even more because of it. Obviously Clark wanted to ask Dean more than anything, but to ask straight away seemed callous.

“Someone you trust. Someone who will keep your secrets. Someone who doesn’t mind having sex at any point in the day”

“Almost sounds like you, doctor… hehe…”

Acting was apparently not on Clark’s superpowers list. Dean just smiled though, walking behind his desk as a groggy Nicole finally rose, “I understand, as your therapist you trust me empirically, but I cannot ask your wife for you, Clark.” He stated bluntly, mixing a quick glass of scotch as Superman apologised, “However. As we already have had this strange event outside… I’m sure we could reach some mutual understanding.”

With a nod, Superman hopped up from the chair to leave, “Yes, I should ask Lois… this is the right thing to do, isn’t it?” He asked, doubt once more returning.

“Just ask yourself this, Clark. What does your friend there think of me behind the desk nailing your naked wife as she lies atop it while you sit in the corner and watch?” He gestured to Superman's cock which might as well have been a bar of steel bolted to his abs, precum leaking copiously from his piss slit like an overfull faucet.

The answer was very clear as he gasped at his aching boner’s pulsing happiness.

“I’ll go ask Lois.”