The Super Jock Sluts | Ch. 1 - Mason I
An Alleyway | Millennium City
It was easy enough to slip away from the crowd of students in front of Wizard Academy for Gifted Young Men, even easier to do so with his parents’ longtime driver Deegan. How the old fart didn’t crash while sexting with his wife was extraordinary, but how he got someone to suck his aged up wrinkled cock was even more of a miracle.
Mason took to the air and settled down in an alleyway, re-checking his Scyre phone to make sure of the location of the ongoing bank robbery. He had time, not a lot, but just enough to stop the robbery and make it back before first period with Mr. Cross—that fucking asshole!
Going as fast as he could, Mason threw off the gold-accented black blazer. On the left upper breast was the embroidered Wizard Academy crest; an interlocked golden “W” and red “A” with some Latin phrase below. Mason should’ve known what it said, but didn’t as he wasn’t particularly focusing and listening in that boring class. He was little too preoccupied with the well-hung 2nd Years sitting beside him, who were very distracting.
Instead of also discarding the dark red, mesh crop short-sleeve shirt that hugged his hunky muscular torso all so well and showed off those sexy, perfectly chiseled eight-pack abs, Mason left them on along with the Academy provided black mesh shorts. He was grateful he didn’t have to put those on again, seeing as they had shrunken in the wash from last night.
He mentally cursed at himself, while trying--well actually struggling to get them up and over his massive bubble butt, just 20 minutes earlier in his bedroom.
Fucking fuck! You idiot! This is the last time I do the laundry high.
He had to bounce on the balls of his feet to make some worthwhile progress, but eventually had to ask for help from his family’s houseboy Uriel, who was standing on the other side of the bedroom door. The door opened and there he was shirtless and in a purple mesh JockHole jockstrap with a cheerful smile on his annoyingly handsome stubbled face.
Mason kept trying to apologize to the twentysomething Puerto Rican man, who just shushed him. He was a bit too eager to get his large strong hands on Mason’s enormous soft globes, roaming them all over. Mason explicitly remembered Uriel muttering something in Spanish, “Joder, este culo tan bueno me va a matar.”
But he couldn’t understand it. If only Mason had also paid better attention in that class too. Although how could he hear Señor Wesling’s lessons with the man’s fat cock stuffed down his throat? It’s nearly impossible too.
After a few more moments of muttering to himself and thoroughly groping Mason’s ass, Uriel then grabbed the hem of the shorts with both hands. He gave it one powerful tug and yanked the shorts as far as they could go. Mason grunted as the top of Mason’s so-called “ass shelf” was covered up, but the bottom half of his ass cheeks were left exposed and a serious wedgie had been forcibly formed in between them. He wanted to immediately pick it out, but Uriel was sending him out to the car with a heavy smack on his ass, which wobbled like crazy. That image was seared into Uriel’s brain and after the teen left, he would use it to produce the “ heavy cream” for Mr. Rhoades’ morning coffee. And have more than enough left over to cover Mrs. Rhoades’ toast.
Shaking his head to bring himself back to the present, Mason tried to get the bottom hem of the cut-off shirt to come down just a bit more, but it remained rubbing against his pointy, silver-dollar sized neon pink nipples.
Ignore it, it’s not important right now, Mase. He had to remind himself.
He did a brief mental checklist. Shirt? Check. Shorts? Check. Shoes? Check. Tyler’s fingerless gloves that I “borrowed”. Check…
His eyes caught the screen of his phone once more and he cursed under his breath, before slipping his hand into his backpack and grabbing the last bit of his makeshift superhero costume.
The mask. A dark red domino mask that Mason took from an old Halloween costume a few years ago. He never knew that he would be using it for his future superhero costume, but things just seem to work out like that sometimes.
He stuffed the blazer into his backpack, while the phone went into his pocket—alarms off. Then made sure that the backpack was securely hidden behind a dumpster.
Ok let’s do this.
And with that, Mason closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, clearing his mind and focused only on being weightless. His feet drifted off of the ground, slowly ascending into the air, then opened his eyes to the sky and swiftly took off.
The wind rippled through his wavy light brown hair and the sunlight bounced off of his fair skin, as he soared through the blue skies toward the bank. Mason steeled himself for the unknown number of enemies he would need to fight and apprehend, before letting the police cart them off to prison. But it wouldn’t be Mason Rhoades, all-American hunky QB with a perfect ass and sparkling smile that would greet them, but the courageous, invincible, and equally sexy hero that was Flyby instead.
But Flyby needed to get there and fast.
11th Street Bank
“Faster fuckface! You better not try anything or I’ll squeeze your fucking head until it fucking pops!!”
The terrified bank employee, whose face was littered with acne and sweat, jumped at the menacing boom of the man’s voice. He was shaking like a little bitch and was desperately wishing he had called in “sick” for the fourth time this week. The golden nametag on his uniform read “Rod” and it quivered as he rushed to put more stacks of cash into the colorful villain’s dufflebag.
Although he knew that this could happen anywhere, he never expected it to happen to him or even more at a bank covered by Wizard Security Tech.
As he filled up the bag, he glanced out across the lobby of the bank where the bank’s customers were hogtied on the marble floor. He stared directly into his manager’s eyes, who was silently motioning him to press the hidden panic button underneath the front desk.
Rod attempted to do so--quickly and quietly--but being scared to death that the villain would make good on his promise, he fumbled a couple stacks and they tumbled onto the floor.
Despite only a couple seconds passing by, it felt like an eternity for Rod and ended with the man roaring at him again. This time with more intense rage.
“What the fuck are you doing, you stupid bitch?!? Pick it up! Pick it up!!” If the man wasn’t wearing an orange and purple mask to cover his face, Rod would definitely be flinching from the spittle flying everywhere.
This man’s entire outfit looked ridiculous with the weirdest mix of orange and purple to complete it. To Rod it looked like the guy had bought some secondhand hockey pads and spray painted them. Still Rod was scared shitless.
It took him a moment to move, he was just hoping that someone--anyone--would save him from this fucking nightmare. He was too young to die and he would not die a fucking virgin.
He ducked down and built all of the courage he had inside of himself, pressing the shiny red button of safety and hope. Within seconds, cops within the area were alerted to the robbery going on inside of the bank and Mason too. It seemed his savior wouldn’t be too far away.
He ducked back up with the fumbled cash and stuffed it into the dufflebag too, nervously grinning while in the back of his head jumping with joy that this douchebag wouldn’t be threatening him any longer.
The villain grabbed the dufflebag, it was full to the brim with bills and smiled like a dope underneath his mask, then turned around and began to make his way toward the glass double doors of the bank.
Rod took a couple steps back, letting out a heavy sigh of relief and then gasped out of surprise, when his hands were quickly wrapped up with some rope from a nearby stanchion. He tried to break free, but tripped and fell face first onto the hard marble, groaning in pain as the villain chuckled at his misfortune.
Right before he pushed the doors open, he turned around and began to boast as a villain typically does.
He let out a hearty laugh that continued until there was tears in his eyes, but was able to catch himself and kept going, “Anyways, I really want you to remember my name, I want it to draw pure terror from deep within your souls. I want you to piss your fucking pants, if someone even mentions me. I want you to remember the name--Rope Burn!!”
Right as he finished--almost as if on cue--something crashed through the skylight overhead with a loud: CRRRRAAAASSSSHHHHH!!!
Amongst the hostages screaming in fear of what just came through above them, Flyby landed heroically in all of his skintight, hunky glory in front of the shocked villain and said humorously, “Seriously dude? Rope Burn?”
Instead of answering back, Rope Burn launched at the red-and-blue clad hero with a roar of fury, only to barrel directly into the wooden counter as Flyby leaped over his head and landed behind him.
Not missing a beat, he kept going with his retorts: “That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard, like you could’ve gone with--”
Rope Burn attempted again to catch him off guard, swinging a fist at his face but Flyby dodged it and with a single punch blasted him back and continued with what he was saying, “Hitch, Bowline, even Knot dude.”
Even though Flyby outclassed Rope Burn in pure strength, the man was relentless and attacked the hero once more--though this time more strategically.
Pushing Flyby toward the bank’s queue, he made clear mistakes in how he attacked him even yelling out some “Shut the fuck up” and “You bitch” to get the hero fired up.
When Flyby was close enough, he dropped the whole pissed act and with a calm, resounding voice said, “Gotcha.”
Before he could react, his body was being tightly wrapped up by the stanchion rope from the bank’s queue line; first his hands and feet and then the rope like slithering tentacles wormed their way up his muscular body. The teen knew he could easily break free and attempted to, but the flat rope began to travel underneath his costume and in between the two globes of ass meat on his behind. The rough texture of the rope made his sensitive jockpussy tingle with pleasure and all of a sudden, he felt weak in the knees.
Flyby groaned in pleasure and frustration, cursing to himself that “it” was happening again and in this dire situation too. Anytime anything got close to his jockpussy it was like he was swiftly being drained of energy. It was okay when he was alone in his room trying to get his rocks off, but it was getting embarrassing when it happened around his friends, family, and adversaries.
Flyby sank to his knees, arms being forced behind his back by the ropes as Rope Burn looked down, with a smirk on his lips, at the suddenly powerless hunky hero at his cruel mercy.
“Let me go you fucking pri--” Flyby demanded, but more of the rope wrapped around his mouth until he could barely speak.
“Fucking finally, I was wondering when you would shut that trap of yours the fuck up!” Rope Burn chuckled.
Of course, Rope Burn could’ve left right when he incapacitated Flyby, but feeling too cocky for his own good that he took down a physically stronger hero like Flyby, decided to boast some more.
“I guess you’re not so tough now huh?” He crouched down and leaned in close to Mason’s face, roughly grabbing at his hair to force him to look at him directly.
Although he had a fiery, grueling hate for heroes, deep to his core, he still had to admit to himself that he found this particular hero pretty hot. He was thinking to himself--now that he was examining Flyby up close and personal--that those tight, basically transparent shorts were letting every delectable inch of that bubble butt be seen.
Muttering under his breath “fuck” and subtly readjusting himself as the crotch of his costume became really tight; blood pumping into his cock making it inflate and snake down his pant leg. His thoughts swiftly strayed away from what he was going to say, while he continued to take Flyby’s physique in.
Rope Burn couldn’t help staring at his defined six-pack abs, watching as a couple beads of sweat rolled down in between the cleavage of Flyby’s muscles. He grabbed at his crotch to readjust himself again and unknowingly made the ropes around his superpowered captive constrict. As a consequence, the rope that was occasionally irritating Flyby’s hole dug deeper into the sensitive hairless pink pussy, drawing a loud moan from him.
Thankfully not everyone in the bank heard the embarrassing sound, but that didn’t mean Rope Burn was deaf to it and his trained ears picked it up instantly.
So the bitch gets off on this huh? Let’s see what we can do with this information.
Standing up straight and clearing his throat, Rope Burn began to continue off where he left, “Like what I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by this meathead here, you better remember my name or better yet--remember this!” Unzipping the front of his pants, he hauled out an angry looking cock that was the size of a Coke can and 11 inches long, Flyby couldn’t look away from Rope Burn’s red, flaring cockhead that was spewing precum like a leaky hose.
“Watch as I force your slutty hero to take my dick--but I feel like this fucking cockwhore is gonna enjoy it anyways haha!”
Rope Burn unwrapped Flyby’s mouth, revealing those pink pillowy, completely kissable lips, but Flyby refused to open them.
“Come on! Open up!” Flyby held fast, even when Rope Burn nudged with the tip of his cock and smeared precum all over his mouth. But remembering what got the hero all hot and bothered, made the rope dig deeper into his tight wet warm insides.
“AAH FUCK!” Flyby gasped loudly, only for Rope Burn to take the opportunity and slammed his cock right past Flyby’s lips.
Immediately, Flyby could taste the spicy musk and sweat that covered Rope Burn’s dick, followed by the thick tangy precum that slid down the back of his throat. He could barely breathe and his eyes started to water, but at some point when Rope Burn’s fat hog went past his tongue, his thoughts about resisting went right out of his head.
“There we go mmmm damn kid, you’re not terrible at this!” He looked back over his shoulder and seemed to shout louder. “Knew you were dick hungry from the first moment I heard your cheeks clapping!”
Gripping the back of Flyby’s head, Rope Burn was really fucking the hero’s face now. Loud audible wet sounds filled the large quiet bank, while Rope Burn continued to talk dirty to anyone listening but particularly Flyby.
“God! You honestly deserve this you fuckin’ cocktease! I mean coming in here and dressed like a total fuckin’ slut, those tight booty shorts and not even a jockstrap to cover up, I swear…oh fucking shit…I swear I could see your hungry cunt as you leaped over my head.” He complained with total arousal, not caring at all when he heard Flyby gag around his cock.
Flyby could feel Rope Burn’s dick bulging in his throat, but all he wanted was the throbbing piece of cockmeat to gush in his mouth. He needed Rope Burn to feed him cum, no matter how villainous and dirty all of this was. Even the people watching behind them at least wanted to see how this all would end.
Come on you fucking big dick asshole, cum down my hungry throat! Come on!
Knowing that he would need this evil prick to get the sense that he was really into it, he locked eyes with Rope Burn and began to push himself farther down the veiny shaft of the throat stuffer in his mouth. Then using his tongue, flicked it around the underside of Rope Burn’s dick.
Rope Burn was pleasantly surprised and pleased at how quickly Flyby turned from a protector of the weak and powerless into a feeble cum hungry bitch.
“Fucking goddamn, you almost made me blow my load fuckboy!” Rope Burn groaned, pumping his pelvis right into Flyby’s skull. Unconsciously using his ropes to fuck the hero’s hole and squeeze at his precum squirting cock. The tighter the rope squeezed Flyby’s dick, the more it fueled him to get Rope Burn off.
Mason, you've done this a thousand times to an endless number of horny thugs, it’s time to turn up the magic!
Rope Burn thrusted again and again, each thrust accompanied with a “fucking hero slut”, “hope your hole feels just as good as your mouth fuckboy” and then a borderline guttural “gonna make you choke on my loads, Fagby”.
Flyby resisted rolling his eyes and wouldn’t say it out loud, but he was curious if Rope Burn’s cum would be sweet or just as thick and musky as his dick.
Like Flyby had willed it to happen, he felt Rope Burn thrusts stop and his already rock hard cock become like steel on his tongue as a torrent of hot splooge came rushing down his throat.
SQUIRT, SQUIRT!!!
“OOOOOH FUCKING YEAH! FUCKING TAKE THIS LOAD YOU MOTHERFUCKING HERO CUMSLUT!!!” Rope Burn yelled it at the top of his lungs, letting the final word “cumslut” drag out until it became a strangled cry. He had exhausted all of his energy facefucking Flyby and he felt incredibly light headed to the point that he stumbled back. His rapidly softening cock fell out of Flyby’s mouth with a wet, cummy pop--strands of cum and spit connecting the two still.
Unfortunately for him, the rush of cum pooling in Flyby’s stomach had gave him the right amount of energy to break free from his sexually frustrating bonds and plant a walloping punch to the right side of Rope Burn’s orgasmic looking face.
Rope Burn fell to the ground in a heap, his flaccid cock splayed out on his armored stomach. Flyby stood there heroically over the villain’s unconscious body, quickly rushing over to the helpless hostages--some of them had uncomfortable erections--but Flyby ignored that and ripped off their restraints with ease.
The bank’s manager was the first one to thank him, shaking his hand wildly, “Oh thank god you saved us young man! I was sure that he was going to kill us all, but you stopped him!”
Flyby grinned and sheepishly replied, “It’s completely fine, I’m just glad that no one got hurt except for of course…”
The bank manager chuckled, shaking Flyby’s hand again but couldn’t keep his eyes off of the clear amount of cum and spit around the hero’s mouth and sliding down his chin. He tried to subtly gesture to the hero to wipe it off, but Flyby didn’t get the hint and thought that this man wanted a hug.
They hugged awkwardly, the manager’s hand brushing against Flyby’s half exposed muscle butt while his erection poked and prodded against the hero’s chiseled torso.
Flyby broke the hug and went over to the knocked out villain, while a number of the hostages watched the hero’s butt cheeks bounce up and down like jello. Flyby picked the man up by his collar and tried to shake him away, but it didn’t work and swiftly an idea that wasn’t so morally good crept into his head. He smirked and let out a chuckle at the idea.
As the cops pulled up to the bank, they rushed into the building with their guns drawn expecting to see a horrible, bloody scene and piles of paperwork in their future, but instead what was in front of them was really comical.
Rope Burn hung from the ceiling upside down and completely nude, the only thing that was still covering an inch of his body was some rope--one end tied to the ceiling and the other end tied tightly around his ballsack.
The cops and previously tied up hostages laughed for what seemed like hours, while Rope Burn angrily yelled for them to cut him down. Watching from overhead, Flyby stood on top of the bank’s roof peering down through the broken skylight. He stifled a laugh and only stopped watching, when his pocket buzzed.
Taking his phone out of his shorts, he was surprised by how late he was and cursed the fucking evil idiot for dragging the fight out. He stuffed his phone back into his shorts and took off into the sky, his body becoming a red-blue blur as he streaked across the pale blue sky. He pushed himself faster as a loud boom produced in his wake.
Back in the Alleyway
Flyby hovered over the grimey alleyway, still dark even in the mid-morning light, before finally touching down and rushing over to where he had hid his backpack.
As he reached his hand back behind the wet, rust-covered green dumpster, he realized with widened eyes that there was nothing back where he hid the backpack.
Son of a bitch, not again! He thought, before angrily ripping the domino mask off of his face. He was now back to being Mason, having gotten rid of his superhero alter ego and now back to being a seemingly normal, hunky jock.
He frantically looked around for the backpack, lifting the dumpster with one hand only to find nothing besides some disgusting, muddy water and ripped pieces of wet trash. He dropped the metal dumpster with a solid BANG!
“FUCK!” He screamed aloud, not worrying about if anyone would notice and glance down the dark corridor at him and wonder why he was wearing
END OF CH. 1
Hope you all enjoyed this chapter, leave any general comments, questions, or constructive criticism down below! If you want to talk more privately send me an email or message me on Bluesky!
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