Part 1

It was a late autumn afternoon, and Steve was home from classes at the University, watching TV and nuking a TV dinner in the microwave.

Suddenly the TV picture went static, and a menacing face took over the screen. Odd, he thought, switching channels, only to find that the face was still there. "Listen up, boys and girls of the U.S.", the face said in a harsh, military tone. "This here is Commander Carnage, your new Commander-in Chief! Or at least, I will be after 24 hours."

The camera pulled back to reveal a helmeted, tightly clipped military man who looked like he had spent too much time in "Full Metal Jacket." He indicated with his rider whip the map of the U.S. that he stood in front of in camera view.

"We have taken a missile silo somewhere in the United States and will be firing it in exactly 48 hours at Washington, D.C. Now, considering that there are plenty of missile silos in this country, thanks to the Cold War, and that the goverment has no way of digging them up that quickly, it's unlikely you'll ever find us, and the Washington Monument will be glowing rubble by then. So you had better listen to our demands."

Steve sat in front of the TV now, concentrating. "We want complete surrender of the government and all of its offices", the Commander read off of his list that was probably being teleprompted to him. "We want the surrender of all military, state and federal forces to our command, and we want you to know that we are serious about our threat to destroy as many people as is necessary to lead this country." Turning around to an LED panel before him, the Commander pushed a button as the timer read 48:00:00 and then started slowly counting down.

"America, you have 48 hours. If you're smart, you'll do what we say."

Putting down his TV dinner, Steve ran to his bedroom and threw open his closet doors. Inside hung his costume as he reached forward to get ready.

Commander Carnage had been military brass since Vietnam, and had risen up through the ranks of the Pentagon during the Reagan-military buildup years. He was always for having as many nukes as possible, and using them whenever possible, but cooler heads prevailed in Washington and he was always finding his ultramilitary rantings ignored by administration officials.

Steve reached for his electric blue spandex tights, and started stretching them over his left leg. The tights were the shiniest blue spandex he had, and they were tight enough that he had to slide them up his leg. "Superheroes always put their tights on one leg at a time, just like everyone else", he thought to himself.

Since the Cold War ended, Commander Carnage had been a victim of the Pentagon cutbacks as the military scaled back their forces like never before. Being used to the military taking care of his life and suddenly being out of work drove him to the brink of insanity, as he joined one of the local wigged-out militias whose answers to the world's problems involved guns, weapons, and shooting anyone that disagreed with them. He recruited many of his old buddies and cadets that had been under him before.

Steve pulled the waistband of his tights up and let it snap onto his waist. Just tight enough, he thought. Next, the leotards. He slid one leg, then the other, into the leg holes at the botton and stretched the tight blue, stretchy fabric over his torso and up to his right shoulder. Reaching in with his right hand, he stretched the lycra fabric over his arm and stretched the leotard over his other shoulder. Looking in the mirror, his body was so far encased in electric blue lycra, shiny enough to reflect off of any light in the room.

Commander Carnage had tried a number of times before to inflict his militarily impaired, napalm-scented demands a few times before, once threatening to blow up the Statue of Liberty, the other trying to kidnap the President. Both times SuperTights had flown in, and foiled the Commander's evil plans. The Commander had sworn revenge on SuperTights, and that the next time they crossed, he would pay for his meddling.

Next came the royal blue spandex trunks, as Steve pulled them up his legs, and over the panty area of his leotards. They were just tight enough to be fitting for a superhero, but loose enough that they didn't show his religion. Next, he put on the royal blue boots, one on the left foot, then the right foot. Standing up, he pulled his royal blue satin cape from the closet, as it flowed majestically out. Tying in around his neck and tucking it into the top of his leotards by the shoulders and the neckline. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, respeldent in his spandex, he boomed, "I am SuperTights!"

There was a flash, and suddenly he was transformed into a muscle-bound hero, filling out his spandex as never before and making it twice as tight. He turned around and viewed himself in the mirror, his muscles and biceps flexing and rippling under his leotards and tights. "Now we are ready", he said, as he rose up into the air and sailed out the window up into the afternoon sky.

SuperTights scanned the sky. He had been flying around for about an hour now, and time was of the essence, since there were only 47 or so hours left before Carnage fired off that missile. Now, if I were a missile silo that Commander Carnage wanted, where would I hide?

Probably somewhere where I didn't think the Feds could find me easily, but somewhere close enough that if a missile was fired, they couldn't shoot it down in time. That would put me somewhere in Maryland, Virginia, or New York, somewhere on the East Coast. There's no way he's going to send the missile from Montana, it's too far and could easily be intercepted.

Virginia! SuperTights then remembered that Carnage had tried to lay siege to the CIA headquarters in Langley earlier this year, and had almost won with the help of his superpowered henchmen, before SuperTights and a few other heroes had fought them off. He must have a keep out there. They had never found the base that Carnage had operated from during that invasion, and chances are that was where the missile was.

Flying down, SuperTights headed straight for Virginia, the clouds whisking by.

It hadn't been that hard to find Commander Carnage's base if you knew him all that well, but now the tricky part was getting in. There was a contingent of guards standing outside the missile silo barracks. The silo itself would have to be underground, as most of them were. SuperTights studied them from the camoflauge of the treeline, standing on one of the branches. Looking down, he saw the military camoflauge truck that they had come over in. Concentrating, SuperTights made the vehicle rise up slightly into the air and slowly move away from the barrack entrance. When the soldiers saw that the truck was driving away from them, some of them started chasing after it as SuperTights made the vehicle go faster into the treeline.

Jumping off of the tree branch, SuperTights leapt into the air, and flying past the two other guards, broke a hole into the steel door at the barracks' entrance and flew down the passageway. The guards were knocked off of their feet and by the time they got back up, he was long gone.

SuperTights flew down the hallway at blazing speed, making turns in the underground passageway as quicky as he could without crashing into one of the walls. A few times he had encountered soldiers in the hallway, but they hadn't expected him, and he had knocked them over before they knew what hit them.

Hovering to a stop, he reached a large steel door that had a numeric keypad on the wall next to it. He had tried to crack one of these before, but it had taken hours before he got the door open. Hell with it, he thought, and punched through the steel door, stepping inside.

Across the vast expanse of the underground room that he stood in were Commander Carnage himself, with a bunch of his camoflauge-clad henchmen behind him, glaring at our hero. "I've found you, Carnage!", SuperTights bellowed, his lycra-arms folded across his chest.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, we've been expecting you.", the Commander said calmly, his riding crop meeting his other hand in a clap. "May I introduce to you, SuperTights, the one person who every superhero fears more than anyone else. Allow me to introduce... The Torturess."

SuperTights had heard of the Torturess before, but had never met her. She was not someone you wanted to meet if you were a lycra-clad hero, as she knew every technique to break a hero in spandex. Supervillans hired her out for vast sums of money to subjugate and conquer various superheroes and superheroines, and she had defeated them all, becoming more merciless with each superpowered victim she was unleased upon.

She stepped out from behind Commander Carnage's rogues, and SuperTights felt a shudder go through his spine as he saw her for the first time. He had been described to her in whispers by dying heroes and had seen a grainy photo of her once, but none of that prepared him for this.

The Torturess stood about six and a half feet tall, wearing a black unitard on her that accented and heightened all of her features. She looked like she could easily overpower most men she encountered, and that was if she wasn't superpowered, which he had heard she was. She wore a black leather mask on her face with her jet-black hair in a ponytail out the back, and he could see that her mask formed a smirk towards him as she licked her lips. On her chest was the infamous emblem of a chain crossed with a lash that many heroes, stories had it, was the last thing some of them saw. From her belt hung a number of tools, handcuffs, and other instruments of torture that he decided he really didn't want to know what they were for.

"So this is the mighty SuperTights", she said, bemused. "My, such a musclebound hero we are. Here to save the day.", she cooed, mockingly.

It was then that SuperTights decided that he may want to get the hell out and go back the way he came to think about this. But as he rose in the air to make a hasty retreat, she lashed across the room with her whip, wrapping around his boots and knocking him to the floor.

"Leaving so soon? I don't think so, tights-boy!", she laughed, throwing her head back. "We haven't even gotten started."

With that she flung a huge wave through her whip, knocking SuperTights into one of the walls and tearing a huge hole into it as chunks of stone and plaster flew across the room. With another flick of the wrist and another wave that flew inexorably towards him, she threw him across the room to the other wall, raising another cloud of plaster and stone. She pulled him back to the center of the room, where she slammed him to the floor, her whip releasing from his legs and coiling back to her hand.

"That was the first lesson in manners, hero in tights", she said as he gasped for breath on the floor. "You will learn many more, until you become my complete slave", she commanded haughtily.

"NEVER!", SuperTights managed to muster his breath as he gasped on the floor before her. She stood out into a strut, and let her lash fly again.

It was then that SuperTights realized that the Torturess had telekinesis too, for there was no way she could have gotten the whip to thread through the back of his leotards, between his legs, and wrap around again. As soon as he realized what she was doing, she pulled back the whip and suddenly the back of his leotards was pulled taut, forming a thong that ran from between his legs to his waist, as he reeled from the pain and humiliation.

"You superheroes never learn!", she laughed. "You're still wearing leotards and tights, even though I can torment you endlessly just by making a thong leotard out of your costume." She pulled with both arms now as she slowly reeled in SuperTights, laying helpless on the floor in agony as the thong drove further into him, his arms flailing. "It's no use, tights-boy", she mocked. "You have been overpowered and captured."

Pulling him into the group across the floor, The Torturess directed the camoflauge-clad military men in what to do. Pulling the handcuffs off of her belt, she commanded, "Put these on his hands". SuperTights struggled, but she tightened the thong in his leotards and he gasped, panting for breath. "I know you have a special weakness in your leotards", she said to him. "That's why I decided to subdue you using that, nothing more. I could have used much more... persuasive methods, but those will come later."

"Now put these on his legs", she said, handing them to another henchman, as manacles were clapped onto SuperTights' legs. "Now, all together, men!", she said as they raised his arms and legs into the air. She ran a chain through the handcuffs and manacles and pulled it taut, making his back arch. Then she clapped the lock onto the back and stood up, looking at her triumph.

Supertights struggled heroically in his bonds. "That's hardened neotronium steel", she said tauntingly at him. "Costs about $5 million dollars just for the bonds you're wearing right now. Expensive, but you'll never break it." "And now, Supertights, you are MINE!", she laughed, throwing her head back in a villanous laugh.

It was then that he felt the cold, shiny boot belonging to Cmdr. Carnage slam into his head, knocking him out.

Part II:

To review:

When last we saw our hero, SuperTights had flown to the rescue to try to stop his arch-enemy Commander Carnage, who had taken over a missile silo and was threatening to fire it at Washington if they did not give in to his demands. SuperTights had found the hidden base, only to be captured by the Commander and the Torturess, a supervillaness who specializes in tormenting and disposing of superheroes who try to oppose evil. There are less than forty-eight hours before the missile is fired at the capitol, and right now our hero is in no position to stop it . . .

SuperTights woke up groggily, his head throbbing from the knockout blow he had received from the foot of the Commander. It was then that he saw the lights on the ceiling, at eye level, and knew that something was not right.

He was suspended from the ceiling in a room about forty feet high, presumably one of the underground bunker rooms in the missile silo. A steel cable ran from the ceiling that held him in the air, and was run through his leotards, forming a painful thong up his rear. 1-inch thick rope was tied around his boots at the ankles and up his legs, and was anchored to the floor thirty feet down. He looked at his predicament and a shudder went through his spine. Oh shit, she knows, he thought.

"As you can see, we've hoisted you by your leotards, SuperTights", a voice from below said matter-of-factly. Commander Carnage, in his full dress uniform, was there with his two military attaches, sitting at a table looking like they were at a military tribunal. "The Torturess told me your secret, that you can't use your powers if we pull your leotard into a thong. How ironic", the Commander smirked, "that the very spandex that you draw your powers from is also your greatest weakness and our first utter defeat over you."

Normally SuperTights had a quick retort for situations like these, but he was at a loss for words at his predicament. He had never been this easily defeated and had his weakness exposed like this, and now he was at the mercy of The Torturess, who had researched all of his vulnerabilities.

The Commander continued, "So I thought I'd have some fun and revenge with you before I turn you over to the Torturess", looking over to where she stood, her hands on her hips, smirking at our hero, "After this, you're all hers."

"My men have been restless since they were scaled back from the forces a few years ago", the Commander said casually. "I try to keep them in shape, but I can never find the time, especially since you've always been foiling my plans to get somewhere and turn this country around. So I thought I'd give them a bit of exercise today and get my revenge for all the times you've stopped me from carrying out my plans. We're going to have a... rope climb."

Standing next to the Commander's table were his group of camoflauge-clad men, all of them heavily muscled, looking like they could each knock out Mike Tyson. SuperTights had tangled with them before and was able to defeat them easily with his superpowers, but now he shuddered at the sight of them.

The first one walked up to where the rope was anchored into the floor, and, jumping into the air, grabbed on to the rope with both hands and pulled with all his strength. SuperTights writhed as the leotards drew into an even tighter thong. This guy must weigh three hundred pounds, he thought, as the soldier, laughing, climbed up the rope, pulling down harder with each arm-over-arm move. Finally he reached the end of the rope that was tied several times over SuperTights' blue boots and tights-covered legs, and jerked downward with all his might, making SuperTights scream in pain.

"Very good, soldier. Next!", the Commander said satisfyingly as the line of his men stood on the ground looking up at the helpless hero. The soldier climbed back down the rope to let the next one jump up and climb the rope, as SuperTights gasped for breath.

"You know, SuperTights, if I ever caught any of my men wearing leotards, I'd probably have to shoot them on sight", Commander Carnage said contemptuously, "But for some reason, just because you have superpowers, the world thinks it's OK for you to go prancing around in whatever ballerina costume you feel like. And your tights", he said, looking up at the suspended superhero, "are simply too tight for any self-respecting man to be caught dead in, much the less flying around in."

"That's why they call me SuperTights!", our hero responded before crying out in pain from the next soldier who had just made it to his boots and was repeating the first one's hard downward motion.

If only the leotard would break, he thought to himself, then I'd be free and could use my powers again, and they couldn't do this to me. Unfortunately, he knew that he was wearing his superhero spandex, which was pretty much unbreakable, and the Torturess knew that if she had engineered this stunt. So no matter how much force they pulled down with, the leotard would hold, driving the painful thong further up, now four inches above his waistline.

"Only seven more men to go, SuperTights!", Commander Carnage said gleefully, enjoying his revenge and humiliation of his arch-enemy. "In about forty-one hours, we fire on Washington. You see, they aren't being very reasonable and think they can find me and this missile base before I can launch it. They even had the gall to evacuate Washington to try to take away my victory!", he said angrily. "But they weren't very smart. I know the secret fallout shelter they're hiding out, and soon after the missile strikes, my men in the shelters will take out any resistance. Then nothing can stop me!", he said, laughing in the contractually required way supervillans have to.

The next soldier went up in his turn of SuperTights' torture, pulling left and right alternately as he climbed up the rope and spun down, yanking down once he landed. The steel cable anchored in the ceiling shuddered and pulled harder, making the hero's cry go up another notch.

"But I'm just getting to the good part", the Commander said. "In forty hours or so, you're going to be tied up and chained to the missile", he said, smiling. "So the very spandex-hero that tried to save Washington will be coming in on the missile that will obliterate it! It's got a certain amount of poetic justice to it, I'd say", the Commander reflected.

By now there were three men left, as SuperTights felt himself getting faint from the pain and the humiliation. He had been captured and tortured before, but the pain was overwhelming, and he knew this was only the warmup for The Torturess. The last hero that he had known that had actually survived her torture chamber was in a wheelchair, and had said that she was completely without mercy.

"For the next forty hours, you are all hers", the Commander said, indicating to The Torturess. "I hope she makes you pay dearly, SuperTights. For my money, I'd say she probably will."

"That is all", the Commander said in a final, clipped military tone and walked from the table, turning his back on the helpless superhero screaming in agony. "You'll never get away with this!", SuperTights yelled hoarsely at the top of his lungs. Commander Carnage stopped for a moment, smirked, and walked on in his tight military march.

* * *

Oh no! Will SuperTights survive the Torturess' chamber? Will she torment our spandex-clad hero mercilessly? Will our hero ever escape from this predicament?

Part III: Belts and Hoses

To review:

In our last episode, SuperTights was captured by the evil Torturess, who was hired by the maniacal and militaristic super-villan, Commander Carnage, to finally destroy his spandex-clad nemesis, once and for all. SuperTights had been humiliated by Commander Carnage and his men in the last episode as they hoisted him by his leotards and proceeded to torment him. But, as his enemy had told him already, the torture was only about to begin.

After that particular ordeal, SuperTights has been taken down to the basement of the missile base, where The Torturess has converted the entire underground level into her own personal torture chamber just for our hero in spandex. Not only that, but there are less than 48 hours left before the missile base launches its dormant MX missile aimed straight for the Pentagon and the rest of Washington, D.C. (Not that it wouldn't be a fitting payback to Sen. Exon, but hey, the Lincoln Memorial is there.)

SuperTights, being a noble hero in lycra leotards, is determined still to stop the missile and save the free world, but the Torturess has broken heroes much stronger than he . . .

The lights were out. All he could hear was a drip, drip, drip in the background as he couldn't see a thing. It felt like there was something in his mouth, and he squirmed around where he lay to try to figure out what was going on. Last he remembered, he had passed out after being hoisted and thonged by his leotards, and now he was in a cold, damp place. Moving around, he felt a strange sensation in his crotch, but he knew not what it was.

"So finally our mighty hero awakens", a voice said mockingly from the dark as he tried to turn his head, but found that his neck was restrained in some way. "Don't try to move, you'll squirm and writhe plenty enough in good time", the Torturess said with a laugh. "You know, before I start, I should tell you about how much I enjoy torturing heroes in lycra like yourself. Carnage paid me quite a bit, but I would have done this for free, for the chance to torture the great SuperTights in his lycra costume!"

"Then again, I'm the best. When a superhero needs to be put in his place, enslaved, or destroyed, I've done them all.", she said, regaining her usual haughtiness. "But enough about me. This session is all about you."

There was a flick of a switch, and then a sudden THUNK of bright lights turning on from the ceiling. The light was so bright he couldn't see momentarily, and when his eyes stopped blinking and came into focus, he could only see the ceiling. He gasped, looking at the mirror on there that reflected back at him just what the Torturess had done to him already.

He had been bound in a lycra straigtjacket, complete with a thong back that went down in between his legs and mercilessly up between his butt cheeks. >From what it felt like, the tight thong went all the way up to his waist. Bound in the shiny, clinical-white lycra straitjacket, his arms were completely immobilized. He squirmed around momentarily in it but it only proceeded to drive the thong between his buttocks even tighter. His feet were bound around his boots by what seemed to be a bright yellow solid spandex uni-sock. The thing that he felt in his mouth was a knot of neon green spandex that had been tied as a gag wrapped around his head. He looked up in the mirror in disbelief that the Torturess could only make this kind of a spectacle of him so easily, and so quickly.

The Torturess, noticing his stunned expression, smiled. "Don't worry, this is just the warm-up. We're just getting started."

Trying to get used to the harsh light and get over the grogginess, he turned his head to the side and realized that the table he was bound down to was covered in shiny red lycra, bright red as blood. Three-inch thick straps of black spandex tied him down at the waist, the ankles and by his neck. His cape, still around his neck, was draped down behind his head, tied around a small post.

"You're probabably worring your tights off about what I'm going to do to you", she said, her sultry voice mocking as she looked down upon the helpless hero. "And you're not going to be able to resist any of my tortures anyway, so I'm going to tell you what you're in for."

Bound in his lycra bonds and muffled by his spandex gag, all SuperTights could do was make a small gulping sound.

"Most of you superheroes that prance around in your spandex are actually lycra fetishists. You don't like to admit to it, but most of you are. The very sight of someone else wearing tights turns you on, and wearing them yourself is ecstasy. It's such a state of ecstasy that you're able to bring your mind into a new state of being, one which gives you powers beyond any normal human. Am I right?", she said, her eyes questioning.

SuperTights nervously nodded his head. She knows, he thought to himself, she knows the secret of my superpowers. Oh crap, he thought, she knows everything about me.

"Well, at least you own up to it", the Torturess replied. "After all, it's pretty obvious that you're standing at attention just from being lycra-bound." SuperTights looked up at the reflection of himself in the ceiling and saw that aside from being totally helpless and in spandex bondage, he was severely aroused. He blushed; the Torturess smirked and said, "It's not exactly like you can hide that in those tights of yours."

"But that same lycra-power that makes you what you are can also destroy you. If your state of ecstasy is too high, the same forces that give you your superpowers can also inflict sheer agony if the conditions are right. This is how I break most of the proud, supposedly 'invincible' spandex superheroes. And this is where I come in. It's what I do.", she said proudly.

She held up two objects up in front of the bound hero for him to see. "This", she said, pointing to something that looked vaguely like a dance belt, "This is an invention of my very own design. It's a torture-belt. I modified it from a dance belt when I captured and enslaved the Ballet Hero on his own stage. It's similar to the standard lycra dance belts, only much tighter and less forgiving, and it has a few added features", she said, smirking. "You're wearing one of my latest models underneath your tights."

She pushed a button on the other object in the other hand, a small black box that had a glowing light on it. It was then that SuperTights realized what the strange sensation in his crotch was earlier as the machinery over his cock throbbed rythmically. NO!, he thought as he threw his head back in mute, wide-eyed disbelief as the torture-belt rythmically teased him.

"That's the first one. Now the second", the Torturess continued, pushing the other lit button on her small black box.

Suddenly a throbbing sensation started in his buttocks. He wanted to scream out loud, but the gag in his mouth kept him mute as all he could do was give a muffled "MMMMMMPH!" The butt plug pulsed into him mercilessly as he wriggled madly on the spandex-wrapped torture table.

The Torturess threw her head back in an evil laugh as she watched the hapless SuperTights squirm in his bonds. The butt plug was as relentless as the cock teaser was cruel; Both played with the mighty hero as he was powerless to do anything but moan through his spandex gag. He marveled up at his reflection to think that someone could subdue him like no other villan had been able to; He had been put into deathtraps and tortured before, but never like this.

"The level that I have set the torture-belt is at the lowest setting", the Torturess said with the tone of an elevator operator. "It will tease and titillate you for as long as I wish it, but never give you any satisfaction unless I command. And right now, I think I'm going to take a long break", she said, heading for the cell door.

No, don't go, SuperTights thought to himself, I can't take this. He moaned softly as the torture-belt mechanically and relentlessly toyed with him.

"By the way", the Torturess said, "I'll leave the control box here while I'm off to freshen up", she said, teasingly. She set it on a table near the door and slammed the steel door shut, leaving SuperTights in his solitary torment.

For what seemed like hours, the lycra-clad hero writhed on the table in his bonds, trying to escape or outmanouver the merciless way that her instrument of torture played with him. But the more he writhed, the tighter the white lycra straightjacket became and the tighter the thong drew. He looked up in the mirror at the helpless reflection of himself again and wondered how he was ever going to resist the Torturess' cruel methods of persuasion, thinking of past heroes that had been subdued by her.

Finally, when he could take it no more and was begging the damn machinery to finally give him release and some satisfaction instead of the teasing, she came back into the room and stood over the helpless SuperTights. "Enjoying yourself?", she said, smirking at him through her leather mask. "Or perhaps my little torture-belt you're wearing is frustrating you. Is that right?", she said innocently as SuperTights weakly nodded his head.

She sat straddled her log legs over the table that he was bound to, sitting down right on top of his legs. "And you think I'm going to give you the satisfaction that I didn't allow my torture instruments to do", she said, grinning. She raised a leather-gloved hand and placed the fingers right on his spandex-clad cock. With a gentle caressing motion she moved her fingers expertly over his bulge in his spandex trunks, teasing him even more than the machinery had. Suddenly, she went in for the kill, making him throb uncontrollably as he climaxed, making a long, muffled cry from under his spandex gag. His back arched in both pain and ecstacy as he bit down hard upon the spandex ball gag in his mouth; The Torturess made her chuckling laugh and started moving her fingers faster, more rythmically, as SuperTights was made fully aware that he was helpless in the hands of an expert. His manacled fists clenched as tightly as they could as spasms racked his body, all of him both begging to stop and begging for more. She was going in for the kill, and she would not stop until he fully surrendered.

Finally, an eternity later, she stopped and stood back up, getting back up off of his legs and straigtening her leather villaness costume. Just as our mighty spandex hero was catching his breath, she clicked the small control box up, and his back arched again in protesting agony. "Now that we've gotten warmed up", she began, "Now we'll show you what this torture-belt can really do."

Oh no, he thought to himself. She plucked the gag out of his mouth and threw it casually to the floor, "We won't be needing this any more", she said. "I want to hear your screams."

"You'll never get away with this!", SuperTights said defiantly as soon as his throat was moist enough to say something.

"Really, SuperTights", the Torturess said condescendingly to him, "Who writes your dialogue? It sounds like it's all stolen from old 60's 'Batman' reruns."

Once again she straddled the mighty hero's legs, sitting right in front of his crotch, as she playfully ran her finger up and down the lycra on his stomach, up to his breast where his proud emblem was printed on his leotard, and back down to the cruel apparatus that had teased him for the last few hours. She pulled and tugged at it for a second, and suddenly it was on even tighter than ever, further invading between his cheeks.

"Now", the Torturess began in a businesslike manner, "It's time for your enslavement to begin. I'm supposed to break you in the next 41 hours, and before we're done with this session you will call me your mistress that has total power over you", moving to her sultry voice.

"NEVER! This hero grovels for no one!", SuperTights said, trying to sound haughty and heroic, but already his voice quavering. He managed to steady his voice and utter, "I'll die in my tights first!"

"Oh no, that's not until later, my dear SuperTights", the Torturess cooed. "We have to do things one step at a time", she said, flipping on the box as the torture-belt started throbbing rythmically at his crotch as she stood back up, amused as he cried out in his torment, smirking at the helpless superhero bound and subdued for her work.... no, this wasn't work, this was entertainment. The mighty SuperTights had been one of the few heroes she hadn't been able to catch before, and Commander Carnage had nearly driven himself insane with frustration that this lycra-clad hero had beaten him so many times. This was payback for his superheroic meddling, and she was elated.

"The highest setting on this Torture-belt is 11.", the Torturess said casually, (noting that 'it goes to 11') "And right now it's at 9. That means you will climax every 60 seconds or so and then it will start again, methodically throbbing until you do it again and once again. Still don't want to surrender right now and concede that I am your mistress that has defeated you?"

"I'd rather be tortured until I die!", he managed to get out before his fists clenched in protesting agony as the torture-belt throbbed relentlessly and made him arch his back as he screamed at his unreleting climax.

"That's one", the Torturess remarked, keeping count. "I'll just go off and freshen up while you're obviously preoccupied. I'll be back in 20 minutes."

"NO!", SuperTights protested. "Don't go! I can't take that many rounds with this damn torture-belt!", he said, caving in after being weakened by the last climax.

"No, I think you need some time alone with my little persuader", she said with an amused chuckle in her voice. "It will teach you the true meaning of your bondage, that even a mighty hero that is afraid of no one can be as helpless as a baby. That, and I have to go have some lunch", she said, licking her lips. "See you in 20!"

By the time she had finished saying this, SuperTights was already screaming in unbridled torment as the damn machine did it to him again. "Just sit tight", she called from the hallway. "Oh, that's right, you heroes in tights always sit tight. Enjoy!"

The sound of her chuckling to his agonizing scream filled the hallway.

The next few times were rough, as he was already tired and not used to the tricks that the butt plug and the teaser were doing to him. He would try to writhe in his bonds on the table, trying to react and outmanouver them with his hips, but it was no use. They would always keep finding his sexual hot stops, and they kept assaulting them with mechanical precision.

After that, the next several were mind-numbing. He stopped trying to wriggle in his bondage, especially since it was only driving the straightjacket's thong even further. He tried to keep from screaming, but each time the sensation would overcome him and he would cry out anew in his pain, knowing that the Torturess was probably watching this on a video monitor while sipping her coffee. So this is why there are so many broken heroes, he thought, resisting and then surrendering to another merciless performance by her evil invention.

By the time that she had come back, he had already begged the camera two or three times for mercy and had gone dry a few times ago. He knew that she was watching his torment, but she still did not return for what seemed like a complete eternity later.

"Well, it looks like the mighty hero in lycra-spandex has had a bit of an stimulation overload!", she declared mockingly. "And who is your Mistress and dark villaness that has total power over you, that you are only her slave?"

"Don't answer that just yet", she interrupted as he began trying to speak. "Not before I unleash the full barrage of what this belt can do to you."

"NO!", SuperTights exclaimed, "I'll surrender to you! I can't take this any more", he cried desperately, "You've won, why do you have to keep doing this to me?", he pleaded.

"Because life's a bitch", she said, turning the dial from 9 to 10 as his screams rang off of the walls anew and the throbbing was relentless and mechanically unforgiving.

Finally it stopped, an agonizing eternity later, as he tried desparately to catch his breath. "You were going to say something to me, superhero?"

"I concede defeat to you, my evil mistress, who has captured and dominated me in my spandex", he said weakly, almost whimpering.

"And?", she said, momentarily turning on the belt as it throbbed anew.

"And I beg for your mercy, as you have total power over me", he said, knowing her favorite phrase. He had sat bedside with broken superheroes in the hospital who could only mutter that phrase again and again, never saying anything else.

"Welcome to your enslavement", she said in a matter-of-fact tone, looking like she was finally going to give him the sweet, cool rest that he longed for.

It was then that she turned on the torture-belt with her box again and set it to maximum, at 11. "Wait!", SuperTights protested as his body tensed up, "I did what you wanted! Why are you doing this to me? Why!? AAAH!", He cried as the Torture-belt went into a frenzy, making him writhe.

"Just to show you who's boss", she said casually, standing over him.

It was then that he blacked out, as the overhead lights faded and the tormented lycra-clad figure in the ceiling mirror stopped moving.

Part IV: The Spandex Cocoon

To review:

In our last episode, SuperTights, our spandex-clad hero, was tortured by the Torturess, a Supervillaness who delights in destroying superheroes, usually at the hire of their arch-enemies, in this case it was SuperTights' evil nemesis, Commander Carnage, who has made a nuclear bid for world terrorism.

The Torturess, being an authority on how to torment heroes in tights, made our hero wear a torture-belt, a twisted combination of a ballet dance belt, vibrator, and butt plug. After binding our hero in a lycra straightjacket and torturing him for hours, SuperTights was had no choice but to admit:

"I concede defeat to you, my evil mistress, who has captured and dominated me in my spandex", he said weakly, almost whimpering.

"Welcome to your enslavement", she said.

Still SuperTights holds out hope that he can escape his tormentor's grasp and save the day, but he fears that the Torturess is only getting started . . .

He awoke with a start, and his vision was blurry as he tried to blink his eyes and focus on the shapes in front of him. There were voices that he could hear, and he felt numb, like he couldn't move.

Finally his eyes focused in and he saw two familiar figures standing in front of him, and his heart surged with hope.

"Lycraman! Spandex Woman! I've been rescued! Thank God! I was beginning to think the Torturess really had me.. I can't tell you how glad I am to see you!"

Lycraman stood before him in his red tights and leotards, a heavily built football-player type that could barely find a spandex costume to fit into. They had both known each other for a long time, and had fought evil many times before. SuperTights really liked the burly Lycraman, even though he was at times somewhat slow.

Spandex Woman was to his right, clad in her hot pink tights and leotards, the tightest one he had ever seen. She wore incredibly tight bright red lycra trunks over her outfit, and had a short cape made of near-brilliant shiny yellow spandex. SuperTights had always gotten an erection when he saw her, but most heroes did, and that's why she usually replied, "Is that a rabbit in your leotards or are you just happy to see me?"

Just when his head started to clear up, SuperTights blinked and saw the two of them standing in front of him again, and suddenly, in a flash, the Torturess was standing between them. He gasped, crying, "Look out-- she's--", but that was all he could say before he reeled in shock at both of them kneeling, heads down, before the evil villaness as she smugly crossed her arms.

"Lycraman and Spandex Woman are my slaves now", the Torturess laughed and smiled at the hero. "And they're here to assist in the next stage of your spandex torment!". It was then that SuperTights looked down at himself and realized that he was chained tightly to the wall, by the arms, legs, and neck and standing on a small platform sticking up from the floor. "What... how..." was all he could say as his joy of appearently escaping had evaporated and realized that he was still under the cruel fist of his mistress.

"I captured and enslaved both of them about six months ago", the Torturess began casually as both of the kneeling figures stayed subdued. "They were trying to stop me from capturing and torturing more heroes, and they got captured and tortured themselves. And all that spandex made it all the more fun! Although not as much fun as torturing you, SuperTights!", she said with a smirk.

"Anyway, after enough time in my fiendish lycra sacks, and after being humiliated enough, they agreed to be my evil sidekicks and aid me in my quest to eradicate every hero that dares put on a pair of tights. And that's what they're here to do to you, SuperTights!"

The mighty hero felt a sinking feeling beneath his leotards as he realized that he was just as trapped as ever. "These both are my friends, and they wouldn't dare assist you in your fiendish plans!", he managed to muster up, ever playing the defiant hero.

"Oh no?", the Torturess said, taking it as a personal dare. "Spandex Woman, go over to our helpless fool and tease him without mercy", she commanded as Spandex Woman stood up, and stepping up to the bound SuperTights held helpless on the wall, started teasing his superheroic bulge just as the Torturess had done the last time. With his arms, legs, neck and waist bound to the wall by metal manacles, he couldn't even writhe helplessly as he began to softly moan. "Feel yourself losing your control and your powers, my dear SuperTights?" Spandex Woman said as she cast her powerful gaze into his pleading eyes. "Every time we make you climax in your spandex, you lose a little more of your self-will. Soon you will be like us, a slave to the powerful Torturess, and only then will you get any relief or peace!"

"Noooo!", SuperTights cried, nearing his limit as he began to lose his control.

Suddenly, she stopped, as SuperTights grasped for his breath, trying to come back from being brought so close. "Excellent, Spandex Woman", the Torturess proclaimed, "You teased him far enough that he lost some of his control over his powers, but not enough that we can't have more fun with him now!"

"I only live to serve the Torturess!", Spandex Woman said as she stood down from the platform where SuperTights was held captive, returning to a kneeling position before the diabolical villaness.

"Now I'll show you how this next round works, my dear lycra-clad heroic fool", the Torturess said, motioning to the vast expanse of the room they were in, which was the size of your average indoor gym. She motioned to a table on the other end of the room, which had a small black box on it. "See that control box on the other end of the room, 150 feet away? That's the off switch for your torture-belt. Reach it and you can deactivate it, and escape."

"What's the catch?", SuperTights said, pausing.

"These two will make it difficult for you", The Torturess grinned evilly, showing a frighteningly bright white smile from beneath her leather mask.

Without another word, suddenly the manacles holding SuperTights to the wall released. He flew into the air with a sharp, rising attack as his cape fluttered from behind his shoulders. Nothing was going to stop him from getting to that box as his arms were poised forward.

It was then that he fell to the ground, stunned as he suddenly realized he was tied by a long cable at the knees, just above his superhero boots. He fell just a few feet short of the table, reaching out in grasping desparation for the box sitting quietly on the table, as the torture-belt kicked in. He threw his head back in agony as the teasing to his crotch began, throbbing rythmically as he fought to maintain control.

"Nice try, SuperTights!", Lycraman said with a deep, throaty voice as he pulled on the cable, starting to drag the hero backwards. Our hero tried desparately to fly towards the table and grab the control box, but the strength of Lycraman pulled him like a fish backwards as he flopped around, trying to outmanouver the infernal contraption that throbbed beneath his tights.

When he was dragged, panting, back to where Lycraman and Spandex Woman stood, he was lying on the floor before their brightly colored superhero boots. "You lost this round", Lycraman said matter-of-factly as they both smirked at him. "And that means you get the sack", Spandex Woman continued.

She held up a bright, neon-pink lycra sack that looked like he could barely fit into it, and started pulling it up around his ankles and past his waist. "But-- wait--", he tried to say, still disoriented from the torture-belt. "No buts!", Spandex Woman said as she pulled it above his head. "Now comes the true punishment of being a superhero!", she said closing the zipper.

Suddenly the lycra sack, which they had loosely wrapped him in, tightened to incredible snugness as he gasped. His arms, legs, and head were all suddenly visible as he felt the neon pink lycra fibers contracting around his body. "It's auto-tightening spandex", the Torturess said as he realized to his horror that the tightness, added to his already ultratight spandex costume, was driving him over the edge of his control. "You won't be able to resist its power, SuperTights, so get ready to suffer!"

He writhed at their feet as they stood over him, laughing. The torture-belt had been going the whole time, and the added incredible tightness of the lycra sack was driving him insane as he clenched his blue spandex-clad gloves. The sack continued to tighten over him closer than a vaccuum-packed ham, and the sensation of the lycra upon his spandex costume with the tightness holding in his tight costume made him cry out in sensory overload. Crying out in ecstasy, he climaxed, and instead of coming down from it, went further up into the next one, and the next one, his voice crying in a higher pitch each time. He Begged for mercy as the three figures he could barely make out from beneath the pink lycra sack laughed at him. Finally he cried out when it was too much, and blacked out completely.

It was a few hours later before he came to, when he realized that he was bound and gagged in a chair, sitting right in front of the platform he had been on before. He struggled with his bonds that held his arms and legs to this chair, which seemed to be made of an orange cloth. To his dismay, he couldn't break his bonds. Far in front of him, the same 150 feet, was that cursed control box that was his key to freedom.

Looking around, he didn't see anyone. Using his powers of flight, he lifted himself, tied up in the chair, a few feet forward and landed the chair. It was getting harder and harder to use his powers the more they tortured him; he could tell that if they had their way he would be utterly powerless by the time Carnage lauched that missile. Trying to keep focused, he thought of all the lives he must save by keeping focussed enough to escape. Each time the chair jumped forward by a few feet, until finally he made it to the table where the control box was. He sat in front of it, still bound and gagged in the chair, as he thought about what to do next.

"Very impressive, SuperTights, but you still LOSE!", Spandex Woman said as she snatched the control box in front of him, kicking his chair over so that he was on his back. "Yes, we were watching you the whole time, and there's no escape from the grasp of the Torturess!", Lycraman came over and chimed in. To his horror, Lycraman reached down with a red lycra-clad glove and started rubbing his protesting cock up and down, his huge hand larger than SuperTights' entire package. "MMMMMPPFH!!" was all that SuperTights could scream as his tormentor took the other hand and started massaging his incredibly hard nipples; "We may have been friends before, SuperTights, but now I am your captor, and I will show you no mercy!", Lycraman's stern expression made him wilt. Just before another explosive climax, he stopped, letting the helpless hero catch his breath, panting on the floor, lying before his two friends that he had known so well.

It was then that Spandex Woman reached down, and to his horror, unzipped the material from around the chair and started zipping it around the mighty SuperTights. It was an orange lycra sack, even tighter than the last one, and the whole chair was a cover for it! He gave a muffled scream through his gag as the orange spandex engulfed him. "It's no use", Spandex Woman said as she laughed at him. "This is the price for wearing your tights!"

The orange lycra sack was tigher than the pink one, as he felt the spandex working its way into his buttocks and wrapping into his crotch. His arms were bound behind his back now as she zipped the lycra sack closed and it tightened to an unbelieveable stretch. He couldn't even throw his head back in surprised agony like he did the last time, the spandex sack was too tight. "MMMMMMPPH!", he cried out loud as the lycra closed, tighter and tighter around his body, as he felt Lycraman's wide red boots kicking him around. He wanted to curl into a ball, but could not, for the sack was so tight it held him erect. He remembered crying out in unwilling release several times, but had no idea how many times it was or how long the lycra sack held him captive.

He woke up again, and it was starting to seem like a bad dream; Now he was hog-tied with his arms and ankles tied together with chains he could not break. Even worse, his own cape had been used to thong his proud and heroic leotards, and tied in a knot behind his waist. He squirmed on the floor, slowly moving back to the table he had been trying to get to for what seemed like days. He moved back and forth across the floor on his spandex-clad belly, sliding slowly on the proud superhero emblem he wore on the chest of his leotards. Wriggling ferociously, he worked his way across the expanse of the floor to the table where the same cursed control box sat, taunting him as he gazed intently at it, slowly moving his hogtied arms and legs. He already had a huge erection by the time he got there just from sliding on the floor for the last half hour, or maybe it was longer. He didn't know.

Looking back and giving a cautious gaze, he saw that no one else was in the room now. They must have all taken a break, and now's my chance, he thought. Pulling with all his remaining strength at his bonds, he managed to snap one of the rope sets that bound his left wrist to his right ankle. Now it was only a matter of twisting in the right way to get the other one off, and SuperTights stood up, triumphantly free!

He walked over to the control box on the table, and then heard the metal door of the room open as the Torturess, Spandex Woman, and Lycraman stood in, looking shocked that he had ever made it that far. He held the control box up high in the air and said, "Never underestimate the power of spandex!". Almost ready to laugh with relief, he pressed the button on the box as he looked at them.

To his surprise, he gasped as the box opened up and enveloped him in bright red, shiny spandex as it tightened around him, leaving him helpless on the floor. By the time that Spandex Woman had gotten there, she had already zipped it closed, sealing him in as the red spandex tightened even more mercilessly than before as he reached out from inside the lycra sack in mute shock.

"You didn't think we'd _really_ put your release mechanism in that box, did you, SuperTights?", The Torturess said as she laughed at him, watching the spandex constrict around him, showing all his individual fingers, driving into his butt cheeks and tightening over his bulge. The red sack was even more merciless than the orange one, driving him to spandex overload almost immediately as he deliriously cried out for mercy. "AAAAAAAAAGGH!", he yelled at the top of his lungs in despair as they laughed at him and watched him writhe on the floor.

"Live by your spandex, my dear superhero, die by your spandex!", the Torturess said as she haugtily stepped on his chest, stopping his sqiurming and knocking the wind out of him. "The other two sacks didn't know when to stop, my dear hero. They teased and tormented you until you blacked out. This red sack will get even tighter, and will keep you awake while it tortures the spandex-clad trapped superhero inside!"

"But I have to go", she said, motioning for her two charges to follow her. "And I should leave you to have your fun! By the way, the lycra will be so tight in another hour or so, that you will climax every 30 seconds. Enjoy!"

And with that, she slammed the metal door, leaving SuperTights writhing madly in the shiny red lycra sack on the floor, pleading for someone to please, come and stop the cursed red lycra sack from destroying him.

* * *

Part 5

To review:

In our last episode, SuperTights, our spandex-clad hero, was further teased and humilated by his fellow spandex colleagues, LycraMan and Spandex Woman, now servants of the evil Torturess. In the a workout gym inside Commander Carnage's underground complex, SuperTights was tied up in lycra sacks that got tighter and tighter, while the torture-belt he has been forced to wear buzzed him further into submission. Just when he thought he had made his escape, the spandex cocoons enclosed upon him one last time while the Torturess and her two slaves left the spandex hero in solitary torment.

Still there is little time left before Commander Carnage launches off the MX missile he has pointed at Washington, DC unless his demands are met. Due to the stalling between the militant General and the Government, the Torturess gets one more day to subdue our mighty hero. And she plans to completely subjugate the mighty SuperTights to her will before the missile is launched, with our hero chained to the bulkhead . . .

All this waking up in yet another bizarre bondage scene was getting pretty old for our hero, especially after the cursed red lycra sack forced him to climax far too many times the night before. Every time he thought it would drive him unconscious from the teasing vibrations of his torture-belt, the sack would stop and the vibrations would still... just enough for him to catch his breath and then force him to writhe in his spandex on the floor once again. He lost count of the number of times it made him surrender his sexual restraint, and by all rights it should have dried him out heavily by now.

Looking around he saw that he was, once again, bound and lying on a table leaning diagonally like an artists' easel to the wall. But this time he was not in his costume, realizing that for the first time his tights and leotards were off and on a hanger near the corner. The only thing he was wearing was a lycra/neoprene swimming cap on his head, covering up his superhero's hairdo under a tight lid. He was chained, spread-eagled with his arms and legs tied to spreader bars on the side, which seemed to be mounted to the table, like a hospital patient's gurney.

He felt a scraping senstation on his leg, and looked up to find someone shaving the chained-up hero's legs with a ladies' razor and shaving cream. He tried to crane his neck over to look at the figure shaving him, who appeared to be a tall, graceful-looking man in bright pink tights and a brighter pink ballet thong leotard. A frilly lavender tutu circled his waist; SuperTights was pretty sure he was wearing the full complement of ballet pointe shoes too, but couldn't see that far to the floor. On the figure's wrists were two manacle-like wristbands, like opposite ends of handcuffs, with a matching collar around his neck. He paused for a minute and then laid his head back down on the table, while the figure in pink tights methodically shaved him. He thought hard about it for a minute, but still couldn't figure out who this person was.

The figure shaving his legs spoke up, and SuperTights tried to place the voice. "Mistress wants you quite nice and smooth for what's coming up next. Can't have any of this body hair in the way, not with the spandex she's putting you into."

The figure turned around and looked at our hero. He wore a metallic mask that was a contorted face in the forced throes of orgasmic ectasy, as if the Torturess had taken a picture of him while he was at his most intense climax and made a mask of it. A tiara crowned his head on above the mask like some sort of ballerina in bondage. He turned his face back to his work and concentrated on SuperTights' legs.

Suddenly SuperTights realized who this was. He had seen him captured and dominated right on his own stage by the Evil Torturess. After she had subdued him, she sent the video to other heroes to terrify them, and SuperTights remembered with cold realization that this is what had become of the proud, incredibly masculine Ballet Hero. He had been forced into a pink Ballerina outfit, a mockery of his proud costume, and was now doing the Torturess' bidding. SuperTights remembered seeing the video of Ballet Hero tortured and utterly defeated at the hands of the Torturess and her minions, and had hoped at the time that this would never happen to him.

"Ballet Hero?", he managed to say as the pink ballerina figure shifted to his other leg to continue shaving. "Is that you?"

"My name is now Ballerina Slave, and I live only to serve the Torturess!", he said laconically as the women's razor went up and down the hero's leg, sweeping up the leg hair. "You have no idea what you're in for, my defiant hero. Others have tried to resist her, but she will conquer you in your tights, as she did me."

SuperTights' heart fell as he heard these words, not only for his own plight, but for that of the once fiercely proud Ballet Hero. As a professional Ballet dancer, he was legendary, the like of which hadn't been seen since Rudolf Nureyev. He was one of the most beautiful and gifted male dancers the ballet world had ever seen, and he danced his way into international fame with a body as graceful as a gazelle. Even when he semi-retired from Ballet and put on his tights and a mask to be a superhero, he was still one of the most powerful and agile people SuperTights had ever seen.

To think that he now was now feminized and dominated by the Torturess gave a hard lump in the hero's throat as he swallowed.

"What am I in for this time?", SuperTights asked.

"It follows this shave... and you are not ready to face it. I wasn't."

They both stayed silent for the next few minutes while the man in the pink ballerina outfit continued to shave the legs of our chained-up hero, and SuperTights just tried to think. He closed his eyes, at least Ballet Hero knew how to shave his legs, so far there had been no rough spots or cuts.

Suddenly the metal door to the room slammed open and there was the tall, forbidding form of The Torturess framed in the doorway. "Ballerina Slave!", she bellowed commandingly at the trembling figure holding the razor, "Why aren't you finished yet? This spandex fool should be completely shaved by now! Haven't you looked at his torture schedule?"

The man in the pink tights and leotard quivered before the haughty figure of The Torturess as he dropped the razor and immediately went down to both knees in a submissive posture. "Forgive me, Mistress, I am a fool in pink tights and do not deserve your mercy!", he cried, bowng his head.

"You certainly do not!", she said, towering above the grovelling figure in his spandex ballerina outfit. "I think our ballerina needs to have a dance lesson!"

With that she hit a control button on her wrist as Ballerina Slave cried out in surprise as his package began to vibrate under his frilly tutu. "Nooooooo, Mistress! Please!!", the figure begged as he began to quiver uncontrollably on the floor.

"You've been a naughty Ballerina, not only have you taken too long to shave this spandex fool, but you've been telling him too MUCH!", she said in a ballet domina's voice with a growl at the end of the sentence, as the pink spandex-clad enslaved hero writhed on the floor. "He's not supposed to know what happens to him next, and for telling him you will suffer mightily, as bad ballerinas deserve to!"

"NOOOOO! ARRGH!", her ballet captive cried as the intensity of his torture-belt increased and he began to throb rhytymically to the vibrations that wracked his body. The Torturess stepped over his prone form and connected his wrists together behind his back, and the metal bands clicked together in an electromagnetic lock. She did the same with the bands around his ankles, and suddenly the heroic slave was bound on the floor in his humilating ballet costume. He screamed anew as the butt plug and vibrator that were in the torture belt unleased wave after wave of dominating pleasure over his body.

"Ballerinas should be seen, and not heard", the Torturess commented, opening up the bottom third of the bound ballerina's mask that swung open on a hinge just above the mouth. Into his wide-open mouth she stuffed a ball gag she took from her belt, as the bound ballerina in bondage protested with a "MMMMMFFPH!", as she closed the mask back up. "Much better", she said with satisfaction.

She reached down and picked up the once-mighty ballet figure up by his thong leotard, as the pink spandex thong stretched to a taut rope that forced itself into her victim's buttocks. She easily lifted him up in the air using her super-strength as he wriggled and throbbed from the vibrations that made his mind spin out of control. Pulling a rope over, she placed his ultra-stretched thong on a hook hanging about five feet off the ground that was tied to a pulley. "Ballerinas always did manage to look like they were flying effortlessly", she commented as the figure writhed around on the hook, driving his pink spandex thong further into his crack. "Now you can fly too!"

SuperTights watched all of this from his vantage point bound on the table, watching in awe as the Torturess manhandled her slave in pink spandex. Ballet Hero would have never stood for this; he must have put up quite a fight when she first captured and tortured him, and now he was a helpless, cringing slave. It made SuperTights shudder, for if she could do that with someone like Ballet Hero, how could his own will ever endure?

Oddly enough, SuperTights found himself erect watching the whole scene as the Torturess humiliated her ballet slave, and he didn't really know why. He suddenly realized with all the spandex torment and teasing that she had done to him, that he wanted to be in the exact same position that Ballerina Slave was in right now. The Torturess' mind control was starting to work on him already, he realized. I already want to be her slave, but I'm still resisting. What happens when she destroys my resistance?

The Torturess was done simply regarding the dangling, bound ballerina in his pink spandex outfit, and now gave him a good shove that made him spin around on the hook from his bright lycra thong. "Ballerinas always did love to spin around", she commented as her subject quivered in terror. She stepped back and suddenly kicked at the spinning victim with her shiny black latex lace-up boot, hitting Ballet Slave in the side as he cried out in pain and spun around the other way. SuperTights grimaced as she kicked again and again, making the captured slave spin clockwise, and then counterclockwise again, as she slammed him with her foot on his metallic mask, on his butt cheeks, and in a few other places. The thong that his pink lycra leotard held onto the hook with twisted around as he spun, further tightening between his cheeks.

"Ballerinas must end up being so dizzy after twirling around all day", she taunted as the Ballerina Slave hung limp from the hook by his cruel thong. She cranked up his torture-belt as the helpless spinning ballet figure in pink spandex cried out a muffled scream as his body convulsed from the throbbing over his cock and up into his scrotum. Seconds before he would have climaxed in a screaming explosion, the Torturess hit the stop button and watched her victim's body go limp once again. She reached over to the pulley rope against the wall and yanked at it, as the captive pink Ballerina came crashing down to the floor, still bound in his cuffs and manacles. The masked tutu-clad pink figure moaned as The Torturess walked over and placed a boot on his prone figure on the floor. He rolled over trying to shield himself.

SuperTights flinched and looked away as the Torturess trampled her Ballerina slave, dancing on his chest in pirouettes and coming down hard on his pelvic area. She landed straddling the helpless figure in pink lycra, as he panted, trying to catch his breath. She teased at his nipples while she sat on his stomach, methodically and rhythmically massaging them while her captive moaned. After she was done with that, she activated his torture-belt and straddled his throbbing waist as he screamed a muffled agonizing scream in relentless, exploding orgasm for over a minute as the Torturess rode his thrusting pelvis, before he collapsed like a discarded rag doll on the floor. The Torturess got up from her broken steed and casually dusted off her hands.

She walked over to the bound SuperTights, now erect in his own torture-belt with no way to hide it, after witnessing Ballet Hero's domination. "Now, back to the business at hand", she said as SuperTights gulped. Reaching behind him, she propped his head up with a small round foam pillow so the captive hero could see his own naked, shaved body, completely free of any hair except for the unfinished area below his left knee. The Torturess ran a black lycra-gloved finger up and down SuperTights' inside thigh as he shivered in reaction. While some of his fellow superheroes in spandex had shaved their legs or even their whole bodies, this was a completely new experience for him and he realized how much more sensitive he was to touch and feeling now that there was no hair to get in the way.

He looked over at the prone, groaning figure in the corner that The Torturess had just finished with. "That was gratuitous and cruel", he managed to say, trying to keep his mind off of her entire lycra-gloved hand now running up and down his leg. "You didn't have to do that to him."

"Slaves are not allowed to spoil my fun", she said matter-of-factly, not even bothering to look back at her dominated ballerina, "And he was about to tell you what would happen to you next. I want it to be a surprise", she said, her white teeth breaking into a smile beneath her leather mask. "Besides", she looked at him, "You would have loved to be in his place, dominated in your spandex just like I did to him, but soon you'll get your turn."

This gave SuperTights pause. Could she read his thoughts? "How do you know that?", he said, looking at her with surprise.

"I can see into the valley of your mind, where your deepest desires and your deepest fears cross paths", she said as the nakedly shaved hero shuddered. "Your fetishes and most secret turn-ons, even desires that you dare tell no one, are easy to pick out of your mind. And I read heroes like people read stories, and your story is no different!"

"And you, like many mighty spandex-clad heroes before you, no matter how powerful or heroic, secretly desire being captured and dominated in your spandex, by a foe much more powerful that makes you seem like a helpless fool. So you see, I'm not really being all that cruel, I'm just giving you what you really want."

"And I will break you by making you face your most closely held desires as I unlock your will and replace it with mine." Her white teeth beneath her mask glistened again in a grin at the bound hero.

She picked up the razor and picked up where Ballerina Slave left off, shaving up and down SuperTights' lower leg as the slumped figure in the corner stirred. Without even turning around to acknowledge him, The Torturess said, "Get back to your cell and zip yourself up in your lycra sack", she instructed her defeated ballet victim, "And wait there until I arrive to complete your punishment", she instructed.

"Yes, Mistress", Ballerina Slave tried to gracefully walk en pointe out of the room without limping from his trampling, as he headed down the hallway.

"Aren't you afraid he might escape?", SuperTights said, looking at the figure walking out by himself without any guard. "Oh, no", The Torturess said, laughing. "The collars I keep around their necks are just for show. It's the collars around their minds and around their cocks, that keep them in place", she said, grabbing onto his stiff cock with her lycra-gloved hand as SuperTights felt himself losing control. She slowly moved her grip up and down his helpless shaft as she ran her fingertips up and around the head, looking at him with a bemused smile. "Big and strong heroes in tights are really little boys, they just don't realize it until I show them."

He looked down at his waist and for the first time saw the cruel device that was the Torture-Belt on him as it surrounded his cock with rings of plastic and rubber that ran all the way from his tip to beneath his balls. Small tubes ran from the tip back down to the packs on the sides, presumably to both lubricate him and collect his uncontrollable releases in bondage. It was truly a frightening piece of engineering as The Torturess smirked at the hero's aghast reaction to the device he had been wearing for days.

"It's originally a German design, but I had it made by the Swiss, who are some of the finest mechanical experts in the world. You're wearing my latest model, where I can control every feeling your cock feels." She took out her remote control and turned a slider bar as SuperTights felt the individual rings touch him from bottom to top and back down again, just as if she had touched him with own finger. "And it's pressure-sensitive too", she said, as the head of his penis felt a squeeze from the top that rotated back down. "And, of course, it can deliver varying levels of stimulation", she said, moving another slider bar as the individual rings around his stiffening cock began to shudder, vibrating more and more the higher they went up the length of his erect member as he felt himself getting ready to cum. "And", she said as it suddenly shut off, "It has a safety shut-off that, if I leave on, stops just shy of making you orgasm. It can tell when you're about to explode, and stop less than a second from that", she smiled.

SuperTights had been captured by villains before and teased with sex toys, but nothing anywhere near this sophisticated. "It's the most exquisitely cruel thing I've ever seen", he said in awe. "Thank you!", The Torturess said. "It cost thousands of dollars to make, and each part is hand-made. And when it comes to enslaving heroes in spandex, I spare no expense!"

She reached under him, into his buttocks, and moved around his butt plug. "You can't see it as well, but your butt plug works in a similar fashion", she said, touching her controls as it began to vibrate between his cheeks. She moved another slider switch, and suddenly it felt to SuperTights like a vibrating dildo was being shoved in and out of his buttocks. He threw his head back in gritting surprise as the Torturess smiled. "Some people play the flute, or the violin. These are my instruments I use, to play heroes", she said, shutting off the devices as the hero suddenly relaxed his muscles. "But enough of this, it's time for your next lesson."

She reattached the control box to her belt and picked the razor back up, finishing the shave on his lower left leg. SuperTights winced as she seemed to deliberately nick his ankle and right under his knee, where at least Ballerina Slave hadn't cut him at all. A small amount of blood oozed out of the cut. "There, you're done", she said, drying off his legs wih a towel. Now time for you meet the Spandex Spiders."

"What are.. spandex spiders?", he said apprehensively

"You'll see", she said, taking out a box and placing it on the table within view of the bound hero. "They were developed by Du Pont in an attempt to manufacture lycra, kind of like silkworms make silk. Lots of genetic engineering involved to make a make a spider spin a lycra fiber instead of a regular web, only with the strength of spider fibers. Impressive work, but they abandoned the project after they ran into a few problems."

"Problems? What kind of problems?", the hero said as the villanness pulled the pillow back out from under his head letting him look up at the ceiling. She walked over to where his shiny lycra SuperTights costume hung in the corner, and taking out a scissors, snipped off a small piece from the end of the sleeve on his leotard. Taking the swatch of fabric across the room, she went to where the box the spiders were in, and quickly opened it, dropping the scrap of fabric inside.

"A few minor ones. The Spandex Spiders weaved spandex amazingly fast, only in an hour or two, but if they encountered any bare skin, they would begin to weave their lycra fibers around it. A few of the scientists found one of the researchers completely wrapped up in spandex after working late in the lab. And the lycra they weaved on was so tight that nobody could wear it. It would form-fit right into every crevice of your body, it was so tight. So they quit the research, deciding there was no practical use for the spiders. But, well, I have a VERY practical use for them!"

"And soon, you will meet them", she said, taking out a syringe and grabbing SuperTights' wrist as she found his vein faster than any nurse he had ever seen. She pumped the tube full of fluid into his arm as he felt himself go numb. "But I don't want you jostling around and spoiling the party for our arachnid guests. So this will keep you still for long enough."

SuperTights suddenly couldn't move. His whole body was motionless as he realized the only thing he could move around at all were his eyes, and not very far at that. He coudln't even shudder involuntarily as the Torturess smiled and looked at her victim on the table. "The spiders will soon surround you, super hero, and they will weave you a new ouftit. I know how much you love to wear spandex, especially really tight spandex, so you should be really excited about this. I know I am!"

She pushed a button on the table, and suddenly the poles holding the spreader bars that he was bound to moved up about a foot, suspending him in the air above the table, hanging by his arms and legs. She adjusted the top end of the poles where his arms hung a few inches higher, so he could look down. "I don't want you to miss out seeing this. This way you'll be able to see your body gradually encased by the spiders. And now, we're ready!"

She moved over to the stand next to table where our hero was bound, and opened the box on it. Small spiders began to crawl out of the box and onto the table near SuperTights' thigh. There had to be a thousand of them in there, he thought, looking at the mass inside the box. They slowly spilled out on the table next to him. She smiled and cooed at them, "Come out, my pretties! I have a juicy muscle-bound hero that needs to be wrapped up!"

"I'll be back when they're done", the Torturess said as she headed for the door. "Oh, one last thing, Super-fool.. they're really attracted to the scent of blood. They wrap up anything that has any cut, kind of like the ones on your leg! Have fun!", she said with diabolical laughter as she slammed the metal door, making the room reverberate.

SuperTights was left in the room, unable to move at all, and remembered that he really, really hated spiders. And he could never forget what supervillains had done to his fellow superhero The Arachnid, years ago, suspending him and coating his spandex costume with poisonous spiders until he was covered from head to toe. Just the memory of seeing that would make him shudder, but he couldn't even do that now.

He tried to move his head to see them, but he couldn't. The box next to his table where he hung motionless was teeming with life, journeying in a stream across the table, up the poles that he was suspended from, relentlessly making their way to him. He could already feel the touch of the first few spiders testing the surface of his too-bare skin. With no body hair in the way to absorb their touch, the spiders climbed up onto his legs and across his chest. He felt his skin begin to crawl as they journeyed across his legs, climbing from the right one and across his package, and back up onto the left one, smelling the aroma of blood. The bleeding had already stopped and dried up when they got to his ankle, but here they were, so they began to start their work.

SuperTights wanted to shake, to instinctively get these spiders the hell off of him as they migrated by the hundreds across his body. But totally unable to move, all he could do was wait as the feeling of the spidery legs silently creeping across his body was more than he could bear. His skin cralwed as he wanted to scream. Suddenly he let out a terrified scream as he realized the injection the Torturess gave him didn't stop his voice. But the Spandex Spiders paid him no mind, and began to spin away.

The spiders took different courses across his body, crawling up his legs as the sensation was like having someone put on him a pair of really, really tight hose that moved and wriggled across him. "Oh shit!", he managed to mutter as they approached his torture-belt and migrated across his balls and scaled the heights of his still-erect cock. They flooded up his chest looking for more places to explore, and the feeling of the spidery legs crawling across his package and on his chest was terrifying. He was sure that the Torturess had left the microphones on to record his screams, but he couldn't help it now. Some heroes, when captured and in a situtation this desparate, would try to bargain wih their captors, but he knew that was no use with the Torturess. She probably got off on the screams of captured heroes like this, and was probably listening. At one point he noticed that he was yelling at the top of his lungs, but the spiders didn't seem to notice.

Already the Spandex Spiders that had stopped at his feet and ankles were fast at work, spinning and weaving strands back and forth across his legs, like Liliputians slinging ropes across their bound Guilliver. If SuperTights wansn't so absolutely terrified, he would have thought that image funny. But this was far from funny. The ones that rushed up his chest were at his shoulders now, and he had to stop screaming and close his mouth for fear that they would climb down his throat. Running out of body to climb up, they crisscrossed the smooth curve of his neoprene-capped head and once they found a good stopping place, began to spin. He could see them right at the corners of his eyes as they quickly ran complex patterns of webbing on his face, much more intricate than your average spiderweb, much the less the vertical and horizontal lines of lycra weave. They climbed back under him and journeyed across his butt cheeks making them tingle, nagivating around his butt plug and the torture devices, running the webbing down across his backside and up the back of his neck.

Try to stay focussed, he told himself as he tried to take his mind off of the spiders. He had no idea how much time had passed, but there probably wasn't a lot of it left. Commander Carnage still had that missile pointed at Washington, while the hero that was supposed to save the day was now being cocooned by the Spandex Spiders. He had come to be the glorious, shiny-spandex clad hero that swooped in to save the day, and instead was going to end up a trophy or a slave of the Torturess, or both, he wasn't sure which.

For spiders that were only about an inch across from leg to leg, they surprised him with how fast they could move and sew. Already his vision was halfway obscured with the lycra spiderwebbing, and he could see that they had crisscrosed his chest with webs. He suddenly realized, looking at the webs, that they were the exact same electric blue color as his proud superhero costume. That must have been why the Torturess snipped off a piece of his leotard, the spiders could digest it and duplicate the color in their own webs. He suddenly realized the irony of the spandex prison that he was going to be encased in, that this lycra suit that would culminate his own spandex capture and defeat was a full bodysuit in the same color as his own superhero outfit.

Suspended and hanging from the spreader bars, he looked up at the ceiling and realized there was a camera mounted to it pointing down at him; a speaker in the room suddenly came to life. "Enjoying yourself, SuperTights? Since you love being in spandex, you should love this!", her voice said tauntingly as a panel in the ceiling opened. The panel slid away revealing the mirror mounted beneath it, and suddenly he gasped and screamed at the suspended mummy in the mirror covered with thousands of crawling spiders weaving intricate patterened webs up and down his body, the figure's only feature the erect protrusion the spiders had sewn a tight cover around. He could hear the Torturess laughing with diabolical, mocking laughter as he wanted to writhe, to fight, to run, to fly away, to convulse, but he couldn't move. All he could do was scream in sheer terror. Spiders, he thought to himself as his mind raced, why the hell did it have to be spiders!

Feeling the spiders coming too close to his eyelids, he closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he reopened them, he couldn't see anything other than the electric blue spandex fibers that covered his vision. The spiders down around his package seemed to be playing with him as they relentlessly spun around and around his encased cock, still hard from the Torturess bringing it out to its full height. Suspended and about to be mummified in the very spandex that gives me my powers, he thought to himself. The Torturess really is a master of the cruel irony.

Trying to stay calm, he breathed more slowly, as the spiders relentlessly continued their work. He remembered the words of Captain Spandex, telling him, "the difference between a hero that wins and a hero that loses the battle isn't just a matter of powers or tactics. Sometimes when all else fails, keeping your composure is the difference." Yeah, but he never took on the Spandex Spiders, he thought to himself, feeling them spin individual strands around his fingers and toes.

Suddenly the somewhat loose lycra strands that were the first few layers of spandex around his body hardened, and he could feel them tighten like a slow ripple moving up from his feet. It was like suddenly having the spandex you were in become a size tighter, and he gasped with surprise as the new tightness set in. At this rate, when they were done he was going be encased in lycra tighter than he could ever put on. And perhaps that was the idea, for although it amplified his powers to be in tighter spandex, it also amplified his weakness for the Torturess. He felt them move across laying down another layer to connect with the first one, and realized this was how spiders devoured their prey. They paralyzed it and encased it, and while it was the Torturess that had supplied the paralysis, the spiders did the rest.

Suddenly he felt his torture-belt buzz to life as he made a shocked cry. The Torturess' voice over the loudspeaker chimed in, "We have to keep our hero hard, otherwise the lycra encasement won't tighten around his member the right way!" "Besides, it's fun when you can't wriggle", she said as he felt his butt plug start up and begin to throb between his cheeks under the lycra that tightened across his buttocks. The vibrations seemed to cause the spandex to draw tighter still, and he suddenly realized that this was probably the idea.

"Soon, my terrified hero, you will live only to serve the Torturess!", her voice said commandingly from the speaker, her voice and her taunting laughter echoing in the room.

* * *

Can this be the end for SuperTights? Will the Spandex Spiders and the Torturess prevail over our hero? Will the Torturess really make him her mindless slave, like she did with Ballet Hero? And will the world ever be safe for spandex-clad heroes in tights again?

Stay tuned for the next exciting episode of... The Adventures of SuperTights! Part VI : World Domaination and Spandex Domination!

Coming someday when the author gets the urge to finish this story and stops spending all night on the #alt.lycra IRC channel!

Super Jayhawk, Bird in Spandex