Superman's Mom - jojobario

[jos73]

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This story features female muscle, physical domination of a superhero by a normal human woman, and role reversal.

Smallville, Kansas

Superman soared over the golden waves of grain which surrounded his home town, taking in the sights of many a decrepit family farm. It saddened him to see, though it would probably surprise most fans of the Kryptonian paragon to hear why. In fact, the true identity of the alien superhero was that of a small town farm boy, the mild mannered Clark Kent. It had been years since he had visited his old home, the Kent family farm, and a lot had changed. The bank had foreclosed on many of the family farms owned by his neighbors, and massive industrial agricultural corporations had swept in with a vengeance.

That was one of the reasons he hadn't returned in so long, the last time he had taken time out of his busy life as the world's greatest superhero was for his father's funeral three years ago. He felt pangs of guilt for leaving his mother alone but stopping constant threats to the world had eaten up almost all of his time, and the rest was spent with his girlfriend, Lois. So much time had passed since his last visit home that the world itself had experienced a few universal resets. Regardless of his internal justifications he used, Superman still felt responsible for putting off such familial obligations for so long. Even the strongest man in the world didn't want to disrespect his mother. He couldn't possibly realize how MUCH he would be respecting his mother soon enough.


"Mom!" He called out as he landed at the entrance. He felt something weird. Was the entrance wider than before. Or was it just him not remembering stuff. With a quick scan of the house, he saw the house was empty. He was hoping to surprise his mom with this visit. He had not informed her. She would be so surprised. He flew to the farm. "Mom!" Again no response. Where was she? Wait, where are the machines and tractors? Maybe she had them out in the field, though it wasn't the right time in the season to plant or harvest. Walking up to a vast field of crops, Superman had a moment of confusion. Was the family farm always this big, or had his mom somehow found a way to expand the workable acreage? The unexpected changes left him so confused that he didn't even notice his mother approaching until a warm, calloused hand slapped him on the shoulder.

"Clark, honey, is that you?" Startled, he turned around. The sight shocked him, his jaw dropping as he struggled to fit the familiar voice with a distinctly unfamiliar, massively muscular body. "M..m..Mom?" The 67 year old woman barely resembled the mother he knew. For one, she was about 5 times the size of the mother he knew, every inch of her body built from pure muscle. His mother had always been a stocky woman, growing up on a farm bred strong people regardless of gender. He had never even seen the bulkiest male farmer with this much mass though, he had never seen anyone with even half as much muscle!

Her height remained the same, but that was about the only thing which had stayed the same, along with her oval granny glasses.. Her normally short, silver hair cascaded over her massive, mountainous shoulders. Her face looked younger than before, her skin taught, her eyes glimmering with life. Her face was framed on both sides by traps so large that they put the shoulders of a bodybuilder to shame! Her shoulders were like pumpkins, but the ones that were too large for a single person to carry. His eyes naturally danced down to her arms, barrel sized cannons covered in veins the size of his thumb, and forearms that looked bigger than a normal farmer's bicep. Her hands were as small as ever, but even her fingers appeared to be more defined and powerful somehow. He had attempted to avoid looking at one, or rather two imposing new details up to this point, but he couldn't physically keep his eyes away from them any longer. Her breasts were huge! To just call them breasts seemed inaccurate, as it was her protruding chest muscles which contributed to their eye grabbing enormity. Her pecs were like tectonic plates fighting each other for dominance, pushing out several feet and bulging upwards, almost to her chin. Her pecs weren't just large, they were spherical, sumptuous orbs which somehow merged into the only body fat he could see on his mother, gigantic jiggling mammaries that had finger sized veins running across them.

They stretched what he recognized as his old sweater to the limit, almost ripping into pieces. The shocking part was, that sweater was even too large for him as an adult, it was a hand-me-down from a morbidly obese family friend that was more of a robe than a shirt... but on his mother's titanic frame, the stretched piece of clothing looked like a tank top. The sleeves had burst long ago, and the torso of the garment was struggling to stretch over her muscular breasts, barely slipping over her bullet sized nipples and leaving a scandalous amount of underboob. What was under said boobs was almost as transfixing to Superman. Not only did his mother have breasts somehow infused with muscle that were more colossal and perky than even the most buxom porn star, but her abs were the most bulging, strong wall of female flesh he had ever seen. His own abs were impressive, but each segment of her 12 pack surged out like cinder blocks, leaving a deep crevasse between each one. They looked as though they could swallow up his entire arm if he were to try and reach in between them.

They surged down to an adonis belt, the kind of thing he had only ever seen on world class athletes. Surging outwards from her core, hips even wider than the bulkiest draft horses, and legs that were thicker to boot. Her muscular quads were barely contained by shredded jean shorts, most of her body exposed to the elements. Her quads were like pillars of twisting muscle fibers, each muscle group seemingly with a life of its own/ Her calves were massive, flaring diamonds which stuck out a foot on either side, like wings of muscle. Her petite feet were the same size, but he had never seen her walking around in just sandals before. Her bare toes were exposed, painted red and surprisingly delicate compared to the frighteningly defined physique they belonged to.

"Honey, it's so good to see you!" She leaned in, embracing Superman in her massive arms, his normally heroic physique slipping in between her massive cleavage. He was shocked... he actually could feel his ribs starting to bend, his breath being forced out of his lungs as Martha picked up Superman with her hug, swinging him from side to side. "Ack, M-mom-" Catching herself, she released the man of steel, placing him back on solid ground. His arms certainly didn't feel like steel after that hug though, stinging from the pressure of his mother's own titanic limbs. He was too overwhelmed by his old mother's litany of other, massive changes to give it much thought.

She let out a giggle. "Wow, son! I almost forgot how small you were!" She ruffled his hair like he was just a little kid, and not a world famous superhero who could move entire planets with ease. "You let yourself go, didn't you?! What do you even eat, hun? I mean look at those little sticks, I can't believe you've gotten so skinny! You call those arms?" She flexed her own, broad bicep into a towering pillar of power. causing Superman's eyes to widen in shock as he saw her bicep peaks bulge bigger than his head, her triceps expanding almost below her breasts. That singular limb had more mass than most men, and Superman unconsciously took a step back in stunned awe.

Gulping, he tried to collect his nerves but he couldn't stop himself from stuttering like a fool, "M..mom! What? How? You have.." He didn't have the vocabulary to describe her titanic body. He had never witnessed anything like this before in his entire career as a superhero. He had fought aliens genetically engineered to be perfect warriors, judged bodybuilding competitions for the most roided out men in the world. Somehow, these muscles were in a different league! Seeing that he was at loss of words, she lifted Clark up effortlessly in her arms . "Oh dear, you're just a lightweight aren't you! Have you eaten enough, my little sweetie pie?" Martha has always called Clark "little sweetie pie" But he hasn't felt particularly little in years, especially when standing a foot taller than Martha.

As her bicep soared, the chiseled musculature of his mother effortlessly outsized and emasculated his otherwise impressive 24 inch arms, and made Clarke feel self conscious about his body for the first time in decades. Calling him little now felt totally apt! Despite being an adult man with the physique of a linebacker, he looked like a little boy when swept up in her massive arms! "M-mother, please put me down!" He choked out, completely taken aback by the sensation of being picked up by someone, especially his own elderly mother! She nuzzled her face into his chest, before putting him down once more.

"Oh honey, I'm just so excited to see you! I was so lonely... don't expect me to let you just fly away this time!" She cooed, pinching Superman's cheek. He actually winced, her fingers pulling his head down to plant a kiss on his forehead. Unfortunately, this happened to position his face right next to her heaving pecs, his eyes only a few inches away from the biggest boobs he had ever seen, which also happened to be globes of muscle. Before he could pull away again, the odor of his mother's salty exertion wafted up from between her sweaty pecs and filled his lungs. It was... strangely appealing.

"I'm sorry for not visiting you sooner but-"he attempted to explain, but she interjected, "No excuses Clark, just apologize like a man!" He stared at her, in shock. Was she always this aggressive? "I-I'm sorry mom, I'll visit you more often in the future I promise. I need to know though, what happened to you?! You're so... big!" "Well my little sweetie pie, I've been working out. Isn't it obvious?" She said, confidently pumping her gargantuan bicep which rose an entire foot with every flex.

Clark stared at her for a moment, blinking. "what?" She laughed at his confusion. "Oh, Clark don't you remember? Back when you first started gallivanting around as a super person, you ended up with those weights in the shed?" Superman thought back, was she talking about the hyper gravity rod? That was alien technology he used to push himself to the limit back when he was just starting out, and he never did end up using the maximum settings. It used the energy created by each previous lift to help generate resistance for the next, combined with a black hole generator it could simulate lifting entire planets, solar systems, galaxies and possibly even beyond. Surely she couldn't be talking about THAT weight? "Mom, why on earth would you use my hyper weights!?"

She frowned. "Sweetie pie, this is MY farm. I can do whatever I want when it comes to my property. Besides, the gym is so expensive these days and they don't have equipment like that anyhow!" Superman felt his heart flutter for a moment when she raised her voice, actually taking a step back, unconsciously. She scoffed, her face softening. "Besides, you could use more time in the gym yourself, honey!" Martha's new found assertive, almost domineering attitude was surprising to Clark.

She certainly wasn't meek, and she always voiced her concerns regardless of who she was talking to. This was different though, it felt like she was taking over the conversation, completely unafraid of hurting his feelings, flaunting her body next to a superhero, even though that hero happened to be her son! When he was a kid she had barely raised her voice against him, he was always her "little sweetie pie". Now, she almost seemed to revel in the fact that she was larger than him, though size was the only thing she had over him... or so he thought in the moment.

He looked down at his body. "Erm, I do workout! Sometimes...." He gulped as he took a closer look at those massive pecs of the lady who raised him. "How often do you workout, mom?" Martha smiled as she relaxed her hands. Even relaxed, the bulges on her muscles seemed tense! "Well, it started out as a once a day thing. But now, I found out how fun it is! I hit the weights at least three times a day, even more if I can fit it between field work. In fact, it's just about time for my evening workout, I'm hitting my arm and chest muscles today. Why don't you come workout with me, sweetie?"

Her massive chest expanded as she breathed in. "I think you need the workout more than ever, just look at how small your chest muscles are!" She squeezed his bulletproof pec, causing her little boy to wince in pain. Hee fingers sunk through his muscles with ease, penetrating his body as though it was made of hello. "Ooh! Did that hurt? I'm sorry honey, I'll be more careful next time." She opened the large barn door before dumping her son on a bale of hay in the corner of the building.

In the middle of the cavernous, musty barn stood a massive metal structure, completely out of place in the rustic environment. Several metal bars were attached by glowing cables, with a computer display in the middle. It was similar to the alien mechanism he had left behind years ago, but somehow it had changed. He wondered who could have modified the alien technology, because it was so complicated even he struggled to understand how it worked. One thing he definitely didn't remember being part of the hyper gravity weight machine was what appeared to be tractor components, wires and pistons and gears attached all over
. He raised a brow, but approached the device regardless. He might as well show his mom that just because she happened to be muscular and incredibly shredded, she was still just a normal human, He was Superman, the man of steel! She was an old woman, his mother for god's sakes!

"Mom, what happened to the gravity weights.?" She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh honey, just a few improvements. The darn thing broke on me, and I had to make do." He stared at her in shock. He didn't even understand how this technology worked, it was so advanced. "That's... not possible." She laughed. "Oh honey... maybe for you, but for me it was simple! Remember when I was always fixing your alien doohickies and toys as a kid? Besides, if I can fix a tractor differential myself I can sure as heck fix some alien doodad!" He choked, his eyes bulging out of his head. He always thought that it was his father, or a nearby scientist who had repaired the Kryptonian technology he used as a young hero. Was it really just his mother all along?

Approaching the machine, it actually functioned! The screen lit up, as she dialed in a few numbers. "There we go! Just leave it to me, sweetie! Grab a handle, and work out with momma! I'll make sure you aren't so scrawny anymore!" "Mom, for the last time, I'm NOT scrawny!" Superman exclaimed, grabbing one of the bars. The machine had a series of lights going up the side, designating the current power level, Only one light was on, which was easy even when he was a kid. Frustrated, and ready to prove himself he pulled with all his might... and it didn't budge an inch, it didn't even shift. Superman's bicep pumped with exertion, definition flaring as his muscle fibers desperately were pushed to the brink, though it still paled in comparison to the overwhelming female presence in the room. Catching his breath, he readjusted his grip on the bar, straining to heave it upward again. "I... I think it might be broken, Mom!" he gasped, almost comically failing to lift the weight with his entire body.

Before he could make another attempt, Martha's massive arm reached out, grabbing the bar effortlessly at its center. Her singular, girthy limb was far bulkier than both of Superman's combined, her sheer size dwarfing him. Yet what caught his attention wasn't just its size—it was the way her fingers curled around the bar, causing the specialized metal to visibly dent under her grip. Superman's eyes widened in disbelief, fixated on the bar as if trying to convince himself this was real. But before he could react, the bar—and his body along with it—was lifted clean off the ground in one swift motion.

His stomach lurched as gravity tried to drag him back down, the alien machine's settings pulling with unrelenting force. Yet none of that seemed to affect her. The meaty arm, belonging to the superior female in the room, began repping the bar effortlessly, pumping it up and down as if it were no more than a feather. But it wasn't a feather. She was lifting Superman, suspended on the bar, all while the gravity machine pushed down with unimaginable force. Even more shocking was the fact that she was doing this with just one rippling arm, lifting a weight Superman couldn't with his entire body and all of his earth shattering powers. Her sweet, almost teasing voice broke the silence.

"Hmm, it's been a while since I worked with level one," she said casually, her tone light and playful. "But it feels fine to me, sweetie pie!" After a few more reps, she let the bar drop with a loud clang, the impact reverberating through the room. Superman scrambled to examine it more closely. Sure enough, the metal bar—crafted from advanced alien materials—bore her unmistakable fingerprints, each groove pressed deep into the once-pristine surface.

He hovered his hand over the bar, his three fingers barely able to fill the space of a single indent left behind by her brawny fingers. He stared in awe, silently processing the sheer power she had demonstrated with so little effort. Martha, noticing his amazement, let out a small laugh as if remembering something. "Oh, right!" she said, placing her hands on her hips. "I forgot to tell you—I made a few improvements to that simple alien tech you brought back. When I was done, I cranked up the gravity settings by... oh, five million times. I didn't think a big, strong Superman like you would mind!" She giggled, her tone dripping with playful condescension.

"Maybe I overdid it. Surely you can handle lifting what a little old lady like me uses for a warm up, pumpkin?" Superman couldn't believe what he had just heard. "F-five million?!" If that was true, then his mother wasn't just more muscular than him—she was stronger too. The realization hit him like a freight train. Somehow, the largest, shapeliest, most defined—and, as much as he loathed to admit it, most beautiful—muscles in the world belonged to his mother. And they weren't just for show. They were much, much stronger than they looked.

She smiled proudly, striking a casual pose with both hands planted firmly on her wide, powerful hips. Her delts flared out so far they gave the illusion of muscular wings, and her massive biceps couldn't even rest fully at her sides. Her physique dwarfed his in every way—her striated arms alone were nearly as large as his entire torso. He shuddered at the memory of her hugs, where her embrace compressed his supposedly indestructible body like a tube of toothpaste.

This couldn't be possible, there's no way his own mother could become so strong. The machine had to be broken, or his powers had to be malfunctioning. Surely she couldn't be that dominating, that supremely powerful, while still holding back! He had no way of knowing, but Martha wasn't even using a millionth of her strength. She basked in his awestruck expression, the sheer scale of her body casting an an imposing shadow over him.

As she reached up to tie her long, silver mane into a ponytail, the movement of her arms set off a mesmerizing display of striated muscle fibers. Each muscle group danced and rippled with power, larger and more defined than the entirety of Superman's own biceps. On anyone else, gray hair might have been a sign of frailty or age. But on Martha, it was a crown of wisdom and strength. There was no mistaking the truth—the frailest person in the room wasn't Martha, but Superman himself, the so-called "super" hero in the prime of his life.

"That's right, Clark," Martha said, her voice warm but laced with a touch of reprimand. "When your father passed, I needed you desperately. But you weren't around..." She trailed off, her expression momentarily softening. "I had to take care of the farm all by myself." As she spoke, she casually pressed a button on the gravity machine. Five more lights blinked on, indicating an even greater increase in intensity. "I decided to start working out," she continued, her voice calm yet filled with pride. "It wasn't easy, but I kept at it—lifting, day in and day out. And eventually..." She gestured to her towering, godlike physique with a wry smile. "...I guess you could say it paid off."

Clark felt a shiver run down his spine with every light that flickered to life on the machine. When the tenth green light blinked on, the machine let out a sharp beep. Martha smiled knowingly as the final weight was loaded. "Let's start light!" she said cheerfully. The words barely registered for Superman as his eyes fixated on the scene before him. He watched, stunned, as his elderly mother bent down to pick up the loaded barbell with a single hand. Her movements were casual, yet precise, and her muscular frame rippled with effortless strength. "It's been a while since I've done bicep curls with something this weightless, but today is all about spending time with my son, so I'll just take it easy! " she said, chuckling to herself.


Clark couldn't decide what unsettled him more—the sheer size of the weight or the raw power radiating from Martha. His uncertainty turned to disbelief when her biceps erupted into full display. With her first curl, her arm swelled into a boulder-like peak, a bicep large enough to rival his entire body. Thick veins, as wide as his fingers, pulsed and snaked across her arm, tightening with every motion. To his shock, Clark could hear, with his super hearing, the subtle creak of her muscle fibers stretching and pulling taut, as if they hadn't even reached their full potential yet. Every flex injected more size into the arm of female juggernaut, which just so happened to be his mom.

It seemed impossible, but could they actually get even bigger? he wondered, frozen in place. Martha noticed her son's wide-eyed stare fixated on her bicep and let out a lighthearted giggle. "Oh, sweetie!" she teased. "Why do I feel like you've never seen real muscle before? Come on, don't be shy—come and feel it!" While continuing to curl the gravity weight one handed that was ten times greater than something he couldn't even budge with his whole body, she proudly flexed her other bicep up for her son. Martha pointed her leg outward as well, causing the writhing musculature of her redwood thighs to jump to life.

He gulped, his hand trembling as it reached out for his mother's overwhelming arm. His hand looked small next to her mass, every minor flex shifting the muscles beneath his hand with unspeakable force. She grinned, loving the attention. "Mmm, that feels so nice dear. Why don't you give me a massage, just like you used to?" He remembered when he was younger helping his mom, teasing out the stress from her overburdened shoulders. He had to be so careful, he was always worried that he might use too much pressure and end up hurting his normal, human mother with his superhuman strength. He certainly didn't need to worry about that now, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't get his fingers to penetrate her muscles at all!

"Hmm, can you try a little bit harder sweetie poo? I can barely feel you!" She laughed, twisting her forearm as her bicep pulsed higher and higher, Clark's trembling fingers pushed off of her surging muscle. "You see honey, this is the kind of buff body you need if you are going to be fighting bad guys all the time!. I don't know how you made do with your puny little arms for so long... but no more!" Martha nagged, her voice light hearted but tinged with genuine concern.

Superman didn't know how to feel, his mother's body was so hard, so big, and it made him feel... small. Insignificant compared to her, especially as she casually pulled a weight he could barely comprehend. At the same time, something in his trunks shifted. Her muscles were so perfect, but she was his own mother. Sure, she wasn't his biological mother but it still felt wrong.


He desperately tried to think of anything else to stamp down his arousal, baseball statistics, Metropolis subway connections, every font he could remember... but he couldn't stare away from the behemoth example of female anatomy in front of him. "I'm so sorry that you can't work out with momma's big weights, but maybe I can still help my little boy get in a workout." She outstretched her gigantic arm, the bulging peak flexing back into a barrel of she-beef so large it actually blocked the sight of Martha's face, completely occluding his vision, completely dominating his space. Her stubby fingers, short but thick, splayed open invitingly.

"Come on Clark, why don't you grab my hand and try to push against me?" He was silent for a moment, completely awestruck by the sight in front of him. "Clark, are you still there?" "u-uh, of course Mom. I just don't know if-" He tried to come up with some sort of excuse, but his mom just laughed. "Oh sweetie, don't be afraid to hold hands with your little old mother! I promise, I'll be very gentle on my special LITTLE boy!" She especially emphasized the word little, a surprising level of mischievousness in her voice. Martha was loving every second of this, and her son didn't know how to respond.

Nervously, Superman gulped as he locked fingers with his mother. Her fingers slowly and gently began to compress around his hand. "Just let me know if it gets too tight, okay? I can't really see your face to tell if I'm being too rough, so it's super important that you communicate with me!" Clark chuckled nervously, trying to hide his growing unease. "M-mom, I'm still Superman! I don't think you need to worry so much about me. I'll be fine." But her fingers kept closing, moving from firm to tight, then from a merely tight grip to painfully strong.

Clark's confident demeanor cracked as he felt the bones in his hand pressing together, his joints creaking under the steadily increasing pressure. Her beefy fingers crushed his hand, the flesh of his palm beginning to be squished by each unstoppable digit. He let out a low gasp."Ugh..." Immediately, Martha released her grip, her brow furrowing as she heard him grunt. "Are you alright, honey?" she asked, her tone filled with genuine concern.

Clark forced a weak smile, attempting to bluff despite the lingering ache in his hand. "No, no, I'm fine!" he lied, trying to sound nonchalant. "Hmmm..." Martha hummed doubtfully, her expression softening as if to consider his words—but then, with surprising speed, her hand closed around his again, this time squeezing with the force of a hydraulic press. Clark's eyes widened in shock as his joints popped audibly, the overwhelming pressure driving him to one knee. "AAAGH!" he cried out, his voice echoing through the room. But just as quickly as the crushing pain came, it vanished as she released her grip once more.

"See?" Martha said, her tone firm but motherly, crossing her massive arms as she stood over him. "That's what happens when you don't communicate with me, honey! I'm sorry I hurt you, but if you don't tell me when it's too much and keep trying to put on a front, you could really end up getting hurt." Clark gasped, struggling to push himself back to his feet. His hand throbbed as if it had been crushed into paste, but a quick X-ray scan with his superhuman vision revealed it was miraculously unharmed. He let out a shaky breath, still reeling from the experience.

It had felt as though his hand was about to be pulverized into dust—and yet, somehow, his mother had let him off just in time. As his pulse slowed, his gaze shifted back to her. He needed to understand what was happening. Turning his X-ray vision toward her arm, he tried to read her facial expression, to determine if she was just teasing him or if this new level of dominance was intentional. But even his enhanced vision struggled against the dense, seemingly impenetrable wall of her muscles. Her flesh was so thick and packed with definition that he could barely see beneath the surface of her skin. And yet, even with her impossibly low body fat, the view wasn't much different from his regular sight—her muscles were already so sharp, so striated, that they might as well have been carved from marble.

Clark clenched his jaw. "Mom," he said, his voice steady but tinged with frustration, "just how strong have you really gotten?" Martha smiled, tilting her head slightly as she flexed her arm, the massive peak rising so high that it nearly touched her shoulder. "Oh, honey," she said playfully, "you don't need to worry about that. Just focus on listening to your mom and being honest with me, okay? That's all that matters." Her casual confidence and the sheer enormity of her presence left him at a loss for words. She was so far beyond him now that he couldn't even begin to comprehend it, and in his mind he tried to avoid acknowledging it. And the worst part? She wasn't just stronger—she was still his mom, scolding him like he was a child.

Superman gulped, attempting to deal with a maelstrom of unfamiliar emotions.. Humiliation, a tinge of fear, and a deep attraction he didn't want to acknowledge. Martha extended her arm once more, but this time, she curled all her fingers except her pinky. That lone finger, thick as a log, seemed almost mocking in its size. "Go ahead, sweetie pie," she said with a playful smile. "Just pull on this. At least this way, I won't accidentally break you with my grip!" She giggled, the sound light but brimming with confidence. Superman's pride wavered under the weight of humiliation, yet he held firm.

Puffing out his chest, he forced a smirk. "What if I break your—" Before he could even finish the sentence, Martha burst into laughter, cutting him off. "Oh, my little sweetie pie, your sense of humor has gotten so much better! You're adorable." Clark gritted his teeth, grabbed hold of her pinky, and began to pull. It was solid—immovable, like it was carved out of unyielding steel. He tugged harder, straining with all his might. Ten minutes passed, and he was panting, drenched in sweat. Exhausted, he finally let go and bent over, heaving for breath. As he looked up, he saw Martha casually curling the loaded barbell in her other hand, her focus entirely on herself.

Each curl caused her explosive biceps to bulge and relax, the thick veins running along them pulsing with every rep. Her strength was mesmerizing, and she didn't seem to even notice him. "Mom?" Clark called out, his voice tinged with disbelief. Without shifting her gaze from her arm, Martha responded, her tone light and encouraging. "You're doing great, honey. Keep trying!" Clark froze, stunned. He had let go of her pinky minutes ago, and she hadn't even noticed. The realization hit him like a meteor: his effort, all his strength, had been so insignificant that it hadn't even registered to her. Unwillingly, he found himself in awe. The sheer, unshakable power of this woman—his mother—was staggering, almost terrifying.

He couldn't help but uncomfortably admire the absolute might of this incredible female marvel. Superman, panting, didn't know what to do. "Uh, I think I'm done for now-" Martha tutted disappointedly, "Oh no sweetie, I can't let you quit just yet. You'll be a scrawny little guy for the rest of your life if you give up so easily." Coughing, Clark tried to bury the embarrassment he felt. He was more exhausted from just pulling against his mother's pinky than from fighting entire alien armadas.

He stood up and began walking out of the barn, trying to think of some excuse that didn't involve admitting his mother's sheer physical superiority. "Well, I don't know about you Mom but I'm famished. Maybe we should head back inside and have dinner?" That seemed to convince her at least for a moment. "Hmmm, I don't think so, Clark. I thought I raised you better than that, to make excuses in order to get out of chores."

Superman exasperatedly attempted to reason with her. "Well Martha, I'm not a child anymore. I came here to visit you, and while I wouldn't mind helping around the farm I don't see how.. this is necessary!" She finally stopped curling for a moment, her arm covered in a thin sheen of sweat. As Martha turned, her muscles gleaned like mirrors, allowing Superman to actually see himself reflected in her silky skin. He looked pathetic, like a saggy beanpole while she seemed to defy gravity, her pecs sticking out even farther, bigger and perkier than when she was 20 as imposing shelves of tit flesh and power.

Her bulging, curvaceous thighs carried her mass with no sign of stress at all, and he wondered how it feel to be trapped between them. Wait, why was he thinking that? She was still his mother, he had to remember. "Clark Kent, you are not going to walk out of that door. Young man, if I have to drag you back inside and FORCE you to work out, I will." She puffed out her chest, crossing her titanic arms which were twitching and pulsing with muscle. Each forearm was larger than his thigh, and the cables of female muscle seemed like angry snakes coiling around each other. "M-mom, you really shouldn't be so... forceful."

She snorted. "Maybe you shouldn't be so childish, then. If this is the way that you want to be, then fine. Go ahead, just TRY to walk out." Her voice was tinged with a menace he had never heard from her before. "W-well, I hope you feel better tomorrow but I really must be going..." Trying to leave the situation as quickly as possible, he walked over to the exit of the barn and began flying. He had to return to the Fortress of Solitude, his base in Antarctica.

The alien supercomputers there should allow him to run tests and find out exactly what the hell happened to his mom- and then his world came to a painful, sudden stop. His right foot felt as though it were being crushed by a black hole, and no matter how hard he flew he couldn't move a centimeter. Looking down, he saw the thick fingers of his mother and the striated, hero shaming biceps and triceps of her titanic arm. The sight was comical, like a child flying a kite... her massive arms causing his legs to look like pieces of string! She scoffed.

"Honey, you're going to regret making me ruina perfectly good pair of sandals." "wh-what?" He looked down, her petite feet sizzling with heat, a few scraps of fabric remaining. That couldn't be possible, he was flying over 500 miles per hour but somehow she could run even faster! Throwing him back over his shoulder, in a blur of movement they were back in the barn.

This time, she took a superheroic pose, her body wider than the opening of the barn designed for heavy equipment. It was similar to the pose he was known for, that people had made statues of. She made his own pose look small, like a baby compared to an adult. Her body redefined what it meant to be "Superheroic" throwing every standard of size and definition into the trash. As he lay on the ground looking up, her shadow completely covered his body. You just don't want to admit that I'm stronger than you, isn't that it?"

Her head tilted, her mountainous traps flexing in response. Her foot tapped impatiently, causing the ground itself to shake. Superman looked ill. "Wh-what are you talking about mom?" She sighed. "Listen, I know it might be hard for you... but there's nothing wrong with being weaker than me, Clark. " "B-but I'm not-" She cut him off, "Nuh uh, there's no use trying to avoid it, or should I tally up the evidence?" Superman gulped. "P-please don't" A smile spread across Martha's face, lighting up her features in a way that felt both intimidating and powerful. With her massive traps bulging, she looked almost devilish as she grinned.

Was it her overwhelming physique? Her unshakable confidence? Or the undeniable fact that she was effortlessly overpowering him like he was, quite literally, a child? Superman rose to his feet, determined to take in the full scope of the massive woman before him. Standing several feet away, he finally had the full picture of her towering, goddess-like frame. He had to step back a full four feet just to take it all in. Martha was so large, she nearly blocked all the sunlight streaming through the doorway. But the light that did pass through highlighted every inch of her imposing physique—her traps, her forearms, her thighs.

What a body! Clark thought to himself, marveling despite his unease. Her muscular build was beyond anything he could've imagined—beyond even his wildest dreams of perfection. To him, such a physique seemed utterly unattainable. As she stood there with her chest puffed out in grand, effortless posturing, he noticed the fabric of her oversized, XXXL sweatshirt beginning to give way. The left shoulder seam stretched and tore slightly under the pressure of her immense musculature. He was amazed it had lasted this long. Shaking his head, Superman tore his focus from her body and the tearing sweatshirt back to the matter at hand.

He squared his shoulders, puffed out his chest, and forced himself to stand tall. It was a weak attempt at reclaiming his pride—like a dry twig trying to appear threatening next to a massive tree trunk. "Mom!" he declared, his voice firm but trembling slightly. "You better move! I don't want to use force, but I will if I have to!" Martha threw her head back and laughed—a full, hearty laugh that echoed around the room. She tried to hold back the mocking tone, but it slipped through.

"Oh, sweetie! You really think you've got it in you? Go ahead. Move me! You couldn't even move my pinky!" "I... I was going easy on you!" Superman stammered, though even he cringed at the weak lie. "What?" Martha said, her laughter bubbling up again. "Easy on me? Oh, Clark, don't embarrass yourself. That's adorable!" Her laughter stung more than any physical blow ever could. Superman wasn't sure what hurt more—her mocking tone or the undeniable truth behind her words.

He stepped back, preparing himself. "I'll run through you if I have to! Please, just move!" he warned, his tone sharper now. Am I really about to do this? he thought. Run through my own mother? What if she's bluffing and I actually hurt her? The thought gave him pause, but his pride pushed him forward. She had doubted his strength too much, it could lead to getting her hurt even worse down the line! After all, just because she could lift more weight than a normal woman, if she acted like this around an actual supervillain like the kind he fought on a regular basis, she could antagonize them into killing her!

There was no way she could actually be able to overpower Darkseid or Mongul or any of the other alien warlords who he struggled against, that just couldn't be possible. He desperately rationalized using so much force against his mother, even as doubt tugged at the back of his mind. And if the worst did come to pass, he could always use his super speed to turn back time, like he had done decades before... Still, a nagging voice inside him whispered that this wasn't going to end well. What if... she was actually stronger than him? Did he really want to lose a fight against his mom, of all people?! But his macho pride propelled him forward, even as a seed of doubt continued to grow.

Striding forward with a forced veneer of confidence, Superman charged at Martha with his hands outstretched. Her wrinkled face didn't look concerned at all, laugh lines framing a sly grin. Though her silver hair betrayed her age, Martha's titanic body seemed to defy both the years, and Superman's superhuman strength. Running forward, the superhero built up speed and tackled his muscular mother with enough energy to destroy the moon! He barreled towards his with a sonic boom, slamming into her body with a loud thud, which shook the entire farm!

Martha didn't shake at all, in fact she didn't budge an inch. Her smile remained completely unchanged. The only thing Superman's strike had accomplished was putting himself in an even more embarrassing situation, his arms not long enough to reach past her titanic chest. The only result of his ferocious stampede was that Superman ended up slipping between her twin torpedo tits. The spheres of maternal might jiggled slightly as his body was easily captured, his momentum completely nullified, his torso only traveling into her cleavage up until her breasts turned into pure pectoral muscle, stopping him in his place.

Each one encompassed and embarrassed the size of his body with their mass, jiggling slightly from his ineffectual assault. Not only was he trapped between his mother's muscular pec powered boobs, but he had actually ripped right through the last remaining vestiges of her sweatshirt turned bikini, leaving her beach ball sized globes completely bare! He couldn't see them though, his vision being completely taken up by her familiar face, and massive upper body. Her traps loomed menacingly, and the shoulders he could barely reach were as gigantic and impenetrable as ever, his fingers only able to make purchase between each striation.

"Oh, sweetie pie, is that all you wanted to do?" Martha taunted, her voice dripping with playful condescension. "If you wanted to feel Momma's big muscles, all you had to do was ask!" She brought up one of her titanic arms, the mountainous bicep surging upward as it moved toward Superman's face. Instinctively, he tried to pull back, but it was no use—her chest flexed with crushing force, locking his torso firmly in place. He squirmed, but her body was unyielding, and soon her massive bicep loomed so close it completely consumed his field of vision.

"Wh-what?" he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. Martha cooed softly, her tone dripping with amusement. "What's wrong, little sweetie pie? Don't you like Momma's larger... stronger muscles?" She punctuated the words with a slow, deliberate flex, her bicep surging to an even greater peak. Superman was utterly dumbfounded, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for words. "N-no, they—"

"—are stronger than yours," she finished for him, her grin widening. "In fact, this one arm of mine is stronger than your entire body!" Her eyes sparkled with a mix of pride and teasing mischief. "I've seen you staring, Clark. Don't try to deny it. There's no need to put on a facade anymore—it's perfectly natural to be in awe."

Superman's face burned with humiliation, his gaze unable to tear away from the overwhelming sight before him. Her strength, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the touch of her skin and her rippling muscles—it was all too much. He felt a stirring deep within him, his body betraying him as his member began to stiffen. He silently prayed she wouldn't notice, panic bubbling up at the thought of what she might say—or do—if she did. After all, she was so powerful now that there was nothing he could do to stop her. "Come on, honey," Martha teased, her voice dropping to a sultry, almost singsong tone. "Just give it a kiss. I know you want to..." She flexed her bicep again, the mountainous peak jumping higher than his head, the motion mesmerizing.

For a fleeting moment, he almost gave in, almost leaned forward to do as she said. But then reality came crashing down on him, and he began to struggle. "N-no, that's wrong!" he cried, flailing his arms and pushing against her impossibly hard body. "I won't do it! Let... me... go!" Martha's chest vibrated with laughter as she watched his futile attempts to break free. Her grip didn't loosen in the slightest, her muscles remaining as immovable as granite.

"Oh, sweetie," she cooed, "you're adorable when you struggle. But you should know by now—it's pointless to fight against me." She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his cheek. "Why not just admit it? You're fascinated by Momma's muscles, aren't you? It's okay, Clark. I'm stronger than you in every way. There's nothing wrong with accepting that." Her words struck a chord deep within him, her playful yet commanding tone breaking through his resolve. He clenched his fists, torn between shame and awe. Superman began striking her body, hoping she would let go. His fists simply bounced off.

"Oh, do you want to give a massage? How nice, sweetie!" She mocked, completely laughing off blows that could turn a boulder to dust, each booming strike not even denting her physique." Twisting her ultra defined core, Martha rotated her upper body, Superman still trapped in between. She twisted so fast, while releasing her unbreakable flex, that Superman went flying back back into the barn. Gritting his teeth, Superman pushed himself back up and flew towards his mother with full force. He wasn't going to let her humiliate him, toy with him any more!

he began punching and kicking with all of his strength, the force of the impact causing the entire farm to begin shaking. He aimed at her pec-boobs, too angry to notice her nudity. Her chest jiggled with every punch, but she just continued to taunt him. "there you go sweetie, get it all out. You can't hurt me anyways, feel free to have a tantrum like a little baby, your about as strong as one compared to me!" Every strike that could have destroyed a moon... completely absorbed. Every ounce of force was put into each wild swing, but the only thing that happened was... he became exhausted. Out of breath, he slumped to one knee.

"Is that it? Really? If punching my boobies is enough to tucker you out, I should have let you do this from the start!" "D-damnit..." In his current position, Superman couldn't even see the smiling face of his muscular mother, her muscle boobs sticking out too far. Her short stature meant that her boobs were barely above eye level for him while on the ground. Superman't couldn't stand it. Why!? How!? He couldn't quit like this, completely defeated by a pair of boobs... his MOTHER's muscular boobs!

He saw her chiseled abs, a 12 pack of the most intimidating bricks of she-beef he had ever seen. They looked so invincible, but deep down... he wanted to touch them. To worship them. Infuriated at himself, lashing out in frustration he punched one last time. "AAAIEEE!" He screamed, holding his broken fist. Martha couldn't quite see her son as he dropped to one knee. A slight disadvantage of having such an enormously blossomed, muscular chest was the limited field of vision it created. Moments like this were a bit tragic, really. If she had seen that he was aiming for her abs, she could have stopped him—saved him from his own stupidity.

After all, if his punches couldn't even hurt her softest parts, her breasts, how did he expect to do any damage to one of her hardest and strongest—her abs? Her abs were a masterpiece of muscular perfection: a 12-pack of explosive, symmetrical slabs of power. Each muscle was fully formed and deeply defined, even though she wasn't even flexing. These abs weren't just for show—they could crush steel between them effortlessly. The idea of Superman's punch doing any damage to such an impenetrable wall of strength was laughable. The sharp crack of bones breaking and the unmistakable "AAAAIIEEE!" that escaped her son's mouth told Martha that something had gone terribly wrong.

Of course, she hadn't felt his punch at all—his strongest effort had been so weak that it didn't even register against her unyielding midsection. She stepped back slightly and finally got a full view of her son, cradling his hand, which now hung at an odd, unnatural angle. Her eyebrows rose in concern, though her tone remained teasing. "Oh, honey! Did you stop punching my boobs and decide to try my abs instead? That wasn't very good decision-making, sweetie pie—especially for someone who's supposed to be the world's greatest hero. "

She let out a sigh of affectionate exasperation, then bent forward slightly, reaching out to grab him by the belt. Without so much as a grunt of effort, she lifted him high into the air, raising him until his entire body was above her chest. Now she could finally get a proper look at him. To anyone watching, the way she held him might have seemed dismissive—like she was lifting a rag doll or a piece of discarded cloth rather than the man once hailed as the strongest on the planet. But to Martha, this was an act of love. Her fingers curled around his waist as though she were holding something precious, though her strength made the act look almost careless.

Clark's eyes widened in disbelief as he dangled helplessly in her grasp. How could she lift him so effortlessly? Even mothers who cradled their children didn't handle them with this kind of ease. And yet, here she was, hoisting him up with a single hand, her other resting casually on her hip as if this were the most natural thing in the world. "This is why you need to listen to me, Clark," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I don't want you getting hurt trying to prove something to me. You know I love you, right?" Her words stung in a way Clark couldn't quite explain. He was supposed to be Superman, the most powerful being in the world—and yet here he was, utterly outclassed by his mother's love, strength, and unshakable confidence.

Now that she brought him closer to her, she could clearly see his erection. The comparatively little muscle man hanging from her hand didn't have any way to hide it now anyways. She giggled at the sight. "Oh, sweetie pie! You were too excited to touch momma's abs, weren't you? Like I said before, it's only natural! You've never felt any muscles like these, your own mushy little abs don't come close! Mine are soft to the touch but harder than metal, so they tend to have that effect on men! Sadly, it's been a while since your momma's been with a man... Not since your dad passed away! I did try to hire a couple of male stable boys in the later years, but they just ran in fear after seeing my body.

Around the farm, it was just me and my training buddy!" There was a pause and then she smiled at him. "Show your boo-boo to mommy, darling!" With a combination of genuine concern and taunting superiority. He was not ready to adjust to the humiliating truth, that he did hurt just by punching his elderly mother's abs. He tried to jiggle his way out of her grip. "I'm alright, really! Let me go!" She tightened her grip on his hips, his erection still easily visible and straining harder after every humiliation. "Come on, sweetie pie. There's no need to be shy! Show it to momma, and I'll kiss your boo-boo better!" With the understanding that she would only humiliate him more if he didn't listen to her, he acquiesced and presented his shattered hand.

She took a look to easily determine the result. "Yep! It's broken, sweetheart. You should really be careful punching someone like momma, honey!" She was sweet talking to him, but every word only added to his total humiliation. How could he ever escape it? She brought up her other titanic arm and flexed it in his face. Still being held in one firm hand, Superman had no choice but to take in the gigantic, pulsating maternal bicep. Her tower of she-beef pushed up against his face, completely obscuring his view of anything else. The pure muscle overpowering his entire field of view was too much for the poor, emasculated superhero. J

ust seeing his mother's bicep caused the tented pole in his pants to blast off. Cum leaked through his iconic outfit as he was unable to control any longer. Martha giggled. "Oh, sweetie! So soon! I mean you won't kiss it but you do that!" She smirked at him. Her flex hardened as the already bigger bicep seemed to churn out even more bulging muscle mounds in the face of the injured Superman. "Ready to kiss my muscles and accept that I'm stronger than you? I mean, there are still more bones in your body that the muscles on big momma can break. You don't want that, do you sweetheart?" "N-no." Superman mumbled out, no longer having the energy to fight back. "What was that sweetie? I'm old, so my hearing isn't what it used to be! "I said, no!" He yelled, desperate to appease her and avoid further humiliation


"Hmmm, that's not good enough. It still sounds like you're being a stubborn little thing, and we can't have that. Honey, you should tell me exactly what it is that you don't want to happen." Superman sighed. "... I don't want you to break my bones." She smiled, happy to be making progress.

Superman however felt crushed, completely powerless, emasculated, and totally inferior. The problem being that the person he felt so completely inferior to, so helpless and weak compared to was his mom! An old farmer in her 60s, a lady who baked pies and knitted quilts was also a physical specimen that was so much stronger than Superman that he couldn't even hurt the softest part of her body, and broke himself just trying to hit the hardest. He couldn't escape the fact anymore, she wouldn't let him.

"Sweety, tell me... Why am I able to break your bones? How come you couldn't even tickle me, even with your so-called "super duper" strength?" She looked at him with almost a predatory glance. She was relishing this, Martha felt stronger, better... and hotter than she ever had before. Clark had been fighting against it all night, but she felt good about the effect she had on him. The effect her muscles had on him. Maybe it was wrong, but she didn't care anymore. Clark belonged to her, and she was going to keep him safe, and make him happy in a way no other woman could.

Martha squeezed his super butt with one hand, causing him to yelp in pain. "Oh i'm sorry honey, but we really do need to have you do some squats. Your glutes are so squishy.!" This final demonstration of casual strength and muscular power that could tear him apart was enough to break the floodgates. "M-mom, you're stronger than me. Please, stop hurting me! I'll do what you say, but if you wanted... You could destroy me .." Martha looked at Superman, gently caressing his face. "Oh Clark, i promise i wont do that honey. I could, but I love you! You were being such a brat, you kind of deserved what happened to you... And shouldn't you apologize for hitting me? Not that there was ever any chance of you actually hurting me, but a good boy shouldn't even try to hurt his mother "

Even though she had trapped him in the barn in the first place, and essentially forced his hand... Superman didn't have a choice. He had to apologize. "You're right, mom. I'm sorry," She looked at him for a moment, almost satisfied. "Mommy. Say, you're right, mommy". "Wh-what?" Superman was stunned. "Say it!" She cried. "I'm sorry, mommy!" As Superman spoke, a wave of humiliation washed over him. His years as a hero had been smooth, free of significant challenges that truly tested him. Yet, here he was, facing his mother—and for the first time, he felt powerless. His member trembled, and he came again, even more violently this time.

Something changed, fundamentally inside Clark. His brain was overwhelmed, by his mother's size, her dominance, her sexuality, even her hormones were wreaking havoc on his mind. Psychologically, he was completely destroyed. Why did anything matter now? He was insignificant next to Martha, he couldn't call himself a hero any longer, much less a man. Her sheer strength, muscularity and will had overwritten his ego, while the pleasure and pain inflicted by her body overwrote his neural pathways.

His body, mind and soul surrendered to Martha, as his body fell to the ground. He continued cumming, blast after blast, his eyes unfocused, his limbs twitching. His mother, an elderly woman with no powers other than a hard earned muscular body had done what no alien god, super genius or other villain had been able to accomplish. She had broken the man of steel.

"Oh no sweetie pie, are you alright?!" Martha fretted, picking him up once more like a kitten. Superman continued to cum, more powerfully now that he was in direct contact with Martha's Amazonian mass. "I can't believe I did it again.." She crooned, sadly.
"I'm so sorry, honey bun! Don't worry, momma's going to fix this!"

Stuffing his completely mindless body in between her titanic thighs, doing her best to not crush his relatively squishy torso, she carefully cradled Superman's head. Extending a singular pinky, she flicked his forehead only once, creating yet another, louder sonic boom. Superman went completely limp, knocked out with the slightest effort, though not before one last geyser of pleasure blasted behind Martha.

Of course, knocking him out wasn't the main goal. Moving his face into her muscular armpit, she giggled. Her powerful hormones flooded his body, combined with the physical trauma which rattled his brain, wiping his memories of the last day, perhaps even the last few days clean. It was a trick she had learned on accident, after wrestling men into an equally catatonic state. "Shhhh, sleep well pumpkin, we have a big day planned tomorrow."

Tossing the limp hero back over her shoulder, Martha began walking back to her house, thinking of all of the fun ways she could spend tomorrow with her son. She didn't need to worry about fitting everything into just tomorrow, after all she'd have all the time in the world to be with her beloved sweetie pie. If he wasn't strong enough to beat her, the safest thing would be for him to just live with her on the farm, at least until he could prove himself capable of fighting his muscle matron on equal terms. Smiling, Martha knew that would never happen.

[jos73]

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