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In The Grip Of The Intoxicator
|They soon arrived at the experimental power station where the
Intoxicator was waiting. It took six of his powerful henchmen to
unload the bound hero. In a secluded area of the station the villain,
hooked up to the massive heart machine, had his goons release the men
from their shackles and attach them on either side of the test room,
hands and feet shackled to the componenent assembly grid, a metal
array of horizontal and vertical elements and catwalks designed to
allow the test mounting of equipment and transformer circuits.DeLeone
was still in his labcoat, while the massive hero was now naked, his
loincloth having been ripped off by the wind during the flight. The
Intoxicator, attached to the machine by transparent tubes through
which flowed his lifeblood, walked around the hero, now so weak that
he could not support his own weight and was hanging by his attached
Intoxicator: So, looks like you've been working out since we last met, AlfalfaMan.
AlphaMan: You'll never get away with this, Intoxicator!
Intoxicator: Away with what? I simply wanted to have a closer look at what my esteemed colleague Professor DeLeone was doing with you. It is most impressive and explains much of what we have observed in the last few months.
DeLeone: I'm no colleague of yours, Intoxicator!
Intoxicator: As you please, but you are of our superhero friend here. You've set up quite a family business with him haven't you?
DeLeone: I don't know what you're talking about.
Intoxicator: Come now, Professor. Do you think I am unaware that those muscleboy heroes that have teamed up with Alfalfa here are your sons? It becomes quite obvious to one who knows how to look. I am most interested in your work. I was hoping you could help me with my little heart problem. If needs be, I would be most interested in looking for a replacement.
As he spoke, the Intoxicator caressed the hero's massive pecs. AlphaMan spat on him. The Intoxicator reached down and grabbed the hero's balls (or ball, since it would be impossible to hold both of AlphaMan's giant testicles in one hand) and squeezed. He did not expect a reaction, his thugs' account of the effect of their bullets on him having confirmed he deduction that AlphaMan had retained his invulnerability. He signalled to one of his men to bring one of the jugs of liquid. He had quickly noted that it was particularly refined and complex liquid protein formula.
Intoxicator: I compliment you on your skills. Shall we see how it works in practice?
DeLeone: His treatment is finished for the day. He needs no more protein.
Intoxicator: You cannot imagine, my dear Professor, that I would miss the opportunity to see your work in action?
He instructed his men to climb on the catwalk above the hero. Two of them pried open the hero's jaws, taking advantage of his weakened state, while a third threaded a naso-gastric tube down into AlphaMan's stomach. This installation finished, they began to pour protein down his throat, as if he were a goose being fattened for foie gras. The formula was no longer active, and the arrival of fresh protein simply stimulated the elimination reflex. The urine started flowing, first slowly, then faster, from the catheter in the hero's cock.
Intoxicator: You are most impolite, AlfalfaMan. You, get one of those clips and close off this tube.
DeLeone: The urination is a normal response to the treatment! You must let it flow!
Intoxicator: When a friend is so good as to lend me a home away from home, I refuse to allow some overfed musclehead to soil it with his execreta.
DeLeone's fears about the effect of this blockage associated with the force feeding appeared to be justified. The urine building up in AlphaMan's bladder would soon cause excruciating pain. The tissue desctruction would be blocked, with unknown consequences. As to the effects of the protein forcefeeding, it remained to be seen. With his head pulled up by the feeding tube, it was impossible to see his expression, but the tears running down from his cheeks confirmed that the expanding bladder was torturing him. With his remaining strength he was shaking his hips trying to shake off the clip without success. As for the protein, unable to be transformed into muscle, it was being transformed into fat before his eyes, as the Intoxicator watched and smiled at this interesting turn of events.
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