Lex Luthor had always prided himself on being the smartest man alive, but even he had not anticipated the chaos that the multiverse event would bring to his carefully ordered world. It began with a ripple in reality itself, a cosmic tear that flung heroes and villains across dimensions without warning. Superman, that insufferable boy scout from Metropolis, had vanished in a flash of light, replaced by a man in a star-spangled uniform who called himself Captain America. The stranger had appeared in the heart of Metropolis, shield raised and jaw set, disoriented but determined to protect the innocent bystanders who gawked at his sudden arrival.
Lex watched it all unfold from the monitors in his underground lair, his lips curling into a predatory smile. Alarms blared across his consoles as the multiverse incursion registered on every scanner in LexCorp. He leaned forward, fingers flying over the holographic keyboard, pulling up every scrap of data the event had dumped into the local networks. Satellite feeds, eyewitness reports, and fragmented energy signatures flooded the screens. The intruder was no Kryptonian, no god from some ancient pantheon.
Lex’s databases, already cross-referenced with the burst of quantum data from the tear, identified him in seconds. Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. A super soldier from an alternate Earth, created through a serum that pushed human limits to their absolute peak. No flight, no heat vision, just pure, unfiltered masculine perfection forged by science. Peak strength, peak endurance, peak dominance. Lex’s eyes gleamed as he read deeper. This man was a symbol of heroism in his world, a leader who commanded loyalty through sheer presence alone. “Steven Rogers,” Lex murmured, savoring the name like a fine wine. “The ultimate human specimen. And now he is here, in my city, without his precious Avengers or that ridiculous shield to protect him. The multiverse has delivered exactly what I need.”
This was no ordinary intruder. This was peak human perfection, a living embodiment of masculine strength and unyielding will, stolen from another universe while Superman was doubtless stumbling through some barbaric alternate realm.
Lex wasted no time. He had been preparing for years to one day strip Superman of everything that made him superior, but this Captain America presented an even more tantalizing opportunity. The man was not powered by some alien sun or ancient Kryptonian biology; he was enhanced through science, a super soldier whose body represented the ultimate in human potential. Muscles forged like steel, a presence that commanded respect, and a raw masculinity that radiated from every pore. If Lex could claim that essence for himself, he would not only become unstoppable but also twist the symbol of heroism into something far more useful. He activated his contingency drones, sending them streaking toward the city streets. Within minutes, the Captain was ensnared in a web of energy fields, his shield clattering uselessly to the pavement as he was transported back to LexCorp’s deepest laboratory.
Captain America awoke strapped to a reinforced metallic table, his wrists and ankles bound by vibrating restraints that hummed with red kryptonite-derived energy. His blue eyes narrowed as he tested the bonds, his broad chest heaving beneath the tight fabric of his uniform. “Whoever you are, release me,” he growled, voice steady and authoritative. “This isn’t my world, but I won’t stand by while—”
Lex stepped into the light, his bald head gleaming under the harsh laboratory fluorescents, his tailored suit hugging a frame that was merely average compared to the specimen before him. He adjusted his glasses with one slender finger and chuckled softly. “Oh, I know exactly who you are, Captain. Steven Rogers, the pinnacle of American might. Or should I say, the pinnacle of any world’s might. Your universe’s loss is my gain.” He gestured to the machine looming over them both, a towering contraption of glowing tubes and humming generators that he had perfected in the hours since the hero’s arrival. It was his latest invention, a quantum siphon designed to extract not just physical attributes but the very core of masculinity itself: strength, confidence, virility, the unshakeable aura of dominance that made men like Captain America legends.
The Captain strained harder, muscles bulging against the restraints. “You’re making a mistake. I’ve faced worse than you.”
Lex merely smiled as he connected the final cable to a harness strapped across his own chest. “On the contrary. This is the best decision I’ve ever made.” He flipped a switch, and the machine roared to life. Arcs of golden energy crackled between the two men, linking them in a circuit of pure power. Captain America gasped as the first wave hit him, a draining sensation that started in his core and spread outward like fire through his veins. His once-impenetrable physique began to soften almost imperceptibly at first, the ridges of his abs losing their razor-sharp definition, the swell of his pectorals deflating just enough to notice.
Lex felt the transfer immediately. It started as a warm tingle in his scalp, something he had not experienced in years. Fine strands of hair pushed through his smooth skin, growing rapidly from nothing into a thick, golden blond crop that swept back from his forehead in a perfect, stylish wave. He ran a hand over it, marveling at the soft texture, and laughed aloud as the color deepened to a sun-kissed shade that matched the vibrant energy still flowing into him. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice already beginning to deepen, gaining a resonant timbre that echoed with newfound authority. “This is only the beginning.”
Across from him, Captain America’s eyes widened in fresh horror as he felt a strange itch crawling across his scalp. His hand twitched against the restraints, desperate to reach up, but the bonds held firm. Strands of his once-vibrant blond hair began to loosen, drifting down in thin clumps onto the cold metal table. “No,” he whispered at first, voice cracking with disbelief. “Not that. Not my hair.” The itch intensified into a terrible shedding, more and more of his signature golden locks falling away in pathetic wisps, revealing pale skin underneath that had never seen the light of day in decades. His scalp tingled coldly as the last stubborn patches thinned and vanished entirely, leaving him completely bald, smooth and exposed like some defeated, ordinary man stripped of every heroic marker.
Lex’s own hair continued to thicken and luxuriate, the blond waves growing fuller and more commanding, framing a face that was already reshaping with superior bone structure. He shook his head slowly, letting the new locks catch the light, and grinned with pure delight. “Look at you, Rogers. The great Captain America, losing his famous hair right before my eyes. How does it feel to watch every last strand of that all-American glory tumble away while I claim it for myself? Bald and broken. Pathetic.”
The changes accelerated. Lex’s spine elongated with a series of audible cracks, his height shooting upward from his modest five-foot-ten frame to a commanding six-foot-four. His shoulders broadened dramatically, the fabric of his suit jacket ripping at the seams as deltoids inflated like balloons, round and powerful. Veins began to map themselves across his arms, pulsing with stolen vitality, while his biceps swelled outward, peaking higher and higher until they strained against the tearing sleeves. The muscles did not merely grow; they refined themselves into sculpted perfection, each striation and fiber visible beneath skin that was tanning rapidly from pale to a deep, golden bronze. Lex’s forearms thickened with corded strength, his hands enlarging into broad, capable grips that could crush steel.
Captain America watched in mounting humiliation as his own body betrayed him completely. The hero’s legendary chest, once a wall of unbreakable muscle, was caving in, pectorals shrinking and softening until they hung loosely on a narrowing ribcage. His abs, the eight-pack that had defined his super-soldier form, faded one by one, leaving behind a flat but unremarkable stomach. Even his jawline softened slightly, the heroic square giving way to a weaker, less imposing profile. His height diminished inch by inch, the restraints now hanging looser on his shrinking frame, and his voice, that once-powerful baritone, cracked higher into a feeble whimper. “Please,” he begged, the words tasting like ash in his mouth as another clump of hair drifted from his now-bald head. “Stop this. I’m… I’m nothing like this. Don’t make me watch myself disappear.”
Lex’s transformation was far from over. His chest exploded outward next, pectorals ballooning into massive slabs of muscle that pushed forward proudly, each one larger than his fist and capped with sensitive, hardening nipples. He groaned in pleasure as the sensation washed over him, his nipples tightening into peaks that sent electric jolts straight to his groin. The energy continued downward, carving deep valleys between his abs until a perfect ten-pack emerged, each block separated by razor-sharp lines that glistened with a sheen of sweat. His waist narrowed into a dramatic V-taper, obliques flaring out like armor plates, while his legs lengthened and thickened. Quads ballooned to the size of tree trunks, hamstrings and calves carving themselves into diamond-hard shapes that pressed against the remnants of his pants until the fabric shredded away entirely.
But it was the masculinity that truly corrupted him. As the final surges of essence poured in, Lex felt his mind shift. Memories of weakness, of relying on intellect alone, dissolved like mist. In their place flooded a rush of raw dominance, an unshakable confidence that made his lips curl into a cocky smirk. His voice dropped another octave, becoming a smooth, commanding baritone. “Look at you now,” he taunted, his blue eyes, now a piercing shade that matched the stolen hero’s original hue, locking onto the diminished Captain. “Reduced to nothing. Bald, scrawny, and trembling like the insignificant worm you truly are beneath that costume. I can feel every ounce of your power inside me, every drop of that so-called heroism twisting into something far superior. And you? You’re just a sad, hairless shell begging for mercy that will never come.”
Lex’s face reshaped itself in the mirror across the lab, his cheekbones rising higher, his jaw squaring into a chiseled masterpiece framed by a light, perfectly trimmed stubble that accentuated his full lips. His nose refined into a straight, aristocratic line, and his brows arched with natural arrogance. The last of his old suit fell away in tatters, revealing the full glory of his new body: a towering, oiled-looking physique that gleamed under the lights, every muscle group hypertrophied to bodybuilder extremes yet perfectly proportioned for power and aesthetics. His cock, once average, had thickened and lengthened dramatically, hanging heavy between thighs that could crush diamonds, a symbol of the virility he had claimed.
He stepped free of the machine, the restraints on Captain America falling away as the last of the energy dissipated. The former hero slumped to the floor, a shadow of his former self, weak and unremarkable in every way, his bald head shining pathetically under the lights. Lex towered over him, flexing his massive arms in a double biceps pose that made the peaks rise like mountains. He felt no remorse, only a deep, intoxicating triumph that surged through every fiber of his stolen form. “How utterly humiliating for you, Rogers,” he said with a laugh that boomed from his powerful chest. “The symbol of freedom, the man who punched Hitler in the jaw, now bald and broken at my feet. I own what you were. I am what you were, only better, stronger, and far more deserving. This body was always meant for a mind like mine.”
Lex reached down with one massive hand, gripping the bald, shrunken Steve Rogers by the chin and forcing his head up. The once-mighty hero’s eyes were wide with shame, his diminished body trembling. “You belong to me now,” Lex growled, his voice thick with lust. He shoved Steve onto his back on the cold lab floor and stripped away the tattered remains of the star-spangled uniform with effortless strength. Steve tried to push him away, but his weak arms offered no resistance. Lex positioned himself above the fallen man, his enormous cock already hard and throbbing with stolen vitality. “Feel that, Rogers? That is your power inside me, making me hard for you. How does it feel to know the great Captain America is about to be fucked by his own masculinity?”
Steve’s voice came out as a broken plea. “No... please... not like this... I’m not...”
Lex thrust forward without mercy, burying his thick length deep into Steve’s unwilling body. The bald man cried out in humiliation, his once-heroic frame shuddering under the assault. Lex pounded into him with powerful, rhythmic strokes, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through his own godlike physique. His massive pecs bounced with every movement, his abs contracting like steel plates, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he stared down at the pathetic creature beneath him.
“That’s it,” Lex moaned, gripping Steve’s smooth scalp with one hand while his other pinned the man’s wrists above his head. “Take it all. Every inch of what used to be yours. You are nothing but a hole for me now.”
Steve’s face burned with utter degradation, tears of shame slipping down his cheeks as Lex used him relentlessly. The hero’s body, drained and soft, offered no fight, only submission. Lex’s climax built like a storm, his muscles flexing and swelling with each drive until he finally roared in triumph, flooding Steve with hot seed.
He pulled out slowly, admiring the way the broken man lay there, spent and humiliated beyond words. Lex stood tall, his body glistening with sweat, and wiped himself clean on the remnants of Steve’s uniform. “Pathetic,” he said with a satisfied smirk. “The mighty Steve Rogers, reduced to a cum-stained mess on my floor. And I feel more alive, more powerful, than you ever did.”
Lex strode to a nearby console and activated the holographic projectors, summoning a sleek new uniform that materialized around his waist: black tactical pants that hugged his powerful thighs and glutes like a second skin, leaving his upper body bare to showcase the glory he had claimed. A gold watch appeared on his wrist, a subtle nod to the wealth that still defined him. He admired his reflection, turning slowly to take in the way his abs contracted with each breath, the way his pecs bounced with subtle power, the thick blond hair that crowned his head like a crown of victory.
“Captain Metropolis,” he announced to the empty lab, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right. Heroic on the surface, but beneath it, a weapon aimed squarely at the heart of his true enemy.
Superman would return eventually. The multiverse event could not last forever. When he did, he would find not the broken Captain America he expected, but a rival who matched him in strength and surpassed him in cunning. Lex, now fully Captain Metropolis, would greet him with a smile and a challenge, his blond hair catching the sunlight, his muscular frame radiating the masculinity he had stolen. The people of Metropolis would cheer for their new champion, oblivious to the corruption that pulsed beneath the surface. And when the final confrontation came, Lex would crush his old foe not with Kryptonite or schemes, but with the very power that had once defined heroism itself, all while the bald, humiliated Steve Rogers watched from whatever shadow he was forced to hide in.
He clenched his fists, feeling the raw energy coursing through every vein, and let out a deep, satisfied laugh that echoed through the lab. The age of Superman was ending. The reign of Captain Metropolis had only just begun.
