“Clive, if you were a superhero what would your name and special powers be?”       

“Do you know it’s funny you should ask that, Miguel, because believe it or not, I was once a superhero. Just this week I was interviewed by a writer for a book that he is writing about me.”

“Really, when does the book come out?”

“It’s not finished yet but here is an advance copy containing the first couple of sections about my escapades…”


The Chronicles of Spermaman – By J R Hartley


Some years ago…

In her new job as Laboratory Assistant at ICI Keren Woodward still cut an attractive figure in her white lab coat, a uniform that was in stark contrast to the glitzy dresses that was the uniform during her heydays as a singer in eighties girl-group Bananarama. She had taken the job at the chemical giant after the working men’s club bookings had ground to a halt, and the record royalties had dried up. Having never quite kicked the cocaine habit she’d developed during the height of her fame, Keren would occasionally sneak out to the chemical storage sheds at the back of ICI’s main factory for a crafty line ‘to take the edge off’. On this particular day she had been reading on an internet forum that cocaine imbibed directly through the vagina was a much more potent rush than the traditional snorting method because it was absorbed directly into the main blood stream. With a rapidly deteriorating septum she was intrigued by the idea so during her lunch break she popped out the sheds, cut out a line on top of a barrel, hitched up her skirt, pulled her knickers down and hopped on top of the barrel in a seated position, enveloping the line of white powder with her Brazilian-waxed axe wound. She could feel tingling in her special places immediately, it felt good. She could feel the cocaine euphoria coursing through her body, and then suddenly… the top of the barrel gave way with a crash submerging her throbbing cunt into an unknown liquid. Unable to think of a credible reason as to how she had come to dip her lettuce in a vat of chemical waste, she decided not to seek medical advice, instead, quietly hoping the burning sensation would subside naturally.

That night Keren Woodward died from what doctors would later describe as a radioactive fanny.


And so it began

Spermaman was a superhero that would do battle with criminals and ne’er-do-wells by furiously wanking off and ejaculating in their eyes with a sperm so powerful that it would debilitate any would-be muggers or rapists by literally melting them. Said to be more potent than the beer in ‘The Underground Nightclub’ in Gibraltar, Spermaman (or Clive as he is known to friends) acquired his special powers whilst working the nightshift as a morgue attendant at the local hospital. Clive was forced to take the job upon his return to England after going broke in the Gibraltar cash game. To this day Clive maintains that it was the colluding of German staff from PokerStrategy.com that cost him his bankroll rather than his strict observance to the strategies laid out in Phil Gordon’s little Green Book of Poker.

I asked him about this period in his life…

“Yeah, the cheating Kraut cunts, anyway, I digress. Part of my job at the morgue was to prepare the bodies for the family undertaker who would be collecting the corpse the next day. Occasionally you would get a right looker in, and with only skeleton staff in the early hours… you know, it would be a crying shame not to give them their last rites, as it were.  Anyway, one night we got an amazing woman in with long hair, cracking tits and an arse like two boiled eggs in a Dockers handkerchief. She was a bit long in the tooth but still a mighty specimen all the same. As I looked closer I realised it was Keren Woodward of Bananarama fame – I recognised her from the cover of their 1987 hit album ‘Wow!’ Bursting with excitement at the prospect of nailing one of the ‘Wanking Top 5ers’ from my youth, I smashed back the half-bottle of Lidl Vodka I had stashed away in the desk drawer, whipped out the gram Miaow Miaow from my wallet that I’d been saving for a special occasion, and licked it off her tits as I fucked her lifeless but curiously still warm twat.”

“Weren’t you afraid of catching anything, Clive?”

“I hadn’t up to that point. I had always reasoned with myself that as living organisms themselves, any diseases would have died along with her. That night however, I was in agony. My cock and balls were throbbing and there was a bright luminous green glow emanating from them. Standing in front of a full-length mirror to get a better look at my pulsating meat and two veg, I looked like a contestant on Fifteen-to-one. I wished William G Stewart really was there, he would have known what to do.”

The following morning Clive awoke naked on the bedroom floor with no apparent side effects from the events of the previous night. After confirming that his family jewels were still intact, Clive simply shrugged and chalked it up to experience. Little did he know that an incredible gift had been bestowed upon him – for Clive was Spermaman. Over the next few days and weeks Clive began to notice the effects of his new powers, particularly after melting the corpse of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother in an LSD-fuelled orgy with several other cadavers, including the bodies of Dudley Moore and Kenneth Wolstenholme – whom Clive hallucinated were raucously cheering him on as he defiled the body of the Queen Mum.

It wasn’t until one night in a secluded alleyway that he would realise his true calling…


Spermaman is born

Clive had taken to aimlessly wandering the streets a few months after his fateful encounter, following his sacking when the Coroner reported finding his sperm in the exhumed corpse of a murder victim. It was around 12am one evening and Clive had turned into an alleyway which he often used as a shortcut to his flat, and he couldn’t believe his eyes at what he came across. There in front of him was the notorious Scottish sex offender known only as ‘The Weegie’ – in reference to the headlock he employs to snatch his helpless victims.

Clive continues the story…

So there he was, The Weegie, squatting over the helpless naked body of a woman off her tits on Rohypnol, dipping his hairy balls into her gaping mouth.

“Stop there you Animal” I shouted, grabbing an old mop that was resting against the wall and throwing it at him spearing him in the ribs.”

“Aaccchhh, see you pal, there was nay need for that” cried the depraved Glaswegian.

“Unhand that woman, Weegie” I said firmly.

“Have you got the minerals?” he snarled as he dropped the woman’s head to stare me down with a chilling evil eye.

He then rushed at me attempting to land a haymaker in a series of wild swings. I sidestepped his onslaught leaving a leg trailing to trip him up, and moved forwards into the open ground. I knew that now wasn’t the time, but the sight of the passed out woman on the floor at my feet reminded me of my days in the morgue, and I found myself becoming increasingly aroused. Then it hit me: if I could get sufficiently aroused I could melt him with my super spunk and end his reign of terror.

With The Weegie still down from banging his head on the floor, I dropped my trousers and began to feverishly beat one out. Thirty seconds passed and I could see my foe beginning to stir but there was no joy on the jizz front. Shit, I cursed, I need to be at the vinegar strokes before that cunt gets back to his feet. I crouched down and started tweaking the nipples of the comatose woman with a moistened thumb and forefinger in attempt to speed up the process. It wasn’t working and The Weegie was perilously close to being back to his feet. There was only one thing for it, I knew I had to fuck her. I mustn’t come I thought to myself, thankfully I’m a Catholic so I’m well versed in the highly effective withdrawal method, as are my 12 brothers and sisters.

I dropped down onto the girl entering her in one deft move. Even though I knew she would be none the wiser, my close shave at the morgue had changed my views on non-consensual sex, so I thought it only correct to whisper in her ear that I was only doing this to save her life, before proceeding to bang her for all I was worth. As I ploughed away at the damsel in distress a rush of air swished past my ear. Fuck, it was The Weegie, he was back to feet and had taken a kick at me. I hauled the limp bodied girl up and sprang to my feet just in time to dodge another attack from the crazed sex fiend. I lurched to the wall to get some purchase for another few strokes… I was close. I heard the footsteps behind me and when he was just a few steps away, I span around tossing the girl into his arms, at the same time grabbing my glowing green member to spray him with my super spunk. He melted instantly, and in an unfortunate turn of events, so too did the woman I was trying to save. The overall point was not lost on me though, and I knew as Spermaman I could become a Venereal Vigilante of awesome power, perhaps ridding the world of dangerous sexual predators for good.

Chapter One – Spermaman and CrazyAce do battle  

This is 29 Acacier Road. And this is Clive – the poker player who leads an exciting double life. For when Clive arouses himself, an amazing transformation occurs – Clive…is…SPERMAMAN, ever alert for the call to action!”

To be continued…..

Read Spermaman II, the Adventures of Spermaman Here

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19 Responses to Spermaman

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