He was super in almost every way. As Clark Kent, his alter ego, he actually could do absolutely just about anything, anything that is, except keep it up for more than twenty very frustrating seconds. Yes, it is true, Superman needed Viagra. He could bend steel with his bare hands, leap buildings in a single bound, fly faster than a speeding bullet, but he couldn't keep a hard on for more than a few brief seconds and could not please a woman with his wet-washcloth penis that simply hung limp between his massively built thighs that could lift tons but could not push that limp piece of flesh into a vagina of the most willing woman on earth.
He had secretly gone to sex therapists, had done exercises found in books, followed advice given by experts he'd watched on television, read magazine articles giving sex tips and information, but nothing seemed to help much. Finally, he was in a library, looking through self-help books when he got into a conversation with a fellow reading books on dieting and eating disorders. The man worked at the library and smiled at Clark.
"You looking for something specific?" asked the fellow who worked there part time. Clark just shrugged, not wanting to tell anyone he was looking for books on impotency, but it was too late. The fellow had notice the book in Clark's hand on male impotency. "Having trouble keeping it up?" the guy asked directly.
"Yeah," Clark confessed without thinking.
"Ever tried this?" the guy asked, holding up a bottle. It was a holistic cure for male "problems" and Clark had to admit he hadn't. "Here, try this. I have more," the librarian said. Clark had never heard of Blue Wort, and he took the bottle and looked at the label.
"Does it work?" Clark asked.
"Does for me," the guy said with a grin. "Used to have a problem getting it hard and keeping it, you know what I mean?" he said. He flexed his right arm, showing his muscles in a manner men used to show strength. Clark nodded, looking at the label of the bottle he held in his hand, studying it, trying to recognize the ingredients. He didn't see anything he knew about, that he recognized. Magnus root? He had never heard of it. Colin's Leaf Mold? Nothing.
When he got back to his apartment Clark quickly opened the bottle and dry swallowed one capsule. He stood in front of the mirror and waited. Ten minutes went by. Nothing. Twenty minutes. Again nothing.
That night he went to bed depressed. Nothing had happened after he took one capsule of Blue Wort. That night he could hardly sleep. He ignored one disaster at the Boulder Dam, a train wreck in Seattle, and a bank holdup in Denver. He had never before ignored a call for help from people in trouble, but he just was too depressed to fly around solving other people's problems.
The next morning he woke with a start. It seemed he finally dropped off to sleep about three and he sat up quickly n bed. He saw the blankets tented at his waist and he lifted them up and gazed at a nine inch boner sticking straight up from his shorts, poking out of the slit in his boxers. There in front of him was a massive cock, stiff and hard and long and standing high above his shorts, protruding from the open gap in the fly of the underwear. A thick, long cock that he had dreamed of, sticking high out of his shorts put a broad smile on his face. He jumped out of bed and went to the mirror to admire the manly dong that stood out from his body like a spear.
He quickly put his suit on, which he had learned to put on quickly in emergencies, but he had difficulty putting it on with a massive hard on standing straight out in front of him. After a long fight to get it inside of the suit, the tightness of the outfit held the boner against his leg, but it left the outline of his cock against his leg under the outfit.
