Follow-up:
That was Louis's mistake, thinking Superman was the true persona, Jimmy thought. I saw you for who you truly are, Clark. Quiet. Meek. Superman had always been a thin facade over that submissive farmboy.
When Clark's breakdown had inevitably come, it had come hard. Even the Man of Steel was just a man - he couldn't be everywhere at once, couldn't save everyone. That crushing responsibility had defeated him in the end. A train crash in Mumbai concurrent with a bridge collapse in Detroit had been the final straw, and Jimmy has found him, stuck halfway through a costume change, having a panic attack in the stairwell of the Daily Planet.
Anyone could have claimed him in that moment of weakness. All the hero wanted was for somebody to take away that responsibility, and Jimmy offered that. Now Superman didn't serve the world. Six billion people were too many. Now he existed for the pleasure of just one. It was freeing.
They were having an evening to themselves. Clark took his pills washed down with a glass of wine like a good girl, and slipped out of the suit that concealed the modifications made to his body, exposing his pert, growing breasts and the skin emblazoned with Jimmy's name.
Jimmy was tightening the collar about 'her' neck when he noted the subtle stiffening in Clark's body, the twitch of a supersonic ear. To the man's credit, he didn't otherwise move. Jimmy was training him well. Nobody got saved until her master gave her permission. Jimmy sighed and checked his phone. A chemical spill in Siberia. Nothing serious. They were handling it.
"Not tonight," Jimmy said firmly. "Tonight is about us. Well… me."
He brought Clara to her knees with a firm hand, unbuckling his pants and sliding his cock inside her open, salivating mouth.