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Fall of Saitama

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  "Squelch. Slap. Gasp."  The sounds echoed through the ruins of the city, a rhythmic, wet percussion that drowned out the distant crackle of fire. Saitama was pinned flat on his back, his yellow suit shredded and soaked in a cocktail of blood and translucent slime. Melzargard’s tentacles were coiled around his limbs like living iron bands, pulling his arms and legs wide, exposing his trembling torso and the raw, pulsing heat between his thighs.  "Look at him! The 'One Punch Man' is shaking like a leaf!"   Black Sperm’s voice was a jagged chorus of a thousand mocking tones. A dozen clones were swarming Saitama’s groin, their small, slippery hands kneading his testicles with a focused, rhythmic cruelty. They weren't fighting him; they were harvesting him. Saitama’s cock was a swollen, purple rod of meat, throbbing violently, leaking thick strings of pre-cum that coated the clones' fingers in a sticky, pearlescent glaze.  "Ngh... stop... get... of...
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Scorvax Vs Kidpinoy #3

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  "Tell them, hero," Scorvax's voice, a grating, multi-layered rasp that resonated with the buzzing hum of his alien biology, vibrated through Kidpinoy's skull. The monster’s pincers, sharp as diamond shears, bit deeper into Kidpinoy's nipples, producing a fresh wave of agony that shot through his already ravaged body. He was suspended, his feet dangling uselessly, impaled on Scorvax's monstrous, chitinous cock, which plunged to the hilt within him. Every beat of his heart felt like a drum against the alien appendage, every breath a struggle against the crushing embrace of Scorvax's lower arms, which held him impossibly tight, forcing his engorged prostate into constant, brutal contact. "Tell them what you are now. Not the 'Kidpinoy' they worshipped, the 'shield of the Philippines.' Tell them, little man, what you truly are in my hands." Scorvax punctuated his command with a deep, grinding thrust that made Kidpinoy cry out, his le...
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Enslavement of Kidpinoy #5

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 "Get up, Bien. Or should I call you KidPinoy?" Trump Albright’s voice boomed through the cold, sterile arena, the sound echoing off the blood and semen-stained tiles. "The show isn’t over just because you’ve spilled your 'sacred' seed all over my floor. Look at him, gentlemen. The 'Invincible' protector of the Philippines, reduced to a panting, leaking heap of brown meat." Atty. Ferdie Topacio stepped forward, his polished shoes narrowly avoiding a puddle of the hero's spent essence. He poked Bien’s ribs with his cane. "He’s still breathing quite heavily, Trump. That ‘Infinite Chi’ of his is truly something. Most men would have had a heart attack after the third hour. He’s gone through what? Twenty? thirty climaxes? And yet, look at that sinewy chest. It still heaves with the strength of a titan, even if that strength is draining out of him like water from a cracked jar." Prof. Oca leaned over, his spectacles fogging up as he stared at...
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Enslavement of Kidpinoy #4

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  The chamber smelled of ozone, expensive cologne, and the cloying, musical scent of the high-grade aphrodisiacs pumping through the ventilation. Bien Regalado—once the legendary KidPinoy, the bastion of Philippine peace—lay in a shivering heap on the cold marble floor. His sun-kissed skin, usually a symbol of health and vitality, was now slick with sweat and the residue of a dozen forced climaxes. Trump Albright stood over him, tapping a gold-tipped cane against Bien’s tensed, corded thigh. Next to him, Atty Ferdie Topacio adjusted his glasses with a smirk, while Professor Oca stared with hungry, unblinking eyes at his former student. "Look at him," Trump drawled, his voice echoing in the vast arena. "The 'Invincible Hero.' The man who stopped coups and cartels with nothing but his fists. And all it took to bring him down was a little bit of... leverage." "And a very specific biological secret," Professor Oca added, leaning down to grip Bien’s chi...
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