KidPinoy Aftermath #5

 Bien’s broken confession hung in the air, a sickening echo of his complete surrender. Lord Rapis’s laughter was sharp, triumphant, a sound that scraped raw nerves. Mastermind clapped slowly, a parody of admiration. Cultist merely watched, eyes gleaming behind his hooded cowl, his grip tight on the clamps still biting into Bien’s testicles. Beast, still prone, shifted, a low growl rumbling in his chest, his erection a rigid monument to their victory.

“Excellent, excellent,” Rapis purred, lifting his foot slightly from Bien’s chest but not removing it entirely. “Now, let’s solidify that understanding, shall we? Let’s make sure every fiber of your once-proud body remembers who owns it now.”

Before Bien could even register the shift in Rapis’s tone, Mastermind and Cultist moved in tandem. Strong hands, calloused and unyielding, gripped Bien beneath his arms, hauling his limp body partway off the floor. He dangled momentarily, a puppet on their strings, his head lolling, the earlier spurt of semen still slick on his chin.

“Hold him,” Rapis commanded, stepping back. “Beast, prepare for your guest.”

Beast grunted, adjusting his position slightly on the cold stone floor, his legs spreading wider. His already formidable erection seemed to pulse with anticipation.

Then, without warning, Mastermind and Cultist swung Bien like a ragdoll. The motion was swift, brutal, aimed directly at Beast’s awaiting hardness. Bien felt the terrible, tearing sensation as he was slammed down, the blunt force of the penetration stealing the air from his lungs. A choked scream tore from his throat, cut short as his body impaled itself upon Beast. Pain, sharp and agonizing, lanced through him, centered deep within his core. This was different from the constant, violating thrusts he had endured earlier; this was a single, immense, crushing violation, designed for maximum impact.

They lifted him again, only to slam him down once more. And then again. Each descent was a fresh wave of agony, each impact jarring his bones and sending shockwaves of pain through his violated passage. The repetitive motion was merciless, turning the act into a brutal, rhythmic pounding that hammered home his utter helplessness. With each forced impalement, he felt the invasive pressure deep inside, a sickening jolt that unmistakably hit his prostate, triggering involuntary spasms that wracked his exhausted frame.

As they continued this horrifying dance, Rapis stepped forward, his face looming over Bien's contorted features. His hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of Bien’s sweat-soaked, matted hair, wrenching his head back painfully.

“Answer me, semen fountain!” Rapis snarled, and his free hand lashed out, a stinging slap across Bien’s face. The blow echoed in the chamber, sharp and cruel. “Tell me, why did you think you were strong?”

Bien gagged, the words caught in his throat by the pain of the penetration and the slap. Tears streamed from his eyes, mixing with the sweat and the growing film of semen that coated his skin.

“Tell us, little champion,” Rapis demanded, slapping him again, harder this time, the force of the blow sending his head snapping back. “Where is that power now? Did you spill it all out for us?”

Bien’s voice was a broken whimper, barely audible over his ragged breathing and the sickening sound of his body being forced onto Beast. “It’s… gone… you… took it…”

Slap! “Speak louder! We can’t hear our little semen fountain lamenting!”

“It’s GONE!” Bien screamed, though the sound was hoarse and broken, not the defiant roar of KidPinoy. “You drained me! You… you took it all!”

Slap! “And who were you before, boy? Who did the people worship?”

“K-KidPinoy…” he choked out, the name feeling like a blasphemy on his own tongue now.

Slap! Slap! Rapis’s hand blurred with the speed of his blows, each one snapping Bien’s head back, leaving angry red handprints blooming on his sun-kissed skin. “And what are you now, KidPinoy?”

As they slammed him down onto Beast again, a fresh wave of pain and involuntary spasms hit. And with it, another involuntary surge, another spurt of semen, warm and slick, erupting from his overloaded penis and falling onto his own chest and abdomen.

“I’m… I’m nothing…” he sobbed, the words punctuated by the brutal impacts. “I’m just… yours… a fountain…”

The villains watched, their faces a mixture of cruel satisfaction and perverse fascination. As Mastermind and Cultist continued their relentless, rhythmic assault, forcing Bien down onto Beast again and again, Rapis kept his grip on Bien’s hair, occasionally administering another sharp slap, ensuring Bien’s face was twisted towards the ceiling, a spectacle of his own degradation.

Beast, beneath Bien, simply remained, a passive, brutal instrument of their torture. His raw power was focused solely on maintaining his rigid state, his body a living stake upon which Bien was being broken.

Mastermind circled Bien, his voice a low, appreciative murmur. He ran a finger along the line of Bien’s jaw, tracing the path of mingled sweat and tears and semen. “Look at him, Rapis. Look at the undefeated champion. Reduced to this. Every muscle defined by struggle, honed for battle… now glistening with the very essence that brought him low.” He leaned closer, inhaling deeply. “Even in defeat, there’s a strange… potency. The smell of his surrender.”

Cultist released his hold momentarily to adjust the ball clamps, eliciting another guttural groan from Bien. “His body remembers the training,” Cultist rasped, his voice dry as bone. “Even now, exhausted, violated… the form is still there. But the spirit… ah, the spirit is crushed, isn’t it, KidPinoy?” He leaned in, his breath hot against Bien’s ear. “Tell us, does it feel good to be so empty? To have nothing left but the ability to… produce?”

Bien could only whimper, his body spasming around Beast’s hardness with each forced thrust. His own penis, despite the repeated, forceful ejaculations, remained unnervingly hard, aching, a constant painful reminder of the source of his power and his current torment. And with each jolt, each strike of the prostate against Beast, fresh spurts of semen continued to erupt, falling onto his stomach, his chiseled chest, his taut thighs, even splashing up onto his chin and cheek, mingling with the tears and drool. His once-proud, dark, sinewy body, a symbol of Filipino strength and defiance, was now covered in the evidence of his own undoing, slick with the fluid that flowed uncontrollably from him.

Rapis, still holding his hair, watched the spectacle, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Marvelous, isn’t it?” he said, not to Bien, but to his cohorts. “See how quickly the mighty fall. All that pride, all that chi… locked away in such a simple, vulnerable place. Who would have thought?” He tightened his grip on Bien’s hair. “Tell us, KidPinoy, tell us what you see when you look at yourself now. Tell us what your people would think.”

Bien squeezed his eyes shut, the pain and humiliation too much to bear. But Rapis’s grip was a cruel tether, forcing his head back, keeping his eyes open and fixed on his own semen-soaked form.

“Answer me!” Rapis roared, another slap landing squarely on his cheek.

“I… I see failure…” Bien whispered, the words torn from his throat. “I see… what you’ve made me… a… a vessel…”

“A fountain!” Cultist corrected gleefully.

“Yes… a fountain…” Bien repeated dully, the fight completely gone from his eyes.

Mastermind knelt beside him, pressing a hand flat against Bien's sweat-slicked abdomen, directly below his dripping penis. His touch was clinical, appraising. “Such remarkable efficiency,” he mused. “To contain so much power… and to be so easily… emptied.” He looked up at Rapis. “The potential is immense. If we can stabilize the flow… if we can control the production…”

Rapis nodded, his eyes never leaving Bien. “Precisely. He is not just a defeated enemy; he is a resource. The ultimate power source, harnessed and controlled.” He ran his eyes down Bien’s body, lingering on the dark, muscular form now glistening with his own spilled essence. “And a beautiful resource at that. All that strength, all that resilience… dedicated now to our purpose.”

They continued the brutal, rhythmic pounding, slamming Bien down onto Beast's penis again and again. The chamber echoed with the sickening thud of impact, the ragged gasps of the broken hero, and the satisfied murmurs of his tormentors. Each forced descent was a physical and psychological blow, cementing his new reality. He was no longer KidPinoy, the undefeated champion. He was Bien, the semen fountain, broken, emptied, and utterly at the mercy of the villains who had discovered and exploited his most intimate weakness. His once-sacred power was now a source of constant, humiliating violation, spilling uncontrollably onto the body that had once been his temple, turning him into a pathetic, dripping testament to their absolute victory. And as his vision blurred from pain and exhaustion, the last thing he saw was his own glistening, violated form, coated in the fluid that had been the source of his strength, now the symbol of his absolute defeat. The taste of his own semen mixed with tears and sweat on his lips, a bitter, constant reminder of what he had become.