Saitama gets Drained

 The monstrous generals rotated their vile attentions, each one gloating and defiling the once proud hero in their own way. The Deep Sea King, his emerald eyes glistening with sadistic glee, grabbed Saitama's hairless head, forcing it forward in a cruel mockery of a bow. "Behold, the broken god!" he bellowed. "Behold the fate of your savior!"

His webbed fingers slid down Saitama's muscular back, tracing the ropes of strength that had once been the envy of the hero world. He dug his claws in, drawing thin lines of blood that glistened under the harsh lights. Saitama shuddered, a muffled cry escaping his bruised lips.

The Subterranean King crouched behind his captive, his stony bulk looming over the lean human. His gnarled hands, rough as boulders, wrapped around Saitama's narrow hips, proprietary and dominant. "Look at him," the Subterranean King rumbled, his voice echoing through the cavernous space above. "This once invincible warrior, now little more than a sheath for our pleasure."

He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, his rock-hard member spearing into Saitama's defenseless rear. The hero's body jerked, his muscles clenching against the brutal intrusion. Tears streamed down his face as the Subterranean King began to rut into him with animalistic abandon, each savage thrust accompanied by a jeering taunt.

"Yes, take it, you pathetic worm!" the Subterranean King snarled. "Feel the might of Planet's Number Two! Your body was made for this, to be broken and used!"

Saitama's head hung low, his chin resting on his heaving chest. Drool leaked from the corner of his mouth, mixing with the blood that dripped from his split lips. His once fierce eyes were glazed and unfocused, staring at nothing.

The Deep Sea King, not to be outdone, grabbed Saitama's semi-hard cock, stroking it with cruel efficiency. "Look at him, brother," he gloated. "Even now, he cannot help but respond to our touch. His body betrays his submission."

Saitama's cock throbbed in the Deep Sea King's grip, a traitorous erection that only seemed to fuel the monsters' sadistic hunger. The Deep Sea King pumped faster, his webbed thumb swirling around the tender head of Saitama's member. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, glistening in the harsh light.

"Give us your seed, One-Punch Man," the Deep Sea King commanded, his voice a filthy purr. "Give us the essence of your strength. Let it fuel our ascendance!"

Saitama's hips bucked, his body betraying him as his orgasm built. The Subterranean King hammered into him, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. The Deep Sea King squeezed, his grip relentless and ruthless.

With a choked cry, Saitama came. His cock pulsed, spurt after spurt of potent seed jetting from his tip. The Deep Sea King aimed his member at his own mouth, catching the precious fluid on his tongue. He drank it down with a moan of pleasure, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

"Exquisite," he hissed, licking his lips. "The nectar of gods, and it's all ours."

The Subterranean King followed suit, his own climax hitting him like a tidal wave. He flooded Saitama's guts with his thick, rocky seed, marking the hero as his property. Saitama shuddered and moaned, his body milked of every last drop of strength.

Lord Orochi watched it all, his tentacles writhing in anticipation. He waited until his generals had finished their vile defilement, until Saitama hung limply in his chains, a broken husk of a man.

Then, with a gesture of his tentacle, he summoned his generals to his side. They knelt before him, their forms glistening with sweat and other fluids.

"The time has come," Orochi declared, his voice resonating through the platform. "The time for us to ascend. To become the ultimate beings, fueled by the power of the One-Punch Man."

He reached out, his tentacle wrapping around Saitama's throat. The hero barely had the strength to struggle, his body a limp weight in Orochi's grasp.

"Drink," Orochi commanded, his voice echoing in the minds of his generals. "Drink deep, and let the strength of humanity course through your veins. Let it remake you, let it redefine you as the supreme rulers of this world."

The Deep Sea King and the Subterranean King bowed their heads, their mouths opening wide. Orochi forced Saitama's head back, and then, with a sickening crunch, he bit down on the hero's neck. Saitama's eyes flew wide, a final, agonized scream tearing from his throat as Orochi's fangs pierced his jugular.

Dark, potent blood gushed into Orochi's mouth, and he gulped it down greedily. Then, with a flick of his tentacle, he shoved Saitama's limp body towards his generals. They fell upon him like starving animals, their mouths latching onto his wounds, drinking deep of his blood and seed.

They fed for hours, until Saitama was a husk, his body drained of every last drop of strength. And yet, it was not enough. The hunger, the need for more, consumed them. They turned on each other, their monstrous forms rippling and warping as they fought for dominance.

In the end, only one remained. Lord Orochi, the ultimate being, the culmination of monstrous evolution. He stood atop the platform, his form towering over the ruined city. His eyes glowed with unholy power, and his tentacles rippled with barely contained strength.

The age of heroes was over. The age of monsters had begun, and Lord Orochi was its supreme ruler. The world trembled before him, and all of humanity knew that they were but playthings, vessels to be used and consumed.

And as for Saitama, the One-Punch Man, the hero who had once been the symbol of humanity's defiance? He was nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the history of a world that had been utterly defiled. His strength, his essence, had been consumed, and now it fueled the very monsters he had once fought against.

The last laugh, it seemed, belonged to the villain. And as Lord Orochi unleashed his monstrous horde upon the world, the heroes could only watch in despair as their greatest champion had become the instrument of their ultimate defeat.