Martial Arts Hero Milked and Gutpunching Stories

 

 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, no...

 The humid air in the hidden chamber hung thick with the scent of sweat, cum, and stale fear. The blinking red light of the camera served as a relentless, unblinking eye, broadcasting KidPinoy’s degradation to a world that had once hailed him as their champion. Now, he was just Bien Regalado, eighteen, raw, and utterly exposed on the cold floor. Lord Rapis knelt before Bien, his elegant, gloved fingers still tangled in the young hero’s dark, sweat-slicked hair. He admired the stark contrast of his pale skin against Bien’s rich, sun-kissed bronze, a cruel parody of intimacy. A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Look at him, boys,” Rapis purred, addressing the camera and his assembled goons. His voice, usually smooth and commanding, was laced with a venomous glee. “The mighty KidPinoy. Reduced to this. A trembling, exhausted little Indioslut, ready to spill his very essence for us.” He gave Bien’s head a sharp tug, forcing his eyes to meet his. Bien’s jaw was clenched, the muscles i...

Suddenly, a large screen on the street showed a boy wearing a hero suit, tightly bound to a bed and unable to move. The boy was KidPinoy , a hero who fought for peace in this city. KidPinoy was unconscious and didn't move at all. The street screen suddenly changed and people on the street stopped in their tracks. Then, a villain who must have kidnapped KidPinoy appeared and said, "Fufufu, your hero, KidPinoy , has been restrained by us. Now burn the image of the boy hero falling into your memory." He was dressed like an evil researcher, wearing sunglasses and a white coat. Passersby, glued to the screen, began to get agitated. "What's going to happen?" "KidPinoy 's been captured..." The  　researcher-like man operated the smartphone in his hand, and KidPinoy reacted with a start, "Guhaa!" When KidPinoy woke up, he said, "Damn... when did I transform... what are you planning to do to me...!"  The man called out to the audienc...

 The unblinking camera remained fixed on the scene. Bien Regalado, the defeated KidPinoy, still knelt, though his posture was now more slumped. The viscous coating of semen on his thighs and abdomen was thicker, reaching his knees, pooling in ever-expanding patches on the cold floor. His breath was ragged, shallow gasps punctuated by involuntary trembles that wracked his body. The red marks on his cheeks from Rapis’s slaps stood out against his sun-kissed skin. Lord Rapis, his face a mask of gleeful cruelty, straightened up, his gaze sweeping over Bien's pathetic form. "Look at him," he repeated, his voice carrying the weight of absolute dominion. "The proud Filipino, brought low. Reduced to a mere... fount." He chuckled, a dry, rattling sound. Cultist, still kneeling beside Bien, ran his gloved hand now along the inside of Bien's thigh, tracing the path of the drying semen. "Such a waste of potential, wouldn't you agree, Mastermind?" he said, ...

  The chill concrete floor pressed against Bien’s knees, a stark contrast to the warmth that perpetually seeped from his violated core. His muscles, once coiled springs of relentless chi, now trembled with exhaustion and the lingering echoes of forced spasms. Before him stood the stark, unblinking eye of a broadcast camera, its red light a malevolent star in the oppressive gloom of the chamber. This wasn't just punishment; it was a performance, carefully orchestrated for the city outside, the city he had sworn to protect. The threat still hung heavy in the air – surrender or witness their hero utterly dismantled. Lord Rapis circled him like a predator, a sharp, predatory grin splitting his face. "Look at him, city!" he boomed, his voice amplified, echoing through hidden speakers both here and, Bien knew with a sickening certainty, across every screen and public address system in Metro Manila. "Your 'KidPinoy'! Your 'invincible' defender!" He grab...