Ms. Dynamica in Trouble
"The true heroine finds victory in the ashes defeat"
This couldn't be happening. Not to her. Ms. Dynamica, on hands and knees, panting, wiped the back of her hand over her upper lip and trembled violently. Blood! Her own blood! The creature had hit her so hard. Her nose was bleeding. How could such a thing be? She was nearly invulnerable, after all. And one of the most powerful female warriors on Earth. She had been bred and trained for victory. Evil was supposed to grovel at her feet, begging for mercy. And yet somehow this Hellspawn…
The Amazon Vigilante's confused thought was abruptly interrupted. A powerful fist seized her thick, glistening jet mane and yanked her to her feet. Enraged by this brutish treatment, her opponent handling her as if she were a mere plaything, she bellowed: "HOW DARE YOU… FOUL SCUM! LET ME GO…." , spinning on her spike heel and aiming a wild elbow at….thin air?! That blow should have hit the thing in its breast bone, shattering it, sending it writhing to the ground in utter defeat. She had missed somehow. The beast was no longer behind her. It materialized…in front of her? How could it move so fast? It was as if it could exist in multiple places at once. As if there were more than one. And yet….a pig iron fist exploded into her unprotected belly, doubling her, the force of the blow so powerful it lifted her feet clear off the floor. How??!
The vigilante woman's mouth gaped soundlessly as she fought for air. There was none to be had. The blow had voided her lungs and sent her chest muscles into spasm. She was in convulsion. Completely incapacitated. Her assailant gripped her by the hair and yanked her to her erect, on wobbling legs that had been robbed of all their strength. A vicious uppercut followed, snapping her head back, blood and spit flying from battered lips.
The sadistic creature was not exceptionally tall. It actually stood rather less than the Amazon's imposing five foot eleven. But it made up for lack of height with a supernaturally powerful physique. It had a barrel chest, and huge upper arms that were probably half again as thick as Ms. Dynamica (a.k.a. Diana Wilson)'s solid thighs. Its musculature was perfectly defined, with the traceries of veins and sinews in clear relief under its dull gray pelt. For indeed, it was covered from head to toe with thick fur, hair which grew longer in a beard about the repellant elongated face, the snout of which looked more goatish than human. In all, the abomination probably was three times heavier than its shapely opponent.
And oh my was she shapely. The beast paused in its onslaught to savor its prey. She dangled in its fist by the hair, arms limp at her sides, knees buckled. Her eyes were rolled back up into their sockets, as if staring up into her golden tiara, that signature emblem handed down to her from her great grandmother, emblazoned now with a ruby double D insignia. This bitch was out cold. Blood poured freely from her nose, down her chin, over the long swan-like curve of her perfect throat. The purple-black flower of a bruise was rapidly closing her left eye. Her lower lip was swelling. Lovely.
The goat demon leered at the perfect soft orbs of Diana's ample chest, which were bellowing spastically in her body's desperate struggle to suck air. Double D indeed. The costume she wore did little to discourage the beast's penetrating inspection. The blue strapless bustier, cut in a deep plunging vee, displayed her breast mounds like a pair of over-filled water balloons. Below the bodice, her naked waist narrowed dramatically, so wasp- slim that when it crushed one big hand about the yielding flesh, the beast could nearly make its talons meet. Intrigued, it slid its paw downward over her supple hips and then around behind to fondle her firm, jutting ass globes, exploring this treasure of erotic curves, this flesh so beautiful that it was almost… obscene.
The beast's gaping nostrils flared. It licked its extraordinary tongue across its thin, black lips. It inhaled deep, drinking in the rich aroma of her. Her ripe natural perfume of fear, sweat, impotent rage, fertility….
And blood. Blood! Yesssss! The goat beast flicked its long, slippery tongue to the base of her throat and lapped upward, lapping the stream of rich dark blood over her chin to the soft vulnerable bow of her mouth, tonguing inside those slack, bruised lips, rimming her perfect teeth, then tugging her upper lip outward, lapping greedily at her gums. Painfully, the unconscious girl was recovering breath, her breast swelling and contracting as fast as a small bird's. An uneasy moan escaped her. The beast intruded its snout to her face, gently nibbling Ms. Dynamica's sweet, vulnerable upper lip between its own soft mouth flaps. Ahhhh! Sweet and tender. Then it nuzzled upward, closed its lips around her pert button nose, and sucked the fresh flow of blood. The pleasure was exquisite. Blood. Human female life force. This super bitch's body fluid was like powerful drink to the demon. The monstrous groin stirred. The vile snake uncoiled.
It was hardly uncommon for a villain to become so entranced by Ms. Dynamica's erotic charms that it temporarily lost sight of its mission to kill. She was, after all, a sex bomb. This could be a mixed blessing. Although supremely conditioned to fight, and ambitious to be famous as a heroine for the Feminist Republic, the super heroine was burdened with flesh that was clearly engineered to be fucked. This paradox could cut both ways in the hormonal chaos of battle. Hyper-sexuality cohabiting in one body with super-power. It seemed…unnatural. And yet it was, shall we say, also a factor in the Battling Babe's success.
On the one hand, she was a genetically enhanced warrior, adept in the martial arts, cunning with her Golden Whip, strong willed, nearly invulnerable, astonishingly quick to heal. On the other, she appeared ripe for motherhood. This look of fertility struck male villains-- and not a few female villains who were inclined in that direction-- as preposterous. As a fraud. Nothing that looked that soft and slutty could be that tough. Yes, her looks hurt Ms. Dynamica credibility as a crime fighter. Her respect deficit was of Dangerfieldian proportions. But that explains, at least partially, why mortal thugs fared so poorly against her. They would get so stuck trying to have their way with her that they would blunder. She looked so much like she was asking for it that they couldn't believe it when they were hauled away in cuffs after getting roundly defeated.
Unfortunately for our heroine though, much of her time was spent scuffling with villains that were anything but "mortal." From the beginning, as a young warrior apprentice, she had been drawn to demon hunting. This was a specialty could not be practiced effectively by physical dominance alone. Special techniques were needed. There was no road map, no manual to success in defeating pure Evil. She had had to learn on the job. Indeed, she quickly found out that compared with many of the super villains she battled, her martial prowess was not exceptional. Often she was physically outclassed. Up against the more potent supernatural villains-- the Class A and B demons, the psychotic freaks, the pathological rapists-- well, she had to be very resourceful indeed. Demon hunting was an art. A potentially deadly one.
Nevertheless, in her brief career to date our heroine had enjoyed (if that's the right word for dealing with Hell's minions) considerable success. She had won more often than lost, in fact had neutralized more demons than any currently active super hero. Perhaps most impressive of all, she had survived. But on the surface, this success rate made no sense, given the vulnerability of that killer body of hers. So what was her secret? What resource was it that sustained her? What power beyond the notoriously unreliable help of Hera, her patron goddess?
"SLUT!" grunted the goat beast as with two razor talons it effortlessly sliced an access in the crotch of her star spangled panties. Its voice was like a belch erupting from inside its cavernous chest. Freely it groped the tender flesh inside the panties. Its fingers parted the love lips and penetrated. "Hmmm." The repulsive thing muttered, "Wet already….clit hard as a marble…. She's begging for it…but no, I must not….the Master forbade…BAH! … why should I not?"
Diana stirred. The beast had Hamletted and leered and groped her long enough that she was beginning to come to. Her eyelids fluttered, but the thing either didn't notice or didn't care. It removed its probing fingers from her precious treasure and seized one of her massive breasts, the huge paw nearly disappearing as it sank into the soft flesh. With the other paw it released her hair and grabbed her other breast the same way. Her whole limp weight hung from now her from her boobs, distorting them into grotesque crushed and elongated sacks. The pressure forced the left one up out of her bustier. Its big dark purple nipple squeezed from the blue sheath, aroused, already swollen near as big as her thumb. The beast lowered its snout….
"BACK, FOUL CREATURE…" screamed Ms. Dynamica, fully awake at last. She drove her knee powerfully up into its groin. At the same instant she cuffed it hard on its floppy ear with the flat of her hand. The beast bellowed, and recoiled. But it did not let go. Diana's one good eye widened in disbelief. That blow to the groin would have decommissioned any mortal male. The slap to the ear ought to have caused incapacitating pain. The beast drew back its lips in a vicious snarl. Its breath was so foul that Diana gasped, forced to turn her head to keep from retching. She jammed both palms against the beast's sinewy shoulders and strained mightily, trying to shove it away with all her strength. The pain in her tits became excruciating. The powerful beast's fingers dug deep into the soft flesh. The maiden warrior concentrated all her strength toward breaking that fierce, cruel grip. It took almost all her will to ignore the grotesque lengths to which her tortured breasts were being stretched. At one point they were distended almost as long as her arms.
"I will rip your living flesh from your body, whore!" the beast grunted, its nostrils flaring with effort. "And then I will feast upon it!"
"NGHHHHUNGH!" groaned Ms. Dynamica, her chest searing with agony.
RRRIPPPPPP! Fortunately, it was the sound of fabric, not flesh. It was her flimsy costume that saved her breasts. At least for the moment. The bustier was made of moderately tough, satiny fiber but it was not tough enough to resist the combined force of two powerful pairs of arms. She stumbled back out of the beast's grip. SNAPPP! Her elastic breasts sprang into her torso with such force that she was thrown further off balance. Fiery pain burned her chest. Involuntarily, she cupped the tormented teats in both hands. Blood ran through her fingers.
"Hera help me, I'm bleeding…oh goddess I'm bleeding A LOT!" she sobbed. Terror colored her voice blood red.
Bleeding a lot, indeed. The nearly invulnerable Amazon had rarely been wounded this bad. This was more than a bloody nose. The beast had raked her naked breasts with dagger talons. Blood flooded plentifully from the bottoms of her boobs. The rags of her sky blue bodice now hung uselessly about her waist.
Her mountainous, livid breasts slapped about loose and unrestrained as she dodged the lunging attacker. Every move was pure pain. The goat-beast hurtled past her and she whirled to kick it with her spike heeled boot. But the thing was impossibly quick. Somehow, it recovered in time both to dodge the arc of her swinging leg and grab her by the ankle in one blinding motion. It hoisted her into an awkward spread eagle, then using her momentum it wheeled her by the ankles in a broad centrifugal spin. Her hair flew out straight as it whirled her once, twice, three times, rapidly accelerating. The abandoned warehouse spun about her in a dizzy blur. She knew what was coming next, but in the split second before it happened there was nothing she could do. The beast let go. She flew at high speed, head first, into a steel post.
Diana dreamed of the Trog. She had tried everything to escape, but now she was cornered. She was covered from head to foot in mud, naked except for her boots, star spangled panties, and tiara. Her golden bracelets had been stolen from her while she slept in a drugged stupor in the pleasure dens of Malvodac's realm. She had escaped the castle, but now she was lost in The Overlord's private forest. The slave hounds were closing in around her, powerful mastiffs baying savagely, just out of reach of her impotent kicks. She backed against the rock wall, panicked eyes darting about for some hope of escape. There was none. Two of the dogs lunged simultaneously from each side, causing her to hesitate for a split instant. She kicked one, propelling it yelping into the air, but the other sunk its fangs deep into her buttock. To the cur, this was fresh raw steak. She screamed. Smashed her fist down on the back of its neck. A loud crack. The beast fell away, spine shattered. Blood erupted from her torn ass flesh. The backside of her star spangled panties darkened quickly, grew wet and heavy. Rivers of blood coursed down the backs of her thighs. Dynamica stumbled to one knee, clutching the horrific wound with both hands. Tears streaked her cheeks. The two remaining hounds didn't hesitate. The female fell upon her in one lunge, seizing her by the back of the throat and shaking her like a rag, forcing her to hands and knees. She prepared to die. But the beast at her throat bit with restraint. As long as Ms. Dynamica was perfectly still, the hound did not break the tender flesh. She could feel her jugular pulsing under its teeth.
Something disgusting nudged at her buttocks. Something cold and wet. The other hound, the last remaining male, nosed her vulnerable flanks. She shuddered as its soft warm tongue lapped at her bleeding buttocks, waiting for it to chomp down, but forced herself to stay perfectly still under the pressure of the powerful jaws at her throat. She was totally vulnerable. The hounds were trained to capture and maim but, it seemed, not to kill. Diana fought despair. The Trog. The Trog would find her again. Better these hounds should eat her alive than that. Dear Hera!
Miserably, she endured the warm wet tongue lapping at her ass. She squeezed her eyes shut and suppressed a moan as it gripped the crotch of her star spangled panties with its canines and tore this last protection from her private flesh. She sobbed pathetically as the disgusting thing began to lick her down there, stirring unwanted responses inside her and forcing the humiliating plea from her quivering lips, "Oh Hera, Please… anything but this… oh Goddess no, please… no…."
She awakened from the nightmare into a reality just as horrible. Ms. Dynamica lay on a reeking mattress, somewhere deep inside the abandoned warehouse. The stink of urine, cum, and disease rose around her and made her want to retch. She tested her bonds. Her arms were pulled back up over her head and cuffed to thick bolts sunk into the masonry wall. There seemed to be no give. Her legs were stretched on either side of the bed and bolted somehow to the floor. They seemed very, very secure. She was stark naked, of course, except for her boots and tiara. And the tatters of her star spangled panties, which had been rent at the crotch and now hung uselessly from her hips.
The goat creature knelt between her wide spread thighs, cupping her creamy smooth ass two handed. Its enormous black tongue lapped slowly, expertly at her defenseless pussy, starting each stroke low, between her ass cheeks, and lapping up wet and soft over her labia, her throbbing clit, then up over the black tangled fur of her mound. She stared in horror down through the joggling canyon of her breasts into the beast's red eyes, leering up satanically as it worked her. She stifled a moan. "MMpphhhtt!" she squeaked, biting her lower lip. Anything to keep from giving the creature the satisfaction of knowing that she knew that it had her in its power. But already too late for that. She had been unconscious and dreaming long enough that the fire inside her was already lit. Lit and blazing. The creature knew. It knew just how to lick her. Just how to stoke the foul flame. Precisely how to drag the unwanted feelings from deep inside her belly. "UNNGGHH"" she grunted, unable to hold back. A preorgasmic tremor caused her thighs to flutter spasmodically.
The beast raised its head and chortled. "So," it rumbled, in its disgusting gutteral growl. "The great, indomitable Ms. Dynamica lives up to her reputation. A nympho!" The tone was pure contempt. She blushed despite herself. Her reputation. Her dirty little secret.. Oh, sure. According to Government propaganda, the youngest member of the Righteous League was the paragon of virtue, modesty, and chastity. She was on the front of cereal boxes. She was supposed to set an example for the kiddies. As pure as the virgin mary. But that was Government bull. There were things the public didn't know. Must never know! This wasn't the first time that a sex predator had got her in its clutches. But so far, the dark side of Ms. Dynamica had been kept secret, existing only as rumors among a shadowy sect of underground internet villains. The government had gone all out to protect her. Incriminating video tapes burned. Lawyers, threats, intimidation. But although all the lying power of the Feminist Fundamentalist Republic had been invoked to keep Ms. Dynamica's public reputation clean, the Dark Ones knew. Word was around on the street. All the dirtbags had heard of her weakness. This fact did not make her life as a crime fighter any easier.
"You are nothing but an oversexed slut," her present opponent jeered. "And before I carry you off to Master, I shall possess you. I will make you beg for me to fuck you."
"Never, you foul excuse for a man!" she cried, jutting her heart- shaped chin proudly. "You are lower than a dog, filthy demon. Untie me, and flee, or I shall destroy you. "
The brave words, spoken so sincerely, had the opposite of their intended effect. "Bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!" giggled the demon. Drawing back one powerful arm, almost casually, it backhanded her viciously across one cheek, then back on the opposite cheek with its palm-- once, twice, again and again, until her head blurred back and forth on the pillow like a punching bag, her raven tresses flying, blood and spit and snot spraying over the filthy bed.
"STOP!" she sobbed. "I BEG YOU… N…NO….M…MORRRE!" At last the beast's rage subsided. It drew back its arm, as if preparing to smash her skull with one final mighty blow. Ms. Dynamica, her face broken and bleeding, cringed. An unmistakable hissing sound rose from between her legs. A wet pool blossomed under her ass and soaked into the stinking mattress.
"Ha ha ha ha !" the beast mocked. "Scared the piss out of the almighty Dyna Bitch! Super heroine ! Ri-i-i-ight. Defender of the weak, righteous punisher of Evil! Indomitable PISSPANTS! HAW HAW HAW HAW haw!"
"Oh Dear Hera," groaned the mortified Amazon. "Why have you abandoned me?" Her one good eye gaped in horror as the beast loomed up over her and ripped aside the flap of its leggings. The big cock sprang forth like a fat, threatened cobra. "Please," she whimpered. "It's too big… not that…."
Seizing the pulsing shaft in one paw, the beast lowered itself onto its writhing victim, crushing its chest into her quivering boobs, and aimed the bulb of its organ at the moist mouth of her love canal. "Mmmmmgh," it growled. "Good and ready! Fresh fuck meat!"
It penetrated her with a single swift, smooth jerk.
"UNGGHHHH!" cried the skewered beauty, as the rape rod rammed all the way inside her, past her cervix, deep into her womb. She went into traumatic shock. Denial. The truth was too awful, too humiliating. She hadn't just "admitted" it--this demon cock. She had warmly, wetly welcomed it. She hadn't even tried to slow it down. Her traitorous vagina was as slippery as raw egg. As relaxed, and…. ready…..as a nympho….. SLUT SLIT (she was sick with shame)…. and although the demon penis was enormous, her cunt had sucked it in with unforgivable ease. It hadn't put up the slightest resistance. That wasn't her vagina. That was some whore's….CUNT! Where were those super vaginal muscles of hers now? It was as if…as if….oh Goddess, as if she had…WANTED IT….
Despite her rage at her quisling flesh, her mortifying shame, a treacherous, unbidden lust flooded her abdomen like lava hot honey. She was momentarily blinded with need, unable to do any more than gasp as the beast drew out its cock nearly all the way, then thrust its powerful hips and drove deep into her again, unleashing another horrible wave of searing erotic heat.
From some distant place, she heard a shrill begging female voice. "FUCK ME!" it pleaded. "YES! MAKE ME A SLAVE WITH YOUR BIG HARD COCK! YES!" This was impossible. Insupportable. That could not be her voice. She was being raped. Forced against her will. She was filled with righteous indignation. Filled with monster meat. That pleading voice could not be hers. The thought was unbearable.
The demon rapist began methodically to manipulate her, teasing, slowly withdrawing the full length of its prick until the bulb nuzzled in her swollen gaping cunt lips, which pulsed around it like the mouth of a beached fish. Then, when she had whimpered and pleaded and squirmed long enough, the goat-abomination would jerk its hips and stab hard. Her body would convulse with the overload of stimulation, and her hips would jerk up off the mattress in a taut, arced bow, meeting the thrust. They were soon fucking with hellish frenzy.
Diana sank slowly into a dark swamp of lust. Her blue eyes stared vacantly. She muttered filthy unprintable exhortations at the beast, egging it on, gutter obscenities as if from the lips of a mad woman. Indeed, she looked insane. Her once- beautiful hair was roped into medusa snakes, caked with spit and blood. Her severely bruised face looked like a poster for chronic domestic abuse. Her huge naked tits, flopping violently each time the demon rammed her, were raked and bleeding with talon-wounds. She looked completely, utterly defeated.