The Breaking of Mother Night 7

by Mr. K. 

Click on images to enlarge.

You remember drowning. Sitting here now, in chains, a captive, you remember being captured by the criminals and put in a boiling hot vat of cum and drowned in it. You remember how it filled your nose and mouth and buried you until the world went black. Your lungs eventually betrayed you, started to fill with semen, and you blacked out. You drowned. You drowned in the boiling cum of 1,000 super villains. You were Mother Night, drowned in hot cum.

Cum spewed out of your nose and mouth as you coughed your way back to life. Your eyes still burned from cum, and powerful hands turned you on your side so that the semen that you were coughing up would actually leave your mouth and not go back to your lungs and stomach. Someone was taking the time to revive you.

“You drowned,” you heard the leader laugh. “You almost died. We purposely monitored to make sure you didn’t actually die. We revived you, Mother Night. We revived you to do it all over again,” he said matter-of-factly.

Now, right now in your captivity, you are able to breathe. You can smell the heavy metal of the chains and the musty smell of your cell. Then, all you could perceive was skunky semen and the strength of men, as they grabbed your ankles and dragged you back to the churning, steaming, vat. You remember them lifting you – lifting you high and tossing your long lean body back into the clear vat of hot cum.

They closed the lid and locked it down as the heat began to flow and the cum level started to rise, again. They were pumping it in from a port on the side. Soon, it was filling your air passages again. Soon, you drowned again. Soon, you were the superheroine, Mother Night, twice-drowned.

And again.

They would revive you, take a photo of you. Cum overflowed your mouth and clung to your catsuit. They would tell you to swallow this gob or that stream. You would lick your arms and the backs of your hands like a cat, as they ordered you to.

You lost track of how many times they gave you the treatment. All you knew was, finally, they stopped. You remember how they stood around you in your puddle of cum. Your steaming puddle of cum.

“Here’s what happens next. We could kill you now. We could rape you to death, Mother Night,” the leader said. He grabbed your chin and tilted your cum splattered face up. He spoke as though you were a horrid child.

“Next,” he said. “We have someone you need to meet!”

Right now, you are Mother Night, awaiting her fate, chained in a basement cell. Then, you were Mother Night, drowned and re-drowned, surrounded by the men that were taking their revenge on you. You were Mother Night, feeling them take hold of your ankles. They seemed to have no care that semen coated your costume – your catsuit, your boots. There was a gentle shushing sound as the material of your skintight catsuit slid across the metal floor.

The floor on which you sit now is metal. The floor then was metal, as well.

“There are 1,000 men that want to rape you. We thought that the best thing, instead of having them rape you to death, was to channel all of their anger and need into one man. Do you remember Golem? The one that you captured?”

You remember nodding your head. You remember replying “He wasn’t a villain. Not truly. He was a robot made of clay. He was a shapeshifter. He carried the mindset and desire of someone else. He doesn’t even belong in a place like this.”

“That is why I say ‘1,000.’ He is the 1,001st, but I’d count him. He is a tool. And, he is here for you. We each touched him. Every one of 1,000 men wrote a message on a scrap of paper and pressed it into the clay of his body. Every one of 1,000 men that you captured, scratched his initials into the monster’s clay hide. And you should know that he can hear all of our minds. He is the one that represents all of us. He is here to fuck you, Mother Night.”

In your cell now you remember how you sat and listened to the slow, shambling footsteps, the arrhythmic step-drag of the being called Golem. Named after the old Jewish folktale, he was a fabrication of Vixen. He beat you, but you defeated and captured him, and now he carried the angry, lust, and frustration of 1,000 seething men. As he filled the door, you saw how deformed their rage had made him. He looked more human on the day that you last saw him, fought him, were beaten by him, then beat him in return. When he grabbed your hair and dragged you through the destroyed remains of an office building that day, he looked like a well-dressed business man. When he grew to the size of a giant, he looked like the grey-skinned monster that he was, but he still looked solid – properly put together.

When he was that giant, he plucked you up by your hair and tossed you around like a toy.

Now, he was mishappen and pulsing with rage and lust. The leader stepped aside, and Golem entered the cell. His body was fighting its own mass, you could tell, but it surged with a power that you could barely describe. You could feel it pulsing off of him, with heat and pressure. With the anger of 1,000 men. His muscles wanted to burst, and steam seemed to rise off of him. His cock was like a third arm, reaching out from his body. It corkscrewed, coiled, stretched itself. It moved on its own as if sniffing the air for prey.

You remember the feeling of a deep, cold something rising your stomach as he entered the room and took hold of your hair again. Now, you are at the mercy of one captor. Then you were at the mercy of one rapist driven by 1,000 captors. He reared his hand back and delivered a slap to the side of your head. As you blacked out, you remember him scooping you up to carry you like a child. You remember helplessness.

You remember waking up laid out on the floor.

You remember massive hands on your body.

You remember feeling his teeth through the material of your costume. Like a blizzard of tiny knives, they sank into the soft mass of your left breast. Your nipple was hard in the black sheath, and the convict creature took his time with it. He surrounded it with his lips, his mouth wide, and he began kneading the bud with the sharpness of his teeth. You remember, now, how you bit your lower lip and arched your hips up. Your vulva pressed against the massive organ between his thighs. It shuddered, though, your sex repulsed by the idea of what the creature had in store for it. Sitting in your cell, now, Mother Night in chains, you remember how you could feel the anger, and the lust of 1,000 criminals that you had captured.

Then you felt a mouth on your right breast. Just like the last, the teeth were like knives. You felt one biting your thighs. Your body trembled and shook, responding to the relentless biting and sucking.

Then you felt massive hands around your throat. Your throat. The morphing creatures took turned squeezing and crushing your throat. Some shook you. Some just enjoyed watching you struggled to breathe. Now that you were in a regular environment, you breathed like a regular human. There was no magical shield like the one that sustained you in space.

You felt massive hands spreading your thighs. You opened your eyes, you remember, to see, not one creature, but three. Now, you understood; he had developed the power to split himself into many copies of himself. They had probably not intended it, but their rage had empowered him in this strange way. You remember how there were now multiple clay men mastering your body.

You moaned. They surrounded you, each trying to take a piece of you. One slid a thick hand beneath you, squeezing the expanse of its palm around both your buttocks at the same time. Another pressed a finger into the wedge of your camel toe. He made hard, awkward circles, grinning as you moaned and raised your hips. You groaned. He laughed.

It must have been an hour of just biting and sucking and groping before one of the snaking, self-aware cocks found its way between your thick thighs.

Sitting in chains, in your cell now, you heard your captor speak to you through the bars that were situated above you.

“That day on the satellite, they pinned you down and spread your legs. Golem got between them, didn’t he? One of the Golems, I mean.”

You, Mother Night in her cell, tilt your head up and you speak to him. Now, in your chains, you realize how much power he has over you.

“You’ re in my brain.”

“I’ve been watching your recollections. You remember looking down at the size of the head of his cock, alone. It reminded you of a python. You braced yourself as they pulled your legs apart further.”

Your head was filled with the image of how they did just that – pulled your muscular legs in black far apart – and how the cock corkscrewed. It became like a drill of meat, angling at the puffy cleft of your costumed cunt. Your current captor reads your feelings and thoughts and he watches your recollections as though they were a movie.

“It tore through the material of our costume, parted your curtains, and filled you. It filled your cunt like nothing had before. You couldn’t even scream, the pain and power were so overwhelming,” he says, speaking from above. You are chained in your cell and your captor is above you, taking down through the bars. He is recounting your defeat and violation on the space station prison. He is in your head, Mother Night, and you have no secrets from him.

“He didn’t just thrust, he spiraled with all of the force and anger of 1,000 men. Your eyes were wide and you mouth was open, trying to form words, but all you could manage was to be swept along with the power that surged in your cunt,” he continues.

“Until I passed out,” you say.

“And when you awoke, you were in a coffin and ready for burial in space. Your whole body still quivered. They woke you by throwing cum on your face.”

You remember. You had blacked out while the creature raped you, and now you awoke when cold semen was thrown on your face. You awoke with a start, recall.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“And … Let’s see if I recall this correctly. They scrawled a message on a simple piece of paper, put it in phallic capsule, made it nice and slick, and took advantage of your torn costume. What did they do again?” he laughs.

You recall the feeling of the thick mass that stretched your anus. You were squeezed into the clear coffin too tightly to reach behind or under yourself. You still felt the throbbing of your cunt, and you felt the thick intrusion in your ass.

“They put the message in a capsule and shoved it up my ass. It was for whomever found me once they launched me back to Earth,” you finally say.

You remember how they made sure there was proper life support for you.

“And then, they did what?” he chuckles. He wants to hear you say the words.

“They filled the coffin with cum. They poured as much of that cum that they had collected in on me, without drowning me again,” you say. It is as though you can feel the heat and the sticky musk again. You remember it flowing between your big breasts and over your thighs.

“They sealed it, and they launched me back to Earth,” you say, remembering how the semen flowed around you as you were jettisoned. You remember seeing stars and feeling the thrust as you were shot from the satellite. You were Mother Night, covered in cum, buried alive in space.

“And here you are now, years later, a prisoner again. I won’t be doing anything as extravagant with you. It will still be a … quite the experience though. Let’s move on to the next evolution,” he laughs.