Fall of the Power Panthress
A story I was told hadn't been uploaded yet, so I put it up. This is a story commissioned by FA: Rayoelgatubelo from a long while back, involving a heroine that gets fucked up badly by her adversary.
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Fall of the Power Panthress For Rayoelgatubelo By Draconicon
"No..."
"Eh heh. I'm afraid, it's very much...yes..."
Herbert shook his head in disbelief as he watched the dark shape in the sky gradually get bigger as it fell towards the open ceiling. The fluttering cape behind the muscular feline looked like it should have snapped off from the wind, but the Power Panthress must have had a good costume designer. It stayed on, even as she plummeted.
The bull wanted nothing more than to look away, but old reporter instincts - and his loyalty to this heroine - kept him staring. She would get better. She'd shrugged off hundreds of bullets in the past, thousands, surely. No dart...nothing should have gotten her.
But she slammed through the hole in the ceiling and hit the floor with nothing more than a yowl. Impossible as it was, Power Panthress was shuddering, yowling and whimpering.
And as she squirmed, his captor stepped forward. The disfigured weasel limped and chuckled like a madman - which he probably was, considering his villain status - as he got closer and closer, and Herbert glared at him.
"Don't you touch her!"
"Touch her?"
Simon Trank - the weasel - chuckled as he turned around. He didn't just walk back, but ran over, shoving his disgusting face, smelly and pockmarked, almost against the bull's.
"Touch her? Oh, you know I want much more than that. Much, much more. So much humiliation, so much defeat, that deserves a lot more than touching in return. Don't you think?"
"You're a monster..."
"And you're a wimpy little do-nothing, but you don't see me calling you names. At least, not first. So, don't call me names. Got it?"
"Don't -"
"I'll do what I want! Okay?!"
The weasel was more intimidating than Herbert wanted to admit, and he went silent almost immediately. He turned away, and gasped at the sight before him.
Power Panthress had been one of the biggest lady superheroes in the city. Her red and gold costume was usually stretched to its utter limits, pulled tight around her bulging frame. Even the wonders of latex couldn't quite stretch so far around a feline that was over seven feet tall as a hero, but now...now it looked wrinkled, sagging around her shoulders.
"What...what did you do?! What's -"
He broke off as the weasel slapped him across the face, biting his lip to keep from making a sound. Trank was already walking away, grabbing hold of some of the looser latex around Power Panthress' back, pulling it tight around her chest again.
"Brilliant, really. Powerful science. Powerful work. DNA targeted. Making her just how she's treated me. Like a mewling kid."
"You...You're -"
"She should consider it a gift! What woman wouldn't give anything to be younger?"
Younger...the idea left him shivering. Power Panthress had been an icon for the city for so long, and - though he was loath to admit it - a perfect point of his life. She was perfect in every way; she didn't need to be youthened, or anything.
Yet, there it was, happening right before his eyes. Her chest was shrinking by the second, as if the fat in her breasts was being sucked right back into her body. Trank kept pulling on the back of her costume, keeping it very clear how she was shrinking. Her chest got smaller and smaller, going from the massive rack that she'd had to something barely modest, and then smaller still. He shook his head, barely able to believe it.
But that was far from the only change going on. Her height was disappearing, bit by bit. That massive stature fell away, leaving the costume looser and looser. The only reason there was any detail left to it as she slipped below six feet in height was because it was made of latex, and because Trank kept tugging it tight again. Several times, the weasel yanked back on the costume, choking Power Panthress with the material for a bit before she shrunk again.
"Please...I'm begging you, leave her alone...I...I don't know what you kidnapped me, but -"
"Bait, of course. Power Panthress, you, both close. Too good an opportunity to miss."
"You - you knew?!"
"Everyone knows. Get you, get Power Panthress in no time. You're like a little damsel in distress, yourself."
Herbert didn't know how to feel about that. Insulted, probably, but he was too busy staring at his heroine. The way she mewled, the way she struggled, it was like she had lost everything. Her arms were weaker than he had ever seen, even in her earlier days. Muscle and bulk slipped out of them, as if they were falling out of her sleeves, and soon, her gloves slid right off of her hands. It was like he was staring at some cartoon, watching life getting squeezed out of a main character.
The only thing that still fit reasonably well was her mask and hood, and that was only because she was desperately holding it. And, strangely, it was the only thing that he could imagine wanting to see come off. Herbert hated it, but he...he was curious. Who was the person he had been admiring, after being rescued by her so many times?
Trank must have noticed. As the panthress slipped below five feet in height, the weasel shoved her down, his boot on her neck.
"You want to know who she is? Fine. I do too."
Before he could protest - and he hoped that he would have - the villain yanked the hood back. Right there, under the red and gold mask, was someone that he had never expected to see.
"M-Molly? Molly Mewes?"
The panthress turned her head away, but the damage had been done. Herbert slumped down against the pillar he was tied to, unable to take his eyes off of her, nor able to think of anything but the fact that one of his own reporters was the famous Power Panthress. The thought that he had been falling for someone in his own department...how unprofessional...
But at the same time, he couldn't help but shiver in fear, seeing the lady that he had fantasized over shrinking below the size of any adult. She was barely four feet tall, and her struggles had long since ceased. Her costume was nothing more than a tent around her, obscuring most of the details. At least, until the weasel yanked it off of her.
In the nude, it was clear that she wasn't done shrinking. Not by a long shot. Her body was still trembling, and without the latex costume in the way, he could see her limbs pulling in, tugging tighter to her middle. They were shrinking bit by bit, but it was still just barely visible as he stared in horror.
And then...
Then Trank pulled her legs apart, working at the buttons of his pants. Herbert could only stare in silence as the black pants came down, and revealed a cock that was bigger than any weasel had a right to have. The bull told himself that it must have come from some mad science, but even so...
Moving fast, the weasel had his prey pinned under him, her legs spread and her pussy pointed back towards Herbert. He watched open-mouthed as the weasel lowered himself, pinning down the still-shrinking heroine with his bigger body, his cock rubbing against a slit that wasn't even big enough for two fingers, let alone the drooling cock head that was rubbing against it.
"Don't you dare!"
Even Power Panthress' voice had changed, becoming high pitched, almost squeaky as she shouted at him. Herbert's ears grated at the sound, but not as much as when she started screaming. He squirmed in his bindings, unable to tear his eyes away from the rapidly reddening sight of the weasel jamming his cock into his superhero.
"You feel that? Helpless, humiliation, pain? Those were my feelings...every single time that you beat me..."
Who cared about his feelings? He was hurting her, and Herbert was helpless to stop it. Even now, she was shrinking, her body tightening up further, her legs barely getting around the bigger mammal's thighs. Her paws slowly disappeared from view, and he realized that she couldn't have had a body bigger than a five year old's, at this point. Possibly even smaller.
The sounds of her screams and squeals of pain were all that he could hear, and the sight of that huge weasel cock breaking her and tearing her open was all he could see. The bull wanted nothing else but to look away, but...
But the fact remained that she was his idol, his hero. She had done so much for him. And he...he loved it, and couldn't take his eyes away from her.
That didn't make it hurt any less as he watched her bleed, her little hole getting tinier, then stretching, then getting tinier again as she kept shrinking down. He wanted to throw up as her blood ran down over her ass, and then puddled in a tiny layer underneath her. She shrunk to such a small size that soon he could see her from hip to hip between the weasel's legs, her body tiny, and forced to take something so huge.
Her screams faded, but slowly, and not to be replaced by something happier. He would have guessed that her vocal cords just gave out. Trank kept pumping her, his cock breaking her apart, occasionally pulling out just long enough for him to have a view of her split open, gaping, bleeding hole before slamming back in again. The length of his cock was soaked with that same red, and he took no mercy on her.
Herbert was utterly appalled at it, sick to his stomach as the weasel slammed in all the way. The bull heard the soft grunts that signified climax, but that was hardly the worst. No, that was what Trank had to say.
"I hope you two will be happy...Now Herbert knows the truth, and you'll always be a young bitch for him..."
Trank's laughter echoed through the room as he slowly pulled out, smearing a pink-ish mess against the tiny little panther's legs. She barely squirmed, whimpering and covering her face with one oversized paw. Herbert could only guess at her age, now, but she looked no more than three years old, shrunken and out of proportion with herself. He shivered as he looked down at her wrecked hole, oozing red lines through the weasel seed that was left behind.
He couldn't look away as Trank walked over, undoing his chains with a chuckle. The bull glanced up.
"What...why are you..."
"I had my revenge. And you...Well, now it's your choice. A big story. Tell the world about her true identity and defeat...or hide it...and end her suffering. What will you do?"
The weasel laughed, walking away. The chains weren't entirely off, so doubtless Trank would get away before he could do anything. But he could get out...but what would he do now? The Power Panthress was defeated, possibly forever, and now she was hurt and broken on the floor.
What do I do?
The End