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Chapter 3: Old and New Ways

Change is not easy. Resisting to temptation is not easy. Leaving the old ways behind is not easy. It's the nature of Time that the New always comes in Sin.

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Killer had admittedly spent a fair number of years wandering the world in no small part because he didn't want to become an actual king. Or perhaps, if he was more honest to himself, he had been running from the responsibilities and challenges that such a step entailed. He had avoided those responsibilities out of a mixture of laziness and genuine worry that he was not ready to handle the pressure. His monstrous physical strength and his stupefying hypervirility meant he could do and take all he pleased, and no one could ever stop him, or hope to contrast him. He was effectively king of wherever he went, while being free to move on to other hunting grounds as and when he pleased. Why should he settle down, and accept all the responsibilities of actual, permanent leadership, when he could just enjoy such hedonistic life without ever having to worry about a thing? He could move into a town, fuck it pretty literally out of shape, and when the toy was worn out he could just move on to the next city, and leave the clean up to someone else.

That was what he had done for a good 7 years, if he was honest. He had treated the world like he treated his hotwives toys: he had fucked it hard, ruined it, prolapsed it, gored it, and left it pregnant and crippled, for the cuckold paypig to care for.

He had come to Kendrew with vague dreams of redemption, but in truth he had been traveling northwards without a plan, until Athena and Joy had somehow awakened a more responsible side of him. Kendrew was an important, strategic fortress that kept the whole of the Northlands safe, and served as gate to his homeland, Kendrew. Finding a tyrant in charge of the place, and seeing factories hard at work everywhere to forge new and advanced war machines, had made it clear that he had to personally put things right. It was an immediate threat that spoke to his military instincts and training, and he had reacted swiftly and decisively, as he had always done on the battlefield.

Once he had defeated Griagas in the arena, and taken care of a harem that was definitely too small for him, he had continued to operate in the familiar realm of military operations, where he was entirely comfortable and vastly experienced. He had left the royal palace and caught up with Felix Russel and the other troops still busy securing the capital and the nearby smaller towns.

His priority had been to round up the troops that had been part of Griagas's quickly growing army and ensure they knew who to be loyal to. There had been little in the way of problems, since nobody had any ambition of picking a fight against the feared Wyvern, savior of the North and destroyer of the South. Killer had found out that Griagas had commanded little true sympathy and loyalty: his followers had pretty much all been moved purely by reasons of opportunity and definitely had no interest in compromising themselves to "avenge" a dead king they never really cared for.

Clearly, those same lords and officers were now swearing to serve Killer because of the exact same kind of considerations: they had no chance of striking down the new king, and rebelling would only lead to a ugly death, so of course there were no objections. Killer got rid of the most untrustworthy types first; then carefully removed the officers who showed no attitude and no proper military skills, and finally re-assigned the ones worth keeping. It had taken him a few days to meet all of his lords and generals and to adjust their roles and assignments, and it would have taken much longer had Killer not been such a tireless leader of armies. He had traveled across his new kingdom, touching every last garrison and town, allowing himself no more than a nap here and there. He had moved swiftly, like his accession to the throne was a military campaign, not a ceremony... and not without reason. The mysterious RA organization that he had had to subdue in the capital had a pervasive presence across the entire kingdom, and unlike the Lords and their soldiers, the RA troops did not surrender and switch their allegiance.

The RA seemed to be in charge of all of the steel forges and of the vast majority of the factories producing and assembling weaponry, jets and armoured vehicles, and the organization clearly didn't like to see its colossal investment on Kendrew going wasted because Griagas hadn't been able to hold on to his throne.

RA troops, emotionless and fearless, had barricaded themselves into the great factories, into barracks and fortresses along the borders and in selected, key nodes of Kendrew's network of railways. The organization had put up a ferocious fight to keep control of the factories and to secure a passage out of Kendrew for the military material that they had already produced. Trains upon trains loaded with every sort of weapon system, from pistols to tanks, from rifles to fighter jets, had attempted to find a route out of Killer's territory, and the new king had had to move quickly and resolutely to ensure that all the exits were tightly locked up. Whatever the RA was, it invariably fought to the death and, given a chance to do so, it preferred to blow up its equipment and even its very soldiers rather than have them captured by the enemy.

Some of the trains had gone up in flames and smoke as a result: as soon as they were forced to stop and found themselves surrounded, the RA teams on board the trains initiated explosive charges. Killer had lost a couple of boarding parties in gruesome, terrifying balls of fire and burning wreckage, and after two such occurrences, understandably, nobody was eager to get close to those immense convoys loaded with tanks and weaponry, which exploded with the destructive power of small nukes.

Killer didn't want to lose all that valuable material, which he suspected would soon be needed to fend off RA attacks coming from other regions. Every train of tanks could equip a couple of regiments, so they made a huge difference. In the end, he had to personally take the matter in his hands: exploiting his terrifying, supernatural physical power, he literally decapitated those trains before the detonation order could travel from the locomotives to the explosive charges hidden under the countless wagons. His new troops could only watch on in awe as the king literally ran up to those trains, his legs easily matching the speed the huge trains could run at, and he swiftly seized those enormous locomotives, hefting them off the tracks and throwing them into the sky before they could explode. After the first two or three successful interceptions, which allowed Killer to "take the measures" and get a pretty good idea of what the RA's reaction times were, that stupefying display of power became little more than a game. Kendrew's army became a passive player, mere witness to the supernatural strength of the new king as he literally made a point of tossing those locomotives a bit higher into the sky at every new interception.

Fear and awe grew at the same pace as the soldiers gaped at the sight of those locomotives, each weighting hundreds of tons, being single-handedly torn off from the front of the trains and thrown towards the Sun in the same easy movement. The locomotives flew for miles_such was the strength Killer's glorious arm could impress on them, and they seemed to weigh less than baseballs to him, because he didn't even break a sweat. That display of godlike power left the younger soldiers of Kendrew's novel army shaking like leaves as they began to realize just how powerful their legendary king was. Whatever fantasy they might have entertained about being able, one day, to challenge their king to take his place was brutally snuffed out of existence, replaced by a mix of despair and loyalty. Despair, because they could never possibly match the king's godly strength. Loyalty, because they could now witness what Killer's mighty arm could accomplish, and they felt a sort of pride at being _his army. If their king was an invincible living god, a true lord of armies, that immediately made them the most powerful army on earth, didn't it...? Who could ever dream of defeating them on the battlefield, when Killer led their charge? Nobody.

They began to look at the king in a whole different way.

They could also appreciate the fact that Killer, without any hesitation, stepped up and took on the most dangerous of all jobs, taking it out of their hands and protecting their lives. They felt... patronized, in a way, because the king was treating them like children, more than mature and proud warriors, but it was a very reassuring kind of humiliation. Knowing that the king was ready and willing to personally do the heavy lifting when things got really nasty was an immensely reassuring awareness. With Griagas they had known that little to no help would ever be forthcoming from the big boss.

The older soldiers in Kendrew's army were less surprised. Many of them had once been part of Kesteven's army, or had at least fought under Killer's command in the War of Dark, years earlier. They already knew Killer firsthand and had witnessed the extraordinary feats of strength and valor that had made "Wyvern" legendary across the whole of the Northlands. The younger ones had heard the tales, but they had seen them in the making. Back then, Killer was young, pretty much still a boy nowhere near done growing bigger and stronger, so it was sometimes with a weird sort of paternal pride that they stared in awe at the hulking titan he had become. Their king truly was the ultimate Alpha male, a walking god so powerful that they could only take pride from being... somewhat close to him.

And the trains had only been the opening phase of the swift, daring campaign that Killer had conducted to secure his new kingdom: the factories had followed. The king had led from the front again, and his devastating, crushing power had been crucial in ensuring the plants were cleared of the RA's presence before they were completely demolished.

The RA did manage to destroy some assembly lines, sabotage key pieces of machinery and even demolish several warehouses and buildings with explosives in an attempt to deny the factories to the nascent new kingdom, but Killer and his carefully picked assault teams, inserted with the few helicopters and armoured vehicles readily available, had managed to secure most of the key infrastructure.

The third and final phase of the campaign had been perhaps the most brutal, because Killer had had to evict the RA from several border garrisons and fortresses along the borders. The infamous organization had fought back bitterly, and Killer had had to personally breach walls and punch bastions into gravel in order to storm some of the castles. The damage to the precious fortresses had been substantial and would take a while to repair, but Killer's godly strength meant that in the space of four days the RA lost 14 castles which had supplies and ammunition to sustain at least a year of siege each.

Without Killer's overwhelming power, recapturing all of the fortresses would have taken ages, considering that the relatively few troops available couldn't have put all of them under siege at the same time, and that the terrible winters of the north would have been an utter torment to deal with while laboring on various pieces of siegework.

It was an extraordinary feat of strength that left the world gaping in awe and fear and that further cemented the loyalty of Kendrew towards its new king. In just seven days, Killer had routed a force that was vastly superior in numbers and in equipment, and he had done so capturing enormous amounts of invaluable kit as well as factories to produce more of it. Collateral damage had been contained and the losses had been few and far between: the king had personally carried his new army to victory, doing most of the heavy lifting and leading tirelessly from the front. They had been 7 days of constant movement, with the army traveling from east to west, from south to north, across most of the kingdom's territory. The soldiers had had very little chance to properly rest, but nobody had protested because the king had slept even less than the last of his privates. Killer was a warrior at heart, and he was almost more accustomed to the hardship of the battlefield than the comforts of royal palaces, and he had always followed one golden rule: never order your soldiers to do something you can't or won't do.

His father had passed on that teaching, which had been reinforced by his mentor, who had driven that lesson home every day of his long and arduous training, which had started when he was a literal child. Killer was under no doubt that leading from the front was the only way to legitimate one's power and authority, and he had always acted accordingly, in every battle he had fought. Since he was 7 he had led troops into battle, and every single time the victory had been secured in his sector, where he was in the vanguard, cutting down enemies like corn during harvest and leading his troops onto key positions. He always strived to be the guide, the example, the decisive warrior on the front, and now that he was also king, he tried even harder. Those 7 days demonstrated it all to all of his soldiers.

It was a demonstration that cancelled all the doubts and reservations his soldiers might have had about him. When the campaign had started, Killer was just the newcomer who had slain Griagas, and his soldiers had followed him purely out of fear and convenience. Seven days later, Kendrew's army was in love with the new commander in chief and pretty literally worshipped the ground he walked upon. Fear was still there, stronger than ever, but it was now accompanied by true loyalty, admiration and reverence. He was more than just a king; he was the King. He was clearly more than just a strong mortal: he was a walking god they had the honor to serve.

Killer had spent most of the intervals of peace between a battle and another awake in his "mobile command post", which actually was, funnily enough, a gigantic, custom-made, off-road limo. An hybrid of a monstrous all-terrain jeep and a luxurious limousine, the black vehicle had been produced specifically for him while he was away from the northlands, in the south, in Ire. He had acquired the first example of that monstrosity when he was just 14 and was attending a military boarding school in the capital of Ire. His time in that school had been an attempt to build new and better relationships between the Northlands and the south, but it had ultimately failed. The South had no interest in improving relationships with the tiger kingdoms and Killer ended up polarizing public opinion in a very dramatic way: he was either loved and worshipped, or hated and cursed.

Admittedly, Killer had probably stopped trying to change that state of things too soon. He did not believe things could have ended much differently from they did, but maybe he could have been more patient and measured. Instead, when faced by racism and hostility, he had ultimately decided to answer in kind. The more the puny males of the south attempted to ostracize him and have him isolated, the more he used his hypervirility and physical supremacy to humiliate them. Fathers hated him, but he made sure to be adored by wives and daughters...

That monstrous limo had originally been the idea of one of those daughters. She had been so deliciously evil, so eager to humiliate and ridicule the lesser males around Killer, that she had given him plenty of sweet memories he still cherished. She had told him that his limo had to be excessive in every way, specifically so it would attract even more envy and impotent hate from "the losers". She had claimed that his car should try to match his cock's glory, since "your dick is so fuckin' huge that nobody will ever dare saying you are compensating for anything."

Those had been her words, he remembered it well. The vehicle had cost several million dollars, all of them coming from the donations of eager cuckolds and paypigs from every corner of the world, and it had been built, quite literally, in a shipyard, because it dwarfed even the largest trucks made in Ire. Killer couldn't help but grin whenever he thought back to those days, when that eager shark girl had driven him around in that immense vehicle, which literally spanned both lanes and more often than not knocked over the corners of buildings on either side to negotiate curves that just couldn't fit its behemoth proportions. The limo dominated Ire's roads as completely as Killer dominated the little southerners: other vehicles could only swiftly change road to get out of the way, or be crushed under the titanic wheels, which could steamroll an average size car into a flat metallic pancake. Otherwise, most vehicles could pretty literally drive _beneath_the monster, such were its proportions.

Heavily armoured, the limo was a fortress on wheels that caused as much outrage as it caused fear and awe, and pretty much nothing in Ire had a prayer against it. The police was utterly powerless to stop that colossus, and the irenic army had fared little better when it had tried.

The use that Killer made of "Goliath", his first such limo, was what truly drove Ire insane with rage, envy and stupor, however: it was a porn movie set on wheels. Killer used to take position outside of schools and colleges, where he could pick up eager hotwives, MILFs and their fresh, beautiful daughters. The inside of the limo offered all sorts of comforts, including a Jacuzzi and lap dance poles, and it had become famous an iconic by appearing in thousands of full-size movies and more casual live streamed fuck-marathons.

Over the years he had bought more and even larger clones of the first Goliath, until he had a whole fleet. Money had never been a problem, with how much his helpless fans and paypigs were eager to dish out to honor him. He had left all of those colossal vehicles back in Ire, but it was one of the very first things he ordered onwards to Kendrew. The Jacuzzi and the poles were still there, but Killer had little use for them in the circumstance. He used the comfortable couch-bed to take a little nap when he had the chance, otherwise he was always sitting at the table, studying documents and maps and writing down new plans.

For the surprise of very, very few, one of his first reforms had been the creation of a Special Forces Corps, the Predators of Kendrew, modeled over the same formation he had formed in Kesteven years earlier. Killer knew that some actions required special warriors, with skills far greater than average and with complete dedication to the mission, and the Predators were those super-soldiers. Carefully picked from the best units of the Army, the Predators were all volunteers who accepted the hardships of the special training and the extreme risk of death and mutilation in exchange for the glory and the privileges that being so high rank implied. Every Predator was a lord of sorts, with a rich compensation and the permission to have a small harem of his own. In exchange, they accepted to be the heavy-hitting vanguard, always thrown in the very center of the cauldron of battle and expected to overturn unfavorable odds.

Killer had also re-designed the rest of the army, streamlining its components and forming a core of mechanized combined-arms brigades, heavily armed and highly flexible. Those few brigades were the ones that had followed him in his 7-days campaign to secure his new kingdom, while the many other brigades of pure infantry, unable to keep the pace, had been left behind. All the trains of captured vehicles and heavy weaponry were now being brought back towards the capital, where their precious cargo would enable a few more brigades to reach their mature structures. The factories captured from the RA would soon start producing even more material, enabling the conversion of further formations.

It had been a week of non-stop action, but Killer was painfully aware that it had been the easy part of his new job. The real hard days were still ahead of him, because the military had always been his domain. Day to day running of an entire country was a whole different matter, especially since Kendrew was coming out of a period of tyrannical, militaristic leadership which had turned all non-tigers, and even most of the low-caste tigers, into literal slaves. Much of the population of his kingdom had either been employed in the RA's factories to produce weapons, or in the farms, growing food destined almost entirely to the swiftly ballooning army. Killer had every intention of changing that; ending slavery and ending traditional, deep-seated speciesism. There was no need for any particular genius to know that some of his lords would not like his reforms. Many tigers were not going to like being stripped of their privileges of members of the "master race", and Killer was going to have to deal with all of their protests and, worse, with all sorts of intrigues and background plotting against his reforms.

And no; he couldn't just punch the head of every opponent into pulp. It had to be a more elegant and effective solution, if he wanted his kingdom to get on a sustainable footing, with subjects of all races and kinds feeling bound to him by gratitude and true loyalty.

His father, king Seth of Kesteven, had succeeded in reforming his kingdom along those lines, and had been able to get much of the Northlands to follow his lead. It had been the political fight of his life, and it had resulted in a happy, prosperous empire. Seth was a good king. A great king, who had not only been a formidable warrior and conqueror, but had proven to be a builder of peace and progress as well.

Killer admired and respected his father's mastery of statecraft to no end, and he was sincerely, deeply intimidated by everything that Seth had accomplished. How could he ever hope to match such achievements? It had always been incredibly comforting and reassuring to know that his father was in charge of the kingdom, because he always seemed to know what to do, and over the years he had gained so much respect that even the other kings always listened to what he had to say.

Killer had already demonstrated his destructive power plenty, and he was quite clearly an accomplished conqueror, but now it was time to try his hand with the diplomacy, the rule-making, the administration of justice, the nation-crafting. He had been taught the theory since he was a little child, sure, but he had little to no practice and he knew how short his temper could be, and how much his hedonistic side could take control of him and... exceed.

He wanted to be remembered as a good king. He wanted to follow his father's example and build a safe, happy, tightly knit community in his kingdom. Every time he had to take a decision, he wondered about how his father would approach the same problem, and he hoped he could somehow solve it as effectively as Seth undoubtedly would have. And now that he was making his way back to his capital, to his royal palace, to his throne, he couldn't help but worry about the future.

The hulking male sighed slightly, closing his eyes and dropping the pen on the table, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Even so, he could still see letters and numbers flashing into his eyes, and his mind buzzed with a million different thoughts. Now that his power over Kendrew was consolidated, the nearby kings were going to get in touch with him, formally to congratulate their new peer, but in practice to gauge his intentions and his value. He was sincerely and pleasantly surprised that none of the neighboring kingdoms had declared war on him while he was busy eradicating the RA from his territory: he had expected that at least one or two would try to exploit the moment to invade Kendrew and try to take his throne away before he could even properly sit down into it. That was a key reason why he had wanted to move so quickly and why he had conducted the campaign by marching his army in forced stages from start to finish. Time was of the essence, since he didn't know where the RA had its main bases and there wasn't a way to tell if his neighbors were already working with, or under, that infernal organization. It was obvious that Griagas could not have been the only king that the RA was corrupting and puppeting, after all. None of the nearby kingdoms had moved, however. Even the kings most unwelcoming and hostile had been intimidated by his legendary strength and his prodigious fame, and the rapid success of his campaign had quickly closed that window of opportunity.

That was good, but the hostility was still there. The other kings undoubtedly feared him from the devastation he had caused south of the border, rampaging over the world for 7 years, causing indescribable damage and changing the face of entire nations and regions. They undoubtedly expected that same fury to now spread to the Northlands. And even if it didn't, they feared that Killer would not be satiated by Kendrew on its own, and that he would assault nearby countries to conquer them and expand his newborn kingdom. They were going to pray, to beg, to demand and to threaten him not to start a campaign of conquest, especially as they remembered all too well what had happened decades earlier, when Killer's father had built up his empire, expanding Kesteven's boundaries until they enclosed much of the Northlands. Now that another young and powerful Huxley had secured a throne for himself, they could only wonder how many other thrones were going to be toppled.

They were going to seek his word and reassurance that he would not endeavor to take away their kingdoms, and Killer already knew he couldn't promise such a thing. No matter how much he worried about his ability to steer a state towards a safe and prosperous future, he was adamant on one thing: Kendrew was indeed way too small for him. He couldn't possibly content himself with the territory and harem that had satisfied Griagas, a male 15 feet shorter than him and with a cock that looked like a toothpick next to his hypervirile monster godcock. He couldn't possibly be satisfied with a kingdom the size of Kesteven, either: his father had built the largest empire in the Northlands, but Killer was much bigger and much stronger than even his father, and his domain had to reflect that. He needed more. So much more.

Kendrew was definitely going to expand, and it was going to become the new largest reign in the whole Northlands, that much was definite. Killer had already decided that he was going to expand his domain all the way to Kesteven's border to the North, and all the way to the border with Ire to the west, and all the way to the coast of the Abukirk Sea to the south.

That effectively meant that he had already earmarked a minimum of 14 kingdoms for conquest, and he was not going to hide his intentions at all. He was going to write back to those kings to formally challenge them, right away. Their laws and traditions not only permitted it, but encouraged it, so they had no right to bitch about it, either.

They were going to throw a tantrum at first. Then they were going to protest with his father. Then they were going to cry, and beg. They were going to try and buy his benevolence with gifts...

Killer sat back into the vast, comfortable couch of his behemoth limo, smirking a bit to himself and snorting in contemptuous entertainment as he thought of being viciously direct to those kings, challenging all 14 at once, inviting them all to team up against him. What an humiliation it would be for those puny kinglets...! Unprecedented in History. It would be a tremendous insult to such proud warriors... but, at the same time, it was an act of mercy, wasn't it...? Taken one by one, those kings were pathetic zeroes, helpless toys that Killer could destroy with his arms tied behind his back.

Offensive it might be, but it was the truth. Even in team, they would still be nothing but frail toys for him to play with: fourteen zeroes put together still amount to zero, after all. That's all they were ever going to be compared to his terrifying power, and here in the privacy of his limo, Killer could afford to leave diplomacy and false modesty aside, and delight in that awareness. He loved his superior power, and it was always intoxicating to think that, in a scale going from 0 to 10, he was at least 100. It sounded so arrogant and bombastic, yet it was in fact the pure truth... if not even a merciful understatement. And they fuckin' knew. That the world could pretend it wasn't the case was merely a consequence of his generous "playing nice". But why should he waste time? Killer closed his eyes for a moment, slowly rolling his enormous shoulders and reaching down to slowly move his big, heavy hand along his cock, still in its flaccid state yet already monstrously massive, calamitously heavy, hanging down literally to the floor of the car and snaking ponderously over the carpet, like a python soaking up sunrays. It thrummed with power, bulging with an intricate map of large veins even in its relaxed state, and it rested heavily upon two prodigious boulders of testicles that bulged and flexed with his hypervirile masculinity.

It wasn't arrogance to say that, without even needing to harden, that leviathan of a cock dwarfed all other males in the world. It was no exaggeration to say that nobody could compare. It was no bombastic claim to say that he could breed an entire country just by taking a piss in it. It was no lie that he could breed an entire race out of existence if he pleased. It was all fact, not fiction. He had demonstrated his power multiple times and those poor kings were welcome to put him to the test again, if they dared.

Laughable bunch of nothings that they were, they stood no chance at all. They could either admit it or be reminded of it, and they were lucky he was willing to offer them a clean way out. They could surrender and beg to serve him, or be squashed like gnats. .

The behemoth licked his lips slowly, breathing as bit harder as he spread his muscular legs open to give that behemoth godcock more room to grow, as his ponderous balls swelled even larger as his hypervirility churned and boiled inside them. He smirked as he thought back to the days in Ire, in that military boarding school that featured in so many of his memories of youth. He remembered the officer in charge of the medical bay, a beautiful, athletic akita who had been charged with measuring and assessing him. It had been so delicious to see the stupor on her face and the uncontrollable excitement in her body as she "vainly attempted to measure a god".

It had been one of the hottest and most exotic experiences of his life, and certainly it had been a life-changing shock for her. She became one of the most devoted of all KO girls, and she carried out all sorts of "studies" on him, giving him all sorts of excuses to go to the medical bay and fuck her. An even sweeter memory was the long, semi-scientific "experiment" that she had set up in order to directly compare Killer's parameters and measurements with those of the best specimens of other races from the south.

The akita wrote super-detailed, super professional reports from the measurements and experiments, and the numbers within were so shocking that the boys used as lab rats ended up having their puberties truncated irreversibly as their bodies basically surrendered. It had been a delightful game best summarized in her words: it baselined with cold, hard numbers and scientific approach, how shit all those boys were compared to him. And since it was rigorously scientific, it couldn't be suppressed forever and after some time she had actually managed to get it published it for all the world to see and weep.

Several years had passed since those days, and Killer had grown even bigger and stronger. Now that he was alone he could admit just how much he loved that awareness, how much he enjoyed his strength and his excessive, tyrannical hypervirility. Day after day he had to restrain himself, and play nice, and do his best to fit into the world and behave in as civil way... but under all that kindness he tried to show the world, all that mercy, all that morality, he loved the awareness that he was too big, too powerful, just too damn much for the world to handle. He was a living god walking a world of frail mortal playthings, and the bugs out there could not comprehend his strength and could never even dream to compare. It was such a delightful thrill, to know he was so much more than they could possibly deal with... and he growled a bit in his chest, half-lidding his eyes as his hand slowly stroked along that enormous girth, slightly hefting up that monstrous length of heavy, solid flesh and rumbling as he felt the sheer weight of his masculinity. Most living beings in the world literally couldn't even lift his cock, which weighted so much more than their whole bodies. His godlike cock could, and at times did, snuff lives out under its prodigious weight alone.

It was hard to stay humble and civil when he knew that most of the people he had to deal were like bugs that he could literally slap into ugly stains with a lazy swing of his flaccid godcock. It was hard to take seriously the petulant little protests of such frail playthings, and even harder not to laugh in their faces when they clearly failed to understand just how insignificant and vulnerable they were, and dared addressing him with their ludicrous arrogance. It was amazing how some of those bugs managed to genuinely mistake his pity and mercy, and think they could order him around, or demand things because of their laws, money, "rights".

He remembered some of the instructors in the Military school in Ire, for example, who had thought they could boss him around because of their rank, because of their imaginary-power granted by nothing but words and social rules that were only worth a shit so long as Killer was willing to play along. Bugs who dared shouting at him even though he literally couldn't spot them, eclipsed as they were by his immense, hypermasculine bulge. When he had tired of the game, he had crushed their faces against the cold wall of reality, and they had all quickly come around, groveling before him like the meek little faggots paypigs they were.

Killer rumbled as he stroked his behemoth godcock, slowly massaging the monstrous girth of his heavy, dark shaft and arching his back slightly as he rolled his massive shoulders for no other reason that the desire to indulge in his own terrifying power. His huge muscles bulged explosively, swelling to such glorious proportions that his own hide creaked and stretched, his own skin threatening to rip open over those massive, swelling chords of power and those big, pulsing veins. He growled hungrily, and closed his eyes with a smirk of satisfaction at the thought that there quite literally wasn't a womb left in the whole of Kendrew that wasn't already bloated with his mighty semen. The campaign had touched most towns and villages, and everywhere he had planted his seed... He had already filled up every last concubine, every slave, every womb in his kingdom, which meant the population of Kendrew was going to balloon at least twentyfold within a few months, knowing the kind of litters he inflicted on his fucktoys. It also meant that, for days now, whenever he had fucked one of his females he had only been stirring up his own genes, effectively aborting a pregnancy to start another.

Again, it was no empty boost on his part, but fact, and Ire could testimony his overwhelming impact on demographics: before his arrival, there had not been another liger in the whole southern continent.

Over around 13 years, Killer had reversed the demographics and put the other races into minority in multiple regions, driving a few races to the knife edge of extinction in doing so, and terminating dragon-kind for good. Dragons had been a dying breed already, admittedly, and had been protected under international law, with all pureblood dragonesses registered and enrolled in a careful programme of natural and artificial breeding.

Killer's hypervirility had made all those efforts pointless: all remaining dragonesses had become KO girls at various stages, and since his genes were invariably dominant, they had given birth only to ligers. Many ligers. Not only that, but the ladies had become... accustomed to his terrifying sizes, brutal strength and endless stamina, and had lost all interest in mating with male dragons who they now couldn't help but see as inferior beings, nothing but vermins they did not mind seeing eradicated. As for the scaled boys, well, they stopped even trying to get the ladies to change their minds since they had no desire to try and fuck cunts which had been utterly ruined, stretched out into grotesquely gaping and prolapsed craters. Trying to fuck those perennially-pregnant-with-ligers bodies, swollen and bloated with the unholy loads of hypersperms festering inside, would have been like sticking their dicks in the middle of a lake... no, more like a muddy swamp, such was the thickness of Killer's load. They would have barely managed to get the hypersperms angry, and maybe to make those superb loads of hypervirility slosh around a bit. That was the very maximum they could aspire to, and clearly it was a... rather discouraging prospect.

Killer grinned widely at the thought, and sprawled into the vast, comfortable couch, pulling one heavy foot up onto it and flexing his heavy toe-talons as his body bulged with power and pride and vigor, muscles swelling and thrumming with power as he growled a bit and slowly pumped that glorious, genocidal godcock, his thumb idly pushing down on a thick, rope-like vein as he stroked the base of his leviathan until his hand bumped loudly into the massive medial ring. Beyond that great ridge of hard dark flesh, an impossible length of cock aimed across the limo, bent downwards still under its own calamitous weight as his godcock thickened and grew, tingling with lazy yet intense desire, with an insistent need for some... indulging. He laughed as he hefted the colossus up until that monstrous behemoth of a black cock swung heavily, majestically, audibly_backwards, flexing with arrogant vigor and standing almost upright for a moment but then toppling over, dragged down by its own monstrous weight. It swung heavily down and smashed into his vast chest, producing a rich, loud, meaty _THWACK that made him grin even as he literally recoiled a bit and grunted at the force of the impact. There was no exaggeration in that, either: sure, his thick pectorals and abs were almost invulnerable, but his flaccid cock was literally heavier than the small city cars the little people south of the border drove around in.

The behemoth monster laughed darkly with that glorious awareness, and his hand squeezed greedily into his omnipotent black cock, slowly stroking it and savoring the heat and texture beneath his palm as the almighty tower of black flesh pulsed and grew. He threw his head backwards and idly nuzzled into his own glorious shaft as it ground across his chest and over his shoulder, dragging on past his own head, resting heavily against his cheek as it pulsed with obscene hypervirility.

It had been almost insultingly easy to corrupt and destroy dragonkind. One of those last few pureblood dragonesses had been one of the instructors at the military boarding school, and she had been the first to fall. She had drooled all over him from their very first meeting, and she had desperately tried to seduce him in the classroom, only to be rebuked and told that if she really wanted his cock she had to pay for it... a thousand bucks for every inch. It was a humiliating demand, as well as a cruel financial hit considering how immense his cock was, pushing the bill into the hundreds of thousands, yet she had caved in a matter of hours.

She had been such a delightful fucktoy to mess with... a hotwife straight out of dreams, with a superb body and an incredibly rich husband to cuckold. Her husband, indeed, was the CEO of the main industrial firm behind Ire's military might and advanced weaponry, so Killer had been able to crush all kinds of treasures out of the couple. Their daughters. Their estate. Their money. Secret blueprints to advanced weaponry. Ultimately, the control of their whole life and all of their riches. Killer still was formally the owner of the industry, holding the vast majority of the shares. Ire's government had had to intervene to try and stop the disaster, and now Killer's shares had no more value, having been invalidated by special law, but it was too late. Killer had already taken away industrial secrets that had requested decades of research and uncountable billions of dollars of investment.

And that was only an example of what Killer had achieved in the south. A stupidly enormous number of cuckolds, paypigs and anonymous admirers still poured in tributes to his hypervirile supremacy every month. The amount of money coming in was spectacular, and yet it was just his pocket change compared to what came in from governments which paid him off not to rampage over their countries again. Countless industries in the south had been secretly given up to him by cuckolded husbands or delirious fangirls, and that was the source of rivers of income. And money still came in from his many porn movies and from all sorts of porn merchandise that still sold like crazy in the south despite his official status of criminal, terrorist, genocidal tyrant. Or maybe in part because of it...? He had turned some of the most extreme fantasies, fetishes and kinks into reality with his supernatural power, and the helpless little playthings just couldn't help but worship him for it.

And gods, those riches were the ones he had accumulated "legally". He had mostly played according to the rules, just stretching them here and there. All of those proprieties had been given to him with proper contractual commitments... but in the last 7 years he had rampaged indiscriminately, like a literal raging god walking a helpless planet that just couldn't defend itself.

He had broken into the most protected of bark vaults just because he could, just to show the world that he owned everything, and that if he decided to take stuff away from them, nothing was safe. He had smashed his way even into the fortress where Ire kept its vast gold reserves, making a mockery of its walls, its garrison, its defences, effortlessly carrying away the literal hundreds of tons of gold ingots it had contained.

Other countries had given their own reserves up, begging him to content himself with the tribute and leave them alone. He never had. Trying to bribe him in that fashion invariably backfired horribly because it was like telling him that there was something he couldn't take away from them. It was an insult to his power to pretend that they could somehow bargain his retreat from their territories, as if he had any reason to be afraid, any motive way he should content himself with their gifts instead of taking everything. None of those bugs owned anything. There was nothing that they could give Killer that the hulking colossus couldn't just take away from them. The behemoth rumbled in pleasure, half-lidding his eyes as he casually stroked along his own member, massaging along the base, rubbing down the top of that monstrous black-fleshed godcock, watching as it flexed with terrible, tyrannical vigor and swelled even larger, each hungry throb adding whole feet_of terrifying length and even more volume to that girthy monument of hypervirility. It already dwarfed all other males to insignificance; it already was a behemoth beyond compare, yet it was only semi-hard and had much more growth to do. It was always delightful to remember that most of the little boys out there in the world dreamed to have an 8 es dick, which was supposed to be a large measurement already... while he had _sperms literally three times that size.

That was the extent of his superiority, so the fact they dared thinking they could in any way resist him was absolutely laughable. They lied to themselves, puny insects that they were, but in the deep they all knew the truth: they were exiled in their own existences. Helpless zeroes on borrowed time, who were horribly aware that everything they saw, touched, cared for; the air they breathed; their very own lives and bodies... they were all owned by Killer and he could claim it all back at any time he pleased. There was nothing they could do about it: they were all fucktoys, and they all existed for his amusement alone.

They were going to work like slaves just to line his pockets with money until they bulged and snapped at the seams like the crotch of his pants... and that was all very handy, Killer idly thought, tossing a moody look at some of the discarded documents on the table. Griagas had left behind empty coffers, having wasted in luxury and hedonistic pleasures even the substantial amounts that the RA had paid him in exchange for his "cooperation", which in time would have become a de-facto abdication from the throne of Kendrew. After all, the 7 days of war that Killer had needed to fight to destroy the RA presence in his territory went to show who had really been in control. The amazing thing was that Griagas somehow hadn't realized that he was quickly losing his grip over his reign until it was much too late to do anything about it. It was almost unbelievable, but Killer knew that some people just could not be arsed to see the truth, preferring to live in a fantasy made of lies and, probably in Griagas's case, false adulation and reassurances coming in from the RA's side.

Empty coffers were an unwelcome news coming out of his early studies into the state of his new kingdom, but they were the one thing that couldn't worry him at all. Killer was so ludicrously rich that money was never going to be a problem, and he was going to be able to fund his early reforms and plenty of infrastructure projects as well as the rapid expansion of his army. He could do all of that quickly and without needing to squeeze his subjects and lords with taxes, and that was hopefully going to make things a fair bit easier.

But it was hard to stay serious and face the problems of the future, of his leadership ahead, while stroking that growing, immense colossus of a cock. They were only problems if he played fairly, if he followed the rules, if he cared about the opinion and feelings of the bugs_around him. His gigantic black cock was like a reminder that, if he wanted, he could _cheat. He was a god of war, with unmatched destructive force. He was fertility incarnate, with such hypervirility he could rewrite the destinies of the world at the genetic level. He had the financial power of multiple countries combined, quite literally. In the last seven years he had conquered and stolen the riches of entire nations. Hell, he had stolen Ire's very own gold reserves just to demonstrate he could. And if he wanted more he could log in on his social media, stream his idle jerking off, and his eager slaves would shower him with millions of dollars in donations.

At the end of the day, he could just take what he wanted and do what he pleased: who was going to stop him..?

Clearly, nobody could. It was evident from the way his godcock pinned even him down into the couch, so large and massive that the huge head towered past his own. The weight of the growing beast crushed down against his flexing, muscular chest, and it was heavy even to his godlike, hulking frame, even as his muscles bulged and ground together and pushed against that titanic girth which, even while rising steadily up higher, pulsing as it grew erect and arrogant, still weighed down against him hard enough to crush him down into the leather cushions of the couch.

His colossal testicles throbbed slowly beneath that behemoth length, those heavy, hypervirile boulders so heavy and thick they rested on the ground, pulsating with incredible heat and power. They demanded attention and seemed to remind him of how impossibly powerful he was, and he rumbled in delight at the heat and thrills rolling up through his herculean form. The glorious behemoth leaned back comfortably, one arm idly folded under his head and his massive body flexing carelessly as his hand continues to move leisurely along his godcock, while his hulking musculature flexed and rippled with impossible power.

A ponderous globe of dark precum swelled sloppily out of his flexing cockmaw, and it was little more of a drop of lube-filth to him, but a scary demonstration of his Alpha supremacy for the rest of the world to witness, as gallons of black pre-sperm idly gurgled out of his godcock, stretching into a heavy, massive rope of gunk.

Killer smirked as he butterflied his legs open wider and idly angled that titanic tower of godcock towards the empty Jacuzzi, because he didn't want to blast that think essence all over the expensive, luxurious furniture of the limo. True, he wouldn't be the one having to deal with the clean up, but it was better not to shoot those meteors of hypervirility carelessly... in the past he had repeatedly cracked even the bullet-proof windows, such was the force of those broadsides of hypermasculine power. His cumshots were the main reason why he had had to buy a whole fleet of those enormous off-road limos: it was often necessary to effectively strip out the inside of the limo and rebuild anew, because "cleaning" was next to impossible and anyway could not properly fix the real damage that the heavy blasts of his orgasms could cause. His cumshots were pretty literally cannonades of thick, dense semen; broadsides so heavy and powerful that he could literally kill people with them, if he wanted. Some of the porn movies he had filmed in the past contained clear and ample proof of that amazing fact, and of the wide variety of ways in which his orgasms could prove fatal. He could beat the snot out of people just by jerking off a heavy load on them, battering them with those meteors of thick gunk. He could drown people, very easily, with the sheer size of his loads. He could launch his victims off his cock like corks from bottles of champagne with the violence of his blasts of semen... In truth, he was so enormous and so overwhelmingly strong that any movement, any action, even the most mundane, could prove destructive and deadly to the little, helpless world around him. He had literally killed people by taking a crap, or a piss...

He smirked at the thought, moving his hand down to heft one colossal testicle, rumbling in entertainment at the way their heat made even his own skin crawl, before hissing in pleasure as his palm touched the incandescent, sweaty, roughly-textured underside of that almighty ball. How could he be humble, how could he feel any fear, how could he look at anyone as equal when carrying around balls like that...? His smile widened into a grin as he pulled up a little, just to savor the calamitous weight of the beastly cum-factory that strained his arm as his hand cupped the underside of that godlike orb, way too large even for his own big hand to wrap around. It was just one all-male ball, and already it mocked other "males" with its prodigious mass, its impossible volume, its brutal weight which could easily snuff a life out of existence. How many of the puny raisins carried by the boys out there could have been lost inside a single one of his hypervirile balls...? There just couldn't be any comparison... and the sheer size was just one factor. As he eagerly squeezed into that monstrous orb, he could feel how solid and heavy and massive it was. He could feel the sheer power inside the solid, heavy orb as it churned with literally endless production of omnivirile semen. His testicles were always hot, greasy with hypermasculine sweat, and their weight and solidity was stupefying. His huge bicep tensed and bulged as he hefted the sheer mass of that single orb, and he hissed as he let his hand slowly, worshipfully slide along the colossal testicle, scooping up a great deal of thick, greasy sweat festering with enough virility to impregnate a country's worth of whores.

That was dense, enormous, prodigious male power, right there... and he could smell his own lust, bitter and powerful and commanding, as he savored the calamitous weight of his thickening, hardening cock as it throbbed powerfully and jutted out majestically from his waist, bent by its own ponderous mass and bulging with an intricate map of thick, vast veins. His immense cockhead was still mostly hidden under a thick blanket of foreskin, and again it was no exaggeration at all to call it a blanket: Killer could quite easily wrap up heads and parts of a body in all that heavy, hot flesh.

His massive, cruel flare was not yet engorged to its full, awesome sizes, but already it loomed like the frightening genocidal weapon it was: how many unborn lives had been crushed into chunky lube under that monstrously wide crown...? How many victims had been ripped apart, split in half like logs; how many wombs had been prolapsed out looking like shredded condoms, clinging uselessly around that unfathomable immensity?

Killer snorted steam from his nostrils and grinned as he looked up into one of the mirrors arranged around the luxurious limo, and he licked his lips as he admired his own chiseled, hulking, superior muscles, his prodigious hyperpotency, moving his hand back up from his testicles to stroke slowly over his clenching abs, before he idly arched his back and flexed, feeling all those huge muscles swelling explosively under his palm, like hot mountains of marble, of diamond, hard and perfectly sculpted. He felt his sheer mass, stretching a little and flexing harder, immense biceps bulging so much that his own invulnerable hide groaned and creaked, his skin nearly ripping like cheap plastic as he almost proved too much even for himself.

His immense shaft flexed, hot and tingling with lazy yet demanding desire, and he rumbled in pleasure as he squeezed into the monster with both hands, stroking along the prodigious length, massaging, squeezing into it just to feel how titanic, how powerful he was. It was incredible to remind himself of just how massive and strong and superior he was: he was number one in every list. In public he tended to deflect those who said he was a God, the ultimate champion of virility and fertility... but he really was, wasn't he...? An immense titan in a world of frail miniatures; a God walking the world of mortals. Unmatched and supreme, absolute in his supremacy, he was a force that reshaped the world as easily as it would model soft putty into a form of his choosing. All cunts had been made to be ruined by his superior hypervirility, and all whores, all faggots, all little bugs and pieces of filth he put to use were lucky to be allowed to witness him and serve him. That was the truth... because his potency, his power, his virility were such that those microbes' lives could only be given a meaning through worship of him.

He snorted in entertainment and licked his lips as a bit of drool dropped from his jaws, and blindly reached over for a large remote, hurriedly pushing a button on it as he grunted with the throbs of hot lust that his balls sent cursing up his spine.

The Jacuzzi buzzed and whirred into life, but not the usual kind of life. Multiple drains on the bottom, ultra-large and fitted with sucking fans and suction devices, opened fully and began to loudly drain the vast pool, even though there was no water inside it. The puny little boys out there couldn't believe it, of course, but Killer could quickly fill up even that vast pool, just with the heavy blasts of his precum. Not only that, but his thick, incredibly dense and rich load would quickly overwhelm and clog a single, traditional drain. He needed all that complex machinery in place just to ensure that the Jacuzzi could dump some of his thick essence out through the bottom of the car, hopefully preventing a literal flood.

Killer could feel more and more of his hot, potent precum surging up through his hardening tower of flesh, his vast cockmaw yawning like a lion as his cum channel visibly bulged. The rope of precum already dangling from his colossal shaft quickly swelled larger and heavier and greater, splotching heavily into the Jacuzzi and immediately causing at least a couple of the drains to audibly "cough" and "gag" even as the machines worked hard to suck that dense stuff down through the plunging tubes.

The hulking male grinned knowingly, eyes half-lidded as he saw how incredibly massive and chunky and solid that rope of precum was, the black gunk absurdly dense with hypersperms that were visibly tangled together in angry, squirming masses of festering, mighty life. It swelled larger and larger as a great glut of heavy, potent precum sloppily rolled out of his flexing cockmaw, and then he grinned and snorted steam from his nostrils as his godcock tensed and shotgunned out a humongous blast of black precum, severing the rope and sending it smacking loudly on the bottom of the Jacuzzi, literal kilograms of superior Alpha male... lube, at most. That was just his pre. He smirked and lazily stroked his leviathan of a cock, as that immense geyser of precum fired across the entire Jacuzzi and smashed loudly into the roof, the wall, one of the darkened, armoured glass windows. He rumbled and angled that colossal tower of hypermasculinity lower down, trying to direct that great eruption of Male into the pool-sized bathtub, watching the level of his pre rise quickly even as the multi-drain system did its best to keep up. He idly counted the seconds as that single, humongous blast of lube continued to erupt out of him as his godcock flexed and grew and hardened, hefting its monstrous head as far up as it could go given its calamitous mass.

When he passed the thirty seconds, he just laughed darkly, looking at that bubbling, steaming-hot tub-load of precum, gallons upon gallons of tar-like essence that was thicker and heavier and so ludicrously more powerful than other male's puny orgasms. Nothing but his Alpha waste, his hypervirile castoff, and yet it was a mass of titan sperms, each one 10.000 or 20.000 times the length of the pathetic, microscopic seeds of the "normies" out there. And how many times the mass...? The numbers were so ludicrous that he arched his back with a snort of contemptuous amusement.

He wasn't even fully hard yet, and he wasn't even close to cumming, but already he was triumphant. How could anyone ever dream to compare...? That single blast of precum already mocked the world, told all the boys outside how pathetic and useless they were.

He remembered doctor Chloe carrying out her "experiments", and how fascinated she had been with his sperms, "the ultimate weapon of God": she had unleashed one of his hyperseeds into a culture of live sperm samples from a multitude of puny boys, and documented how the humongous beast angrily moved over the puddle of mixed, multi-race semen, grinding them all out of existence under its own prodigious, superior mass. That first little experiment in vitro had emboldened the akita and made her vicious, so that in another "experiment" she encouraged multiple boys to fuck her gaping, devastated cunt overflowing with Killer's cum.

She was such an attractive woman, so frequently in the boys' wet dreams, that they had all accepted, despite the revulsion, the fear, the shame, the hesitations, the humiliating evidence of their inferiority.

They had tried their very best, comically thrusting their little dicklets into that vast, ruined, flooded abyss. Even in groups, they could never hope to touch her stretched-out walls, and only ever managed to stick their tiny members into a squirming mass of Killer's hypersperms. The way the akita laughed of their attempts and mocked them and noted with scientific accuracy just how inferior and shit they all were would have been enough in itself to keep their dicks limp and useless for all of their lives; but Killer's sperms had been much more radical and merciless, gelding all of those boys with extreme prejudice.

He was a walking God, and the insects around him had to be thankful for his kindness and mercy. He grinned, sapphire eyes blazing with energy and lust as he let out a hot breath, his almighty godcock throbbing powerfully, bulging under his hands as it fired out another huge blast of pre that left thick dark streaks through the luxurious, long room even as most of it rushed into the rapidly-filling up bathtub.

They called him Alpha male, but those petty words were not really enough for him. He was much more than that, much greater, much stronger, far more powerful. His supremacy was absolute, and he could fully delight in that awareness when he was alone like this, with no need to be civil and merciful. Gods, it could get so hard to take the little ones around him seriously... He was soon going to have to talk with a multitude of kings and presidents and "powerful" leaders of states and armies that would tremblingly attempt to address him like they were his equal, but they could never be peers in any way. He was tempted to just tell them; to drop the mask and just order them all on their knees. He was tempted to just smack his cock down on the desk, literally, and have them groveling before him, instead of playing nice and pretending they were worthy of respect.

Killer laughed at the thought of the leaders of state he was soon going to hear from, all of them terrified and in awe of him; all of them scared and intimidated stiff... all of them weak and puny and useless compared to the almighty, hypervirile power that pulsed in the thick, hot meat of his cock. Ire's president, for example, was a tiny, little old man that Killer could have squished like a gnat under his cock. And that was despite multiple, evident genetic and cybernetic enhancements that the old man had bought for himself with the hefty paycheck that his high office ensured... as well as all sorts of bribes from the many corporations that composed the endless universe of weaponry-making firms in the continent.

Killer knew well how Ire worked, not only because of the years he had spent there, but because several of those corporations were effectively owned by him, even though he deliberately controlled their actions from a distance, not interfering in any obvious way. It was quite handy to have such a good way to spy on Ire's military technology development, for one, and it was good to be able to benefit from expensive research and prototyping funded by Ire. It allowed him to make money, and at the same time allow the constant modernization of not just his army, but his kingdom as a whole.

How could he ever take Ire's president seriously, when he was such a complete little cuckold...? His cyber-enhanced body was still nothing but a scrawny sticks figure when compared to Killer's godlike, hulking mass of muscles. His limp dicklet was like a thin blade of grass when compared to Killer's obscene hypermasculinity. All of the tiny man's power came from others, from conventions, from rules, from money, from decades of wild military spending sprees: his country was the self-defined superpower of the world, with an immense military force, countless programmes of genetic and cyber enhancements to try and create super-soldiers, and an absurdly vast nuclear arsenal.

The president himself... he was nothing. Killer, instead, was power personified. Everything about him was mighty and hypermasculine.

They were nothing beneath him, much as they desperately tried to pretend to be something more. They barked a lot, but they had no bite. Killer had seen very clearly that those who made a noisy display to denounce him as a threat; those who tried to still push the myth that northerners like him were nothing but uncivilized brutes, were often the most eager of faggots and cuckolds in their private life. How many of those hypocritical little losers had he exposed over the years...? Too many to count. Ire's president himself probably jerked off his tiny mockery of a dick while looking at Killer's live streams. Maybe he made big donations too. It wouldn't surprise the hulking male in the slightest... He already knew for sure about several other presidents and dictators that pretty much only waited to be exposed to the world...

He had seen the truth of their nature beneath their claims that they were civilized and equal, evolved and clearly superior to "unthinking brutes". The truth was that they were drooling, helpless little cuckolds who knew they were inferior and who fell to their knees at the sight of him. They couldn't escape nature, no matter how they tried to elevate themselves away from its rules: when his musk punched them in the face, they all turned into moaning, whimpering, helpless prey who could only worship the dirt he walked on. They stood no chance, and in the end they learned to love being helpless toys beneath him. They learned to be proud of their wives and daughters, mothers and sisters, girlfriends and brides, all turned into eager race traitors and offered their wombs to the Alpha. Even jocks, even males who thought themselves mighty and alpha, turned into nothing but faggots begging to taste his cock, to sniff his musk, to touch him, to lay before his feet like a living carpet as he fucked their inferior genes out of existence, breeding their towns into extinction. How many supposed "alpha males" had offered him mouths and asses, begging, crying, fighting with whores and sluts and fucktoys over the privilege of kissing his ass?

Nature didn't care about the fake power that came from titles and social arrangements, but only for pure, raw, true might... and Killer had that power. Everything about him was supremacy, and their fate was to beg for a chance to experience him, the true Alpha, their true God.

Maybe he should just stop playing nice, and take it all. Would Ire ever be able to do anything other than whimper and cry about it, if he decided not to stop at the traditional border Northlands - South but extended his territory down across the continent...? Killer grinned widely, tilting his head upwards slightly and squeezing hungrily into his own monstrous godcock, more than 300 inches of unfathomable, excessive power. He would love to see them try. He stroked his massive shaft a bit harder, a bit faster, rougher, listening to the heavy, wet slapping and slurping of that thick foreskin, snorting steam as that hulking tower of flesh flexed and unleashed another great blast of precum.

Ire was not going to provide him with much enjoyment, if he decided to crush it under his heel. In truth, it would be too easy.Mundane. Short-lived.

They were still on their knees because of his earlier rampages, and they were nervously hiding behind their nukes, pretty much threatening to blow themselves and the rest of the world up in a suicidal, global holocaust if he fucked more of their women. They were so on edge and terrified that some of them just might do something really stupid, so it was better to play it safe on that front.

Killer was more interested in the Eastern frontier, admittedly. He had made no plans for how fast his eastward conquest was going to go, nor had he earmarked a particular route yet, because apparently there was something interesting happening in those regions. The Northlands were awash with stories about another conqueror, another new king who was rapidly creating an empire and who had the fame of being bigger, stronger, superior to all other sovereigns. While away in the south, Killer had done his best to keep track at least of the main news coming from back home, but he had admittedly not paid much attention to the early reports of a new champion who was toppling thrones at a phenomenal rate. He had expected the stories to die down soon afterwards. Perhaps it had been arrogance on his part, but he did not believe someone coming apparently from nowhere, with no known connection to any of the major, historical bloodlines, could prove that strong. He had expected the whole thing to deflate pretty quickly. The new king would soon enough stop his campaign of conquest, or maybe even end up defeated by picking an unwise fight.

Ever since coming back to the Northlands, however, Killer could tell that things had gone very much differently. Even his soldiers, even after witnessing his might, sometimes still chatted about the "Black Lighting", the king that was forging an ever expanding empire in the East. The fact that he had gained himself such a nickname was, in itself, telling: only warriors who truly left a mark ended up associated with a punchy title like that.

Killer himself, for example, had become legendary during the wars of Dark with the nickname "Wyvern", which had in the past belonged to his father before him. It came from the name of the enormous, ancient, glorious sword that the Huxley bloodline passed on from countless generations, from one King to the following one. Killer had been allowed to yield that formidable, colossal weapon during years of combat in defence of Kesteven and of the whole of the Northlands, and his feats had become a matter of tales and myth, associating him and that sword for eternity. Even though he had had to leave that phenomenal weapon back in Kesteven when he had left, more than 7 years earlier, Killer was still regularly identified with the Wyvern nickname.

Killer was also known as "Born from the Storm" because of the scary, unique solar eclipse and furious tempest that had marked the day of his birth, but that was another kind of nickname, one that was used more frequently as a mark of contempt than of respect and awe. Many people across the Northlands considered that unexplained solar eclipse a mark of bad luck and a dark premonition about unspeakable horrors to come in the future because of Killer.

He shared that particular nickname with the third and last "legend" to walk the contemporary Northlands: Alexis Archer, the warrior princess of Glacial, the most beautiful and deadly creature to ever live in the north... and probably in the whole world. She was known as the "Diamond of the North" because of her otherworldly beauty and the chiseled, hulking perfection of her musculature. Her strength was legendary and her prowess on the battlefield was the subject of many songs and poems.

Alexis would have probably been far more of a sensation had she started her own campaign of conquest, subjugating nearby kingdoms. It would have been a feat with few precedents in the history of the North, a female going on a conquest spree for her own glory, but she didn't seem interested in that for the moment, so she wasn't quite at the center of gossip and chatting.

That left Killer and the Black Lightning as the two true Legends of the North, and ever since Killer had killed Griagas, the question on everybody's lips was when the two conquerors would eventually clash. It was a matter of when, certainly not one of "if". Killer very much looked forwards to meeting this new champion who had been able to get the whole Northlands talking. It was very much thrilling to think that, for the first time in years, he had a rival which, according to the stories, was actually worthy. He was eager to meet him in combat and gauge by himself how strong he was, and he hoped it would prove to be an interesting fight. The clash with Griagas had been... disappointing, at best. Not that he had really expected it to go any differently, but it had been nothing but a boring game.

Sure, he had managed to pick up a scar out of it, but that was merely a reminder that even with all his power, he would have done better keeping his arrogance in cheek. Nothing more than that: Griagas had never stood a chance, and those other kings out there on his path weren't going to give him anything more in terms of entertainment. He fully expected to see many of them grovel before him, giving up their kingdoms without a fight and appealing to his mercy... which was good for his ego, but rather boring.

Killer loved a good fight. It made victory that much sweeter and more meaningful, after all. Squishing bugs was quick and anticlimactic; it was only fun when there were lots and lots of bugs to scatter and annihilate. An enemy army to rout and stomp into ugly crimson stains, for example... He grinned cruelly as he thought back to all the troops that Ire and other southern states had thrown against him in the vain attempt of stopping him, and he flexed his thick toes with a rumble of cruel amusement. He could still hear the shrieks, and the crunching under his boots as he strolled over those puny soldiers like they were nothing but dust. He remembered the cries of the countless insects running away from his might... helpless and doomed, as slow as they were small and frail. He remembered sluts and faggots crawling to him to serve him and placate his fury, and he could almost feel the squirming of the countless bodies that had tried to worship and tease his godcock, piling up together beneath his glorious member to try and buy his mercy with their servitude. He licked his lips at the memory of their little bodies grinding up across his cock as best they could, vainly trying to satiate that monstrous tower of hypervirility. He remembered those uncountable tongues hard at work against the underside of his glorious cock, he remembered the kisses and the feeling of gagging, choking, gurgling maws around his immense girth. He snarled-laughed at the thought of soldiers who had debased and humiliated themselves in the vain attempt of pleasing him, remembering what it was like to have tongues, muzzles, faces, entire bodies grinding worshipfully against his monstrous flare, his titanic black shaft. He remembered how many of those eager fucktoys had ended up crushed into ugly pulp under his gigantic god-flare, and how many he had caught up and crushed, swallowing them up beneath his thick wall of foreskin, turning them into smegma, caught beneath the great flare of his goliath cockhead. He savored the memory of having those frail bodies crushed flat and pulped under his hulking, godlike shaft; while other bodies were squished beneath his almighty balls, those frail little victims struggling, trashing helplessly under his massive testicles, with no escape, turned into obedient little fucktoys who cried, moaned, gasped and slobbered as they licked up sweat and musk from his hypermasculine orbs.

He had grown to such glorious, godlike proportions that most of the southerners were only good for something like that. They were only useful if taken in groups and squished against his hulking cock, used as masturbation aids, as little more than living toys. Penetrating their small bodies without destroying them was by now simply impossible, but it was always fun to see them crushed beneath the calamitous mass of his hypervirility...

Killer shifted in the leather couch, slamming one foot down on the table and rumbling as he angled himself so that his colossal, thrumming testicles could hang heavily past the edge of the seat, nearly resting on the floor as they pulsed with tremendous power. He growled and idly bucked his hips, thrusting that godlike tower of dark flesh up into his stroking hands, half-lidding his eyes as the almighty shaft bulged and throbbed, jumping with vigor even as it remained angled down by its own tremendous weight, veins pulsing across the heavy length. He was truly powerful, truly godlike... excessive, even. Overkill. He could have dominated the world with just a small fraction of the omnivirile might he possessed, yet he only ever seemed to get stronger and bigger, as if to further humiliate the bugs around him.

His moon-like balls thrummed with supreme masculine power, sweaty and glorious as they pulsed and moved visibly upwards when his cock throbbed and unleashed another great blast of thick precum, sending it crashing loudly into the immense bathtub.

He hoped that the Black Lighting could prove a worthy opponent, because there was a whole different thrill in crushing a strong rival... in turning another alpha into a crying, begging prey desperate to get a sniff of the one and only, true Alpha. It was going to be delicious to prove he was the strongest and the best, and take away his rival's empire, and harem, and wife, and daughters, soon cancelling even his inferior genes from the earth...

His hulking muscles flexed, bulging so powerfully that even his hide threatened to rip apart as he grinned widely with the feeling of power and lust cursing through his body, his hands moving faster and harder along the gigantic godcock as his hungry mind urged him on and incensed his ego.

He also had no doubts that the kings squeezed between his and the Black Lightning's expanding empires were especially nervous right in that same moment, knowing that the two Legends were going to use their territories as their battleground. That was why he wasn't even going to bother issuing a formal challenge to them: there was not even need to do so. It was going to be a race between him and the Black Lighting, to see who could take over more territories in less time... and sooner or later they were going to meet in one of those domains, to clash over it.

He wondered if the rapid expansion of the Black Lightning's domain might have something to do with the mysterious RA. Obviously, kings like Griagas were terrified that their thrones could be taken away by the newcomer, and that could be a plenty good reason to build up a secret military organization. They could build up clandestine, undeclared armies they could then use to defend their reigns without openly behaving like cowards. They could pretend to stick by tradition, and be ready for a decisive duel, while hiding behind entire regiments of tanks and mind-washed, suicidal soldiers. It was a very plausible explanation, but there was no easy way to prove it. He had every intention of equipping his military with a wide array of reconnaissance equipment to try and locate the factories and laboratories that produced the RA's vast arsenals, but that was going to take some time. He had already ordered the manufacture of several satellites in the plants he owned in Ire. Obviously, elaborate cover stories had been put in place to make sure that Ire didn't get suspicious, but all of those systems were many months away from being in orbit and operational.

He was almost certainly going to conquer all of those little kingdoms long before the first satellite was launched; so he was going to have the chance to research the matter personally, and see if his deduction was on the money.

Probably it was... but only in part. Griagas's case was telling: he clearly had no real authority at all on the RA, and he definitely wasn't a founder of the organization. He had clearly been seduced by a mix of bribes and adulation and the promise that advanced weaponry would secure his throne from more worthy warriors coming to claim it. Probably those other kinglets were rushing to accept the RA's offers of "help", yeah, but they were not the source of the problem.

His gut feeling was that the RA was something more dangerous and more sinister, that had clearly been working in the shadow for many, many years. What the RA had built in Kendrew was clearly the result of preparations that, somewhere else, had been going on probably for decades.

It was clear that the RA was the real threat to worry about... but Killer had of course no intention of letting another young king ascend to the rank of legend in the Northlands, taking luster away from his own fame. Not that Killer cared about the fame itself, but he was very much determined to remind everyone of who was in charge. Could the Black Lightning stand up to his power...?

Killer snorted in contemptuous entertainment, flexing his enormous musculature and pumping his colossal godcock with hard, powerful, almost vicious movements of his hand, which smacked forcefully into the bulging medial ring and then rushed down all the way to slap audibly into his bulging abs. Of course no. Who could ever dream to stand comparison with his superior might...? But the newcomer had impressed and scared the Northlands and was making most other kings afraid for their thrones, so he had to be pretty good at least. Despite some undeniable curiosity, Killer hadn't tried to gather any detailed information about the new champion of the East. His wisdom suggested it was better to be as well prepared as possible, but his thick, mighty ego meant that he was going to go in mostly blind. He was afraid of nothing and no one, no matter their fame, and he only needed to feel the thick, heavy, hot mass of his cock under his hand to know that no one could ever measure up. The question was only ever one of width of the gap: by how many times did he have the Black Lightning beaten...?

Killer smirked at that, squeezing hard into his leviathan godcock as it flexed with womb-destroying force, stiffening even harder, an unforgiving tower of hypervirility that smacked audibly against the ceiling as he rested back into the couch, dropping his head forwards, chin resting over bulging, grinding, massive pectorals as he looked down at that glorious excess of masculine might as it smeared thick, tar-like precum onto the leather-padded ceiling. He hurriedly angled that great monster downwards, aiming loosely at the vast bathtub as the pumps loudly worked to try and keep the level of dark essence under control, the drains choking upon hypersperms the size of fishes. It was nice to have a rival: it gave him someone to humiliate and cuck. He didn't know if the Black Lightning had already picked a queen for himself, but he hoped he had... because he was going to ruin her cunt in a way that would make the boy cry.

His more than 300 inches of masculine omnipotence flexed and bulged as if in agreement, and they finally unleashed a colossal blast of thick dark pre, sending a torrent of dense essence firing across the long pool and smashing into the far edge with enough weight and force to dent the Jacuzzi and send thick splatters flying in every direction, the heavy stuff pouring into the already vast lake of masculinity with enough violence to throw up large waves on either side, nearly splitting the sea in half as the drains audibly clogged with his superior power and backsplatter pounded loudly into the floor of the luxurious limo.

He laughed and flexed idly, huge muscles swelling gloriously in profile all over his majestic form, and he rumbled in his chest as he licked his lips and tilted his head slightly back, stroking his hulking godcock rapidly as the sheer heat and musk coming from the overflowing bathtub and from his pulsing, churning testicles turned into a literal haze inside the limo, all windows clouded over as steam visibly arose from the incandescent essence filling the pool.

His massive cock was greasy and stained with thick splotches of that Alpha waste, and his hands were soaked with the stuff and his own sweat-musk, splatters of his own hypermasculinity visible even on his chest, and he smiled slightly to himself. That was true, massive and mighty power... and yet his cock had barely even hardened. That was literally just the beginning, with him.

Would the Black Lightning even dare to put up a fight...? He hoped he would, but there was the very real risk that the boy would just run. No one could have truly blamed him, in the case...

But if he turned out being someone who hid behind walls and towers, Killer was going to go in and cuck him inside his own house. Speaking of which, Killer had to admit that the Black Lightning had picked quite a prestigious place to turn into the capital of his growing empire. He had conquered the fortress of Mottram, up in the mountains to the east, and that was admittedly quite a feat, depending on how much of a fight the garrison had put up. The fortress itself was thought unassailable, having been expanded and reinforced ceaselessly for literally centuries. Much like Kendrew, Mottram was one of the strategically located super-castles built and garrisoned to protect the whole of the Northlands, guarding the main routes into the region. For many, many years, Mottram had been held by composite armies made up by soldiers coming from multiple different kingdoms. It was meant to be loyal to the Northlands in general, not to just one king, but that had now changed. It was a sensational development, and in itself it probably amounted for the majority of the points that the newcomer had scored up to then.

Killer knew well the fortress of Mottram, and it was a castle like no other, built on a vertical cliff of granite that protruded between two mountain passes like the bow of a warship cutting through waves. If the garrison had tried to keep the Black Lighting out, it was definitely impressive that he had managed to break inside. But maybe he had somehow gained the loyalty of the garrison without a fight; he couldn't be sure. There were multiple different tales about that fateful night, and there was no telling which, if any, was accurate.

The nickname Black Lightning was instead self-explanatory, and it pretty much summarized what little he knew of his new rival: he was a black-furred tiger, and his main attributes were speed and agility, which made him a terrible threat in any duel. It was curious that, once again, his rival had his exact opposite color. It had already happened years earlier with Dark, the huge wolf that had led the NWOA crusade into the Northlands, who had been notable for the black color of his hide.

Killer didn't really attach too much importance to that curiosity, however, nor to the fact in itself. Black-furred tigers were unusual, sure, but far from unique. In the past, Killer had seen and met quite a few, and back in Kesteven he had actually had a black-furred tigress as lover for a few years. She had been a mature, beautiful woman that he shouldn't have touched, technically, since she was a Forbidden One, a prized member of his father's harem. Killer, however, had never really observed that particular bit of law, and his father's harem had soon become more of his own playground as his sexual urges mounted in tune with his constant, extraordinary growth.

Diana was sweet, and beautiful, and experienced, despite a cute shyness that she had never managed to shake off. Killer couldn't quite tell who had seduced who: he had certainly felt all of the allure of her beautiful body and skillful seduction, after all, but she had rapidly grown obsessed with the young, quickly-growing prince. She hadn't been his first, far from it, but she had certainly been the first woman he had truly been enthralled with. What started out as pure and simple clandestine sex in his father's harem had carried on as a love story of sorts, with almost daily clandestine meeting and a few real dates during which he had smuggled her out of the harem to enjoy a night out together.

He had felt very smart at the time, thinking he had fooled his father and that he was a master of stealth and disguise. But Seth, of course, actually knew it all, but decided to just let it slide. One day he told him exactly that, in a way that was somewhere in the middle ground between amused and angry. Killer's cheeks had burned in a way that he was probably never going to experience again, no matter how long he may live... but there had been no worse consequences. In a way, it had been a liberation, because Seth de facto accepted that Killer's own harem could never be big enough, and that there was no keeping the young, hypervirile prince out of the Forbidden chambers.

Seth gave him a sort of permission to enjoy the Forbidden Ones as much as he wanted, so long as he kept it... under wraps, so to speak. So long as the King could pretend that the pregnant bellies were his handiwork, there was no hit to be taken on reputation and fame, after all. In fact, the more the Forbidden Ones swelled with new life, the greater the power of the king appeared. And oh, Killer had bloated his father's reputation as massively as he inflated poor, helpless wombs.

Killer's overwhelming hypervirile supremacy had been complete even back then, when he was just 7 years old. He was already much bigger and stronger than all the adults around him, and his growth had been utterly awesome to witness. Month by month, he broke all records as his body became more and more herculean and gigantic, his balls swelled larger and larger and his cock became such a prodigious tool that other males _cried_at the unbearable humiliation of impossible, savage comparisons.

The truth was that even the King could not have used force to keep him out of his harem: Killer was already strong enough that even Seth couldn't hope to beat him. On the other hand, the prince had such sincere veneration for his father that he would have obeyed a direct order. Seth, ever a master of diplomacy, had settled for that compromise solution that, in the end, he could live with. He knew Killer would protect his honor to the end, and the prince did just that. Formally, Killer's harem could so be kept smaller than the King's, saving appearances... while in truth, Killer used both.

And now... now he was so much greater than he had been back then, that it was quite hilarious to think back to those days and to such solutions. He had been strong back then, and his cock massive, and his virility astounding, but it was nothing compared to what he was now, at the apex of his hyperpotency.

His arrogance and ego deflated a bit, however, as he thought of Diana, and of how things between them had eventually ended. She had never lost interest in him, but he had... left her behind, admittedly. As he grew, his infatuation for her lost some of its intensity and she became almost one among many others.

Diana suffered a lot because of it, much as she always greeted him with her best smiles, pretending that everything was good. It took him a while to realize that no, everything was not good... and, to his eternal shame, he had to admit that he hadn't really changed his ways even when he had started realizing how much she suffered. After defeating Dark at Wycherley, Killer eventually decided to leave his homeland to seek new adventures in the rest of the world, and Diana's prayers not to go went pretty much ignored.

They kept in touch as best they could, at least for the first while. He would phone her, and sometimes send letters... but it was clear by that point that his love for her was nowhere near as deep as her love for him. And Diana, back home, slipped from sadness into depression and apathy. She had never had the best health to start with, but the absence of Killer accelerated all of her problems and illnesses, and she eventually stopped eating. Seth wrote to Killer, urging him to get back home at least for a little while, to help Diana recover the will to live and fight off the sickness... but he stupidly ignored the warning, choosing instead to believe to her loving, sweet lies. She never blamed him, never even begged him to go back. He wanted him to be happy, above all else, and so she never talked about her pain in her letters and phone calls. She downplayed everything. And Killer, stupidly and arrogantly, chose to believe that it all wound be well; that there was no reason to rush back home.

She slowly let herself die. Killer only became truly worried when the letters stopped coming, and with them the phone calls, which had been a daily occurrence... and finally, his father wrote him a bitter letter to let him know that Diana had been put to rest in a little tomb covered with a myriad of flowers.

He had never felt as filthy and wretched and vile as in that moment. The thought still had the power of making him shiver in disgust at himself. Losing Diana had hurt him immensely, more than he ever thought possible. And the shame tormented him every day, whenever his mind wandered back to those days, and to the bitter, cold, disappointed tone of his father's letter, which made very clear exactly how vile he had been, how mean his behavior, how unfair his actions.

Killer sighed, and rested back into the couch, closing his eyes and covering them with his hands, cursing himself for his pettiness and stupidity and egoism. For his cowardice, too, because years had passed since that day, and he still hadn't gone back home. He still hadn't visited the little tomb covered with the flowers she had always adored. Cute, innocent, shy and yet ravenous Diana was gone forever, and the burden of his responsibility would stay with him forever. He felt horribly guilty whenever he thought of her... and the pain was made worse by the thought that, if an afterlife existed, she was probably waiting patiently for him, even there.

He bit his lower lip and sniffed a bit, sitting up a little into the couch, shifting moodily and almost pouting at the sight of his towering, immense godcock, which now refused to go back to flaccid even though his mood had darkened so completely.

Why did the Black Lightning have to remind him of his sins like that? Why must he bring Diana back to his mind, and reopen that infected, painful wound...? A wound which went deeper still when he thought of Diana's sons and daughters. Formally, they were all the spawn of king Seth, but that was clearly false. Most of them had to be Killer's own brood, but of course he had never had a chance to properly take care of any of them. It would completely blow the already weak cover story, after all.

Killer's memory went back to one boy in particular, because he had sported the same black hide as his mother. His name was Taichi, and maybe he truly was one of Seth's sons, because his growth was relatively slow and unremarkable. He wasn't small, not at all, and with some training he grew up more than healthy and strong, but he clearly wasn't as naturally powerful and dominant as some of the other sons, who clearly had Killer's genes in them.

Taichi wasn't a star among his peers when it came to physical might, but Killer remembered him fondly all the same, because he was a boy with a keen intellect and an unbreakable spirit. Again and again he had proven himself capable of overcoming his physical shortcomings either by training until he mastered the technique, or by devising alternative solutions, often quite brilliant. He had worked hard to become an elite warrior, to make his mother proud, and when the wars of Dark had begun, he had insisted to march to the front even though he was still extremely young. Not only that, he had actually made it his ultimate goal to become one of the Predators, the best of the best, the super-warriors that led every daring assault from the front. Not only he was just 12 years old at the time, but he was also conspicuously smaller than all the other candidates, who were invariably more mature and armored with a musculature far more developed. He was the runt of the intake, to say the least... and yet, amazingly, he had managed to squeeze through the selection process, succeeding in trials that many other soldiers, theoretically much better equipped than him for the job, had failed.

Taichi had proven himself indefatigable and had trained literally day and night to pass to find a way to pass. When others had given up in front of the pain, he had carried on. And he had succeeded.

Killer at the time had been both incredibly proud and happy for him, and terribly worried. He had talked to Diana, telling her that he was going to try and find an excuse to leave the boy behind, away from the frontline. He was too young, and still too immature physically. He feared that sending him to the front with the other Predators would have been akin to a death sentence.

Diana had been worried for her son, naturally, but surprisingly she had dissuaded him from coming up with such a special treatment. It would have been frowned upon and would have fueled all sorts of suspicions and unpleasant gossiping. Moreover, she made him understand that such a decision would have a more devastating impact on Taichi than the alternative. He had worked hard to qualify and he was utterly raring to go. Leaving him behind would have been a terrible blow.

In the end, Taichi had deployed on the very line of fire, ahead of almost everyone else, even among other Predators. He had accompanied Killer during the late phases of the war, fighting alongside him and serving as his assistant and field radio operator. It was the most elegant compromise Killer managed to come up with: Taichi was not denied his chance to serve at the very tip of the spear, right in the thick of the action, but he was kept "safe" all the same since Killer could look out for him at all times.

Thorough the entire campaign, Taichi had served him more than well. Never a complaint, never any hesitation. He had been a dedicate and loyal radio operator, following him on every terrain, past any obstacle, through any hailstorm of enemy fire. He had struggled to keep up, sure, but he had never given up and had always gotten through, in a way or another. The young boy had proven his value as warrior as well, not just as assistant: he had confirmed he was an excellent shot and a proficient heavy weapons specialist, as well as a fencer who could hold his own against any and everyone in a sword fight. It had been amazing to witness, and Taichi had become a much loved element of the Predators division and of Killer's closely knit HQ team. Even those who had at first taunted him about his physical limitations had eventually ended up respecting him for his unwavering commitment.

Taichi had returned from the wars of Dark not only unscathed, but decorated with three different medals and commended as a little but brilliant hero. His mother had been relieved and delighted, and Taichi himself had been full of enthusiasm about his future into the Army. But soon enough, Killer had taken his decision to leave, and the boy had been as thunderstruck as his mother. He had hoped he would be able to follow Killer, his hero and leader, everywhere the liger went, and he was horribly disappointed when that turned out being impossible.

It had made Killer feel bad, but he had not hesitated for long. Diana kept him informed of Taichi's progresses in her letters, but when those stopped, he ceased to receive news. And in his undeniable shame for his brutal actions in the south, he had never again tried to get in touch with home, so years had passed since he had received the last information. He had no clue where Taichi was and what he was doing. He only hoped he was doing well.

Part of him... even dared wondering if the mysterious Black Lightning could have anything to do with that very special boy. But he shook his head and let out a sort of weird snort of amusement at his own ideas. There was no reason to suspect there was any connection, other than the fact that both males had black hides. That was definitely too little to draw up connections, wasn't it...?

It was just his guilt speaking, he guessed. His deep need to know that Taichi was well and that he had had success in his life. He was really going to have to take some time to arrange some sort of visit to Kesteven, to... rekindle bonds that mattered too much to stay abandoned and undone any longer than they had. He missed his family; he wanted to meet his brothers, he wanted to sit down somewhere and have a pint with his old mentor, he wanted to find out what had happened to Taichi and other friends from the time in his father's army. He wanted to visit Diana's tomb and say sorry. And he wanted to... to... "meet"... his sister. In the Northlands, incest was pretty much an unknown concept, as it was entirely normal for kings to impregnate their daughters to make even more daughters and expand the clan. The concept of incest as something wrong had been "imported" from the south, but only as a foreign curiosity and a source of amusement rather than as a genuine concern. And that was all well and good, because Killer's relationship with his sister Kaya would have generated endless scandal, elsewhere in the world.

She had been one of his firsts and had de facto become part of his harem early on. Killer had been a good brother and protector first, and a very territorial lover second. Seth had once hoped that Kaya would marry a prince of some other kingdom, forging a new bond of alliance, but the passion that tied her and Killer together had proven an insurmountable obstacle.

For a start, Kaya had grown up alongside Killer and her eyes had been filled with her brother's hyperpotency every day of her life, which meant that she looked at other males with emotions that ranged from amusement, in the best cases, to outright disgust in the worst ones. Her scathing judgments full of contempt had sent her suitors running away with burning cheeks and teary eyes... and the one prince who had insisted and tried to win her over with gifts and attentions and adulation had eventually been taken on "a journey of discovery" by a very nasty Kaya and a very amused Killer. The prince was older than Killer, pretty much an adult while the liger had still much growing yet to do... but that had only made the comparison more brutally shocking as the suitor found himself shivering in the shadow of a goliath Alpha the likes of which he probably never suspected could exist.

The hulking behemoth snorted-laughter as his current lust and immoral desires mixed with the delightful memory of that special day, and his abdominals clenched, bulging with amazing power as his legs flexed, his hands kneading and stroking along his unmatched godcock, moving harder, faster along that monument of Alpha male supremacy. Thick, dense gunk festering with powerful life slopped out of the fat cockhead as he angled his pillar of flesh backwards until he was able to reach his own flared tip, needing to bend his back and fully extend his great arm to get that far. He tilted his head back with a rumble as his huge, heavy balls visibly swelled, seemingly bloating even further with every mighty throb, those fat, massive sperm tanks resting heavily on the floor as they hung ponderously between his legs. The floor threatened to cave under the weight of those orbs, and the air around him seemed to steam with the raw masculinity he radiated as he leisurely slipped three fingers into his flexing cockmaw, burying them in to the knuckles in one burning, easy slide into the dark, incandescent absyss filled with flowing torrets of precum surging up out of him.

That poor prince's dick had sunk into Killer's cockmaw just as easily, and Kaya had derided him in a way that snuffed the boy's puberty out like a candle. She had been savage, measuring her hyperpotent brother and then her suitor, shocking him to tears with the unfair monstrosity of the impossible comparison.

It wasn't a humiliation that his brain could take without snapping, and it certainly wasn't something he could run away from. Less than ever he could fight, as he cowered in fear under the towering majesty of Killer's hulking musculature. Kaya had been thorough in her examination, putting the two males in direct comparison and measuring them, letting the cold numbers do the job for her. Even back then, Killer's wrist had been almost as thick around as the poor prince's waist. Killer's biceps dwarfed the poor boy in a way that made him cry and beg to be allowed out of the room. Killer's leviathan of a cock had made a cruel mockery of the boy's claim to malehood: a single one of the behemoth liger's heavy, massive balls dwarfed the prince's whole crotch, easily dwarfing his dick and testicles, which could have vanished inside the mighty orb several times over.

In the park, the prince had been forced to undergo further, unnecessary humiliation as he was asked to prove his "strength" wrestling Killer... and in comparison to the goliath Alpha male, despite the gulf in age and maturity, he possessed no strength at all. He was toyed with until Killer literally wiped his boots clean using the prince as a doormat. Kaya, merciless and aroused, had demanded the boys to have a pissing contest in her honor... and the poor prince had been shocked stiff by Killer unleashing a hellish stream of golden piss that reeked of excessive, tyrannical hypermasculinity and festered with unholy, monstrous hypersperms. The prince's pathetic little squirt of water was over long before Killer was even halfway done polluting the park with the stench of his dominance and with enough Alpha waste-sperm to impregnate a whole country. As a consequence, of course, the poor boy had been pushed over onto his knees and forced to open his mouth to serve as living urinal. Killer had cruelly baptized him with his piss, marking him in a way that no shower could ever hope to wash away, and he had cock-slapped him around like a ragdoll just to wipe the last few heavy splatters out of his colossal flared head.

And then, of course, the real deal had followed as Kaya crawled forth to polish her brother's cock with her mouth, making it shine with drool and her orgasm nectars as she worked that godlike colossus up to its full might. The prince could only stare, eyes bulging, mind shell-shocked as he watched Kaya behave like the most depraved and filthy of whores, all for giving the behemoth pleasure. She had licked her brother's boots clean, polished his steel soles, worshipped his feet and sucked his toes. She had slurped up his piss from the steaming mud he had created, and she had allowed those massive, monstrous waste-sperms to gangrape her as she shamelessly rolled in the lake of reeking Alpha filth.

The poor prince had stared, dumbfounded and trembling, shocked and horribly, undeniably aroused. He would have run away screaming, but Killer idly held one huge arm wrapped around his shoulders, companionably but mercilessly dominating him, ready to squish him like a bug with a mere flex of his hulking muscles. Killer had grinned down at his sister and leisurely stroked his immense, monstrous tower of godcock, and the prince's eyes had soon enough started lingering more on his pillar of dark meat than on Kaya's stretched out pussy as the horde of gigantic piss-sperms brutally rammed their way inside her.

Kaya had eventually rimmed her brother with a passion, with loud, whorish abandon. She had slurped on his ass with terrible hunger and eagerness... and then the prince had stared in a mix of horror and arousal, disgust and awe as Killer just sat on her face and took a crap in her mouth, just like that. She didn't flinch, didn't protest, didn't pull back, but worked even harder to gulp it down like it was chocolate.

By the time the hulking titan was done, she was visibly overwhelmed and struggling, but Killer had helped by turning around and pile-driving his cock ferociously down her throat, drilling all the way down into her stomach, to say the very least, and ramming that thick cork of filth down her gullet.

The beautiful, defiled princess had given her suitor a rare kiss once Killer was done fucking her face into a filthy mess, and he had meekly, tremblingly licked caked shit and dark, hyperpotent precum, blood and ichors and drool and melted, flowing mascara off her features, cleaning up her muzzle with his tongue and gulping down all sorts of filth. He had had to lick Killer's shit off her perfect fangs... and his only grace was that Killer's hypervirility permeated everything about him, even his shit, making it... well, gods. Certainly not good tasting, but... powerful. Killer had dominated the scene with his looming, formidable presence... and he remembered with a smirk that he had smoked a cigar.

Killer didn't like smoking and didn't normally do it, but the prince had a box of very expensive ones on him, so it had been appropriate to take advantage and blow the smoke in his face and drop the cinders into his hair.

Kaya had then put the poor, derelict bastard on a leash and they had walked him back to the castle like he was a dog, making him bark on command. Back in Kaya's chambers, the prince was given the last and most significant part of his lesson as he was made to watch as Killer's glorious godcock massacred Kaya's trembling, clenching, bleeding, squirting pussy.

Killer ordered him to help spread Kaya's legs wide open, and the prince meekly fell to his knees between the legs of the hulking, massive god liger, trembling in terror as he hesitatingly pushed her perfect thighs far, far, far apart, her pelvis creaking audibly as that towering monster of a cock forced her legs painfully apart with the sheer excess of its girth. The prince had trembled violently, his teeth rattling audibly and his eyes bulging so much that Killer had expected to see them just burst out of his sockets as the poor loser had witnessed that monstrous mega-flare push against Kaya's soft, defenceless folds.

He had sniffed and sobbed and cried with Kaya's breathless shrieks as Killer's carnal battering ram smashed forwards and tore down her soft, welcoming, drenched gates, stretching her out in a way that defied comprehension and that made the poor cuckold squirm with a pathetic, funny sound of half-protest, half-cheering. Killer's towering godcock bulldozed its way inside her, punching her sex into a gaping crater as she trashed violently, legs kicking uselessly at the air as her back arched and she let out a cry of delirious bliss and her pussy squirted out great jets of her nectar, mixed with her blood. The prince had let out a shrill, ridiculous cry of terror under that crimson shower, and he had stared in horrified awe as Killer rammed even more of his monster godcock inside of her, bloating her body out of shape with the brutal girth of his member.

Killer had continued to ram forth, burying more of that bitch-breaker inside her deformed body, and the prince had found himself praying she could survive that brutal invasion, especially as so much more of the liger's godly hypervirile tower loomed right above his head, looking endless and omnipotent. Killer's mighty pistons shook the walls and sent the heavy, immense canopy bed smacking thunderously into the wall, and Kaya's screams echoed through the halls, howls of pain, and pleasure that shocked the prince's ears and seared themselves into his stunned, broken mind.

Killer's awesome power turned Kaya into his whore, his meat, his plaything, her screams rocking the windows as she clawed into the mattress and howled in agony-bliss, and the liger had seized her body, greedily, territorially, and he had rammed deep into her, punching her womb apart with the very first thrust. The prince had whimpered pathetically and watched, thunderstruck and in awe as blood and juices rained thickly down on him while Killer's immense, hulking form covered her, eclipsed her as began to piston his immense shaft in and out of her bloody, ruined, prolapsed hole, with the prince pinned in place and forced to watch every second of that excess.

The poor vermin cried in horror and envy, trembling under the rain of slut nectar and precum and blood, ears filled of the cacophony made by her drenched, stretched-out, prolapsed labia whenever he yanked his immense cock backwards. The prince tried to turn away, to cover his eyes, to cower away from that display, but he failed miserably. He was just unable to stop staring as that omnipotent, hulking god demonstrated how he was going to destroy and ruin every hole, not just of Kaya, but of every female on the planet, while Kaya used what little strength she still had under that onslaught to give the prince the finger and tell him how he was doomed never to get a sniff of pussy again.

Killer had fucked her hard, and fast, and relentlessly, rumbling in his broad chest and crushing both her and the little prince under his glorious physique as his cock reshaped her, bloated her, stretched her body out into a cocksleeve of meat. She gargled and groaned and gurgled, broken and barely even able to scream as he fucked the air out of her lungs, leaving her squirting and trashing as she babbled incoherently, mind shattered under his brutal power.

The prince trembled uncontrollably, his eyes bulging ridiculously wide as he was completely enthralled by the spectacle... and he had trembled, and cried, and hugged himself as he was hammered, beaten, pummeled almost into pulp by the swinging, heavy, immense balls of the superior Alpha crashing into him at the end of each supernatural piston of the liger's godcock. By the end of it, the prince was a broken, shocked, whimpering, crying wreck. What he had witnessed was so awesome, in the true sense of the word, that his dick had shriveled almost out of existence and his balls had shrunk down into useless little raisins. Not temporarily, but permanently: it was a side effect of Killer's tremendous hypervirility that the young liger had already observed in other occasions, but the prince seemed particularly vulnerable, and in a matter of days his masculinity almost literally dissolved.

There was no keeping secret such a dramatic decay, and so, after 4 days of such excessive and brutal "demonstrations", the prince's father had hurriedly cut short what had been originally planned as a much longer visit which was supposedly going to end with a luxurious marriage ceremony.

Much to Seth's disappointment and exasperation, his attempt to build long-lasting tie with that kingdom had clearly failed, and he had no difficulties guessing why things had degenerated to that point. What had started out as promising friendship went very close to turning into war, but Killer made sure to "discourage" the kinglet from getting into a fight he could never hope to win by showing him too just what had destroyed his son's mind and malehood. Killer and Kaya had sneaked into the apartment reserved for the visiting king, and the hulking male had taken care of the queen in front of the terrified, awestruck eyes of both father and son. The night-long display left the king just as broken as the prince, and whatever need for vengeance had been in the king's heart was well and truly shattered and replaced by fear and worship of that 12-year old titan, already so incredibly powerful.

The whole family had essentially fled Kesteven the following day, while the king had still some strength about him. The hostility and rage of the previous day had been replaced by countless words of thanks and praise and many bows during the goodbye ceremony, and he did actually sign the friendship treaties and many other agreements Seth had sought.

In the end, things had worked out very well. Just... in a very different way than Seth had originally planned out.

The poor prince left Kesteven mind-shattered and utterly impotent, gelded by the exposure to the godlike hulk's power and hypervirility. Kaya's goodbye gift for him was a steel cage around his dick, which was less than the size of a thimble for Killer, yet looked like the dome of a cathedral around the vestigial remains of his dick. In her nastiness, Kaya had kept the key of the cage's lock... and while the prince watched on with a whimper, she had dropped the tiny piece of metal into Killer's sizzling, plentiful precum. Within seconds, the key had rotted away to nothing.

The mind-broken gelding had reverently thanked his betters, eyes wide open in awe at the sight of that prodigy. He left Kesteven with new tastes and a new obsession: he had arrived to woo and court and seduce Kaya because of her renowned beauty, but he left as a little faggot enamored of Killer's tyrannical hyperpotency instead.

The king was in only marginally better shape, and he had trembled like a leaf when Killer had approached him during the goodbye ceremony and had dragged him away for a "last round of talks." In an isolated corner of the park, the king meekly caged his own greatly reduced dick and then knelled and opened his mouth wide to welcome the heavy, overwhelming jet of Killer's hypervirile piss in his mouth.

Despite his attempts to cut the ceremony short afterwards, the king suffered the humiliation of having to speak with everyone with the reek of Killer's supremacy on his breath. At his side, the queen wobbled and stumbled in terrifying ways as she struggled to stand upright, her legs trembling visibly and bending under the weight of a ludicrously huge pregnant belly.

Nobody could have any doubt about who had generated that bloated balloon of life, and in any case the queen, still dazzled and dizzy from the night before, had no qualms telling everyone. She had actually gotten a KO tattoo a mere couple of hours before the ceremony, just to leave onlookers in no doubt whatsoever.

It had been one of the most grotesquely funny events Killer had ever partaken in, and while the many guests navigated their way through embarrassment and awe, flushing and stuttering in search of "diplomatic" words, the hulking liger had enjoyed every second of it, basking in the attention and in the awe and in all the attention that the female guests, and not only them, reserved to him.

Just two years later, Seth sent him on his desperate "diplomatic" tour in the South, and Killer wondered how much of that decision was due to events like that becoming more and more frequent.

As for that particular royal family, they hadn't lasted long after that: impotent and shell-shocked, the prince was absolutely unfit for power in the Northlands and he quickly disappeared from the scene, falling into irrelevance and dissolving his riches by showering Killer with donations and gifts from afar. The king fared only marginally better: he wasn't quite impotent but certainly immensely weakened and his queen was a gaping, prolapsed wreck constantly pregnant with Killer's spawn. His authority had quickly evaporated, as was inevitable, and one of the stud ligers born from the queen had easily conquered the throne as soon as he had started to mature.

Killer snorted in entertainment at the awareness that he didn't even remember their names anymore. They had been just funny, frail little fucktoys to mess up, nothing more... they were never going to forget him, obviously, yet in his book they were just another cuckold and a hotwife, like so many others that he couldn't possibly count. Their bloodline had been a frail string that his hypervirility had effortlessly severed, and the hulking titan grinned viciously, snorting steam from his nostrils and bucking his hips to thrust that glorious tower of black flesh into his own hands. He had been just 12 back then, and already it had been so easy...! Now he was far, far bigger and impossibly more powerful than he had been back then, and it was difficult to stay humble and play according to the rules of a world in which he was, without exaggerations,, a living god. The temptation to just go back to the old ways, and turn everything into a cruel game, was always there. He flexed a little, looking down at his bulging musculature and smiling at himself as he half-struck a pose, admiring the way his biceps bulged with otherworldly power, threatening to rip through his own hide. No wall could contain him, no gate could bar his passage, no fortress could resist, no tank could survive his fist, and killing a frail living being was completely effortless for him. He smirked at the ways his abs rippled and tightened, and then leisurely ran a hand down the profile of his muscles as they swelled with that tremendous, unmatched power. He grinned at how strong he was, and how gloriously masculine his mighty body was. Years of wars and rampage over a cowering, helpless world had barely managed to leave a few scars here and there on a frame that seemed almost invulnerable. He was completely impervious to most weaponry: no soldier out there, not even Ire's latest genetically-enhanced super infanteers, could handle the weight and recoil of a weapon large enough to put a scratch on him. It took a main battle tank, or an RA powered armor, just to have a chance to hurt him in any way; smaller bullets just crumpled against him like bugs against the windscreen of a high speed train.

He was every bit the ultimate Alpha, and could sure as hell behave as one. Everything he had done in the past, he could do ten times more majestically now. Those royal bloodlines he had extinguished; those races he had driven on the edge of oblivion, those fortresses he had conquered... child play. Age had only made him even stronger, and it had tempered his invulnerable body with experience, making him in many ways an absolute, unstoppable force of domination.

Gods, whenever he thought of the faggot prince he was tempted to throw his weight around in that same cruel fashion. How easy, and how amusing it would have been... but age and experience had weathered his mind as well, and he could no longer deny that, if he wanted to leave a mark on history as a good and fair king, as a builder and not just as a destroyer, he had to contain his excesses, no matter how difficult it could be to resist certain temptations.

He was helped, at least a little, by new and greater maturity. Over time he had started to appreciate that being so incredibly powerful meant he should not bark all the time, showing off so shamelessly. There was no need to put on display all of his strength: the world could never ignore or deny it, nor escape its inferiority. There was no need to be overly cruel, was there...? Reality bent beneath the calamitous weight of his power anyway, if he was patient and just allowed it to settle.

He and Kaya had been unjustifiably savage with the poor prince: he hadn't been a nasty character. His only crime, pretty much, had been believing he could somehow compete. That he could have Kaya, or any other girl, while such a superior champion of hypermasculinity walked the earth. When Killer thought back to all they had done to the poor guy, he felt some shame. It hadn't been necessary at all. It had been way too much, and he felt guilty for not slamming on the brakes when it started degenerating...

But no matter how much he regretted the unjustified cruelty, he couldn't help but revel in his own might, his own power: he closed his eyes with a snort as his hands gripped into that colossal godcock, squeezing hard into the unyielding, adamantine girth and stroking slowly, audibly along the fearsome length of his physical supremacy, of his hypermasculinity, of his omnipotence. His cock put the gods to shame; could make divinities pale and tremble in terror and awe at his size and overwhelming strength. It was literally larger than most people in the world and it went far beyond what even the most crazed of loose size queens could dream to handle.

He loved his potency. He loved the size of his cock, a tower of dark flesh so massive and enormous that it towered high above him, pushing past his own head if he angled it down towards him. He loved the calamitous weight of it, how it strained even his own massive, hulking muscles, how much effort it took to heft it and to move that great blanket of dark flesh. The girth was spectacular, too thick around even for his huge hands to grip, even for his hulking arms to hug around it.

His strength and hypervirility combined to make him a divinity of creation and of destruction at the same time: his cock could fertilize entire worlds, entire populations of whores with his seed; and with the same ease it could crush lives out of existence under its brutal, unfathomable weight. He could grind people into liquid gore and powder of bone if he just dropped his cock over them...

"My king... can I assist you? There's no reason for your hand to do the job. We are all eager to serve." A voice gently said from the frontal end of the limo, and Killer smirked as he pulled himself up slightly and angled his looming tower of godcock to the right until he was able to spot Electra. She had poked her head in, opening sliding door of darkened glass that connected the luxurious back of the super-limo with the cockpit, which was incredibly roomy thanks to the sheer immensity of the vehicle. Instead of seats it pretty much had couches itself, sized to be comfortable for when Killer felt like driving the beast, and it was currently crowded with resting concubines, cuddled together in heaps of pregnant, sore, cum-bloated bodies. Killer couldn't help but smirk a little at the sight of all those bulging wombs proudly marked with KO tattoos and lion heads and other assorted symbols that clearly represented him, and he snorted a little in amusement as he caught a glimpse of the only other female that was awake in the cockpit, the one who was driving the enormous off-road limo. She looked like a tiny fairy in the enormous seat, and was wearing a special kit that compensated the size difference between her and Killer to make control of the car not just possible but safe. With everything being sized for his hulking, towering form, even fellow northerners tended to get lost in spaces where everything was far bigger and far higher up out of reach. The tigresses were much taller and stronger than the tiny, helpless southerners, but even them were small compared to Killer's titanic frame. At nearly 34 feet tall, he loomed easily 10 feet taller than everyone else, and often much more than that. Electra herself was a tall and strong girl, but she was barely 16-some feet tall. It was like she had been created specifically to serve his glorious all-male balls, sized just right to face those enormous boulders of hypervirility.

Electra shivered visibly when his gaze moved onto her, as if she could feel the sheer weight of it, of his presence alone, and her nostrils visibly flared as she greedily drank the thick, rich musk that washed over her in solid waves that spoke of his superior power. She could feel the heat radiating from his balls from all the way down there, and his Alpha-male smell was enough to make her sway, almost drunk on it as she bowed deeply and waited for his permission to enter.

She was wearing a hyper-sexualized French maid outfit which belonged in a porn movie, with its platform heels, latex, stockings with garters and obscenely short skirt, but she felt no shame at all. If anything, she was honored to have been among the few concubines to be picked to accompany the king in the campaign and to take care of his "mobile apartment".

"Come in, Electra... and don't worry: I know I can always count on you girls. But, in truth, sometimes I really just... feel the need for an hands-on approach." The huge male said, winking at her as he slowly, shamelessly kneaded his monstrous tower of black meat, slowly pumping out a thick chunk of tangled hypersperms that could be measured in the kilograms, sending it sploshing heavily into the Jacuzzi pool already almost overflowing with his potency.

The concubine beamed with joy and pride as she was called inside, and she looked up with awe and adoration as she reverently took a first, tiny step inside, approaching him like the prodigious God he was. She couldn't help but moan loudly as she felt, very clearly, the almost solid impact with the steaming, overheated air in the rear of the limo. She gasped weakly as it took her breath away for a moment, the air almost pushing back against her, so hot, so musky, so humid. It was ten times worse than entering a rainforest just after a month-long monsoon, and the smell was pure, undeniable, prodigious hypermasculinity.

She had already had plenty of proofs of his might and she had smelled and seen him so many times already, but her whole body quivered as she took as much as a small step inside. She trembled visibly as his eyes settled upon her scantily clad body and bulging, pregnant belly, and she gave him a warm smile before shuddering again, groaning quietly and flushing as her hips bucked hard and warm, pearly nectar dribbled out of her flexing, clenching sex, visibly running down her stockings.

Gods, how could you ever get used to something like that...? The heat and the brutal force of his virile stench were intoxicating, almost causing her eyes to water as she let her tongue lol out, looking at him and licking her lips hungrily as she felt herself drooling at the sight of his perfect, superior power. His incredible size and strength were just so commanding, and it was just mind-blowing how he was... so different, so much more than any other living being she had ever witnessed. She had seen her share of big boys, some of them really muscular and strong, but Killer was just another thing entirely. Those boys that had looked so big and mighty back then...? They didn't even seem to belong to the same gender as Him. If Killer was a male, then all those other boys couldn't also be one: there was just no comparison. The hulking liger wasn't just "bigger", but a complete world apart. It wasn't even a comparison between an adult stud and a newborn baby. The gap was even bigger than that. Ten times worse. As much as she tried, she couldn't come up with a better description: Killer was a god, while all the others were just plain, weak, helpless mortals. That was the sheer immensity of the difference: comparisons were all ludicrous. A few inches against a landslide of feet. Mortals and god, that was all.

She carefully stepped around the vast Jacuzzi pool, moaning helplessly as she gazed down into that rippling lake of hypermasculine essence, eyes open wide at the sight of those hulking hypersperms swimming in uncountable hordes inside the thick, potent gunk. Somewhere beneath that great mass of ultravirility, the pumps and suction drains whirred and buzzed and choked audibly, struggling to dump away some of that great load without clogging up irremediably.

She felt so deliciously nervous as she walked towards him, feeling the pressure increasing the closer she got to her god. The back of the limo was still largely kitted out just as it had been during the heydays of his porn career, with long couch-seats on either side of the pool and then a large "room" in the back where the couch became large enough to be a comfortable bed even for the titan. The windows were darkened and bullet-proof, while the walls were largely covered in mirrors that ensured that the multiple cameras arranged all around the "room" would not miss any bit of the action. Colored lights ran along the edge of the ceiling, currently set on a very neutral, warm light, and there were large, expensive loudspeakers and screens arranged all around. With Killer using the vehicle as a makeshift mobile command post for the duration of the campaign, an extensive suite of battlefield data-radios had been hastily installed in a corner to ensure he could communicate with all of his troops and reach back to the capital in any moment. On one side of the bed was a literal, luxurious bar stand behind which one of the concubines would normally wait for his commands. On the opposite side, a sort of elegant cupboard contained uniforms and some clothes. The rest of Killer's stuff was neatly packed in a Bergen very much like the one any of the common soldiers had, just much larger. It rested on the floor in a corner, a reminder that he was a battlefield beast first and foremost, despite the rich, hedonistic environment that the super-limo contained.

Apart from a table currently covered in documents and maps, the only other notable bit of furniture was a raised platform with a couple of shiny dance poles, for when he was in the mood for a show from his concubines. The limo had been the set to many, many of his porn scenes, so almost everyone in the whole wide world had seen at least a part of those spaces in a video or another, and Electra was no exception. The first time she had been allowed inside the vehicle, she had been genuinely stoked with anticipation, curiosity and sheer excitement. The car itself no longer had so much of an effect on her, but Killer, on the other hand, seemed to only ever get more shocking to witness, day after day.

He was the reason why she had started working out, years earlier: she had noticed in his movies how much he liked to see a toned, muscular body in his girls; how much he appreciated and respected a strong girl willing to hone her body to perfection. She had been a KO girl from her early teens, when she had gotten the tattoo on her inner thigh... and more recently she had added a second on the buttock, and a third on the groin, to truly mark herself as his. Not only that, for him she had saved up money for a few years and finally undergone a cosmetic surgery to increase the size of her breasts. She had once had perky, small cups that made her look like an eternal teenager, but now her muscular pecs had two sumptuous boobs to heft up and make jump. Seeing Killer coming to Kendrew had been the coming true of a long dream for her, so it was no surprise that she was one of the most ardent and eager concubines in his new kingdom.

"I have no difficulties believing you... I think that I would be touching myself all the time, had I something that massive and glorious between my legs." Electra said, blushing a bit as she passed the corner of the huge Jacuzzi and found herself in front of that glorious god. She meekly went down on her knees and crawled forwards until she could push her face into the sole of his heavy foot, kissing each of his toes in turn.

He smirked at that, idly looking up to see her muscular, toned body reflected in the mirrors that had been installed in that apartment exactly for moments like this. He could admire her, and even more so himself, from multiple angles as his monstrous member throbbed slowly, powerfully, great veins bulging across his leviathan cock, massive member thickening as he angled it down a bit to point that looming obelisk of meat right at her face. "I assure you, the temptation is constant..." The huge male amusedly replied, before half-lidding his eyes as she leaned forwards with a smile and flexed for him, showing off her rippling abs and perfect musculature, pushing out that newly enhanced chest, fake but so well crafted and so alluring and fun to touch...

"Will your majesty at least allow me to offer you a little show...?" She quietly begged, swaying her hips seductively as she crawled forwards on all fours, pushing her features reverently against those gargantuan, prodigious balls of his, kissing them lovingly and loudly slurping up the manna of his sweat from the coarse, thick, curly hair between the gigantic testicles. She winked at him, fleetingly gripping into the huge base of his glorious shaft, grinding her face upwards along the side of his member just so she could look teasingly up at him with one eye, whispering: "I realize that if you fuck me one more time you are just going to... stir up your own genes that are already growing within me, but... oh, please. Let me entertain you. It's a crime to see all this potent cum go to waste."

"It would be a waste if it was a finite resource... but you know this only serves to make room for more." Killer easily replied, smirking as he winked at her, idly rubbing his hand along the top of his massive godshaft as it throbbed and unleashed another great blast of hypervirile dark baby-batter which fired right into the pool like the broadside of a battleship, tearing through the bubbling, dense sea and smacking loudly into the bottom of the tub, audibly clogging several of the super-large drain holes.

"Fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck... fuck!" Electra helplessly commented, eyes wide open and fixed on that fiery geyser of dark precum as that unending rope kept growing fatter as the huge male leisurely pumped it out of his colossal member. "What a fuckin' God you are...!" The concubine breathed, before wrapping both of her hands around that colossal girth, just beneath the monstrous flare, yanking and kneading and pulling and jerking and pumping as best she could, trying to choke that mighty cannon only to feel it bulge powerfully beneath her grip, pushing her poor little fingers even further apart. Backsplatter covered her body in plentiful stains and splashes of dark precum that made her look like she had been gangraped and bukkaked by a thousand males, while streams of greasy, sticky essence rolled heavily down over her fingers, saturating her hands and glueing them to his steel-hard flesh.

She trembled in helpless awe, laughing nervously as the single blast of precum carried on and on and on, endless and impossible to measure as the hulking behemoth closed his eyes and relaxed lazily back into the couch, his muscular body flexing, his terrifying strength bulging outwards so gloriously, as if wanting to explode out of even his skin, veins pulsing through the armor of hide that covered his body. He licked his lips, snorting a bit of steam out of his nostrils and grinning as he enjoyed her reverent ministrations. A light sheen of virile sweat glistened across his hulking frame, making his muscles bulge out all the more in oiled perfection, and he let one strong hand slid down the front of his body, rolling over the sculpted, perfect shapes of his invulnerable build.

"What is it like to be a god...?" Electra asked in a sensual whisper, and Killer snorted in entertainment as he stretched lazily, arching his back slightly as he thrust idly against the air, the colossal tower of godcock ramming immediately into the ceiling, smacking forth like a battering ram and threatening to rip through the armoured shell of the limo as his pecs bulged and ground together, revealed in full glory, more herculean and more perfect than any statue. "What do you think of me, of the other girls, of the world... of all of us, bugs crawling at your feet, when you enjoy your power like this, without... filters. Without... hesitations...."

Killer hissed hungrily at that, deadly fangs bared in a grin as his muscles bulged with obscene power as he folded his arms behind his head, revealing the thick, curly hair under his armpits and immediately thickening even further the potent, virile musk that already filled the room, marking it forever as his territory, the air as thick as a steak with his rich, potent scent. "When I'm alone like this, and I get horny, and start thinking... I think back to the countries I've humiliated, the cities I've destroyed, the wives I've ruined, the countless whores I've filled up, the races I've fucked into extinction..." Killer said, grinning darkly and throwing his head back as he licked his lips and flexed slightly, huge muscles bulging as he growled: "And I realize just how fucking easy it all was. How insultingly effortless. How unworthy of me... of a me that was but a fraction of today's me... and I think of how easy it would be to just take everything. Why should I care about the dust under my boot...? Why should I even try and be friends with other kings, when they are all so shit...?"

"Yes, my god!" Electra cried out, hips bucking wildly as the mere tone of his deep, tyrannical, big-balled voice rattled her very soul and caused her poor pussy to cry out her nectar in a mix of despair and needy awe. "And what are we, if not insects beneath your toes...?"

"I think of what you bugs could do to stop me, and all I want to do is laugh because it is all so pathetic... and I feel like I'm bigger than the universe itself, like it's nothing but a too-tight sleeve around my cock that I want to rip right through. Like all the universe is, is just another womb, crammed full with inferior, puny creatures that I should just fuck into bloody paste, into chunky lube for my cock. I should fuck that womb empty, and then fill it up with my cum until it blows like a cheap fuckin' condom."

"Y-yes...! Oh, fuck, yes...!" Electra cried out, hands working as best they could along his throbbing, glorious length, bumping hard into the bottom of his terrifying flare, her arms sore with the sheer effort of handling that colossus, all of her muscles bulging and glinting with streaks of sweat as she did her best to manhandle him in ways that would have had a lesser male crying on the floor, begging for mercy. She trembled violently, groaning in breathless awe at the heat and desperate, demanding twitches of her sex as it cried out endlessly to beg Killer to take her, right there and then.

His eyes blazed with power, body swelling with his unmatched power, radiating a tremendous, terrifying physical might and undeniable supremacy, his immense shaft hardening and throbbing as he hungrily added: "I have that full power... and I am so tempted to just lash out, and feel all that power again. No playing nice, no holding back, no games to try and fit in with the bugs. I want to flex this muscles, to let my power dominate the universe. To be the strongest, the greatest in all the universes. To conquer all, and to never have to lift so much as a finger to do it..."

"Yes... yes... yes! That is your destiny, my God..." Electra whispered, shuddering and reaching helplessly down under her scandalous latex miniskirt to play with her sex as it clenched hard, hungrily, squirting out juice in helpless, endless orgasm as thrills of delirious bliss ran down her spine. It was difficult to share a room with him, to resist the sheer, glorious pressure of his mere presence, and when he was in the right mood he felt even more godlike, even more undeniably in utter control. She could swear that her poor vagina was helplessly flexing in perfect timing with the throbbing of his immense godcock.

"I want it all. Everything. Anyone. To be limitless and revel in it. To make all beings grovel before me, subjugate worlds and crush the gods under my toes, before conquering whatever lays beyond. I want to hear, to feel them all worship, to hear their screams. I am the only thing they will know and see; I am beyond any pitiful word like 'god' or anything else. And when I let it all out, I'm merciless. I'm a monster. Pitiless. Merciless. Devouring everyone and everything around me. Making everyone my prey and sport. Showing the universe no one, nothing, can ever match me. No other godling, no other monster, nothing. That I will claim everything as mine; that all exists to amuse me. That entire universes are nothing but lubricant to be dissolved in the sweat of my cock. I am greater than everything. I am greater than everyone. I am Supreme. Alpha. Omnipotent. King. I am the most powerful being in all of the universes, greater than everyone or anything ever was or ever will be. No one will match my power. No one can hope to. All quail, tremble before me. I am Master. I have no equal." Killer said, hissing hungrily between fangs gritted in a cruel grin as he squeezed on his cock and felt under his hand the bulging and pulsing of monstrous veins that pumped raw, tremendous power into the almighty organ, clearly able to feel the flood of omnipotent precum as endless loads surged up in his thick, enormous, endless cum-channel, before erupting, blasting thick meteors that shot across the entire Jacuzzi pool and sent thick, sticky dark load overflowing out of the sides. He licked his lips hungrily, then cracked his neck and did his best to relax, snorting steam out of his nostrils and breathing hard for a few moments, until he managed to caution: "They are dangerous thoughts and temptations to delve into... I'm trying to move on from those days of cruel egoism. I'm trying to be a good king, a good guide and guardian for my people. So... it's better not to dwell on these fantasies for too long. It's way too easy to bring out the nasty part of me... the relentless asshole type of Alpha."

Electra panted hard, sweaty and shuddering, and she took a moment to truly register what he had just said. She bent down and nuzzled into his enormous balls, lovingly kissing one colossal testicle, and then she looked up with a soft smile that was... friendly, understanding. Some of that hypersexual atmosphere dropped, and she caressed his thick, powerful thighs gently as she reassuringly said: "Ultimately, it is your decision alone. None of us could ever stop you if you decided to turn your hungers into reality. We can only be glad, and impressed, by the fact you decide, day after day, to... restrain yourself."

Killer looked down at her with a slight, hesitant smile. Not that long a time before, he would have never discussed such doubts and torments with anyone. The last person he had shared such intimate reflections with had been Diana, when she had tried to convince him not to leave Kesteven. For years after those discussions, he had kept his doubts to himself and had lashed out whenever and however he wished. He had destroyed, humiliated, conquered, stolen, desecrated to his heart's content, leaving behind a trail of ruin and blood and pregnant wombs.

Now, faced with the choice of continuing to lay waste to the world and fuck it like it was nothing but a cheap gutter trash whore or try to make amend for his excesses, he was trying to adjust, to change and improve. Somehow, Athena and Joy had gotten him to focus on something other than himself and his pleasure, and with them he had started to... open up again. It was helpful to speak out and to listen to what others had to say.

Killer shifted a bit in the couch, letting go of his towering giant of a cock as he felt the mood shifting again. He was fickle, and tense. Thinking of Diana, of what she had suffered because of him, brought up all of the bad thoughts and all of the regrets and guilt for all he had done. He felt horrible for letting her down, and there could be no pride in how things had gone. Even the prince he had ruined and broken together with Kaya... when he thought back to all of that, it was easier to feel ashamed for the excess, for the unjustified, over the top cruelty than be proud of his triumph. Sometimes he almost wished he was... a bit smaller, a bit less overwhelming. He was so damn powerful that it was hard not to feel like he was just a cruel bully, picking fights with scrawny little beings who stood no chance.

Actually, he loved picking on the strong, on the mighty, on the big. The bigger they were, the more fun he had in crushing them under his heel... was it his fault that even the "strong", the other "Alphas" were so puny in comparison to him...?

He studied Electra for a few short moments, then smirked a little as he observed: "I'm not sure that helps, Electra. You make it sound like it's my right to decide the fate of the world."

"Well..." The concubine started, before falling silent for a moment as she tried to put order in her thoughts, sweat glinting over her toned, muscular frame as her hands continued to grab firmly into that towering monument of hypervirility. She instinctively reached down to touch her drenched, quivering sex, dipping her fingers into the warm juice and then smearing her fluids down the monstrous mass of his cock, her body continuing to tremble helplessly, awed and terrified by his hypermasculine magnificence as he loomed over her even while laying down on his back. His physical might was such that even while resting lazily down in the couch he seemed to tower as tall as a mountain, dwarfing her in every way and making her feel terribly, deliciously vulnerable. The violence with which the gigantic black cock throbbed was unbelievable, and whenever the monstrous shaft jumped up, full of terrible vigor, it seemed to want to heft her whole off the ground as she helplessly clung to the ever expanding girth as best she could, panting as the lazily growing monster forced her fingers further and further apart. It was incredible how exhausting it was just to stroke that cock, to move all those uncountable pounds of thick, solid foreskin. It made her feel insignificant as she struggled to even just peel the heavy foreskin down from the fat, glorious cockhead. "I'm no philosopher, my king. I don't think I can argue whether it is fair or not to say you have that "right". Maybe "right" isn't the correct word; maybe even if weak and helpless, we do deserve the same say as you. I don't know. What I know is that, right or not, you have the power to decide the fate of the world. Here I am, in front of your omnipotence, helpless and slave to your whims. If you command it, I will cum again. I can't help it. Even the right _look_from you has me gushing. If you just ordered me to, I'd drown myself in your pre, without any hesitation. Do you think I could ever fight back...?"

Killer studied her for a brief moment, then held up one huge hand in front of her, and watched as she licked her lips with a shudder, grinding her thighs together as a great gush of pearly nectar sprayed out over his balls and the black leather couch. She tilted her head upwards and moved forwards, pushing her throat hard into his unmoving fingers, choking herself against his digits without him ever having to so much as flick a finger. She ground forward so hard that he feared her windpipe would truly break against his hand, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she hurt herself without hesitation, hands continuing to work frantically along his terrifying black shaft. He watched in a mix of fascination and worry as she choked loudly, rasping for breath as her features paled and her eyes reddened and her eyes sunk into her strained face for clear lack of oxygen, even as he did nothing. He didn't have to restrain, he didn't have to squeeze. Didn't have to say a word. Her life quickly faded away as she gurgled breathlessly, and her hands continued to pump up and down his glorious godcock even as her muscles began to spasm in a ugly, sick way... until he pulled his hand back, and firmly ordered: "Enough!"

Electra shuddered hard and half-collapsed forth over his balls, spluttering and coughing and rasping in much needed air as her lungs ached and her eyes teared up, reddened and bloodshot. A moment longer and she would have killed herself against his motionless hand, without any second thought... and she was by no means the first, or the only one to display such insane dedication and worship. Killer could think of many others... many of whom he had eventually destroyed, fucking their little bodies into nothing but chunky blood oil to smear along his cock.

"Maybe it isn't right... but it sure feels very right to me." Electra finally whispered, looking up at him with a trembling smile. "And ultimately, this is academia. You have the power to make it happen, so ultimately the only thing that matters is what you decide." She looked at him with ecstasy, adoration, delight, need, as she ground forwards into his enormous testicles and added: "You are not just "strong", my king... you are powerful. In charge. Nothing about you is "normal": you are clearly special, and destined to great things, that will affect us all."

Killer let out a small sound at that, unsure of whether it was agreement, or skepticism, or... something else. He tenderly reached down to rest one heavy hand on her head, stroking her hair and offering a soft smile as his voice softened and took on a naked honesty that felt so out of place after what had happened only moments before, when he had treated her like a slave, a fucktoy, while claiming he was the master of the whole universe. "I'm... kind of hoping that things prove to be less grandiose than you are making them sound, Electra. I'm already worried about what kind of king I will be... the wider my kingdom becomes, the greatest the responsibility, and... I'm not sure I understand myself enough. I'm still... trying to get my desires and needs in check. I feel like I could slip in any moment, and that things could become truly dangerous, if I did."

The concubine smiled warmly up at him, crossing her arms over his thigh and resting her chin upon them as she studied his glorious form for a few moments, before gently offering: "I cannot imagine what it is like looking down at the world from your position, being so much bigger, so much stronger, so... so much more in every way. I'm sure it comes with many strings attached, some of which must be unpleasant. But, looking up at you from beneath, it is impossible not to think you'll do something grandiose." She paused, looking hungrily up at the massive flare of his cock as another enormous rope of dark precum swelled and stretched down, swaying majestically, and she let out a little whimper of awe before shifting position to let that great globe of hypermasculine essence splotch heavily right into her cleavage. She pushed her large, fake breasts together and hissed in delight as the dark gunk quickly filled up the valley between those beautiful hills of flesh and plastic, before she leaned her face into the solid, dense, sticky rope and allowed it to drape heavily over her features, easily blanketing half of her face and shutting one eye as she purred in awe. "I mean, more grandiose than what you've already achieved... greater than saving the Northlands, greater than pursuing Dark's armies deep into Ire to destroy them completely... greater than dominating the world for 7 years and erasing countries from the map and species from existence..." She breathed, before winking with the only eye not caked shut by an heavy layer of dark precum, before she slowly spun on the spot, laughing quietly as she literally wrapped that long rope of black essence all around her body, hissing in bliss and awe at how heavy, how plentiful, how dense and terribly, incredibly alive it was. It felt like a python crushing her in its coils... only that its body was made by a multitude of other snakes that moved all over her and swarmed against her holes, ripping into her ass and gangraping her trembling sex as she smeared the dark fluid all over herself, handfuls of hot essence covering her orange hide and turning her jet black. "I can tell that everything you did so far was just for shits and giggles... just like wrapping me up in gallons of super-thick, ultra-virile precum." Electra whispered, straightening slowly up and spreading her legs as she took a step backwards, reaching down with both hands and moaning as she pulled her soft labia apart, opening her passage... so tiny, compared to his glorious member, and yet very clearly gaping and stretched out in such a way that no other male would ever be able to do anything with, or for her...

She arched her back a bit and shuddered as the enormous hypersperms greedily smashed their way forth into her passage, their long tails whipping into her abs and inner thighs hard enough to leave faint bruises as they rushed forth like bulls, grinding together as they wrestled for the first position, as they rammed their "shoulders" together to try and inch ahead, making her whimper as her legs visibly trembled, her eyes almost rolling back in her skull as she stumbled backwards and barely caught herself against the large door of the limo. An equally merciless gang of hypersperms violently raped her tiny asshole, stretching it savagely wide as brutally forced their ways inside, and she forced a trembling grin on her features as she cried out: "W-watch your power in a-action, my Lord... i-if I crawled out and begged the Guards to gang-rape me, it wouldn't even begin to compare to this assault."

She propped herself up against the wall and flushed as she bucked her hips in broken, frantic rhythm, hot nectar dribbling out of her folds as her poor pussy and ass were stretched out by hordes of impatient, tyrant hypersperms the smallest of which was easily over 24 inches in length. Her bloated, already immensely pregnant belly visibly bulged even more as she groaned breathlessly, and the shape of myriads of enormous sperms became easily recognizable as they moved beneath a layer of cruelly stretched-out flesh and skin. "I d-don't know what choice you'll make, but it is c-clear that... it's only up to you. T-the world c-can only ever be your... your fucktoy."

"I like breaking my toys way too much." Killer warned, rumbling as he gripped into either side of his glorious godcock and stroked and squeezed that mighty tower, watching the tigress shudder and tremble and cry in bliss from both ends as his runt hypersperms, his waste, viciously gangraped her, bigger and stronger than the dicks of the males out there, of those helpless boys who vainly tried to impregnate females spewing out puny spurts of watery white crap filled with microscopic swimmers. His hulking beasts mercilessly turned every last girl into a bloated, crippled broodmother, and he couldn't help but grunt in delight as Electra helplessly shuddered and cried out, hips bucking wildly against that savage violation.

"W-we can only h-hope we can prove to be interesting enough toys that you don't want to lose us." Electra immediately replied, offering him a trembling smile as she watched him lazily thrust his gargantuan godshft into his grip, his fangs gritted in a snarling grin, steam snorting out of his nostrils as his eyes blazed with hunger and dominance. "I will forever be a toy in your grip... my life in your hands, always in your hands... and if you decide my purpose is to be broken, I'll go happily." Electra added in a hot, breathy moan, before tremblingly stepping forwards even as her hips bucked instinctively and uncontrollably, her sex dripping blood as well as sweet nectar. "Just r-remember that s-some toys can't be replaced: if you b-break them, make sure it is... it's w-worth it." She teasingly added, before leaping onto one of the pole dance stands with surprising, unexpected grace, considering how hard her legs spasmed as the great, hulking godsperms continued to ram into her poor, savaged holes.

He grinned in appreciation as he stroked his hulking shaft, thrusting into his grip, working and kneading as his body thrummed with passion and pleasure, with growing heat, with increasing need to release.

Electra leaned against the silvery pole and spread her legs wide, flexing her mighty thighs, showing off those long, muscular limbs and bending over to let him appreciate the mass of hypersperms ramming into both of her holes, their great tails grotesquely whipping around as they tried to cram themselves inside a belly that was already full of Him. Despite that pounding, despite the streak of blood running down her inner thighs, she got up to the pole and elegantly hooked one strong leg around it, spinning once around it and grinding teasingly into the metal as she gazed into his eyes and breathed: "T-tell me again, my king... m-my God... how easy was it...? W-what were all t-those armies like...? All those countries... all those puny mortals..."

"Those armies were like pieces of dog shit on a sidewalk..." Killer easily replied, grinning darkly as he let out a grunt of delight and hunger, biceps bulging explosively, veins standing out like cords along his arms and over his flexing breast as he snorted in pleasure. "All they were good for was making the sole of my boots dirty. How easy was it...? Insultingly easy. Didn't even get me to break a sweat..." Killer growled, grinning and snarling at the same time, reveling in his own power and spitting out his contempt for all those soldiers who had proven pathetic, powerless, helpless against him. "I haven't even begun to fuckin' try yet..."

"Yes!" Electra breathed, hefting herself up along the pole. She wasn't a professional dancer and her range of pole moves was still pretty basic, but there was no need for much effort to put up a splendid show, since her muscular, toned body only needed to be put on display, with a sensual flex here and there. She grabbed the pole with one hand and leaned backwards, grinding her groin against the metal and smearing hot, dark precum along the pole as she stretched sensually towards him, looking invertedly up at his eyes as she showed off her strong, perfect build. "T-the effort of thousands... of millions... t-the fight of entire countries trying to repeal you... and all of it was worth shit. That is your power... that is a hint of your power... So yours is the choice, my King. You will get to make the choice for all of us, whether we like it, or don't. But I... I like the sound of that."

Killer snorted in entertainment at that, but as she spun around and reached over to lightly touch one of his heavy, massive balls, he felt almost a shiver rolling down his spine. It was a weird sense of foreboding, the instinctive belief that her words held more truth than any of them could imagine... but it was hard to dwell on that thought, because she elegantly straightened with a flex and ripple of her mighty abs, and slowly, theatrically wrapped her lips around the thick pole, teasingly humming as she gauged how far her fingers could get around the sturdy metal tube: "This pole is a lot thinner than your cock... and it's softer, even." She whispered, before winking as she added in a hot pant: "I love how bit you are, how strong, how glorious... too big, in fact... makes me weak at the knees." She shuddered, her hips bucking lightly, then gracefully pushed herself up against the pole, arching her back as she slowly dragged her tongue up the cold metal, allowing it to slip right between her new, huge breasts as she squatted slowly, grinding against it. "Too fuckin' much for this world to handle."

The enormous male chuckled at her teasing, smiling down at her indulgently as he sat up a bit in the couch to better enjoy her show, . His eyes roved over her, watching her as she twirled slowly on the pole: she'd been practicing for him, and he loved her enthusiasm. He let out a hungry, greedy growl as he stroked himself hard and faster, his hands squeezing almost viciously into that tower of black steel and pushing up until they bumped loudly into the underside of his gigantic flare, pushing the thick foreskin up over the swollen cockhead and then tugging it back down, until he rumbled hungrily as he dug his fingers into that thick blanket of flesh. She hissed in awe at that, eyes bulging with interest and lust as she stared at how he pushed his fingers down into the filthy valley behind the flared head of his cock, rumbling as he worked his fingers beneath that murderous mass, digging under the cruel barbs as his hips bucked and he breathed out, shuddering and licking his lips in delight as he dug up thick, chunky smegma, precious Alpha waste that was worth more than the combined produce of all other "males" in the world.

Electra spun around the pole and let herself slid downwards, throwing her head back and opening her mouth, tongue stretched out as she breathed: "Please, please, oh, please..."

And the hulking titan grinned and pulled his filthy fingers out, hooking them into her mouth and smearing the thick gunk over her fangs as she choked loudly, eyes gleaming with gratitude and delight even as she drooled helplessly over herself while trying to gulp down the dense filth. He wiped his fingers clean over her slavish tongue, and she did her best to gently lap them, polishing his claws, before he carelessly slapped his monstrous godcock on top of her pregnant, bulging belly, making her grunt and tremble in surprise and bliss. She looked into his eyes for a moment, whispering cute, adoring non-words, urging him on as she felt that he was close, that the almighty battering ram of godmeat flexed and throbbed with a passion, craving release. The life within her squirmed in fear under that murderous weight and heat, but it only made Killer grin wider as he thrust forwards with his hips until that immense cannon fired another tremendous geyser of precum.

"I'd insist in calling you a God... but it feels such a puny word, in front of you..." Electra whispered when the immense rope of precum tapered out, the behemoth cock flexing violently, and she dropped down along the pole, showing off how her muscles flexed with every movement, before she shifted onto her knees, half-hugging the pole and looking up at him with an expression of exaggerated, fake innocence, asking quietly: "Are you going to hurt my big belly, god-daddy...? I wish the lives within weren't already yours... I wish I was pregnant with someone else, just so I could sacrifice those inferior lives to your superiority..."

"Yes, I think I'm going to reset your mommy count, since you are such a tease." Killer easily replied, grinding that monstrous flare against her big belly to feel the panicked trashing within. She was pregnant by just a day, since he had already set the clock back multiple times over the week... but already the life in her was vigorous and moving. Most of it was actually due to his huge hypersperms still waiting within her, but even the litter was developing painfully quickly. Killer's hypervirility dramatically compressed the timeframes: the development that could take well over 13 weeks normally could easily happen in the space of a single day.

"Do it where the boys can see us..." Electra begged, offering him a grin of cruel lust as she easily ground her belly up against the unforgiving tower of godcock, hands rubbing over her swollen belly and squeezing into it as she hissed in dark delight at the feel of the moving creatures within. "The RA was a disappointing enemy without a queen to ravage... but I will gladly substitute for one as you show the army just how _powerful_their king is...

"You, Athena, and Joy..." Killer easily replied, more than accepting the "challenge" and making her shudder in delight, eyes flashing with merciless lust as she spun around, away from his gargantuan black shaft, before she arched her body up with the strength of her abs, gripped the pole with her hands and, with her strong arms flexing, easily hefted herself higher up.

"Yes..." She hissed, grinning as she rubbed over her pregnant belly and smeared his thick, dark precum over it, tracing a ominous, large cross over that large group of lives, before adding a KO scribbled in large letters of black, hypervirile gunk. "Master and God... you give life, and you take it away." She eagerly distended her body towards him, muscles bulging as she used raw strength to compensate for the relative lack of technique. Her moves were a bit rough, but sensual as she playfully kicked her legs in the air, her body pushing out perpendicularly from the pole, her platform heels almost touching his muzzle, before she scissored her legs open wide, giving him a perfect view of her drenched, swollen sex, with the labia puffed out and dripping, and her swollen, partly dilated cervix looking so tiny, so vulnerable in front of that brutal colossus of a flare. "Let the little boys watch on in awe... let them see just why you are the king... Let the girls out there be all envious of me... and let those poor boys cry..."

Killer let out a low growl as his enormous member flexed, and he leaned forwards with a hot breath as he roughly seized her fake breasts, rolling them greedily and letting his immense cock grind and drag all over the front of her body, his shaft hardening even further as a great, thick glut of precum blasted from the tip, as his fingers dug against the steely flesh almost hard enough for his claws to dig into the rubbery skin that covered it. His precum stained her bulging belly, coated it in thick layers of greasy cocksweat and thick dark essence, and she gazed hungrily up into his eyes as she breathed: "And when I'm gaping and ruined, let them have a go, just so they feel how small and lost and useless they are..."

Killer grinned at that, one hand gripping lightly over her bulging belly as he shook his head slowly and thrust vigorously into the grip of his other hand, panting steam as his muscles bulged in perfect, sweat-oiled definition. "I'm a bad influence over you girls... and you are a bad influence on me in return."

"Can you blame us...?" Electra teasingly asked, smiling widely before wrapping her strong legs around the pole. She lacked practice, but she had strength: with a flex, her quads bulged and trapped the pole in a crushing grip, allowing her to push her feet up into the air and spin around as she threw her head back, looking invertedly up at him as she ran her hands down her big belly, smearing dark precum all over it, before she groped into her large, fake breasts, rolling them slowly together and making them bulge out of the flimsy maid outfit, which already had a rather scandalous cleavage.

She winked at him and again arched her body, wrapping her legs around the pole and then allowing herself to fall back, sliding down it but easily squeezing it to stop her fall before smacking into the floor. She watched intently as he pumped his hard, throbbing, incandescent godcock towards his glorious, immense orgasm, and she lovingly teased: "Have mercy, god-king, and look after us poor girls... We are not ready for you. All other males out there are puny. They are all small, and soft, and weak. Witnessing a god changes us forever."

He snorted in entertainment at that, grinning with gritted fangs as steam rushed out of his nostrils as his hands worked and stroked that behemoth godcock as he sat up and spread his mighty legs wide, shoulders rolling and bulging with terrifying power as he leaned forwards slightly, sculpted abs rippling and clenching, his heavy, thick pectorals grinding together and jumping as they flexed, great biceps swelling so much they threatened to burst out through his own skin. She watched on in awe, shuddering in amazement and in fear as she felt, almost physically, the power in those muscles, the force in his fingers which were squeezing hard enough to crush steel, and the arrogant power in his godcock that somehow scorned that strength, flexing back against his grip, forcing his fingers apart, causing his knuckles to whiten as it resisted the clench of his thick digits. An enormous broadside of precum blasted out of his member: it was a great, massive, enormous geyser of superb, unmatched male essence that blurted audibly through the air, arching up above her and smacked violently into the Jacuzzi pool and beyond it, smacking into the glass wall that separated the cockpit at the other hand of the huge limo. The bulletproof glass cracked, as thick layers of dark precum piled on onto it, while the pumps and vents at the bottom of the bathtub went into overdrive to try and cope with that deluge of unmatchable virility and power. But, if they had ever had a chance, they had enjoyed it when the car was new, years back. Killer's power had grown even more incredible with every passing year, and it was clear the machinery was already choking, drowning in his precum alone.

He beckoned teasingly to her with a finger saturated with thick dark load, but she didn't really need the clue; his body gave her plenty. She went with a fireman spin around the pole before gracefully stepping away from it and, almost with the same fluid movement, going down on all fours to crawl up to him, swaying her hips widely and showing off her new, vast cleavage, offering herself as target, looking worshipfully up at him and waiting to be baptized once more in her god's supreme virility.

Killer smirked and moved forwards a bit, sitting on the edge of the bed-couch and spreading his huge legs as his toe-talons flexed and dug into the floor hard enough to dent and deform the mine-resistant, blast-proof structure as the steel groaned weakly and surrendered to his terrifying strength. His colossal balls rested heavily on the floor, swollen and massive and bulging outwards with a thick map of large veins, and he snorted like a raging bull as his incomparable beast of a cock flxed and stiffened, harder than diamond, making him grunt in bliss as he squeezed greedily into it just to feel how solid and massive it was as it reached its true apex, with his flare swelling to nightmarish width and the steel-harder shaft probably jutting at least another foot out from his body.

He pumped himself harder and faster, hands rushing from the huge medial ring down to his hairy crotch, slapping loudly into it at the end of each stroke as he snarled-grinned at the feel of the already monstrous girth swelling outwards even further, and Electra whimpered in a mix of fear and awe as she saw his enormous cum channel bulging with the humongous load surging up along his endless cock. The tigress groaned and shuddered helplessly as he suddenly threw his head back with a roar of pleasure that rattled the enormous vehicle and, without a doubt, the world outside, and her poor sex clenched fearfully while hot, pearly nectar rushed out of her folds, streaking down thighs that spasmed and ground instinctively together as she was overwhelmed with bliss just because of that booming, dominant, commanding voice.

The hulking male arched his back and voiced the raw delight and utter supremacy of his orgasm as the first immense load of his black, thick seed erupted from his goliath godhood and fired across the limo with brutal force, smacking into the bulletproof glass door leading into the cockpit and nearly smashing it out of its rails and into pieces. He snarled-laughed with the awareness of his supremacy, dropping his chin on his chest and looking proudly down at that first, immense geyser of hypermasculine essence as gallons upon gallons of hot, dark, thick, steaming god-cum arched violently through the air and layered the door and the whole armoured bulkhead in sticky, black, overwhelming hypervirility as he greedily jerked his glorious cannon out and angled it down to aim that flooding firehose into the Jacuzzi pool, audibly clogging the drains hopelessly shut and causing the giant bathtub to overflow . He could have drowned people beneath that deluge. He could have crushed lives into meal and chaff under beneath the thick weight of that first blast alone, and Electra became grotesquely drenched in tar-thick masculine essence just by covering beneath those broadsides of maleness. A second, a third, a fourth, a fifth blast followed, and then more, and more, and more and even more, and yet more still as he flexed and slammed his hands into the ceiling, thrusting lazily with his hips as he showed off the majesty of his superior, divine power. There could never be comparison with that potency, as each colossal load was larger and heavier than the last, as he unleashed immense geysers of seed from the hard, brutal malehood towering from his crotch, his hands working greedily as he pounded forwards into his own grip, milking out every massive, excessive load and snarling in delight as all the muscles in his body flexed and bulged with power, threatening to rip his own armory hide apart as his skin struggled to contain all of those great chords of power.

Heavy, hyperpotent seed gushed and washed across the limo, as his broadsides of dark cum dented the walls and covered them in a grotesquely thick layer of festering life, while ripping loudspeakers and screens out of place, knocking over bottles of whisky and liquors and slapping miscellany and decorations off of shelves, battering down curtains and smacking into the bulletproof glass windows hard enough to nearly smash them apart and rip the pieces off the frames.

A deluge of dark semen covered the floor as the pool was utterly overwhelmed, and gushing geysers of seed covered the couches and soaked the sturdy leather to the point it almost dissolved, the couches covered in seed, curtains and veils soaked in dark hypervirile gunk and even the ceiling was caked over with that thick, gooey, dense essence.

The huge male snarled-laughed, thinking for a moment that there had been a time in which the Jacuzzi pool had been enough to contain most of the damage, while now it couldn't even cope with his first blast... and he flexed and growled in delight, tongue lolling out of his drooling muzzle as he allowed his thoughts to revolve around nothing but pleasure and passion, arrogant pride and delightful awareness of his power, of his invincibility, as he masturbated greedily and unleashed wave after wave of pure male power in narcissistic bliss. He grinned as Electra was drenched, caked, encased in his thick essence as his black load heavily painted over the entirety of the luxurious limo with his maleness, enormous muscles polished by a light sheen of virile sweat as the minutes piled on and on.

It felt like his orgasm dragged on for hours before slowing down, and he growled in bliss as he rolled his massive shoulders and flexed his glorious biceps, breathing hard as he pumped out a last few humongous volleys of semen that were so full of life to be almost solid, a dense batter which heavily crashed down onto Electra and into the overflowed pool beyond. He breathed hard, licking his lips hungrily as he sat back a little and slowly relaxed, one hand leisurely teasing the neck of his godcock, which still jutted from his crotch like a tower, hard and fully ready and eager for more, looming over the awed world like an obscene tribute to his own unfair strength.

His eyes slid closed for a moment as he rumbled low in his chest, heart thudding contently, muscles flexing and relaxing with the bliss of his release and fingers squeezing into the base of his monstrous member as it slopped out an endless river of cum onto the filthy lake of life that had ruined the entire limo. Long, thick ropes of his gluey, potent hyperessence still hung and stretched majestically from his flared cockhead to the most remote corners of the ruined room, connecting to grotesquely drenched couches and to the walls and even the ceiling.

"Fuck..." Electra disbelievingly breathed, shuddering hard as she laboriously scooped handfuls of thick seed out of her eyes, struggling to peel them open as the dark gunk glued her eyelids shut. She could feel the countless hypersperms all around her moving, fast, strong, savage, and it genuinely filled her with fear and with need, making her tremble as she felt the huge beasts swarming all over her drenched body. Killer let out a low rumble of amusement and pleasure, eyes closed as he took a few slow breaths before licking his thick muzzle slowly as a thrill ran down his spine and he slowly flexed his hands, whole hulking body thrumming with power and dominance. His biceps bulged as he slowly rolled his enormous shoulders , his tight muscles swelling and grinding together with the power that his body barely managed to contain, and he finally loosened and let out a long, steamy breath.

He took a few moments to steady himself, blinking a few times and bringing his wrathful lust under control, restraining some of that cruel, asshole-y Alpha instincts that could make him so dangerous for the frail world around him. He looked idly around the devastated limo, a bit torn between lustful pride and moody regret as he saw that everything, everywhere, was caked over with his thick semen; screens were blasted to bits, loudspeakers hanging from wires, bottles in pieces on... well, technically on the floor, but pretty much floating in a thick lake of dark cum which also made the spilling whisky and liquors a non-factor. The precious alcohol couldn't even be spotted, lost as it was in a black sea of hypervirile gunk. The air was thick and heavy and steamy and rife with musk, almost a fog of tangible, mighty maleness clinging over the whole space. There was almost no light left in the room, since thick semen had buried the neon lights under such a dense black load to nearly obscure them completely, and little to no sunlight managed to pierce the thick layers of maleness coating the windows.

He was going to need one of the replacement limos.

He licked his lips slowly, idly looking down at his towering cock, still hard and ready, tremendous in its glory and throbbing with power, heavy and pulsing, his hypervirility hard and eager for more. He had only vented some steam, that was all... but the limo slowed down, and he figured they had entered Freedall. He turned to the side to look out from the window, but the thick bulletproof glass was not only cracked but covered in a thick layer of his dark cum.

"Allow me, my king..." Electra readily moaned, and she crawled forwards on her knees, sloshing in the thick lake of black cum, before she nuzzled into the filthy glass and began to lick the window clean. The hulking colossus smirked in entertainment and let her work, and after several long laps he was finally able to see the outside world through a breach in the thick layer of dark gunk. The limo was carefully squeezing through the main street of the town, and entering the city square where, just 7 days earlier, Killer had knocked around an APC like a plastic toy. The hulk of the broken vehicle was no longer in sight and everything had been cleaned up and fixed... including the bar where he had met Athena and Joy. Where his adventure as king had begun, in fact.

He was unsurprised to see that not only the damage had been swiftly repaired, but new works had already begun to expand, improve and restore the historical building to its best looks. He couldn't help but smile softly as he saw a profusion of colorful flowers at all the windows and at the little balconies. The old wolf owner really loved his quiet little hotel-bar, and as soon as he had been given the chance he had hit the ground running to improve the place, just like Killer had imagined and expected. The king was doubly glad, now, to have gifted the wolf with a good million bucks. Pocket change, for him, after all the riches he had taken over during all the rampaging south of the border, but an immense amount to the wolf, who could use it to fund all of his dreams and ambitions for the hotel.

Troop carriers had already formed a circle in the square and the guards were descending from the armoured vehicles and taking position, and the population of Freedall was flowing in from all of the streets, cheering on the victorious king and his army. Their voices grew louder and louder as more and more people rushed in, forming a cheerful, loud, colorful crowd that respectfully waited behind the cordon of bulky, imposing soldiers of the Regiments of the Guard. Even the thick armor of the limo couldn't shut out their shouting and cheering, and Electra smiled warmly up at him and commented: "Well, my king... for all your worries, you aren't doing half bad. They all love you."

"It's easy to love a winner. There is always euphoria when a war ends quickly and with little losses; there have been very few dead sons and daughters to mourn. But the real tests are yet to come." Killer calmly replied, but he was heartened by the good reception. Tigers and non-tigers were mixed together in the crowd, apparently in full harmony, and that was particularly promising: his very first decrees and laws had involved ending the segregation and discrimination policies that Griagas had imposed, and end the slave labor in the forgeries and weapon factories. The latter affected even low-caste tigers, so he always expected an enthusiastic reception for his order, but segregation policies were very popular among some layers of the tigers' society, because it enabled warriors and lords too weak to aim for the throne to nonetheless experience the thrill of power by treating the other species like trash. There was the strong risk that any measure to reverse those policies would create discontent and hostility from some of those characters... but if that was the case, the effects weren't evident yet. That didn't mean the discontent did not exist, but merely that the lords didn't feel ready to attempt anything. Maybe they never would, but Killer did not expect all of his reforms to be plain sailing.

The huge male made a bit of a grimace, wishing he had someone to share those worries with. Electra and some of the other concubines were good listeners and they had helped him quite a bit, but none of them was an expert in politics and in the intricacies of running a kingdom and doing it fairly and wisely. His father was the one example he had, and the one person he wished he could hear from... but he did not dare calling, after all he had done during so many years of ferocious, unjustifiable excess.

He sighed slightly, sitting back into the couch and closing his eyes for a moment, paying no attention to Electra even as she lovingly licked large splatters of his own powerful essence off his abs, tongue-cleaning his chiseled muscles. If he was honest with himself, he didn't just crave good advice and the support of someone with wisdom and experience, but also... a different kind of support. He craved intimacy and complicity with someone to really share his life with. It was a sad longing that insistently popped up in his days, mostly in those relatively rare moments in which he was alone. He cared deeply about Electra and several of the other concubines, and he might go as far as saying he loved them, but it was not the kind of love that inspires songs and tales and that really binds souls together for life. Some of them were more than concubines and might well become wives in the near future, but with none of them he felt entirely at home. He couldn't quite turn his feelings into words, not even to himself, but... he needed something more. He needed a true soulmate, able and willing to share life with him. He would never admit it in public, but he really craved such a presence in his life.

The enormous limo rolled to a smooth stop near the entrance to the bar, and Killer opened his eyes with a slight sigh, before looking down at his naked body, at his abs faintly glinting with a sheen of warm drool where Electra had licked up his thick seed. His arrogant godcock was still gloriously semi-hard, which meant that pulling up pants was going to be simply impossible, and Electra smirked knowingly as she intercepted his moody gaze. "You know, no armor and no uniform is going to make you more glorious than your naked body. Let them witness their god's masculine omnipotence... let them realize just how much of a divinity you are..."

Killer snorted in entertainment at that, playfully shoving her off his thick, broad chest, and she fell back on her ass with a chuckle, her cheeks probably flushed... there was no way to tell, with how much dark cum still drenched her features, making her almost unrecognizable.

"I think I don't have much of a choice, anyway... unless I keep everyone waiting for the next ten minutes or so as I try to make it go flaccid again." The huge male playfully commented, before smirking as he looked up at the noise of struggling metal and electric motors as someone struggled to open the damaged sliding door leading to the cockpit. Jen, the athletic, muscular concubine that shared Electra's room back home was the one who finally managed to get the door to open, and she grinned proudly, flexing a little as she caught his appreciative look. The other concubines squeezed past her powerful body to pocke their heads in while Jen struggled to push the armoured, sliding glass door fully open as thick black cum glued it in place.

"We'd gladly help take care of that, but... it wouldn't really help, would it...?" The first concubine in line asked, eyes glinting with adoration and awe as she gazed at the behemoth godcock and at the otherworldly mess of masculine gunk that had coated the whole room in musky, superior life.

"You know well it wouldn't." Killer easily replied, standing up from the couch-bed and walking towards the door. Electra rushed over towards the handle, half-crawling on her knees, but Jen was faster, even though she too wobbled almost ludicrously because of an immensely swollen pregnant belly.

"Bitch." Electra commented, grimacing a little and smacking the other tigress with her elbow as she straightened up on trembling legs, and the other concubines walked forwards and formed up in two orderly lines ahead of Killer, kissing the huge head of his cock in passing.

The heavy, huge door of the limo opened on its own thanks to electric actuators, and the crowd outside audibly gasped as an hypermasculine, wet, heavy, thick fog rolled out of the limo and wafted over them, hot enough to make them sweat and so potent that warm juice streaked down every last feminine thigh across the whole city square.

A set of silvery steps extended from the car, and the concubines moved their first step to descend from the immense vehicle, heads held high, eyes half-closed with haughty pride and nobility: yes, they were dressed like whores, like maids straight out of a porn movie, but they were His_whores. There could not be any shame in being _His fucktoys, because he was more than just a king, he was a God, an invincible titan whose power knew no comparison. The last of his fucktoys was more of a queen than any of the crowned bitches in the other kingdoms.

As Electra, Jen and the other concubines descended from the limo and orderly diverged to form two lines of hugely pregnant bellies, they could feel how envious and disbelieving and green with rage were the other women in the crowd who hadn't gotten their chances yet, and even those, much more numerous, who had received his semen but had not be picked to serve him in the long term, to follow him around, to be at the mercy of his cock every minute of every day. Yes, they were slaves... but to the rest of the world it was like they were goddesses.

And as goddesses they looked down at the vociferous crowd all around, smiling proudly as they put on display their grotesquely massive bellies, basking in the looks that came from the shocked people all around, from uncountable eyes that blazed with envy and awe and adoration for the King.

Now that Killer had picked them, they knew shame no longer. What would have once made them flushed and humiliated now only made them proud and dominant as they smirked cruelly down at the little, inferior boys desperately and helplessly craving them, while basking in the envy of the other girls.

Soldiers of the Regiments of the Guard, wearing their magnificent red uniforms, took position behind the lines of concubines, forming their own guard of honor, their massive rifles on display to signal the might of Killer's growing army... just as the huge bellies of his concubines showed the world the incomparable power of his other weapon, his ultimate instrument of conquest: his supreme hypervirility.

And then the concubines grinned even wider as Killer's monstrous flare poked out of the limo, followed by foot after foot after foot after foot of veiny, massive, invincible godcock that shocked the town into silent, gaping awe. It was only half-hard, and so curved ponderously downwards with its own apocalyptic weight, but that only made it more awesome, in the most literal sense. It was terrifying and shocking, their eyes bulging and unable to look away as it pushed out of the limo, more, more, more, more and even more. As more of it was revealed, the sense of pressure on them all increased, like the crushing weight of that tower of hypervirility was physically crushing them into stains on the floor. That monument of hypermasculine superiority was so great that even just being in its presence was nearly enough to drive them to their knees.

It jutted from his body like the prow of a ship, a devastating battering ram of black godcock, the hulking, monstrous flare bulging gloriously, unsheathed from the heavy foreskin. Thick, tar-like virile gunk slopped endlessly forth from the huge, fat cockhead, and the air around it seemed to steam with the raw heat and masculinity radiating from the beast. And then, finally, the king himself ducked out of the limo, and then majestically straightened in all of his towering, awesome height.

They felt the ground reverberate under their feet with the force of his mere step, as the earth seemed to recoil in fear as his toes settled down. They stared at those perfect, beautiful, enormous muscles flexing and bulging with barely contained power, and sweat rolled down their cheeks as they felt the heat coming from those massive, fat god-balls hanging heavy and ponderous between his legs. There could not be a more glorious entrance, a more complete demonstration of power and supremacy, especially as that arrogant godcock slopped out a thick trail of cocksludge which steamed at the contact with the ground and seemed to make it sizzle with its potency and heat, while scary monster-sperms swam inside the dense fluid. If that wasn't enough, the crowd could clearly see the endless deluge of dark semen that the clogged drains on the bottom of the limo's v-shaped, mine-proof belly laboriously attempted to dump out, adding to a lake of hypervirility that was rapidly spreading and which fed into a literal black river streaking along miles and miles of city streets and country road.

For a few long moments, the crowd was almost silent, frozen in shock and awe of that otherworldly potency which left speechless even the great number of women in the square who had already experienced that power first hand when he had filled up their wombs. There was no getting used to his tremendous strength, especially since it seemed to only ever grow, more and more phenomenal with every single day that passed. The silence was soon replaced by a jubilant roar as the crowd cheered his victorious kind and god, and Killer received their veneration with an easy gesture of his hand, taking a moment to listen to their voices loudly shouting his name and giving them the chance to admire his superior Alpha physique. There was no shame in him, obviously, but he still admittedly felt a bit awkward, not because he was naked and the whole town was staring, but because he sincerely didn't really know how to acknowledge the crowd and properly thank them for their loud, cheerful welcome. He didn't want to come across as excessively vain and exhibitionist, funnily enough, but by the way the crowd stared and gaped and attempted to get closer to him, perhaps he should just reach down and stroke that massive, fat cock for their awed, eager eyes... The females around him trembled and sighed and moaned and squealed at the sight of him, going weak at the knees as he so much as looked down at them. They seemed to melt like butter under the weight of his gaze alone, overwhelmed by how leisurely yet confident he was. His sheer presence, the intensity of his hypermasculine scent, his handsome looks, his sapphire eyes, his voice that exuded power and made their whole bodies vibrate, they all made him overwhelming to witness, and he couldn't help but smirk as the women rushed forwards and tried to squeeze their way past the royal guards standing at attention. The guards were all hulking studs selected among the tallest and most imposing of soldiers, second only to the mighty Predators, but their bulky, handsome figures got the same attention that kerbstones would inspire. They were big, strong studs, but in front of the king they looked like kids, like prepubescent boys utterly dwarfed by his over-30-feet frame, so massive and utterly overpowered.

Every last soul in town was staring at him, at his monstrous godcock, at that terrifying, hanging monument of hypervirility, and Killer couldn't deny that that was how he liked it. He smiled indulgently at the crowd as the guards struggled to hold the squealing "groupies" back, and even with all the modesty and humility in the world it was just impossible not to think that it was only natural that those helpless sluts couldn't help themselves. How could they resist the call of his hypermasculinity, which had no compare...? It was only natural that they had already given up every pretense of self control and that they clustered in, reaching forwards, arms extending past the line of guards in the hope of touching their God, to feel his power, to stroke his cock, to look over it with awe and wonder.

It was hard to resist the temptation of ordering the guards to disperse and let those fucktoys crawl forwards, but he did his best and just walked onwards, smiling as he saw Athena and Joy waiting for him at the door of the bar, with the wolf owner standing a couple of steps behind, flushed and shocked, his eyes bulging as he stared at the glorious titan drawing nearer with heavy, earth-rattling steps.

Athena and Joy, completely unsurprisingly, sported matching, enormously bloated pregnant bellies that made it hard for them to even stand upright. Their hands half-massaged, half-hefted those great bulges full of life, and the tigresses smiled adoringly as he reached down and rested one massive hand on each full womb, feeling the shifting and moving of the rapidly developing ligers within.

"Sorry for keeping you waiting. It's nice to see you." Killer gently whispered, leaning down to kiss first one, then the other, playfully nipping on their lips and tasting them for a moment while their hands tremblingly moved up to reverently stroke at his chest, and down his abs and bulging, powerful arms. In turn, they reached up between the thick bangs of sturdy hair of his mane to touch the golden bullet at his neck, until Joy whispered: "You know, this looks good on you. I'm glad you kept this trinket."

He nodded in agreement, and squeezed lightly into their pregnant bellies, letting out a little rumble of satisfaction at the feel of the solid, well developed mass of life that already moved inside them, all of it blessed with his genes.

"Welcome back, God-King." Joy finally purred, eyes half-lidding as she bowed deeply and then leaned sideways to delicately, worshipfully kiss the head of his tremendous cock.

"What was Griagas like...? It must have felt like crushing a piece of dog crap on the sidewalk: only good at getting you dirty." Athena curiously enquired, looking up at him with a wide grin of adoration. Killer snorted in entertainment at that, and then admitted: "Boring. I tried to drag the fight on a bit, but it just wasn't worth the time. But, since I'm an idiot, I managed to pick up a scar out of it, all the same." He leaned down with a smirk and tilted his head to show them the new scar that went up his check, just beneath the eye and then up across his brow, but they only smiled, studied it for a moment and finally commented: "It only makes you more handsome, though."

Athena then bowed deeply and kissed his enormous shaft from the opposite side, before saying quietly: "It took you even less than we expected, to get rid of Griagas, his cronies and the RA's garbage."

She paused, traded a look with Joy and then both females teasingly ground their huge bellies against the monstrous black shaft, making him rumble in dark pleasure as they gazed up at him with eyes full of lust and adoration. "But I guess you just have to always exceed expectations, huh...? In just one week, your load did 4 months-worth of development. Can you feel them moving...?" Joy dreamily said, eyes closing as she swayed her hips slowly from side to side, pushing her swollen belly against his glorious member.

"How many?" Killer asked, grinning knowingly. His hypervirility was shocking to those who witnessed it for the first time, but he knew well what he was capable of, and had used his terrifying potency to destroy the demographic balance of multiple counties in the past... he also knew he had a weird sort of control over his own fertility, as if his enormous, parasitic sperms actually listened to his wishes. Nobody had been able to conclusively explain the weird phenomenon, even though back in Ire it had been scientifically proven that his hypersperms were indeed plenty intelligent. They weren't "just" able to live for countless years, even outside of a host, but they were cunning and predatory in nature and perfectly able to understand spoken words. How exactly they managed to "tune in" on Killer's wishes remained incomprehensible, but what mattered was the fact that Killer knew he could rather accurately predict how many of his spawn would fill a broodmother, and how long the pregnancy would take. In the most terrible moments of his fury over Ire, when he had seriously thought about wiping the whole country off the face of the earth, he had filled up his victims with so many of his brood that the pregnancy killed them off. Destroyed them, more accurately , as upwards of 30 massive ligers developed within bodies that couldn't possibly deal with such brutality. Not only that, his brutal power had cut down development time to a shocking, lethal less-than-24 hours. In less than a day, his victims could end up destroyed by a huge litter of ligers ripping their way out. It had been absolutely terrifying to witness, and even Killer himself was glad of the fact that he could somehow control himself in the opposite way as well, putting limits to his own overwhelming fertility.

"26, among the two of us, if the nurse managed to count them all. It isn't easy to tell them all apart in the ultrasounds." Athena replied, and the hulking male let out a low rumble that was half pride and approval and half surprise. He had tried to keep it "gentle" and aimed for no more than 20, but it was harder to restrain it than it was letting it rip.

"On the other hand, it is very easy to spot the males. And tell that they are yours." Joy teasingly added, smirking as she squeezed into her own pregnant belly, singling out very evident bulges of fantastic proportions. Killer snickered quietly, easily able to feel those phenomenally large members rubbing into his own monstrous godcock, separated only by a thin layer of mother flesh. "I legit half-expect the girls to be pregnant the moment they are born..." Athena added, panting lustfully as she gazed up at him in awe, before Joy purred quietly and said: "It's a honor to bring your superior spawn into the world. Godly studs as sons, and goddesses as daughters, to reshape the world in your image..."

Killer rumbled in his chest at that, and reached down to rest his big, heavy hands on their heads, savoring the way they shuddered and arched beneath his touch. He lightly gripped into their skulls, and their eyes widened as they gazed up at him, trembling in anticipation, until he teasingly asked: "Do you think you could carry more...?"

The two tigresses moaned weakly at that, shivering visibly, but their eyes glowed with sick, intense desire even as their instinct rebelled at the idea of having the life inside their bellies squished out of existence. They took a few moments to truly assimilate the idea, but then Athena worshipfully pushed her pregnant belly against his flare, hard, until the developing ligers within her started to kick and trash around in fear of that murderous, gigantic wall of steel-hard meat. "For you, we will do anything..."

"Good girls." Killer easily commented, pushing slightly forwards with his hips just to feel the helpless squirming ahead of his monstrous, gigantic godcock, which throbbed with power and flexed, growing by well over one foot and hefting its heavy head a bit higher as it immediately began to harden with the awareness of the incoming slaughter.

The wolf, who was just a few steps away, couldn't help himself and let out a small sound of awe and terror, eyes bulging in shock as he stared at the scene... and Killer paused for a moment, looking down at him with quiet, sincere sympathy.

"I'm sorry, old man. I guess I'm going to mess your immaculate bar up once again. But I'll make sure to pay for the damage." Killer calmly said, smiling down at the tiny male in a way that he hoped would come across as reassuring. The old owner of the hotel, however, understandably trembled in his shadow.

"Y-yes, your highness, w-whatever you want. M-my h-hotel is honored to have y-you here." The wolf hurriedly said, bowing deeply and looking terrified out of his mind. Not that anyone could blame him, considering he looked like a small doll next to Killer's semi-hard, gigantic godcock.

Killer offered him another smile, and after a moment added: "I called you "doggy" a lot, but that's rather rude on my part. I'm impressed by all the hard work you've already put into your hotel; you clearly care deeply about it. What is your name?"

The wolf was clearly taken aback by the question, and he blinked a few times before managing a queasy smile as he struggled out: "S-Sigmund, your majesty."

"Pleasure to meet you, Sigmund." Killer gently said, extending one huge hand towards the wolf, and immediately regretting it as the poor man understandably shrunk and backed away, bumping into the wall as he nearly fainted with a little squeak of fear. That huge hand could easily wrap around most of him, after all, and effortlessly crush him into pulp like he was a gnat. But of course he couldn't refuse the offer and so, comically, his own hand snapped up to meet the king's, even as he nearly leapt backwards in terror.

Killer didn't know whether he was more amused or more sorry, but carefully and very gently squeezed that little hand, shaking it a bit and then letting go. Sigmund seemed utterly amazed by the fact he was still in one piece, and he all but stared at his arm, flexing it slowly to make sure it was intact... before finally managing to smile a little bit more convincingly. He hurried ahead and pushed the doors to the bar open wide for the king, but Athena took Killer's fingers into her hands and gently tugged on them, stopping him.

"We have a couple of surprises for you. One is inside, but the other..." Athena said, smiling as he looked curiously down at her. Joy, standing at her side, pulled out a large envelope that she had been hiding on her back, and opened it to reveal a great flag that they had clearly personally sewn. Killer was surprised to see it, and delighted, and suddenly the few emails and messages they had traded during the last week, and the weird questions in them, made complete sense.

"Your kingdom needs a new flag, and we thought that... maybe... we could realize it for you." Joy gently offered, spreading the flag wide open to reveal its design: it had a red cross on white field, just like his homeland Kesteven, but in the middle there was a stunning, powerful side view of a feral, roaring lion head, realized in black. It was a clean, effective design that reminded him of home while clearly representing him and his rule, not his father's. He smiled in soft amusement as he looked at that proud lion head, which inexorably reminded him of himself, since his features were very much lionine, and his mane was definitely prominent and set him apart from the pure tigers.

"What do you think...?" Athena impatiently but also hesitatingly asked, looking nervous and clearly trying to guess what he was thinking. He didn't reply, but winked at her as he took the flag in his hands and turned back towards the loud, restless crowd still trying to get to his glorious body to show its worshipful adoration and need. He took a step forwards, and his enormous godcock nearly smacked into the line of pregnant concubines, whose eyes blazed with endless, insane, almost suicidal hunger, staring at the goliath flare with longing and making a display of gaping, drooling maws and lolling tongues. The royal guards just behind visibly tensed, as if fearing he would bowl them all over with a cockslap, and Killer couldn't help but smirk even as he tried to keep a straight, kind and reassuring expression.

The crowd fell silent as it realized he was going to speak, and then it visibly vibrated with a collective shudder as his masculine voice boomed out: "People of Kendrew! Now that this region is a state, our collective nation, and my very own kingdom, we will need a flag to honor and to protect. A flag that can represent us all and signal to the world the spirit and strength of this new country!"

The huge male made a brief pause, and the crowd filled it with a roar of approval that was so loud to almost match the way his voice rattled walls and ribcages. Almost.

"You all know me, and my origins and my bloodline. You won't be surprised to see it represented in the new flag. But I trust you will all love it and honor it as I do!" Killer concluded, before pulling upwards the hand-made flag, spreading it wide for them all to admire. Athena and Joy nervously shifted on the spot, half-smiling and half-biting their lips, but they had done a genuinely great job and the crowd clearly approved at it slowly cheered for its king and for the country.

Killer slowly turned around so that everyone could see the flag, and in his towering height it was easy for him to raise it up well above all other heads and obstacles, and there was a long, loud clapping that welcomed the new national icon. Finally, Killer handed the flag over to an officer of the Guard, with instructions to find a flagpole to raise in the middle of the square; and to communicate the adoption of the new symbol back in the capital as well, so that preparations could be made before he even returned to the royal palace.

"Well, it works splendidly well." Killer amusedly commented when he was finally able to return to Athena and Joy, and both tigresses looked relieved and delighted. "Thank you for all your hard work. It looks like you can do wonders with needle and thread... I might have to enlist your help for some new uniforms for myself."

"We'd be honored to work on your clothes... but don't expect us to be able to solve the bulge problem. No matter how good we are, or how sturdy the fabric, it is just impossible." Athena cheerfully teased, and the hulking male chuckled and nodded, replying easily: "Oh, but I know."

He easily and shamelessly cupped their firm, perfect asses in his huge hands as he took position between them and led them towards the door to the bar, which Sigmund was still holding wide open for them, looking pretty much petrified in place. He let out a little whimper of fear-awe when Killer simply snapped his fingers, and the concubines eagerly dropped down to their knees, then sensually dropped onto all fours, following him like obedient pets. Electra, of course, took the lead of that row of already pregnant, well-fucked flesh, and the crowd could only watch on in wonder... before the king called out to one royal guard and commanded: "Gradually let the women inside. Start with the ones I haven't filled up yet."

They all heard him, very clearly. They all felt his words through the vibrations of their ribcages as their little forms reverberated with his hypermasculine bass. And the crowd shivered and let out a collective sigh, as the bulging, already used, already pregnant women looked with envy at the few left who still had flat bellies and intact little cunts. The crowd was a sea of moans and wanting, but the struggling quieted down as the pregnant women stepped back to patiently wait for their chance. Disobeying his word in any way...? Their minds couldn't even conceive the idea. Not a single husband or boyfriend or father dared voice dissent, or tried to hold back his precious girl, so clearly eager to go serve the king. On the contrary, they handed their wives and daughters and girlfriends money and jewels and whatever valuable they could offer in tribute. Some cried, knowing that their girls would come back changed forever, in body and mind... Other little boys who had already learned their place, learned to accept it and even take pleasure from it, were already shamelessly on their knees, masturbating their little cocks to the sight of him, cheering him on... Killer didn't really care about any of that, but he rumbled in entertainment at the intensity of the delirious desire in the crowd, amused by how the whole horde of whores and faggots writhed with such impatient, helpless need for him.

Killer let the guards to handle the task of filtering the crowd, and finally walked past a sweaty, nervous, queasily smiling Sigmund, while squeezing lightly into Athena and Joy's muscular buttocks. "So, how have you been...? I'm sorry it took so long for me to come back. I hadn't anticipated needing to go on a campaign across the entire kingdom... I had hoped I could drive back here the following morning."

"Don't worry, we have enjoyed our stay. Sigmund has been an adorable host, and has covered us in all kinds of attentions." Joy cheerfully replied, and the king tossed an amused look back at the wolf from over his massive shoulder.

"Thanks for looking after these two, then. You are a good man, Sigmund." Killer gently said, and the wolf tremblingly smiled, awkwardly cleaning his sweaty hands in his apron and struggling out some words of thanks that were almost unintelligible. The hulking titan half-snorted in amusement at that, and returned his attention down to Athena as he curiously enquired: "So, your first surprise was wonderful, but you said there is another...?"

"There is! Not quite because of us, but there is. Right there, at the bench!" The tigress immediately answered, pointing a finger towards the bar, and Killer looked in that direction with curiosity that immediately turned into a quiet sound of surprise. A tall, bulky but extremely seductive shape was visible in the semi-darkness of the restructured pub, and the huge male had no difficulty recognizing that very distinctive profile.

The muscular, bulky yet graceful figure was reclining back against the tall portion of the bench. Sigmund had bought a new, larger, more elaborate one which had two very distinct sections: one, massive, was sized for tigers and was large enough to cater relatively well even to Killer's colossal sizes. The other half of the bench looked like a miniature, but it was just sized to best cater to the smaller species.

In theory, she should have been sitting at the small bench, but she was tall, and big, and bulky with solid muscle. She shifted down from a tiger-sized pub stool that was a bit too large for her, but surely more appropriate than the much lower ones thought for the normally small other races. She straightened and raised a huge glass of beer in welcome, and her eyes gleamed in the shadow, with their cold, extremely pale azure which almost turned to steely grey depending on how the light hit them.

"Will you ever stop growing...?" The muscular female asked, while her eyes sized him up with evident interest, glowing with hunger as she licked her lips slowly. "Being a God isn't enough for you...?"

"You know me. I strive to be the best." Killer easily countered, walking towards her with a sincere smile. It was fantastic to see her again and he was genuinely delighted by the fact she had dared crossing the border and entered the Northlands that she had once despised and thought savage and needing of a complete cleansing. Colonel Helen Sarah Frost, callsign "Valkyrie", had once been Ire's most famous and revered heroine, a soldier unlike any other. Forged in the Irenic Marine Corps and further hardened by years of daring missions in the Irenic Special Forces, the Valkyrie had become a legend in her country. She had been the subject of movies and comics and her uniform had been heavy with medals until, with her forties fast approaching, she had been taken off the frontline to be preserved like the national monument she had become. She had been made the headmistress of the boarding school and officer academy in Ire's capital, the institution that not only trained and prepared most of the officers for all three Ire's Armed Forces, but produced the most well indoctrinated and fanatical of them.

Helen herself had been a convinced and committed Ire supremacist, firm in her belief that the tigers, the northerners, were nothing but overgrown barbarians who needed to be taught their place and, ideally, eradicated to ensure the other species could safely continue to progress towards higher goals. Funnily enough, the northern front was the one war zone from which Ire's government had always kept her away. She had repeatedly offered herself volunteer for the northern front, but her active military career was terminated before she ever had a chance to fight the barbarians.

Her very first impact with a true brute from the north had been with Killer, when he had been sent into her boarding school thanks to king Seth's careful diplomatic work. It was safe to say that meeting Killer had, over some time, radically changed her views. In fact, it had inverted them completely.

Killer had "corrupted" Ire's heroine and turned her into a savage liger supremacist, a vicious dominatrix who took it upon herself to teach the inferior races, and in particular the puny, useless boys, the truth of their utter inferiority. "Valkyrie" was now even more famous than ever before, but for the Irenic state she was a terrorist, a criminal, a deviant, a traitor of the race and of the state. She was wanted dead or alive, and preferably dead. She was probably the most wanted criminal on Ire's list, just after Killer himself.

But her "popularity" had only ever grown greater because of it. The scandalous live shows and videos that Killer and Helen had realized together were literally among the most downloaded and visualized content in the whole of internet.

She was a bull terrier, her hide mostly white apart from some dark stains and spots, including a prominent one around her right eye. Her features were hard, but beautiful, and even the large, frightening scar that crossed down the right side of her face, going down one cheek and to the bottom of her jaw, only added to her beauty. It also helped give her a very threatening gaze, especially with how cold those steely eyes managed to be. Killer couldn't help but smirk at the thought of how nasty and cruel she managed to be when looking down at "loser boys" with those eyes. She really knew how to make men cry, and the savagery she had displayed in punishing her husband was, even after all those years, a memory arousing enough to make Killer's cock flex and jump with hunger and delight. Savagery that had been, in no small measure, unfair: it was true that her husband hadn't been able to make her a mother, but she knew all too well that she was the sterile one in the couple.

To Killer's hypersperms, the barren nature of her womb had of course made zero difference, and he had contemptuously made her a mother of ligers by sticking his gigantic cock into her and taking a piss into her womb. A humiliation that had stunned and shocked Ire, but only made her utterly, completely loyal to him. There was nothing, literally nothing, that she would not do for him, and she had given ample proof of it in the following days, weeks, years. Her cruelty against the lesser boys was only on par with her worshipful, filthy devotion to him, and that made her one of the very best fucktoys he had ever had.

Compared to the first time he had met her, Helen had changed a lot, but not because of age: she literally looked younger and better now than she had 16 years earlier. She was taller, stronger, faster. Better in every way. Her musculature was stunningly developed, bulky and powerful and chiseled, rippling with the slightest of flexes. She had always been a committed bodybuilder, tough as nails and only interested in being the very best, not just in competing.

Gone was, of course, the perfect, spotless uniform he had first seen her into. Gone were the medals, too, even though he knew she kept them hidden somewhere. Ire no longer meant shit to her, but the medals were memories of what she had achieved, along with her comrades in arms, and those mementos she still cared about. Her new unitorm was drawn into her skin in the form of the numerous tattoos that told the world how proud she was to be Killer Owned and a traitor to her race. That many of those obscenes tattoos didn't immediately show was merely due to the fact she was wearing a black top taunt over her formidable breasts and rippling muscles, held in place by thick "suspenders" of black leather and steel. Dark cargo pants clung to her mighty thighs and muscular legs, tightened in place by several heavy bands and belts of black leather, and she wore heavy motorcycle boots with steel toe and sole. Leather plates armored her thick forearms, and fingerless gloves covered her hands. Her clothes were stained with blood, and it clearly wasn't hers.

"You are the fucking best, already." Helen rumbled, winking at him and hungrily gazing over his naked, glorious body and tremendous, gigantic godcock. "Not that I mind you making even the stupid gods cry. Hot damn...!"

"Was it a problem to cross the border...?" Killer teasingly asked, looking down at her with entertainment and jerking his head towards a large blood stain on her top.

"This? Oh, no. This is just from a puny boy who thought he was a man. The idiot tried to lecture me about how I made the wrong choice in siding with you. I made sure to teach him the error of his ways." Helen commented, idly rubbing at the ugly stain with her thumb. "Crossing the border was easy. Northern Ire is too fucking scared of you by now to even try and maintain a military presence anywhere near the border, and the tigers on watch on your side of the line clearly didn't think having one more female in the northlands was a bad thing."

"We are welcoming people." Killer playfully remarked, offering a slight, exaggeratedly serious nod.

"And a bunch of massive, shredded, impossibly-hung, knock-you-up-by-looking-at-you, brutal, dominant-as-fuck studs." Helen shamelessly added, grinning widely and fluttering her eyelids in exaggerated girlish happiness as she hoarsely added: "Fuck, I already love it here! Why the hell didn't I come north sooner...? Even the last of your runts is built like a brickhouse and hung enough to head south and play god! But I could tell right away where the lesser Lords' land ended and your territory began. Pregnant bellies every-fuckin'-where, and all of them cripplingly huge. And ruins of your destroyed enemies. And your glorious musk in the air. It was very easy to follow your trail, as always."

"I like to be seen." Killer amusedly admitted, studying her with hunger and with genuine affection. She had followed him ceaselessly, through all of Ire and beyond, as he traveled all over the southern half of the world, raping, conquering, humiliating, destroying, dominating entire nations. The heroine that Ire had once idolized and looked at for defence, for leadership, for example for new generations of committed soldiers, had become a demoness, savage and cruel and lawless. Helen had become one of Killer's most feared harbingers and also a subsidiary plague that added further destruction and misery to the devastation he left behind himself. Just like she had destroyed her husband before, she annihilated the weak, inferior boys that wandered the ruined, crazed towns without being able to glorify Killer by giving up riches. Cuckolds who went broke were useless, after all...and boys who dared believing they could resist and carry on the struggle were her worst enemies and most prized toys. She was brutal and merciless, and she slaughtered those helpless males with her bare hands. Ire's military, of which she had once been a key component and a symbol, had become her favorite target and she liked to make sure to further thin down the number of survivors after each and every raid of the huge male into a barracks, garrison or laboratory centre. She would invariably round up a good herd of whores and cuckolds and humiliated soldiers, and drag them to Killer in chains, offering them in sacrifice as if he truly was a God... or perhaps a Demon, a Monster. With those gifts she acquired the chance to serve him, to be his slave and fuckmeat, to be brutalized while the terrified world watched on in shock on the internet, listening to her begging him for more, for harder, until she could take no more, until she was a barely alive piece of battered, bloody, stinking meat crippled by a monstrously pregnant womb bulging grotesquely and pinning her to the ground like a maggot.

Every time she'd crawl into hiding to recover and to birth a whole horde of ligers, before eventually emerging from the darkness again, stronger and hungrier and more savage than before, knowing no shame or repent, only lust and savagery. She had been the talk of a nation as heroine, and she was the nightmare of multiple nations as his harbinger, one of the closest things to a demoness the world had ever experienced. They had hunted her down, again and again, but Helen had always managed to outsmart and outfight her pursuers, inflicting worse and worse grief upon the world in her dark quest for her God's approval.

She was a living reminder of just how monstrous Killer's excesses had been during the last several years, and an unwelcome additional temptation at a time in which he was trying to move on and change his ways, but he couldn't deny the fact that he was delighted to see her emerging from the shadows once again. Every time he abandoned her he knew he might well not see her again, so there was relief in seeing her, and hunger, and lust in seeing that she was in stunning, glorious shape. It was easy to see why the south, civilized and technological and modern and wise and glorious as it thought it was, had started falling back into superstition when it came to Helen: again and again they saw her inches away from death only for her to return, months later, more evil, more beautiful, more ravenous and more powerful than before.

The south, which had so proudly turned its back to anything which wasn't scientifically explainable, now trembled in fear and called her anything from vampire to succubus to demoness... and that only made her hotter in Killer's eyes. She was a strong, beautiful and surprisingly sturdy fucktoy who craved nothing more than him slapping her around and seriously manhandling them, in ways he rarely got to enjoy even with larger tigresses. And there was no denying the added spice that came from brutalizing and so completely corrupting the south's heroine.

"Unless you've hidden them really, really well, I'm guessing you don't have your usual selection of... gifts with you." Killer commented after a moment, and he couldn't help but sound like he was disappointed and angry about it. Part of him sincerely was, because the brutal, monstrous fuckfests that followed were pits of hellish excess that admittedly thrilled and delighted him, no matter the horror and shame they might cause when he looked back at his actions with a cooler head and a more critical eye.

Helen hurriedly emptied her glass of beer, slammed it down on the counter and then dropped to her knees, leaning down to kiss his bare foot. She took one toe-talon into her mouth and suckled on it, moaning in delight as she polished it from the thick dark cum that saturated it. Her huge body flexed with formidable power as she slowly licked her way up his foot, planting kisses over the neck of it before she admitted: "I don't, my King... it's increasingly hard to find good prey in northern Ire: you've already gotten almost everything those lands had to give. Plus I thought that this time you... wouldn't really want the usual plate. I get the feeling that you have different aims, this time around." She paused, daring to gaze up at him longingly, hands massaging adoringly at his thick ankle, before she kissed his muscular leg and added: "But if I'm wrong, then please punish me... and then tell me what kind of fucktoy you want, and how many. Whatever it is that you want, I'll hunt it down and drag it in front of you."

Killer smirked at that, knowing that she was very, very serious and that he only needed to say the word to have her jumping back onto her bike and going out hunting. He could ask for anything his heart desired: innocents? She'd viciously drag them to him, no matter how they kicked and screamed. Soldiers? No matter how many, how well equipped, how deeply enhanced, she'd take them down and bring them to him. As for her eager demand for punishment, he knew that she could tank some pretty impressive damage and keep going, and that she would all too gladly take any sort of abuse and ferocity he felt like inflicting on her. In fact, after thinking for a moment, he snorted in entertainment and lightly settled one foot upon her head, teasingly crushing her down into the floor and rolling her skull roughly from side to side as he teasingly observed: "Punishing you, huh...? I'd have to just ignore you, to properly hurt a whore like you. Punching you in the face, or raping you, is no punishment. You like it way too much."

Helen Sarah Frost grinned widely at that, nodding shamelessly as his heavy, massive foot pressed down on the top of her skull, making her shudder visibly as she let her tongue out and drooled hungrily over his other foot, teasingly massaging his thick toes. The hulking male rumbled in his chest and shifted his weight slightly, forcing her head down and crushing her features into the wooden planks of the floor, before he snorted in amusement and admitted: "But you are right, Helly... I'm trying to do something different, this time around. I'm trying to... change. And this is not just another rampage: I want to make this place my home and my kingdom, so... you are right. At the moment, I'm actually happy you don't show up with a whole procession of Irenic preys with their necks in that old chain. It would have been... awkward. So, good decision on your part. It's part of why I like you, Valkyrie: you've always been a smart bitch."

"Thanks, Master." The muscular female said, smiling widely up at him as he hefted his heavy foot off her head. "I hope I can... buy your attention in some other way. Now that you are finally taking a throne for yourself and acting like the King you are, it'll be an increasingly heated competition to get some of your time."

"I'm sure you can prove... useful." Killer easily replied, grinning predatorily... before he bent down and offered one huge hand to her, easily helping her back up to her feet. "But seriously, welcome to Kendrew, and to the Northlands. I'm delighted to have you here, and it's a very pleasant surprise that you decided to come."

Helen tilted her head to the side and studied him for a few long moments, smiling in entertainment and finally shaking her head as she sighed: "I still don't know if you really are that naïve and king hearted, or if it's all made on purpose to make our poor hearts beat all the faster." She playfully shoved against his massive, invulnerable chest, and snorted ironically as she added: "How can it possibly be a surprise that I would follow you here, there, and everywhere...? Of course I'm going to go where you go! Maybe you just want to hear me say why...?" She winked, smirking teasingly, then held up a finger as she began to theatrically count the reasons. "One, you are handsome as fuck. Two, you are not just a literal king but you are basically fuckin' god walking among mortals. Three, you have the biggest cock ever and balls so big that they fill my dreams. Four, you are disgustingly rich, just in case everything else wasn't enough already. Five, you've gaped my holes so bad that any other male at this point feels like a needle thrown down a railway tunnel. What else...? Oh, yeah! There's that small detail of how you turned my sterile womb into a factory of lives and fulfilled my dream of being a momma, many, many times over..." She paused, tapping her fingers together as she pointedly counted on her hands and faked intense, complex thinking, then grinned widely as she pointed a hand at herself and exclaimed: "And on top of all that, I'm literally 60 years old and technically heading into Grandma You'd Love to Fuck territory... yet, thanks to you, I look younger, fresher and hotter than when I was 16; I'm twice as tall as I used to be and I've got the strength of a raging bull in each toe and of two bulls in each finger. You've blessed me with actual fuckin' miracles. Geee, I wonder why I follow you everywhere. Why follow a hot, handsome, powerful stud of a living, walking God when I could still be living alongside my powerless, useless little hubby and wasting time praying at the temple while an even more impotent and insignificant old man rambles on about how kind the Maker is supposed to be...?"

She looked at him flatly, and he coughed slightly, looking almost embarrassed as he mumbled: "Oh, ok. If you put it like that, it does sound pretty compelling." He paused for a few long moments, studying her tall, stunning, powerful figure, and then awkwardly enquired: "Are you... really 60...?"

Helen rolled her eyes at that, but then shook her head with an amused smile, shrugging and disbelievingly commenting to no one in particular: "He still pretends the cock is the only godlike bit about him...!"

It was incredible to think, but it was all very true: when they had first met, Killer was just 14 years old and she was past her forties. A stunning, beautiful mature woman who had exercised undeniable sex appeal on the young prince... but the years had passed, and now that Killer was 30, years clearly hadn't stood still for her, either. And it was also true that she had grown taller, stronger, more muscular, endlessly tougher. Twice the height she had originally been...? Yeah, it definitely felt right, no matter how absurd it sounded: Killer had been over 20 feet tall back then, and the Valkyrie, even from her extraordinary almost 9 feet of height, had been a small fucktoy to play with. The hulking beauty in front of him was definitely around twice that height, which made her greater even than many tigresses... and went a long way in explaining why she had survived the many times he had brutally fucked and impregnated her.

Her otherworldly growth was not due to technology, despite the cutting-edge enhancements she had received back in the days as part of Ire's programme for the development of modified, cyber-enhanced "super soldiers". Faced with young Killer's power and undeniable supremacy, Helen had signed up for the super-soldier research to become a living prototype and see what Ire's most advanced technology could do against the hulking prince's strength. She had early marks of both cyber and genetic enhancements in her, as well as an experimental lot of nanomachines which gave her greatly enhanced regenerative capabilities. 16 years back in time, they were the very best Ire could field... and it had all proven to be worth less than shit in comparison to Killer's all-natural power.

It had been the final in a long series of test, and Killer had passed it with flying colours, just like he had aced the previous trials, proving that he was endlessly superior to any and everything and everyone Ire might possibly field. It had been the final straw, the moment in which Helen truly snapped and became the most devoted and savage of all Killer Owned girls. It had been the moment in which her dedication to her country turned into hate, into ferocious rage at the way they had lied to her and tried to use her against the one true God. The moment in which she realized that she had always been kept away from the northern front because they did not want her to see and experience the truth. The moment in which she realized how much time she had wasted serving an inferior, worthless bunch of maggots, vermin who dared rebelling against the laws of nature, denying the superiority of the hulking predators of the north.

In truth, her changes had begun well before that point, because Killer's strength and hypervirility were simply undeniable. From day one, from the very first time her eyes had caught sight of him, all her certainties had wobbled and cracked, and her fighting had been little more than a game: she had arranged challenge after challenge just to see him triumphing in each and every one of them. Just to force the world to see how much greater, stronger, better he was, in every way.

He was so overwhelmingly powerful that his mere presence, and his musk, and his bodily fluids, and even his filth changed the world and the people around him, deeply, inexorably, as if to reshape reality into something more worthy of him. Helen was an extremely effective demonstration of the extent of the changes he could cause in other living beings, because the way her body had grown, toughened, evolved over time was clearly determined by him. The more she had given herself to him, the stronger she had become... and the more addicted.

His bodily fluids, from sweat to semen, passing from his piss and even his shit, were super-charged with a mix of hormones and such amounts of testosterone and other by-products of his hypervirility that they worked like a devastating super-cocktail of steroids. Prolonged exposure to him and to his bodily waste invariably had glorious effects, spurring on incontrollable, glorious growth and muscle development. His bodily waste was like a concentrated potion of pure power, so great that it could very easily prove overwhelming: even a drop of his sweat caused sudden, violent exertions for the musculature of those who were exposed to it, and the heart struggled to keep up. His sweat alone carried so much power in it that it could literally kill.

Helen remembered all too clearly how many of the dumb boys back at the academy had tried to match Killer by using his own sweat in place of steroids, in an hopeless attempt to match the strength of the colossus by assimilating his body's excess vigor and sheer waste... As if that could ever possibly work!

The effects had been spectacular, of course, but inexorably the eager, dumb boys overdid it and destroyed themselves. Most of those who tried, even with the help of Ire's scientists and super-soldier labs which all too happily jumped all over the extraordinary fluids that Killer remorselessly left behind, eventually died when their little hearts burst apart like rotten tomatoes, trying to keep up with the demands of bodies suddenly swelling with a power they couldn't possibly contain.

Oh, how ludicrous, laughable, and at the same time arousing it had been, to see boys who hated Killer's guts and the very existence of tigers, secretly stalking the hulking prince to feast over his sweat, his piss, his precum, his semen... even his shit. The army itself, the proud nation of Ire, the elitist superpower which claimed dominance over the whole world, had suddenly rushed in scientists and sample teams to, literally, soak up sweat from the seat Killer had just used, or sample his shit, or pump up gallons of his piss out of overflowing, broken toilets too small to cope with his hypervirile immensity.

Helen still laughed whenever she thought back to it. She could still finger herself to bliss with thoughts of how arrogant Ire had literally dug in their enemy's waste, in his piss, in his crap, in his cum, awed by the sheer, brutal power that his Alpha waste contained. They had hoped to do so in secret, of course, but Killer wasn't stupid and had found it out immediately. Not that the academy's doctor, a committed KO girl, or even Helen herself, wouldn't have told him otherwise.

The most amazing thing had been the contemptuous nonchalance with which the young stud had welcomed that evidence. Had he been worried that his unmatched genetic treasure was being sampled to be used against him...? No, of course no. He had laughed and sentenced that digging in his Alpha waste would only ever make them, at best, worthy of his shit.

He had repeatedly walked up directly to incognito sample teams and humiliated them by offering to supply them directly with the waste they craved. He had pissed on them and into their trucks. In one memorable occasion he had made a display of jerking off to fill up, literally fill up, a sample truck with his dark, hyperpotent cum. "Cleverly" disguised as a vacuum truck, the vehicle had been sent on the assumption it would be enough to collect multiple samples during a couple of weeks, but Killer had stunned the little men speechless by filling it up until the metal walls of the tank visibly deformed outwards and dark essence began to squirt out of overwhelmed valves.

It was a power they couldn't possibly comprehend, and even less hope to harness and reproduce. Ire had tried, but just as Killer had contemptuously predicted, it substantially failed: the super-soldiers produced were impressive, but ultimately pathetic in comparison to the real titan.

A great number of test subjects, willing and otherwise, died in the useless quest to augment dosages and improve effects, and countless others ended up horribly, permanently emasculated. Killer's essence had that very significant side effect, and it tended to geld lesser males, to snuff out their ability to spread their inferior genes. And Killer knew it all too well, because his sister's suitor had been just one among multiple lesser males to be utterly emasculated by his crushing hypervirility. His generous contribution to Ire's experiments, in other words, was not done just to humiliate, but to knowingly destroy his enemies.

And Helen had eagerly carried out her part to ensure as many of the lesser boys were neutered as possible. When other cadets went into her office begging to be allowed to stay away from the hulking titan who seemed to somehow be sapping away their "strength", she had humiliated and rebuffed them, and told them they were cowards, and losers, who imagined the northern prince capable of impossible feats of power just to justify their running away. The wiser boys, in front of her orders, had quit the army and escaped from the academy, but many others had believed her lies and put up a brave face to prove they were not afraid. Poor bastards: they had all ended up sterile and impotent, their dicks weaker than those of 90-year old living wrecks as Killer's mere presence, his mere scent, removed their weak genes from the picture.

His prodigious hyperpotency had better results on females, unsurprisingly. It was like his hypermasculine body, conscious of how overwhelmingly massive and powerful it was, made sure to share some of its superior strength with the broodmothers he fucked and impregnated. It was like he was a true engine of evolution, which not only spread his superior genes at an impossible, unrivalled rate that could snuff inferior species out of existence, but which also made sure to "improve" and "fix" the available "material" to ensure the mothers of the new, master race were up to task. At least in part; at least for a while.

Killer's astounding power could very easily overwhelm females too, but Helen's body had proved to be tough and eager to evolve from early on, and her growth had been quick and formidable without proving destructive for her physique. She had adjusted well, and of course had grown more and more eager, more hungry for the incredible power boosts that only Killer could give. She had gladly taken each and every chance to lick up his sweat, to drink his piss, to be his cumdump. Each little "taste" he gifted her was truly like the blessing of a god, elevating her higher up above the other... mortals.

His gifts were definitely superior to anything that Ire could give her through technology and cybernetics, and over time she had made it her sport and delight to prove it to her previous employers and to her once cherished country. As Ire frantically experimented with wilder and wilder chemical cocktails and with more and more invasive robotic enhancements and genetic tampering, Helen started her hunt for fresh meat to bring to her Master as sacrifice and tribute.

Ire ended up producing a great number of "prototype" super-soldiers in a desperate attempt to develop infantry tough enough to stand up to the tigers in general, and to Killer in particular. To try and match the liger's supernatural hyperpotency, Ire got bolder and bolder over time, sacrificing more and more of the humanity of the test subjects in a bid to make them stronger and more effective. Orphans, prisoners and other "expendables" were kidnapped and tossed into nightmarish facilities where their bodies were cut apart and rebuilt, their minds merged into computer systems, their limbs loaded with weapons and semi-organic armor. Many died horrible, painful deaths, and many more fell into various types of mental disorders, and all of it, ultimately, proved insufficient.

Killer had taken down a great number of those bio-organic weapons and "super-soldiers", and none of them had ever proven to be an obstacle capable to concern him. He had been all too glad to challenge the best that Ire could toss against him and rip them apart. He had hunted down the "prototypes" to prove his superiority by destroying them, one after the other.

And Helen, aware of the fury of her Master and God, had developed her own special taste for hunting down the genetically-modified, cyber-enhanced "super soldiers". She had taken down a good number, and she had dragged their sorry, bloody, broken heaps back to Killer, offering them as gifts that the hulking male had always... accepted... with particular hunger and ferocity.

Helen was by no means the only female who had grown taller and stronger and infinitely more energetic and tougher thanks to his sweat, his piss, his pre, his cum, or even his shit. Many more of his "groupies" back at the academy had experienced growths almost as spectacular, and the effects were evident on all of his lovers and concubines in the Northlands as well. His long term partners back in Kesteven were almost without exception pretty easy to recognize, much as people pretended not to see how much taller and greater and stronger they were. Electra, Athena, Joy and all the other females in Kendrew were already showing the beginning of their own growth and evolution, even though he had only been with them for a week. Over time there was no doubt at all that they would grow much taller and stronger than they now appeared.

The arrival of Helen awakened him the hope and expectation that several more of his old "classmates" would show up in his kingdom soon, but he was saddened by the awareness that, unfortunately, many of them did not have such a chance. Most of his lovers from the academy day had been lured into a trap with fake messages, and a bomb had been detonated once the room was full of cheerful and often pregnant ladies who had hoped to see their beloved hero. Helen had fortunately guessed that the messages were not genuine and had not walked in. In fact, she had tried to warn the others. Many other friends that Killer had held sincerely dear had confidently walked into the building, instead. He remembered the explosion, and the horror, and his desperate running from his nearby estate to the academy. He remembered walking past the torn-apart corpses... and then hearing new explosions, this time from his estate, as Irenic troops, exploiting the moment, raided his home and kidnapped some of his daughters and sons who had the distinction of possessing weird abilities and "powers" bordering into the supernatural.

Excellent test subjects for Ire's super-soldier ambitions.

That was the reason why he truly hated the Irenic super-soldiers and all those inhuman, monstrous "prototypes". That was why he wanted to destroy every last one of them. That was why he had traveled across all of Ire: to find the hidden laboratories and secret facilities. He was absolutely certain that his daughters and sons had to be buried into some of those awful underground factories of monsters, being... probably cut open and "studied" and "examined" in who knew what horrible ways.

He had assaulted every facility he had been able to locate. He had broken into even the most reinforced of bunkers, and had been all too glad to have Helen hunting with and for him. She had told him everything she knew, she had guided him to several juicy targets... but it hadn't been enough, in the end.

He had searched everywhere, but he had never been able to find his missing daughters and sons, and after more than 7 years, any hope of ever finding them was lost. His rage, instead, had not faded one bit.

It had been the worst, most painful day of his life, and it lived vividly in his nightmares.

He had hunted down the bastard who had planned out and organized that double trap, of course. He had exacted terrible, brutal revenge on him, his family, his friends and supporters and on every last soul even remotely connected to that cowardly attack, but nothing could fill the abyss of sadness and regret when he thought back to the ones he had lost.

He hadn't been able to protect them properly, and the awareness tormented him every day. He was determined to make sure he would not fail again. Now, as king, as leader of an entire empire, he was going to be, first and foremost, the unfailing protector of his people and of his loved ones.

Sometimes he allowed himself to try and think of what Alex and his friends, the minds behind the bomb, had felt as his hyperpotency changed their world forever. As his terrifying power made them... redundant, useless, hopeless. He could only imagine how he would have felt in their place. The terror, the powerless rage, the helplessness. The frustration at being eclipsed and ridiculed in every hopeless contest, in every unfair comparison. The rage at seeing "their" girls becoming "race traitors". The fury and despair at having their girlfriends, sisters, wives, mothers pick Killer. Pick the hulking brute from the North.

They had good reasons to hate his guts, hadn't they...?

How would he have acted, had their roles been reversed? Had he been in their shoes, would he have taken any better to a life of certain, constant defeat...? At times he was tempted to... not absolve them, no... never absolve. But, perhaps, to look at them with a little more understanding.

But then he remembered that the girls they had murdered had every right to make their choices and live as they wanted. Their rage did not justify them... and they had been the ones to start the whole thing, had they not...? They had never given him a chance to fit in. He had tried, but they had worked to isolate him and to get the whole of the southern society to share their hate towards his whole species.

Even accepting they had done so to defend their vulnerable world from the coming of a force they knew would be too great not to change everything, they... they were the evil ones, surely...?

Sometimes he wasn't so sure. But even in those days, another voice in his mind peremptorily sentenced that, whatever their motives, they had been inexcusably stupid in antagonizing a force so much greater than them. Nature demanded that the weak at least recognize their place. Had they behaved differently, surely he would have behaved differently himself. He would have limited himself, would he not...? He would have been more benevolent. A protector, not a destroyer.

As king, I will demonstrate it. I will prove that I can be a protector and a guide.

Helen snapped him out of his thoughts as she crossed her muscular arms and tilted her head to the side, confidently saying: "Now that you are building an actual army of your own, I think I can help you in a new, old, way. You'll need instructors who can teach your young, overeager hunks how to use their big muscles in the most effective way to utterly destroy the enemy. And you know I'm an excellent teacher."

"You are." Killer readily admitted, giving a little nod and then smiling tauntingly as he added: "I hope you are fine with training non-tigers, as well. I think I'm going to create a few Regiments of volunteers from all other species in my kingdom, because they could prove useful in many ways, and it would be good for the cohesion of the Nation. I need to be sure that you won't just rip them to shreds like you usually do."

"I do what my God-King commands." Helen replied, snapping at attention without hesitation, before adding: "If you think the inferior little ones are good for something, then I'll make sure to look after them and teach them how to properly serve you."

"You are an "inferior little one" yourself, Valkyrie... yet you think you can teach young tiger warriors how to do what they are born to do: fight and win and conquer and breed." Killer teasingly reminded, and the muscular female's eyes blazed with not just agreement but eager, lustful delight at his remark. A low rumble of pleasure came from her chest as she almost purred in grateful bliss, and then she hoarsely, sensually stated: "I am... I am an inferior piece of gutter trash meat. A worthless cumdump for my Master and Owner. A urinal for my God to use as he sees fit. A pathetic fuckstain unworthy of Him... indeed unworthy of his sons... no, unworthy of any hulking tiger, any proud alpha northerner, any superior tiger prince. If Master so wishes, I will be the living urinal of every one of his warriors. I will tongue-bathe their superior bodies. I will slurp their asses clean. I will be their fucking food, if Master so wishes."

Killer rumbled in his broad chest at that, grinning down at her in entertainment and rolling his massive shoulders slowly, muscles flexing with cruel satisfaction at the way the mighty heroine once more put her life in his hands. It was no game, it was no empty roleplaying: he knew that he could order her to impale herself on his cock until it crushed her heart into pulp, and she would eagerly get to work to destroy herself. The last time she had crawled up to him she had deep-throated his cock, filthy and bloody with the remains of a multitude of fragile, too-small victims, until her eyes had glazed over and her lungs had gone painfully empty as his thick meat completely shut her airways and suffocated her. She hadn't even tried to draw back. She was alive just because, at the very last instant, he had brutally kicked her in the belly and sent her crashing away from him, vomiting dark precum all over herself and weakly rasping and coughing some air back into her lungs.

When he had encountered her for the first time she was already covered in scars, all of them war wounds from her multiple daring actions across several military campaigns, but now her muscular, beautiful form was covered in many more scars that were the result of him beating on her, digging his claws into her, ripping into her flesh, nearly fucking her into pieces. He had broken her bones more times than could be counted and her nanomachines and cyber-genetic enhancements had struggled to keep her alive and regenerate her devastated body. She had carved his name and the KO mark directly into her flesh with an incandescent knife while he watched, and she had fisted herself for him while pregnant, digging into her womb to rip out the unborn creatures inside and feed them into his cruel jaws. She had devoured parts of her husband after destroying him, and had chewed his cut-off dick and balls in front of his shocked face while he was still alive.

Helen Sarah Frost knew no shame and no restraint anymore. She was addicted and intoxicated and only cared about her God and his pleasure. His delight was the only thing that mattered, and her enjoyment and even her survival were nothing but afterthoughts. He could do everything he wanted with her, and she only ever thanked him for his generosity. She was a true monster, a true demoness, a true terror that the Southern nations were entirely right to fear and dread.

And she was powerful. She had adapted better than most to Killer's corruptive hypervirility and her body had been able to absorb so much of his unholy "gift" that she was now taller and stronger even than most the tigers that she nonetheless invariably addressed as superior beings, as "princes". Lords of the world, just not on par with the One and Only King. Never on par with Him. Nobody went close.

She knew her strength and she knew her value, and she knew how far she could push her luck around her Master and King, and how he liked it, so she ended her slutty act of submission by growling teasingly: "But despite being inferior southern garbage in origin, I'm now much, much more than that... I'm not your average gutter trash whore. I'm a goddess-level fucktoy, fucking drugged_with your Alpha waste, high on your hypervirile stench, intoxicated with your sweat, fed with your shit, quenched with your piss... some of your overpowering supremacy curses through my veins..." She hissed in delight and flexed, arching her back as her muscles bulged and thrummed with power, veins swelling over those rippling mountains of strength as her scarred hide stretched almost audibly, threatening to rip apart, unable to contain her own power, and she snarled-laughed: "And it's enough to make the fuckin world _weep!"

Even Electra held her breath in awe as she looked up at that hulking, savage bitch drunk on Killer's overwhelming hypervirility, and Sigmund helplessly whimpered, his tail subconsciously tucking itself between his legs as he leaned back against the wall and stared at her with bulging eyes.

She suddenly noticed the wolf as if by smelling his fear and awe, and she grinned down at him with eyes that blazed with cruel, dangerous lust, and the poor old man let out a small, broken cry as a wet stain rapidly spread on the front of his pants. She laughed darkly at that, and leaned down over him, making him shrink even further as he scrambled uselessly backwards, his feet stamping on the wooden floor as he bumped repeatedly into the wall, trembling hard. "I take it that you know who I am, old man...?" She tauntingly asked, and the wolf whimpered and hurriedly nodded, eyes bulging almost out of his sockets.

"Leave him alone, he is a good man." Killer idly said, snorting in entertainment as he reached down and grabbed her face in one huge hand, easily shoving her backwards and rumbling in entertainment as she immediately kissed his palm. He seized her muzzle and pushed it up to look down into her eyes, smirking as he crushed on her cheeks and she let out a little moan of anticipation. "You are lucky that I like you so much." The hulking colossus amusedly commented, and Helen nodded, her eyes fixed into his and glinting with happiness and gratitude as he idly stroked a finger down her check and under her chip, then up over her lips, finally pushing that thick digit forwards. She eagerly struggled against his grip to open her jaws and let it slid into her mouth, and she let out a murr of bliss as she suckled on it, licking the large claw and all but leaning forwards to try and take more of his finger into her maws. She needingly reached up to gently grip his massive, solid wrist as she nibbled teasingly into the big index, knowing full well that it alone was larger than most, if not all of the dicks on all of the males she had met in her whole life. She took the finger into her throat as best she could, eyes glinting with adoration, and he grinned widely before finally saying: "You are right, you are a tough bitch who knows how to lead troops... and I like you enough to keep you around. You can have a place in the Army and instruct the future officers. I know you'll do a good job of it. As for your... other proposals..." He paused, grinning predatorily as he yanked his finger back and seized roughly into her skull, yanking her hard backwards and forcing her back to twist painfully. Her mouth opened with a little groan of surprise, pain and pleasure, and he blew a raspberry and spat right into her jaws. "You sound like such a sick, nymphomaniac whore at times." Killer teasingly scolded, letting go of her and crossing his enormous arms on his chest, grinning as the Valkyrie eagerly pushed out her tongue, showing off the gift of thick spit from her Master, before she gargled it briefly and hungrily swallowed it down.

"I am one." She shamelessly exclaimed, grinning widely. "You turned me into one. A liger cock addict... hopelessly dependent on masculine, Alpha stench. The fact is, I'm really a Killermaniac: no one can compete, no one else can measure up. Even the big studs up here are just... foreplay..."

"My, my... what should I do with you, Helly...?" Killer idly commented, looking down at her with that fierce, merciless amusement and lust that she knew so well, and she shuddered beneath his gaze, thighs grinding together as her breath quickened with the anticipation and excitement. "Maybe I should truly let my soldiers have their fun with you, huh...? If I let an inferior piece of fuckmeat be their instructor, it's only right that I let them take advantage of your slutty body to their heart's desire... It's not like they can ever ruin you for me, anyway. You'll always feel nice and tight to me." Killer teased, and Helen let out a low, drawn-out growl of bliss, eyes glinting at the thought of being gangbanged by huge tiger studs, passed around the ranks like a cheap fucksleeve, a masturbation toy... a piece of meat... only for the One and Only King to step in and show them all how it was truly done, only for his superior godcock to rape her harder, to pummel her worse, to stretch her out more brutally than the boys ever could.

"Oh, fuck, yes! Please, please do...!" The muscular bull terrier begged, shivering visibly and flexing with the sheer eagerness to serve that burned inside her as she breathed: "That's what I was born for... that's all I am! I'm a filthy whore for superior tiger cocks! And a limitless fucktoy for the one and only King and God and for his supreme, unrivaled liger godcock!"

Killer rumbled in approval and entertainment at that, and he studied her beautiful, powerful body for a moment, licking his lips and leisurely stroking his immense cock, loving the way she panted, jaws agape, eyes bulging as she stared at his glorious shaft with desperate craving. Her eyes blazed with lust and eagerness when he finally said: "It's been a while since we last gave your fans a show... they'll be worried. Call them."

"Thanks, Master!" She breathed, immediately digging her phone out of her pocket and quickly setting up a live stream event on social media. The viewer count skyrocketed quickly as the notification hit the world and filled it with anticipation and dread in equal measure. She grinned down at the camera as people tuned in to her transmission, and she licked her lips at the sheer number of accounts, both of eager sluts and needy faggots, of hotwives and cuckolds, which began with the KO mark.

"Hurry up, cucks. I'm not going to wait for your sorry arses." Helen easily growled, idly taking note of the great number of donations flashing in the comments section of the screen. The chat was crazy, with messages coming at a rate that made it hard to read more than a few of them as they quickly passed and vanished. Not that she cared about what the tiny ones had to say... there were a lot of haters in there, of course, but their vitriolic whining was almost funnier and more rewarding than the worship offered by the KO accounts. They hated her because they knew they could never have her, after all... they said they wanted both her and Killer dead, but whenever they streamed they were the first to tune in.

She snarled-grinned at some of those comments, and contemptuously commented: "Yeah, boy, keep telling me how much you hate me while jerking your disgusting, pathetic, tiny dicklet." She made a taunting, unmistakable gesture with just the tip of her fingers, then snorted as she added: "Some of you losers probably need tweezers to handle those impotent little scraps of flesh, by now. But look at the positives: maybe by the time today's stream is over, your parodies of dicks will have finally turned into cunts."

She paused for a brief moment, her hulking muscles flexing and bulging with eagerness and delight as she held the phone down to give them the chance to look up at her powerful form, at her rippling abs and at the underside of her large breasts. Finally, she traded a look with Killer and grinned darkly as she growled: "Do you know where I am, losers...? In the Northlands. In the lands of the Superior alphas. In the land of the Princes. Studs everywhere, even the least impressive of them a sort of living god who could come south and claim the whole country for himself... Oh, I know you can imagine it... imagine what it would like if Killer came down south with his army... an armada of gods, of hulks so hypervirile and hung and superior that they would cancel your weak genes from the face of the earth. You cucks know you don't stand a chance... the ones among you who complain and whine and insult and hate are actually the one who realize all the more clearly how weak and doomed you are." She paused, breathing out hot steam as she groped at one of her breasts, flexing and swaying her hips slowly as she rumbled in hunger and delight. "Your whole life is resentment against the tigers... against their greatness. And all that hatred stems from fear... and boy...!" She laughed, cruelly, mercilessly, eyes blazing as she humiliated them all, before suddenly turning the camera around to film a breathtaking view of Killer's hulking, godlike cock, panting hotly as she vainly tried to fit all of that monstrous, ponderous flare into the frame of the video, needing to more the phone this way and that to show partial views of that tower of unparalleled hypervirility. "... is your fear ever justified!"

"Hello, cucks and paypigs, faggots and whores." Killer cruelly teased, reaching down with one huge hand to seize his member just behind its tremendous, divine cockhead, hefting it up and peeling the thick blanket of foreskin back with an audible slurp, revealing thick chunks of dark, hypervirile smegma.

"Say hello to the One and Only King... to the Master... to the God... to the Owner of the world, to the Destroyer of your races... to the unrivaled Breeder who ensures you'll never get to sniff a pussy again, you losers!" Helen cheerfully growled, leaning forwards with a hungry growl and immediately digging her tongue under the monstrous flare, nuzzling into that thick chunk of excess masculinity, of remains of his almighty orgasm of earlier, to the sweat and filth of his earlier, glorious masturbation. She did her best to blindly keep herself framed by the phone's camera as she nuzzled under those fearsome barbs and lapped up the thick deposits of powerful essence, groaning in delight as she gulped them down... and chewed on the thick gunk, smiling to the camera and letting them all stare at that superb, absurdly potent, tar-like concentrate of masculinity as it nearly glued her fangs together.

She loudly chewed and smacked the thick essence, and drooled shamelessly from the corners of her mouth, and then she used her fingers to scoop up a large chunk of dark precum and smegma, using it to smear lines on her cheeks and under her eyes, applying "war paint" on her beautiful, scarred features as she hissed: "Killer Huxley... your dream and nightmare. Ever triumphant... ever stronger. Look at this godcock, even bigger than it was last time... look at this God, who has now crowned himself. He is a fully fledged king now... with a state... with an Army."

Helen laughed darkly, cruelly, and briefly moved the phone up and away from Killer's cock to film the lines of bulky, muscular, massive soldiers lined up just outside the bar, and some of the Royal Guards who had already entered. Towering, bulky with muscles, massive and powerful, they filled their red uniforms so wonderfully, and their pants bulged with the size of their enormous cocks and heavy, potent balls, every one of them a superior beast that no one in the South could ever dream to compare to. "An Army, bitches...! Look at these superb studs... at these superior Princes and their colossal cocks. Cry and tremble in your little huts, losers, at the thought of Killer leading his troops south."

"Disrobe, Guards. Let the world admire your weapons." Killer amusedly commanded, idly folding his massive arms behind his head and grinning. The soldiers behind him hesitated for only a moment, surprised at being invited to join in the fun, but then grinned and laughed as they easily unbuttoned their pants and red tunics, showing off their chiseled muscles and whipping out monstrous, proud giant cocks that, while small in comparison to Killer's glory, had to look utterly godlike to the southerners.

"You see those huge cocks...? Those heavy, full balls...? You are of no compare, and never will be... and you can't even believe how many they are. And their numbers keep growing..." She moved the phone around and filmed Electra and the other concubines with their grotesquely massive pregnant bellies, the females grinning and suggestively stroking their bloated abdomens, teasingly rubbing over the visible bulges that showed off the superior new liger males growing inside them. Worthy sons of their superior, hypervirile father. "Look at these glorious Princesses, heavy with Killer's young... with a new, stronger, better, more powerful generation of superior Princes of this world!"

"Killer's supremacy is a truth you can't hide or run away from. You don't have any hope. Fight or submit, you are equally defeated. Smart cucks are serving, offering tributes and worship, learning to enjoy their fate and embracing a purpose bigger than jerking off alone. The dumb ones ? You bitter losers can continue to jerk yourselves off into extinction while raging uselessly against the superior Princes. Stay mad, losers!" Helen eagerly groaned, her breath roughening as she pulled back her hand to try and give the phone's camera the widest possible angle, but his prodigious godcock was far too big, and it was rapidly growing even more massive. "Sorry for the incomplete view, but his cock never fits into things. But let me help you visualize it, I know it must be pretty hard for you to believe this much male can exist..."

She balled one strong hand into a fist and pushed it against his monstrous flare, hissing in delight at the mind-shattering way it dwarfed her hand, made it look the hand of a newborn baby. "Watch and weep, you vermin..." She hissed, grinding her fist against that bulging, enormous cockhead, moving it in a wide circle to show just how wide, how terribly vast that flare was, before moaning as she let her knuckles slid over slick, dense dark precum until her fist was right in front of the enormous, flexing cockmaw... "Oh, fuck... you are all so done..." She growled, her breath whistling in and out of her flared nostrils as she pushed forwards slightly... and the immense godcock seemed to devour her whole hand, easily, greedily, sucking it inside that monstrous cockmaw with a wet slurp. Helen laughed darkly at that, and pushed her large, heavy fist and leather fingerless glove deeper into the gigantic pillar of masculinity, while the hulking male only rumbled in pleasure and his immense member flexed and throbbed with power. "Look at this, you miserable dregs... how could you ever compare...?" The muscular female taunted, lovingly massaging the inside of Killer's vast cum-channel and panting in awe and delight as his huge, fat, thickly-foreskinned cockhead slopped out a thick river of hypermasculine essence that stank of testosterone and male supremacy as it flowed out around her wrist and dropped down in a heavy, huge rope that swelled larger and larger as it extended towards the floor.

"Watch this, you impotent little faggots... this is how your world ends: not with war, but with Killer's superior all-male gunk. Filling every last womb, cramming it full with superior liger genes. It's your ineluctable future: extinction as your females wake up to the truth and refuse to perpetuate your weakness, your inferiority..." Helen preached, licking her lips in cruel delight as she pulled her arm out of the glorious mega-cock and let them stare and listen in awe at the immediate splurging out of an even greater tidal wave of overpowering masculine gunk which slopped heavily down the ground, while great, thick strings and ropes of the thick precum clung to her drenched arm. "It's a truth you've tried to hide, boys, but there's no hiding from this God. Watch in awe, little losers..." She flexed her mighty arm, showing off the grandiose size of her bicep, before she stroked over the solid thickness of her forearm, slowly balling her hand into a fist and bending her arm up in a scandalous, explicit gesture. "You boys get all excited if you can claim your dick is as big as some scrawny bitch's forearm, but none of your toothpicks can compare to mine..." She grinned sharkishly at that, enjoying her dominance over the invisible, but very present, crowd of shocked onlookers. "And yet, watch this...!" She breathed, hissing in delight as she slowly distended her arm and pushed it against the flank of Killer's hulking godcock, laughing cruelly as it was brutally dwarfed by the goliath member, whose thick flared head was soon bumping into her shoulder, pushing her back like a doll even as she stretched her arm to reach as far as it could down that endless leviathan of a cock.

"Oh, my g-god..." Sigmund whimpered, eyes bulging and body shaking, his voice trembling with the realization of just how large and powerful that thick arm was, as the corrupt heroine displayed the proud power that her King had gifted her... and immediately afterwards that awe increased even further, and turned into dread, his heart thudding madly in his chest as that powerful limb pushed against that monstrous monument of hypervirility, which dwarfed it ludicrously with its astonishing mass.

"Holy shit, your Majesty...! It's unreal..." One of the royal guards commented, while another of the hulking soldiers snickered as he caught sight of the shock on the wolf's face. The huge tiger pulled up one heavy foot and playfully bumped Sigmund in the ass, sending him stumbling closer to that fantastic display of hypervirile supremacy. "You look like you can't believe your eyes, boy. Go take a closer look, it's all real!"

Killer grinned as the wolf paled and audibly gasped, breath rushing out loudly and brokenly as he found himself "face to face" with that shocking comparison, with Helen's muscular arm looking like that of a newborn baby next to that godcock. From shoulder to wrist, her arm was still just a fraction of the length of that beast, and the girth of even her solid bicep was laughable in comparison to the fat immensity of the ponderous cock. It was... many times over the girth and heft. How many times? He couldn't even begin to guess.

"What do you think, cuck...?" Helen tauntingly enquired, smiling devilishly, and Sigmund whimpered weakly, smiling queasily and pathetically. What was he even supposed to say...? Words couldn't capture the brutal majesty of that all-conquering hypervirility. He was witnessing a God, a true god, and he was just a puny little mortal. What could he even say...?

He heard himself babbling weak, incoherent words of praise and awe. It was an intoxicating sight, terrifying and overwhelming, and the thick, rich stench of hypermasculinity in the air, and that endless rope of black precum reaching down to a floor that was helplessly soaking and rotting in the thick gunk... it was repulsive, but it was also undeniably humbling, awe-inspiring, incredible. It was impossible not to submit and worship. It was impossible not to flush in a terrible mix of both shame and longing.

His cock throbbed almost painfully, and he instinctively ground his legs together to hide the small bulge, flushing in humiliation as he looked down at himself and trembled, trying to silence his thoughts because both Helen's and Killer's eyes blazed with such energy that he feared they could read directly into his brain.

"It's not a good comparison, your arm is a bit small." Killer playfully commented after a moment, and Sigmund let out a little, weird cry as his mind revolted at the notion that anything about her was "small". His brain was still vainly trying to guess how many times Helen's arm would fit in the tremendous diameter of the monstrous godcock, which mocked him by throbbing with absurd power and visibly swelling even greater, dwarfing the corrupt heroine and pinning her against the wall, that monolith of maleness so huge and powerful that it threatened to crush her out of existence. The hulking liger rumbled in entertainment and reached down to roughly seize her by the throat, hefting her up like a doll and smacking her brutally down on top of the counter, her fangs gritting with the painful impact but her legs spreading eagerly wide open for him as he rumbled: "Let's try with her leg; see how that works."

"I think they can already tell, poor little boys...!" One of the Guards taunted, proudly pumping his massive shaft and winking as Helen briefly turned the phone towards him and some of the other bulky studs. Her attention moved immediately back to Killer, however, the camera aimed at her own muscular, powerful leg as she sensually extended it and showed off the flexing of the great, bulky quads and the chiseled calves. She was massive, and yet incredibly sensual and feminine as those big muscles only enhanced the curvaceous perfection of her figure... and she grinned widely when the enormous king gripped into her strong quads with a rumble of appreciation. The comments and donations raced down the screen at an insane speed as she laughed and hoarsely moaned: "Watch this, puny dregs... watch this...!"

Killer pulled her leg up by the strong, massive thigh, and he grinned as his claws tore into her flesh, digging deep into her and sending blood spilling onto the counted, making her breath out hotly, licking her lips as he forced her leg to distend right alongside his immense shaft... and the soldiers and concubines in the bar cheered and exploded in comments and curses of awe as Sigmund audibly let out a cry of his own.

Helen's foot pushed lightly against the king's invulnerable abs, but the goliath godcock was far longer than even her leg and it crushed her down into the wooden counter, pinning her like a toy as it ground over her abs and heavily rested over her breasts, her face, and past her head. Still not even fully hard, the monstrous member hung ponderously forwards, resting its calamitous weight over her muscular form, which flexed and bulged with power as she literally struggled to hold the immense member up at least enough to breathe. The colossal, flared cockhead hung down behind the counter, filling the space between it and the wall covered in shelves and bottles of liquors, and Killer grinned viciously as he leisurely rocked his hips, dragging the leviathan cock slowly back and forth above her, making her groan and huff with the effort of surviving under that glorious burden that soaked her body and drenched her clothes in greasy, rich, hyperpotent sweat and cockslime. The counter creaked ominously under that assault, soon beginning to tilt back and forth even though it was solidly attached to the floor, and Sigmund whimpered helplessly as large cracks loudly burst open in the hardwood as the top of the bench caved inwards under that brutal weight.

Helen did her best to document the incredible scene, her arm sticking out from beneath that monster of a cock in almost comical fashion, so Killer took the phone out of her hands and filmed the display from his own point of view, snorting in contempt as he taunted: "This is what I see when I look down, cuckolds..."

He leisurely pinned Helen's leg against the side of his monstrous godcock, holding her easily by the ankle and showing off how even her bulky, powerful thigh paled next to the sheer girth of that leviathan black cock. Helen was almost completely invisible, buried under that gargantuan shaft, but she eagerly hugged and stroked the monstrous girth, so that the shocked public could see her hands kneading and stroking and working away, looking tiny and delicate. Her ankle itself looked almost ludicrously thin where it rested, right next to the thick, enormous base of his prodigious member.

"Now you have a better idea of just what you are witnessing, at least..." Killer taunted, grinning in cold entertainment as he slowly yanked back his colossal cock until her face was revealed, completely smeared with dark sweat and greasy virile essence.

He tilted his head to the side with a smirk as Helen shamelessly chased after his monstrous flare, mouth opened, tongue licking over the great barbs, nostrils flared as her hot breath washed out in a little cloud. Her face was already a mess of sweat, slobber and, above all else, thick dark precum. Her mascara was smeared ans ruined, but it hardly registered at all as his dark essence saturated her cheeks and covered her features. Tears attempted to roll down her cheeks but were held up by unmoving, thick layers of black, hyperpotent precum already plastering her features like a grotesque bukkake, like a million mortals had blown their loads on her face. And yet that was just the beginning, a mere drop of Alpha filth and lubricant from the hulking beast, and Helen laughed hungrily, eyes blazing with greed as she knew that much, much more would follow. "Weep, losers... you poor cucks and faggots cannot fuckin' compare. There is no fuckin' contest." She opened her jaws wide for him, pushing her tongue out and begging for it, eyes glowing with cruel lust, and the king snorted in contemptuous amusement as he let a great glut of his dark, heavy precum blast out of his hardening member, punching her audibly in the face and sending her head recoiling against the cracked counter as dense black essence filled her mouth even as most of it splattered off her forehead and arched far past, firing violently into the wall behind and knocking over bottles and glasses from the shelves. Sigmund gaped in awe and trembled helplessly at the power of that mere slop of hypervirile precum, gallons-worth of masculine load which dented the wooden shelves and made Helen cough and retch up thick dark essence over herself as she nearly drowned on that plentiful load that flooded her throat and puffed her cheeks out.

The muscular heroine greedily gulped it down, swallowing thick mouthfuls and doing everything she could not to waste a drop, before smacking her thickly saturated lips and opening her jaws even wider, fingers clawing into the hardwood counter as she pushed herself up a bit, arching her back and pushing her glorious breasts against his godcock, begging for it with her body even as the weight of his cock kept her pinned down.

The hulking male liger snorted in entertainment at that, idly looking down at the comments flooding down the screen of the phone as he tauntingly remarked: "See what became of your heroine, bitch-boys...? She's found truth and happiness in being a whore in her perfect environment, serving the Alpha male. She knows she's built for it, and that she was born to worship the real Alpha male."

"Fuck right I know!" She eagerly confirmed, grinning viciously up at her shocked public, showing off the way the thick, heavy fabric of her top was already soaked with thick, dark precum. Killer handed back her phone and she took it to film a glorious view of his towering immensity looming above her, but then she growled with the annoyance of having to hold up the camera. "I need my hands free... free to properly worship this godcock. I'm sure any of you poor little cucks would love to help, but don't worry... I have a little boy right here." Helen teasingly said, and her eyes shifted back towards Sigmund, who paled visibly, then shook his head wildly as he flushed and felt himself shrink in fear beneath the muscular femme fatale's gaze. She beckoned teasingly at him, grinning, and the wolf's eyes fixed on her bulging biceps, on those arms that looked at thick around as his waist. He stumbled forwards, barely reassured by the violent dominatrix teasingly remarking: "Chill, old man... the King says you are good, so you are good. I'm not going to hurt you... unless he orders it."

"I'm not doing it. Don't fret." Killer amusedly remarked, trying to reassure Sigmund, but the wolf understandably could only produce a queasy smile in return, giving a faint, awkward laugh as he tremblingly walked past the hulking Royal Guards, eyes bulging at the sight of those great Alpha males and their massive balls and hanging, prodigious cocks.

Sigmund was pretty old and had thought sex had slipped well down the list of his priorities in life, but now he found himself panting, his body tensing and pulsing with emotions and needs he had thought had been left behind. Like perhaps every non-tiger in the world, after all, he had once revered Helen Sarah Frost like a demi-goddess, like a true heroine. How many times had he read articles about her, seen her in the news... admired her, desired her, dreamt of her? She had most likely been in the dreams of all non-tiger boys at least once, and for many men she had been a far more frequent fantasy visitor.

Sigmund had been born in Northern Ire, after all, and for the first part of his life he would have never imagined to cross the border into the Northlands, the land of the brutes. He had been raised hearing the same propaganda and believing the tigers were all primitive, inferior monsters who had to be kept "locked up on their mountains". How he had cried, when the civil war in Northern Ire had gotten so vicious that the only "safe" route out of his town had been a mountain pass towards the Northlands... but, once up in the north, he had learned that the place wasn't half as bad as he had always been told. The tigers weren't cavemen not primitives, electricity was a thing... and yes, the society up north revolved around physical strength and virility, but also honor. It was no lawless inferno, as long as you chose the right territory. When he had settled in Kendrew, thanks to the laws of Killer's father, he had actually lived a good life. Sure, he was teased and ridiculed a bit, and some big tiger hunks could be more than a bit abusive, but he had always been safe and able to live his life peacefully and carry on his activity, because even the worst bully was kept in check by the law of the king, which was just and knew no exceptions.

Things had only gotten dark and painful under Griagas and the RA, but thankfully their domination of Kendrew had not lasted long.

Sigmund could and would never admit it, but since he had moved into the tiger territories, his adoration for Helen had only increased... exactly because, in the same years, she had "seen the light" as well. She had turned into a tiger-slut and a proud race traitor and a KO fucktoy... and gods, he loved her for it.

Living in the Northlands and seeing, day after day after day, hulking males of otherworldly power and proud, beautiful females who strolled the land like goddesses, had inexorably convinced him that the superiority of tigers was undeniable. Their society based on peak performance had filtered the genes and ensured that only the really best attributes carried on, and after countless generations of that careful selection, the bloodlines of the North were like breeds of superheroes. Part of him had undeniably started to enjoy the belittling he got from those bulky giants, and those guilty fantasies had grown into obsession with young Killer's godlike exploits. When Killer had started using the heroine of the South has living toilet, he had basically fallen in love with the display.

To be so close to that corrupt, race traitor heroine now, in the flesh, was just unbearably arousing... as well as scary, of course. The combined effect made his heart race, however. He couldn't help himself, and he just couldn't wait for her to disrobe and reveal the scars he knew Killer had inflicted on her, and all the scandalous tattoos that signaled her devotion to the hulking titan and his master race.

And over and above that, sex was just undeniably in the atmosphere as a tangible, almost solid presence. The air in the bar was so thick with pheromones he figured even a corpse would get an erection, as those glorious, beautiful concubines dripped for their king, their slutty need streaking down their thighs in glinting rivers of honey, while those hulking champions of masculinity leisurely stroked cocks that made him shiver in fear. They parted to let him scamper past, not laughing of him but looking down at him with smirks of entertainment. Gods, it had to be awesome to look down at the world from so high up, while showing off enough virility to make the gods sob in envy. Sigmund couldn't help but sneak awed gazes up at those glorious specimens of masculinity, even as he whimpered with the scorching awareness that none of his fleeting looks was missed by the young studs.

For the first time in years his long dormant cock was proudly, painfully hard and throbbing eagerly, but it barely even showed as his thick pub apron covered up his bulge like it didn't even exist. Being hard and excited only made him feel even more emasculated and humiliated as he instinctively ducked while rushing past the soldiers. Gods, no apron would be able to hide their enormous, still flaccid members. How could you ever possibly cover those monsters...?

Even the smallest of those towering, massive males was stroking a beast larger than a baseball bat, and much heavier, making Sigmund horribly aware that the young tiger could literally beat him to death just by slapping his flaccid cock down on him.

And then he made himself even smaller, almost crawling past the hypervirile perfection and excess of the King. And heavens above, he truly was the one and only king of the scene, over twice as tall as the largest of the Royal Guards who already towered so amazingly large and strong. Killer was uncountable times larger and bulkier, his musculature unrivaled, his stature that of a true God, his mane brushing the ceiling as he leisurely stroked that brutal, monstrous godshaft which made the Guards' dicks look like toothpicks.

Sigmund eyes filled with tears of awe and envy. It terrified him that such a... a monster like that could exist, and he gaped at the sight of that ferocious flare that added so much to the already nightmarish girth. It looked a lot like the flare of an equine penis... but it was far greater. No horse, ever, had gone anywhere near close that monster's proportions. And as if that wasn't enough, there was that crown of fleshy thorns, of curved hooks that were perfect to scrape every hint of inferior life out of the wombs he conquered and ruined. And each massive thorn was decorated with a heavy golden ring that could have probably comfortably fit around his whole penis.

Who was he kidding. It would have been loose around it...

"My marriage ring is inside one of these... along with so many others!" Helen purred, licking some of those thick golden bands as she caught his stare, and Sigmund froze in place with a weird little cry, before hurriedly nodding his head even as a feeling of nausea assaulted him. A part of his mind was suddenly rejoicing for the fact he had never found a woman to share his life with, because he could see how the Valkyrie dripped juice and shivered helplessly in the presence of the hulking Alpha male. He heard the way the other concubines whimpered and helplessly slid closer to Killer, drawn to him like iron to a magnet, hesitatingly, adoringly reaching out to touch his massive body, to stroke anxiously over the huge muscles, to look up at him in awe. They didn't even spare one gaze for the young and herculean guards, hypnotized as they were by the supremacy of the King, and of course Sigmund slipped unnoticed past them, more insignificant than a gnat.

Having a wife would only have meant further humiliation and anguish at seeing her drooling and panting in the same way: how could any female stop herself from being drawn in, controlled, taken over by his supremacy, his power, his hypervirile divinity? He really couldn't blame them. He had never been interested in males at all, but even he couldn't tear his bulging eyes away from Killer's cataclysmic cock, his ribcage seemingly reverberating in time with the mighty throbs of the liger's black shaft as it grew and hardened, grew and stiffened, grew and hefted its own ponderous mass higher up as that flare bloated outwards even further.

"Come on, old man, you can do it!" The valkyrie taunted, and Sigmund whimpered in horror, wondering frantically for how long he had stared as Killer snorted in entertainment and winked down at him, taking a long, drawn-out stroke along that prodigy of a cock, scooping up literal kilograms of cock grease which smacked heavily down into the boards of the floor, soaking the ancient hardwood and making it rot with their out-of-the-charts potency. The muscular heroine beckoned to the wolf, urging him to come closer and move faster, and he flushed deeply as the camera of her phone inexorably showed him to the world, exposed him as she teasingly remarked: "Sigmund here will be my cuckold for today... an above average boy to boot, shame about his age, though. I'm sure in his days the old man could have shown many of you up..." She paused, then grinned in cruel entertainment down at the camera, shaking her head slowly as she added: "Not that it means a lot, anyway."

Gods, it was somehow even more humiliating to hear her talking about him that way, making it clear that his slight edge was less than insignificant. He was just... normal. Another anonymous, average nobody. Another mortal in a world that was walked by a living God. Ultimately, he was just another zero, who couldn't possibly catch anybody's attention next to something so clearly, utterly superior.

Finally, Helen offered him the large phone, and he tremblingly reached out to pick it out of her fingers. He so badly wanted to... at least brush one of her fingers. Even just that. But he knew better than to touch such an hardcore Killer Owned mistress without being explicitly authorized, or even better ordered. He just looked up at her glorious form with awe and adoration, eyes sparkling with bliss and with relief as Helen, at least, proved to be enough of an excuse for his head to turn away from Killer's mind-shattering hypermasculinity. He sighed in relief as he faced her, rather than the hulking giant. Had he turned into a complete faggot cuckold, like so many others...? He didn't even know anymore. He felt tiny, insignificant, meaningless in the face of that glorious god.

"T-t-thanks, Mistress." He meekly whispered as he carefully took the very end of the phone in his hands, letting out a little grunt of surprise at its weight. Being sized for her prodigious, Killer-enhanced height, the phone looked ridiculously huge in his hands.

"Good cuck." The bull terrier goddess teasingly rewarded, visibly pleased by the fact he had carefully avoided to even so much as brush her claws. "You clearly know your place, don't you...? So, show the other cucks how it is done."

"Y-yes, M-mistress." The wolf meekly whispered, carefully holding the phone up to take good quality images even as he dropped down on his knees and kissed the armoured toe-talons of Killer's heavy war boots, licking them clean of dirt and dust and filth, polishing them with his saliva... before he moved back to Helen, doing the same with her own heavy steel-reinforced motorcycle boots, moaning weakly in what inexorably sounded like eager delight as he tremblingly tilted the phone up to firm that long, powerful leg of hers as she leisurely flexed the great muscles of her thigh, stretching her pants so much that the fabric loudly ripped apart in several places.

"That's right, old man!" Helen exclaimed, giving an exaggerated nod of approval before adding: "You always start with the Master and King, and only afterwards move to the Mistress. Watch and learn, you clumsy, overeager paypigs at home. Too many of you tend to get it wrong." The muscular female grinned widely, throwing her head back with a cruel little laugh as she flexed her powerful form out of sheer bliss and eagerness, and when she looked down at the wolf again she taunted: "I get the feeling you've watched quite a few Killer streams before today, huh, old man...?"

"M-M-Mistress, p-please... n-no..." Sigmund weakly babbled, trying to avoid the humiliating question, but the way he flushed and sweated was already telling in itself.

Killer and Helen traded a knowing, amused grin as the hulking male idly reached down and hooked his finger into the thick, spiked collar of black metal that clamped on her throat. Her muscles bulged with power as her whole body tensed with her groan of bliss, veins swelling and pulsing over the great musculature as she steadied herself, but he effortlessly pulled her off the counter and forced her down to her knees with that single finger, evidencing how helpless she was, even with all the power he had blessed her with.

"You don't have to answer yes or no, doggy..." Killer playfully remarked, before sliding his finger downwards to hook into her black top, already stretching the helpless, precum-drenched fabric which looked like it was dissolving into the thick, hot gunk. "Let's play a game instead: can you tell the other cucks what hides beneath her top...?"

Sigmund whimpered helplessly at that, shivering in a mix of shame and delight, tail curled up, head hung low as Helen hissed in delight at the suggestion and rumbled: "Oh, yes, yes, yes! That's a splendid little idea... Let's start from my neck, bitch-boy. You know what's under the fabric...?"

"Y-you h-have two large, deep scars, either side, at the base of y-your neck... w-where K-Killer has... has eaten your flesh..." The old wolf finally said, unable to resist her teasing and the tone of command that the hulking colossus's voice carried even when his tone was leisurely and amused.

"That's fucking' right!" Helen confirmed, before looking down at her powerful abs, flexing them, making them bulge in full definition to reveal the large KO mark she had cut into her flesh with a battle knife. Her higher abs were hidden under the shirt, however, and she smirked cruelly as she moved her hand up to grab the bottom of her top. "What about my abs?"

"Skulls." Sigmund immediately replied, shivering. "A pile of skulls. And a writing saying... s-saying... your extinction grows in me."

"Fuck yeah, it does!" Helen lustfully growled, closing her eyes dreamily as she lustfully added: "I was as sterile as a brick, in theory... but this glorious god took a fucking piss in me and nearly fuckin' destroyed me putting 15 ligers inside my belly and having them ripping their way out in the space of a week." She laughed darkly, licking her lips slowly and pulling her top up to reveal the tattooed skulls. Each bone was marked with a number, and she teasingly tapped her finger on one as she added: "Each skull is a load of ligers, but I ran out of space for the tattoo. I lost count north of 230 bastards... not bad for a womb that was supposed to be barren and dead!"

She licked her lips with cruel, almost delirious hunger, turning around to look up at Killer with urgent, greedy need, and she whispered: "Eat me alive, you overpowered tyrant..."

The hulking titan of a male grinned and rumbled in hunger, effortlessly ripping her top almost in half, causing the fabric to flop away from the deep bite marks in both sides of her neck. Sigmund had to document his own humiliation and filmed his flushed face before tilting the phone up to take a good, long look at those savage, terrible scars that were massive and scary and unmistakably caused by Killer's huge fangs and vast bite. The corrupt heroine grinned widely as she briefly stood up on tiptoe and tilted her head to the side, exposing her already scarred neck, offering it to the hulking male, and Killer licked his lips before greedily biting deep into the junction between muscular shoulder and thick, strong neck, his fangs piercing her solid muscle with terrifying ease before he rumbled in his chest and twisted viciously, ripping a bloody chunk of fresh meat off her body. She groaned in pleasure and shuddered visibly even as blood sprayed high up out of the wound, and her eyes stared up at him with nothing but gratitude as he loudly chewed on the raw flesh. "T-thank you...!" She lovingly offered, before the hulking ligerbeast pulled back a huge hand, his muscular arm flexing and bulging with murderous power as the crowd of onlookers instinctively held their breath in awe and terror, and Helen only cried out, louder, more needy: "Thank you! Hit your fucktoy! Show them what a filthy whore for liger cock I have become!"

"You are lucky that I'm so generous that I'm willing to waste time on you and your desires." Killer taunted, before he slapped the muscular heroine with cruel force, his brutal force hefting her off the ground as she let out a choked scream and flew sideways like a doll, blood bursting out of her nose and from her torn, bruised cheek as drool flew out of her mouth in a messy rope. She crashed loudly into the wall and her skull smacked audibly into the hardwood, a breathless gasp escaping her lips as she shuddered in bliss as well as pain, eyes bulging and tongue lolling and drooling as she stared up at him mouthing silent words of need and craving.

"The heroine of the south!" One of the Royal Guards tauntingly commented, and the other hulking soldiers laughed as they stroked their gigantic members to great, proud erections that were so superior that they crushed Sigmund harder against the dirty floor, even though he couldn't even see them as they stood behind him. Just the shadows of those huge cocks felt like they weighted thousands of pounds, pinning him down under the humiliating awareness of his weakness.

"I'm a thirsty whore for superior tiger cock!" Helen proudly declared, and the soldiers loudly catcalled and cheered, pumping their massive cocks in front of her, even though she had eyes only for her glorious King.

Killer growled in hungry entertainment and rewarded her by backhanding her hard, viciously smashing her face in the opposite direction and sending a thick splatter of drool and blood onto the floor as she let out a whimper of pain tinged with suicidal lust... before the hulking male's huge hand seized her throat and squeezed with easy and yet cruel force, effortlessly hefting her clear off the ground and making her whole body jolt as she pathetically pawed at his thick wrist, while his other hand seized one large, still clothed breast with ravenous ferocity. He smacked her down again on top of the counter, pinning her easily down into the caved, broken structure of hardwood and metal, making it groan and creak as she sunk through the tabletop, and Killer shot a glance towards Sigmund as he asked: "What's on her boobs, cuckold...?"

"Tattoos pointing at her nipples and... and saying "Liger feeder"... and a circle of bite-scars around her right nipple, where you almost ate it." Sigmund listed, sobbing a little but almost no longer stuttering, because the shame was almost starting to... to dissolve, somehow. He was somehow acutely aware of how many other cuckolds would have given an arm, or an eye, to be in his place. He reprimanded himself for entertaining such thoughts, and told himself he was lucky they hadn't asked him to disrobe. He told himself lies about being hating what was happening, but the truth was that his little erection was achingly hard, trembled and leaked and badly wanted to fire out his inferior load of cum. He couldn't help but feel the need to orgasm, to conclusively prove his inferiority and helplessness, in a sort of show of submission to that utter, godlike beast that overwhelmed the world without even trying... to that god that deserved to be worshipped. That beast that was unmistakably superior. How could he ever complain...? He was lucky to be given a chance to bear witness!

"Correct again, cuck. You are a real fan." Killer taunted as he finally finished shredding Helen's black top, revealing those firm, huge, glorious breasts and those big black nipples, fitted with heavy ring piercings and constantly lactating to absolve their mission of nourishing the new generations of superior ligers, as her tattoos proudly announced to the world. And, as Sigmund had said, the right nipple was surrounded by a large circular scar created by multiple cruel bites that Killer had taken, consuming her soft flesh like she was nothing but a morsel to savor. The hulking male grinned widely as he dragged his fingers through the deep, terrible scars, and finally dug his claws into the hardened, exposed tissue, drawing blood and causing Helen to groan loudly and shiver, half-shrinking before him as he roughly manhandled the glorious breasts.

He slipped one thick finger into the heavy, large ring pierced through the fat nipple, yanking downwards and making her cry out in pain, before he pinched that hard, excited nub of dark flesh and viciously clamped on her boob, crushing so hard that a squirt of milk sprayed upwards, far enough that he only needed to open his jaws to catch it and savor the precious fluid.

"The only reason why I haven't devoured her nipple is that this eager whore is such a good cow: she has a lot of milk to offer to ligers. Halving her distribution capability would be a waste." Killer cruelly remarked, grinning as he stepped slightly aside and roughly milked her scarred breast to send squirts of white towards the naked Royal Guards , who hurriedly stepped forth to chase those precious offerings, catching them in their greedy mouths. "Not bad for someone that Ire sold as hero and defender for so long..." One of the bulky soldiers commented, grinning after swallowing down a mouthful of warm milk, before giving the finger to the camera in Sigmund's hand as he added: "Watch your precious heroine breast-feed us, you cuckolds... if we decided to come for your homes, your very moms would feed our army with their milk."

The other hulking males laughed loudly at that, proudly jerking off their enormous cocks in front of the camera, and Sigmund whimpered weakly, ears folding back in front of that display of masculine power, before Helen herself drooled hungrily over her scarred, bruised breast and urged: "Come on, you studs, come drink right from the tap!"

The bulky guards salivated at the offer, but they almost comically froze in place and looked up at the gigantic king, looking like eager kids looking up to their father for permission. Killer snorted in entertainment at that, enormous muscles flexing slightly and bulging just with the awareness of their supremacy as those great studs milled around but dared not move a finger without his permission, their cheeks flushed, their eyes full of awe and envy and fear as they looked up at the Alpha, even as Helen mercilessly teased them, squeezing into those glorious breasts and rolling them slowly together in front of their faces.

Killer didn't immediately respond, savoring the moment instead as Electra and the other concubines, along with eager wives and daughters and sisters coming in from outside the bar crowded around his towering form, leaning into him, moaning and trembling and whispering words of hunger and need and worship. He smirked and spread his powerful arms welcomingly, letting them crawl upwards as two eager faces buried themselves under his armpits, greedily inhaling his musk, licking eagerly through the sweat, suckling on thick, rough bangs of curly hair. It took six concubines, three kneeling on either side of him, to take care of his immense testicles as they pushed their faces against the almighty balls, lapping and kissing and slobbering over his hypervirility as they shivered in ecstasy. Athena, Joy, Electra and another pair of concubines crawled between his muscular, massive legs and huddled together, pregnant bellies squishing against each other as they almost fought over the privilege of leaning up first to lick and kiss at his asshole, burying their faces beneath his heavy tail and nuzzling into the back of his prodigious testicles whenever they could, grinding their features into his sweaty crack and insatiably lapping up the greasy, musky sweat on his wrinkled, overtaxed, glorious sack, as a multitude of hands and mouths alternated over his great orbs, contributing some more warm saliva to the polish. Concubines took turns with still dressed up women who had been in the street mere moments earlier, smirking as wives and girlfriends shamelessly kissed and licked his asshole and tongue-polished his sweaty balls, mouthing, licking, tasting him, their nostrils flared as they eagerly burned their minds with the thick, rich stench of his superior maleness. Six more hurriedly stripped out of their street clothes and dresses, yanking down soaked panties and thongs as they went down on all fours in front of him, splayed at his feet, faces leaning against the floor as they moaned and bucked their hips, gasping in eagerness as they spread their buttocks and offered him blossomed, eager slits that cried out juice in a mix of terror and helpless craving. Concubines and nameless tigresses and females of all races crawled to his feet and kissed his toes in worship and deference, and countless hands massaged his rock-hard muscles, those tree-like legs, while a dozen more whimpered in eagerness as they lined up on either side of his monstrous godcock and stroked the glorious shaft, kissed, suckled, nibbled, slobbered over the hardening, growing tower of hypervirility as their juices loudly dribbled onto the floor, their faces smeared with thick layers of dark cocksludge as they nuzzled into his meat and moaned deliriously, drunk on his Alpha stench, on his thick cockslime, on his supremacy. At least three more at a time worked eagerly at his monstrous flared cockhead, burying their faces under the vast corona, pushing their fingers beneath his heavy foreskin, making out with the yawning mouth of his member, choking and gasping on the mighty all-male essence that slopped out in a glorious, endless deluge.

Their combined moaning and whimpering and slobbering and hissing and sucking was loud, almost deafening, scandalous and obscene, and it almost physically hurt Sigmund's brain as he tried to document the scene, his hands trembling, his heart racing, his mind succumbing to that display of supremacy as his dick throbbed painfully, at once ragingly erect and wanting to simply disappear to escape the impossible, humiliating comparison. And Killer only smirked with a snort of contemptuous entertainment as even with all that pleasure, with all that worship, his cock barely twitched, so used it was to being pampered and revered and served... the hulking God seemed almost bored by the efforts of that crowd of eager, dripping whores who so greedily served him from every angle, and the fact that helpless husbands, fathers and boyfriends were squishing their faces against the windows to peek inside, to watch their delirious loved ones drinking up his sweat, was merely a given, a pleasant extra that was in no way surprising. Killer was the absolute Alpha, and for all of them betas there was nothing to do but watch on in awe and cheer.

And beneath him waited those great hulks of muscle and virility that were the guards, all of them champions of such strength that they could have been divinities in comparison to Sigmund or anyone else from the south. They were all hard, excited, but they trembled and quaked like leaves in the shadow of the kind. They yielded cocks the size of Sigmund's leg, and yet they were nothing compared to Killer. They looked like little boys next to him, like faggot-toys, nothing like the real Alpha towering above them all.

"Come and get it, studs...!" Helen taunted, grinning at those young hunks as she played with her breasts and slid one hand down her muscular front, grabbing her thick leather-and-steel belt and ripping it open as she began to fumble with the fly of her pants, laughing in dark delight at how impossibly drenched in thick black precum they already were, the thick leather feeling like it would dissolve away like wet paper. The great, muscular males panted in hunger and greed, but again waited, not daring get any closer, careful even to angle their glorious cocks downwards as they unleashed hefty squirts of slicky precum which formed puddles on the floor. "Are you scared, big boys...? Afraid that God-Daddy is gonna beat you up...?" She insisted, winking shamelessly as she swayed her hips to get them steaming in wrathful hunger like feral bulls... but they couldn't move, and she snorted in entertainment as she added: "Damn right you are... and for good fuckin' reasons!"

Killer laughed, and his deep, big-balled voice rattled the whole building, making them all shiver in awe and fear. He was in complete, utter control of them all, as the dense precum slopping out from his godcock, alone, coated the females splayed before him, making them moan in helpless bliss as hulking, heavy hypersperms found their holes and gang-raped their way inside them, making them all pregnant already, even though he was barely getting started. Other females, big and small, tigresses or otherwise, stroked over their Master's body from each and every side. One of them climbed on top of the other sluts huddled up around him and leaned against his hulking chest to suckle gently on a nipple, others doing their best to massage and kiss their ways up his vast backside. They worshipped him as best they could: their tongues fought to be the first to polish his muscles, to lick up his sweat, to dig their tongues deepest into his ass, to smear their features with his sweat and his Alpha filth, greedy for more in spite of their husbands watching, in spite of their social standing and status. They were all toys, and slaves, and meat, and wombs devoted to his pleasure and his greater glory.

Killer smirked as his hulking cock flexed, and that single, mighty flex made Helen shudder, hips bucking and legs kicking lightly at the air as she helplessly orgasm, spraying her hot juices up in a great squirt just as she struggled to yank her ruined, skin-tight pants down to reveal her black-fleshed labia, generously decorated with a multitude of piercings and rings. It was immediately evident that her hole had already met Killer, and Sigmund whimpered with the awareness that she was forever ruined for any male that wasn't the hulking liger, even with her strong muscles somehow closing up the worst of the gape. In front of Killer's immensity, though, her poor passage looked like a tight, fresh, virginal slit crying out in fear and awe.

Killer grabbed Helen's wrist, nearly crushing her bones to dust as he restrained her from fully pushing her pants away, and without a word he lightly smacked his monstrous godcock down over her chest, stroking himself leisurely and pumping out a great, steaming glut of dark precum that slopped out all over her breasts and abs, leaving behind thick, solid ropes of hypervirile gunk all over her form.

"Now you can use the whore." Killer teasingly announced to the panting, eager guards, and they looked up at him with disbelieving gratitude for a moment as he rumbled: "Drink of her milk and shut her the fuck up for a moment. Fuck that insolent little mouth."

The hulking soldiers needed no further encouragement and stormed forth with matching grins as Helen's eyes flashed with bliss and lust, her powerful arms spread wide in welcome as she teasingly puffed out lips that were saturated in thick dark precum. The young studs clearly didn't mind getting all dirty with their King's almighty essence, however, and one of them immediately took advantage, leaning down over her and kissing her mouth greedily even as he tasted the bitter, potent precum that drenched her so completely.

"It's a shame Ire doesn't have a lot more "heroines" we can put to good use!" Another soldier tauntingly commented, grabbing her bruised, scarred breast and diving forwards to lightly bite at her hard nipple, squeezing and sucking, filling his mouth with warm milk while idly smacking his hard, hefty cock against her leg. Helen smirked in appreciation at those words, and hoarsely replied: "They are nowhere near as good as me, but you can still have a lot of eager southern whores... all of them, in fact! All of them sluts for liger cock!"

"Shut the fuck up and suck it, bitch." Another guard urged, snorting in entertainment as he walked behind the counter and yanked her by one pierced ear, pulling her head far backwards and smacking his heavy, hard shaft into her features, the huge member bruising her cheek as she groaned hungrily and obediently opened her jaws wide. A second soldier rushed in from the other side, and the hulking, greedy males stood face to face as they pushed forwards their monstrous, arm-dwarfing mega-cocks at the same time, forcing them into her greedy mouth. The two males growled in bliss and immediately began to fuck her face, grabbing into her ears and hair to yank her head up and down as their girthy, massive cocks ground together and squelched loudly in and out of her bulging throat, producing a wet, scandalous cacophony of gurgling and choking and slobbering. Helen somehow seemed to cackle triumphantly even in the middle of that noise, however, and her eyes glowed with lust and passion as the other guards smacked their heavy cocks over her abs and breasts, her hands eagerly seeking them out and soon finding two hefty, thick cocks to pump as two of the soldiers took position on either side of her. She shuddered in bliss at the chance of serving her "princes", and her body seemed to sizzle wherever thick jets of tiger precum splattered over her... but even though the young studs had a lot to give, it was amazing how quickly their pearly loads were cancelled from sight, consumed into the far thicker, far heavier and dense black precum of the king. Their strings of maleness could do nothing but dissolve into the far thicker layers of Killer's potent essence, but Helen welcomed their contribute nonetheless, eagerly smearing the thick, masculine gunk all over herself even as she did her best to suck on the two great cocks that sawed in and out of her stretched mouth.

Sigmund trembled and gaped in front of that spectacle, his hands struggling to keep the phone steady as he milled around and took the best images he could, alternating between the fallen heroine and the hulking King. He gulped as one of the eager hotwives laying before Killer eagerly bucked her hips to put her full, found ass on display, her eager sex already dripping, flexing, blossomed and almost winking up at her Master. She moaned and arched her back, rolling her hips backwards to try and grind her ass against the underside of that immense tower of godcock jutting ponderously from the god's waist, so large and thick and powerful that Sigmund whimpered in fear, thinking that even the toned, beautiful tigress could easily be torn in half by that colossal member.

Sigmund's eyes, and for a moment the camera in his hands, lingered on the tigress's hand as she clawed into the wooden floor, and an expensive wedding band shined on her finger. Drool fell onto it, very fittingly, as she leaned her cheek against the floor, panting hard and gazing back up at the titan as she shuddered and trembled, reaching back with her other hand to spread her soaked labia wide for him. She buried her fingers into her quivering sex and yanked on it, forcing her passage wide open, her legs spreading as wide as they could, but it only made Sigmund shiver even harder as all of it looked so ludicrously insufficient as the titan ground his unrivalled godcock over the hotwife's buttocks, and past them, down her spine, all the way down to crush her head under utterly monstrous flare.

It could kill her in one instant; it could squish her like a bug... but she still rocked her hips backwards, grinding up into it, needy and eager, and she dribbled juice all over the floor as Killer finally began to straighten and drag the goliath member backwards, lining up with her wide-open, hungry sex. He seized her ass in his huge hands, landing a loud slap on a firm buttock as he greedily rumbled: "Here I come...!"

"Oh my god oh my god oh my god..." The hotwife cried out, eyes closing as she clawed into the ground and trembled violently at the feeling of the monstrous flare pushing against her tiny, helpless slit. It couldn't possibly enter such a small hole, and so it pushed against her whole groin, hefting her whole body up until her knees no longer reached the ground, and her voice broke and became shriller as that very first rub make her orgasm, sending a squirt of hot nectar splattering onto the floor. Killer grinned knowingly, letting her juices polish and lubricate his glorious monster cock, and then he thrust again, his steel-hard shaft not bending, not relenting, hefting her crotch even higher up in the air instead, and she screamed and gasped and shook helplessly as she orgasmed again, almost before her previous climax could even die down. Her hips bucked wildly, furiously, as she desperately ground her drenched slit against his cockhead, and Killer grinned and leaned forwards with a growl, one huge hand reaching down to roughly pin her skull to the ground while the other seized her thigh and yanked her back against his powerful thrust.

Too small, too tight soft slit was pitted against too big, too massive, too hard, unrelenting godcock, and the latter was inexorably triumphant, smashing its way through her gates like a monstrous battering ram. Blood sprayed out of her ripping cunt, startling Sigmund and sending him scrambling instinctively away, but a laughing Royal Guard idly stopped him by settling a foot on his shoulders, pushing him back. His hands trembled as he documented how her body bulged outwards, monstrously, her waist deformed by the sheer immensity of the hulking flared cockhead as squirts of her orgasm nectar and of her blood mixed in a stunning fountain, spurting out with amazing pressure from all around his terrifying girth.

She howled, eyes bulging as she instinctively clawed into the floor and crawled forwards, running away from him, but the huge male only smacked her face against the wooden boards of the floor and easily pinned her in place while he slowly impaled her with his immense black shaft. She screamed and gasped, her poor legs kicking uselessly at the air as she cried out in ecstasy and pain, need and agony: her blood spurted out in jets that occasionally splattered over Sigmund, making him whimper, but she also squirted helplessly, sending hot juice raining down all around her as she weakly clawed into the hardwood planks of the floor.

All around Killer, concubines and hotvives and even soldiers all trembled and worshiped and whimpered, eyes widening in shock at the sight of the screaming fucktoy being bulged and ruined around the massive shaft as he bulldozed his way deeper inside her, snorting steam as he punched through the pitiful resistances of her cervix. The herculean titan only dropped his head back with an unimpressed smile as he felt himself already filling her beyond capacity, her womb clinging to his flare like a too tight glove, her belly bulging grotesquely, her very ribcage loudly creaking as his girth forced it apart as his cockhead bulged in shocking definition through her chest as she foamed at the mouth. He wasn't even close to burying even just half of his cock inside her, but already her body was bloated and deformed, overwhelmed by his strength as she spasmed and gurgled weakly, eyes rolling up in her skull. Drool fell from her gaping jaws as she moaned in delirious need, his somehow bucking wildly as her poor passage clenched in a helpless succession of brain-blanking orgasms. Every muscle in her body tensed and flexed and bulged as her passage both clung eagerly to him and vainly tried to push the invader out, while her hot nectar flowed down in waves, as if attempting to drown that leviathan godcock.

The Royal Guards were almost as shocked as Sigmund, their eyes open wide and fixed on the scene even as Helen greedily jerked them off, her hands squeezing into prodigious, hefty shafts as she gasped and gurgled around the great cocks ramming down her throat. Her eyes flashed with delight as she gazed up at the awestruck "princes", enjoying seeing the shock and envy that even mighty tiger warriors couldn't help but display around Killer's overpowering force. The muscular, scarred female yanked her head backwards and arched her back until the huge cocks buried in her mouth sprung out free, sloppily catapulting thick strings of saliva and precum in every direction. She slurped some of those messy ropes up, then spat them back over the great tiger cocks, covering them in a scandalous, slick mess, and then she eagerly rasped out: "Watch it, Princes! Watch the King of Kings in action! Learn something, if you can... because there is only one!"

The young studs couldn't deny the truth of her words and stared as Killer began to gloriously, savagely fuck his latest frail toy, ramming his black shaft in and out of her devastated, prolapsed, utterly ruined cunt as it cried out blood and nectar for him, half begging for more, half praying for mercy.

Every time the huge godcock yanked back, her skeleton creaked and her deformed body seemed to implode with the sudden emptiness as he almost jerked her inside out, her prolapsed passage clinging helplessly to his girth. Every time he rammed himself forth, he bulldozed her insides around as he punched his monstrous cock up through her poor body, bloating a belly that already grotesquely bulged, swollen with his precum, her abs shattered and ruined from within, her very ribcage forced wider, her ribs almost snapping with the punishing immensity of his member.

The other concubines trembled as they huddled all around him, but their cunts cried out in need and desire, their bodies sweating and flexing and spasming with desperate craving as the king pistoned ruthlessly into the delirious wife, who spasmed and gurgled and foamed at the jaws, eyes rolling in her head, muscular body flexing and jouncing with every ram of his cock as her face ground into the floor and her poor body remained aloft, impaled upon that glorious shaft which was so hard and so powerful to barely even register her bodyweight. She was already hyper-pregnant in every possible way and her brain was malfunctioning with the constant shock of orgasm after orgasm ripping through her sore body, but Killer wanted his share of the fun and didn't relent, especially as he felt, almost physically, the shocked gaze of her husband on his muscular, vast back. The low-caste tiger had not dared trying to enter the bar alongside his wife, but he watched on from the bar's shop window, sweating and trembling as he leaned against the cold glass, feeling it tremble and crack with the power of the king's thrusts.

Killer kept the gurgling fuckmeat pinned to the floor, crushing her head beneath one powerful, massive hand as he pistoned himself in and out of her bulging, exhausted form, grinning as she literally coughed up thick waves of his dark precum as he flooded her with the almighty essence. Other concubines and hotwives and females of multiple species gazed needingly up at him, however, huddled up on either side of his current fucktoy and pushing their asses up in the air for him as they fingered and splayed their own crying slits, and he finally let out a low rumble of pleasure as a small, slender cheetah showed off a rotund pregnant belly that she had already marked with the KO letters and with a ominous skull. She idly drew circles with her finger around this, looking sensually up at him, cheeks burning and eyes glinting with sick, suicidal lust as she whispered: "Please, my king... my God... cleanse me of this weak, inferior trash..."

Killer let go of the tigress's thigh and reached over to squeeze into that belly as the young cheetah rolled over for him, showing off how young and thin and fresh she was, her perky little breasts fantastically firm, her sensual smirk deliciously sadomasochistic. He idly played with her almost-flat breasts for a moment, then rolled the back of his hand down the curve of her pregnant belly and finally stuck a finger inside a vagina that was fantastically tiny and tight. Her back arched as that single finger easily hefted her off the counter, her cheeks flushing even more as she panted in disbelieving awe and begged: "Please, my God... let me help carry your superior spawn into the world..."

"That's what you were born for, fucktoy..." The goliath teased, gyrating his thick digit within her and pushing hard against her very cervix as he stretched her out more, with a single finger, than her mate had ever managed to do with his dick. Finally, he yanked his drenched finger out and reached up to cover her face with the palm of his huge hand, pushing that thick digit down her throat and making her gurgle... before she eagerly suckled on it, gently pawing at his wrist.

The crowd of onlookers trembled as he rumbled hungrily and began to pull his immense leviathan of cock out of the tigress, shivering at the sight of him but helplessly submitting to his whims as their traitorous bodies revealed all of the lust, all of their arousal and craving, all of their unbearable emotions at being before such a true Alpha, such a God among helpless mortals.

There was a collective gasp of shock as he straightened and yanked himself loose from the ruined fuckmeat: he had to pin her under one heavy foot for a moment, until the monstrous flare wetly popped out of her, because otherwise it dragged her around like a stuffed condom still hanging from the engorged cockhead. He carelessly let go of her spasming, twitching, well-used body and she flopped down on the floor, in an expanding lake of his dark essence which slopped easily out of her gaping cunt, even as that impossibly thick, dense, gooey tar essentially left her abyss jammed up shut. It was "just" his precum, but it was so hypervirile that he was pregnant in ways that could hardly even be described.

He grinned as he slowly retracted his finger from the cheetah's mouth, making a display of how hard she sucked on it, gripping into his wrist and refusing to let go even as she was hefted off the counter like a feather... before crashing back on top of it when he yanked his polished digit out.

"So very eager, tiny fucksleeve... you know that I could very, very easily destroy you if I didn't held back...?" Killer taunted, cupping her face in his palm and smirking as she licked her lips like crazy.

"My life is yours to do with as you please." She hoarsely replied, eyes glinting with insane lust, and he lightly slapped her, knocking her head to the side and sending a splatter of blood spraying onto the counter.

"Be careful what you wish for." He warned, before seizing the cheetah with one huge hand that easily wrapped almost literally around her whole waist, revealing just how tiny she was in comparison to his majesty, and he effortlessly pulled her up like a doll, like an inanimate cocksleeve. He grinned and licked his lips as he literally sat her on his monstrous godcock head, and the black shaft didn't even hint at dipping under her full bodyweight. She shuddered hard, in a mix of triumphant ecstasy and fear, and her tiny hands immediately gripped the edge of his flare, teasing his cruel, thick barbs as she dragged her tiny, sopping-wet slit back and forth over his titanic cockhead.

She looked absolutely ecstatic even with her cheek nearly torn open by his playful little slap, even with the big bruise and the rivulet of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth, and she smiled and fluttered her eyelids at him as she sensually prayed: "Please, God... call me 'filthy liger cock whore'. Call me 'race traitor cheetah trash'..."

Sigmund couldn't breathe for the shock and awe, but filmed on as the eager cheetah reached forth and clung to Killer's thick neck, whimpering and whispering sweet words of surrender and worship as she ground needingly down, bucking her hips against the slimy, goliath flare and orgasming helplessly, coating it in pearly juice.

The crowd of eager sluts, aroused males and whimpering cuckolds trembled, hard and helplessly, as they stared in awe and terror at that impossible match of slender, small girl and leviathan monster of a godcock, teeth clattering together, knees wobbling, holes crying out juice as Killer held the beautiful cheetah up with that single, omnipotent hand, his thumb flicking not just a nipple but pretty much a whole breast as his other fingers nearly reached all the way around her stomach. The huge male only grinned hungrily, paying no real attention to the moaning mass of needy concubines and groveling cuckolds but all the same taking a few moments to sear that image in their brains, to break them all like the helpless toys they were. He could hear their hearts racing and skipping beats in their terror; he could smell their arousal and need, he could almost feel their spirits and minds crumbling as they almost literally melted down around him, unable to comprehend his overwhelming power. He was fully, deliciously aware of their helplessness, and he took a moment to grind the eager cheetah against his godcock, crushing her face against the slimy shaft, using her swollen body like so much as a rag to wipe sweat and excess Alpha gunk from his member, handling her like she was truly no more than a little doll. He flexed his enormous musculature and idly commanded: "Cum, bitches..."

And they did. A shiver ran through the crowd, and Helen let out a triumphant, laughing-snarl as her hips bucked and hot juice squirted out of her in great arches, while the muscular Royal Guards clustered around her grunted and closed their eyes with matching shivers, jerking off faster and harder as their heavy, prodigious cocks throbbed and fired out thick ropes of potent cum. The muscular dominatrix flexed in sheer bliss and eagerly bathed in the storm of tiger cum, shivering as each heavy wad splattered over her... and quickly vanished from sight as their rich white loads were rapidly engulfed and cancelled by the dense, tar-like black Alpha precum that drenched her.

Sigmund groaned and shut his eyes for a moment as his dick thrummed like crazy and spewed his pent-up load into his pants, making him flush in humiliation, but nobody noticed or cared because Athena, Joy, Electra, the cheetah, and everyone else trembled and trashed, his bucking helplessly as they all uncontrollably came, spewing out their juices as if in tribute to the titan. "Again!" Killer taunted, grinning in dark entertainment as he toyed with them like that, delighting in his own power and paying attention only to his own pleasure. The loud driooing of dozens of orgasms onto the floor all around him was nothing but contour, an amusing side-effect of his power over them, of his godlike sizes and sheer strength, of his complete dominance. He barely grunted in amusement as Electra, Athena and Joy pushed their muzzles up behind his sweaty, phenomenal balls and buried their faces in his sack, even while other concubines buried their noses under his huge arms and eager tongues took turns at his ass crack and tight black-fleshed asshole. Bodies squirmed and moaned and crawled all around him, mouths and hands reverently worshipping every inch of his body, but he only had eyes for the small pregnant cheetah as she vainly tried to spread her legs wide enough to clear the width of his monstrous flare.

"Worthless race traitor cheetah trash..." Killer teased, his soft, almost gentle voice only making his words hit all the harder as she shivered in bliss, eyes glowing with gratitude, before her hips bucked and she cried in delight as he blew a raspberry and spat in her face, squeezing her hard in his hand for a moment as he growled: "Let's get that inferior cheetah trash out of you, you filthy liger cock whore..."

"Yes! Oh, yes! Please...!" She happily squealed, before he yanked her downwards, his hand gripping firmly and nearly snapping her in half like a twig as she howled breathlessly, eyes bulging as she was slammed down upon that invincible tower of godmeat, before the colossus rammed upwards with his mighty hips. She wanted and needed to scream, but all air was rammed out of her lungs, leaving her grotesquely silent even as blood sprayed out all over his abs and chest as her groin was savagely stretched out, smashed open by unyielding hardness and merciless strength. Her poor pelvis tried to object to the invasion, crying that it was too small to accommodate such girth, but it loudly snapped in half, sending her legs flopping down, lolling and twitching weakly, uselessly.

He didn't even feel her poor cervix, obliterated without even slowing him down, but he threw his head backwards with a hiss of dark delight as he felt his flare ram into the helpless, tiny lives within her. They trashed around in panic, tiny feet kicking at his steel-hard flare and only adding to his pleasure as he slowly but inexorably buried himself deeper inside her, crushing those unborn lives in a pile of tiny limbs and brittle little bones. He grinned viciously as her little body bulged completely out of reason, out of shape, out of human proportions as his gigantic flare pushed upwards that little huddle of lives, which showed clearly through her stretched-out flesh, looking like a lump in front of the far greater, grotesque bulge in the shape of his glorious cockhead. Her insides were bulldozed out of place and rammed up inside her, her ribs creaking audibly as they were visibly forced outwards, and her cheeks puffed out. It looked like she would vomit up her own insides and her unborn creatures... but when Killer shoved forwards again, the weak tiny lives were crushed out of existence with a drawn-out, sick squelching-crunching sound, as blood and chunky crimson jam began to leak out of her ruined, obliterated sex.

The tiny female looked like she would simply burst apart in an explosion of gore, even though Killer had buried little more than his monstrous cockhead inside of her. He let go of her for a moment, smirking as his throbbing tower of godcock effortlessly jutted skywards even with her poor body screwed onto its hulking flare. She looked like the tip of a broken condom, stretched thin around his prodigious girth and clinging to it desperately just because her flesh and hide couldn't even conceive stretching out any further. Then, while they all stared in awe and fear and helpless, undeniable arousal, Killer grabbed her deformed body again and hefted her upwards at the same time as he yanked back, beginning to thrust in and out of that ruined little body. It nearly tore her organs and guts out of her body as that gigantic flare moved backwards, scraping chunky, ugly crimson gunk out as she gargled and foamed at the mouth, eyes staring up at him in a delirious stupor, a coma of mixed agony and ecstasy.

Killer flexed his enormous musculature and carelessly sat backwards over the squirming, eager whores working over his balls and asshole. They cried out in surprise and pain as they were nearly crushed beneath him, but eagerly went down to their knees and hugged each other to form a sort of living throne of bodies, sustaining him and kissing and licking and mouthing at every inch of him that they could reach. The hulking titan reclined lazily in that moaning, squirming seat and he licked his lips hungrily as he single-handedly jerked himself off with her poor little body. He flexed with a hiss of dark delight as he felt something squirm against the vast maw of his cock, realizing that one of the little unborn cheetahs had literally slipped into his cumslit and was sinking vast down the unforgiving abyss of his cock-channel, getting crushed like grapes along the way as his member flexed hungrily.

He let out a rumble of pleasure at the amazing feeling, growling hungrily at the way the cheetah's small, soft body clung to his girth, at the shocking way her insides prolapsed outwards whenever he yanked her upwards and away from his gigantic godcock as he used her whole body like a toy, masturbating with that little piece of hot, eager, tight meat. He licked his lips, hungrily, a rumble coming from his broad chest as he flexed lustfully, delighting in the complete, absolute power he held over them all, and on the absurd tightness and wetness of that ruined little body. He was tempted to ram forwards, to thrust at least a little bit further inside her... to see her burst apart like a balloon, like so many others before her, in the past. The desire was almost unbearable, but he gritted his fangs and resisted, told himself to relent, to let go, to let her live and carry his young, while was still... mostly... in one piece...

And finally he growled and let his huge hand fall away from her little, bloated, precum-filled form, arching his back as his leviathan godcock throbbed hungrily and fired yet one more great cannonade of dark precum... and without his hand keeping her in place, the little cheetah was fired off his cock like a projectile, the tar-thick precum exploding out of her gaping maws as the great geyser of hypervirility knocked her flying and smashed her back into the shelves behind the counter. She crashed into them, causing a great, noisy rain of bottles and glasses to the floor, and she slumped weakly, vomiting dark essence all over herself as she almost hung from thick, sticky ropes of the omnipotent substance which kept her glued to the wall, even with all the weight of her fantastically bulging belly, full of his potent essence and already hyper-pregnant.

"My chance, my King...?" Electra immediately asked, gently stroking at his leg and moving to look teasingly up at him, and Killer grinned as he seized her skull in one huge hand and hurled her back against the counter, before he turned to the other side and found out Athena and Joy, rumbling hungrily as he seized into their throats and easily tossed them in front of him as well. "Your chance." He confirmed, looming over the three eager tigresses as they leaned over the counter, clawing into it and swaying their hips to offer their sumptuous rears to him as he leisurely stroked his immense, bloodstained cock and lined up the terrifying flare with Electra's blossomed, crying sex. He seized her by the hips and rammed forth with brutal strength, ripping his immensity inside her tight passage. He thrust violently, powerfully, switching his grip to seize the back of her neck in one hand and hold of her hair in the other, pinning her down and forcing her head backwards so she could stare invertedly up at him as he spread his legs wider and began to piston in and out of her, greedily, viciously, burying his tremendous shaft deeper and deeper inside her bulging body. Athena and Joy looked hungrily, impatiently up at him, whispering words of worship and adoration as they played with their blossomed, swollen, eager slits, loudly flicking labia that dripped pearly juice. He grinned down at them while burying his monstrous cock inside Electra, ramming her down into the counter hard enough to crack the hardwood structure, to sink her through it, while the wooden planks of the floor creaked and moved beneath Sigmund's feet as the liger's thrusts were so powerful that they nearly uprooted the heavy counter, even though it was bolted in place.

He closed his eyes as he rammed up into her womb, already filled with his own essence, his own spawn, and he ruthlessly slammed himself into that warm tangle of life, listening to the fearsome, ugly cacophony of crumbling bones and squishing organs and pulping flesh as he leaned forwards and slammed his hulking godcock deeper into her, feeling the desperate, short-lived squirming and trashing of the life within her as blood leaked out around his murderous girth.

It was sick, it was cruel, but it was also delightful as that crowd of eager fucktoys pitted so many lives against his superior, hypervirile strength, sacrificing them all to his godlike power, for his selfish pleasure. It was delicious to feel all of those lives hung in the balance, and be so easily destroyed, annihilated, obliterated before he was even close to halfway inside. The life of the mother was just as fragile and hopeless, and he could oh so easily blow even Electra apart, split her like a log, burst her like a balloon... and he flexed, rolling his shoulders with an hungry growl at the awareness that, for every unborn life he destroyed, he could create 10, 100, one thousand, one million more...

He buried two thick fingers down Electra's throat as she moaned and cried out in a mix of ecstasy and agony, her hips bucking wildly back against his pistoning godcock even as more muffled, wet, sick crunches came from within her as he buried his leviathan a bit deeper inside her and ugly, unrecognizable chunks of gore spilled out of her, pushed violently outwards by a cannonade of his omnivirile precum.

His hypermasculine loads were so powerful and so utterly excessive that her belly only became more and more massive, bloating grotesquely even as the lives inside it were ground to pulp, turned into nothing but crimson mush as her womb desperately clenched around the invader, flexing painfully, clenching, vainly trying to push that tower of cock back out but only succeeding in pushing the half-squished unborn creatures against that devastating flare, making him growl in dark delight.

Sigmund cried and whimpered brokenly as the godcock-head of the liger's immense shaft pushed its way out in cruel definition through her bloated belly, and he recoiled in shock as a monstrous cannonade of precum bulged her outwards even further, stretching her flesh and hide almost transparent for a moment as she was almost turned into an overwhelmed, way-too-small condom, the black of his indomitable essence showing through her skin. Killer growled and slammed home a succession of rapid, hard, fast, savage pistons, sawing his cock in and out of her and yanking out ugly remains on every backstroke, sending bloody chunks splattering on the floor and on the crowd as his immense, prodigious balls swung heavily back and forth with every hard shove, smacking into worshipful faces at the end of each swing, knocking concubines and sluts over like pins.

Finally, Killer yanked his glorious godcock out of her trembling, wildly-orgasming, deformed body, and Sigmund gasped but kept the camera aimed at the frightening crater of her sex, her passage gaping impossibly, brutally wide and twitching weakly as it gushed forth with an unholy deluge of hypervirile dark precum interspersed with miserable, ugly chunks of savaged gore that smacked wetly into the floor, while the blood was almost lost, hidden by the great tidal wave of black cocksludge.

Athena, Joy and a dozen other concubines and hotwives immediately threw themselves at his feet and chased after the thick ropes of precum and blood and gore hanging from his godcock, a dozen tongues lapping the ruins and remains off his hard, hot flesh as the females fought for the privilege of mouthing, kissing, polishing his cock with their drool. The king barely even acknowledged them, rumbling in entertainment as he looked down at that vociferous tangle of bodies and beauty to select his next fucktoy, and he idly rocked his hips, thrusting his godcock through that delirious crowd and laughing as his flare smacked into faces and breasts, bruising bodies, slapping heads out of the way, knocking concubines over like pins. He idly pushed a hand down against the base of his shaft, angling it downwards as he teasingly plowed that field of whores with his leviathan, briefly seizing two heads in the crowd and yanking those two delirious sluts into the flanks of his colossal member, growling hungrily as he ground them into his hard meat, hefting them clear off the ground without even noticing. They squealed and moaned and screamed in awe as they were used as little more than rags, soaked up in thick cockslime and in gore. Tigresses and females of every species fought for the privilege to be knocked around by the monstrous godcock, and they all leaned forwards to lick, to kiss... to clean up the sick, ugly chunks of gore smeared along his terrifying length. Ten, twelve, twenty, thirty different tongues worked over that endless length of hypervirile supremacy, and despite the mess of juices and ruin coating his meat, they could only ever taste Him more than the blood and viscera of other victims that caked his girth: he was simply too much, too strong, too powerful.

His hulking godcock ground down on them, as merciless as a millstone rolling over them, feeling like it weighted tons, bending them, crushing them onto their knees as they slobbered and lapped and kissed and worshipped, brainless and lost, broken and tamed, their bodies becoming smeared all over with his thick dark gunk, with superior, life-giving Alpha waste, as he bathed the crowd of sluts under the unholy cannonades of precum blasting leisurely out of his godshaft.

There could be no resistance, no denial of his supremacy as he idly fucked not just one woman, one concubine, one wife... but a whole crowd of them, his cock grinding down on their frail bodies, crushing them on their knees, battering them around, drenching them in impossible amounts of hypervirile dark essence that was so plentiful and so mighty to keep them all pregnant to the end of days... while unleashing cannonades of tar-thick precum so massive and so heavy that they crumbled the plaster off the wall as they struck; denting the hardwood counter with the force of those loud impacts.

Sigmund let out broken, weird little cries as he trembled hard, finding himself drooling helplessly at the sight of that power, of that glorious beast of a godcock, that ultimate scepter of hypermasculinity which was unrivalled both in sowing and in reaping. Killer dominated them all with such terrifying ease, looming over the crowd and idly resting one hand on his hip now, barely even needing to move, his hips barely even thrusting as his glorious body flexed with impossible strength, an apocryphal strength beyond any mortal's ability to dream, a strength beyond the fantasy of any God.

The scents, the sounds, the feelings, the helplessness of their positions at the feet of that titan, were overwhelming and mind-shattering. There could be no escape, no disobedience, no resistance. Whatever Killer wanted, he got: he didn't even need to voice a command, didn't even need to flick a finger to have a dozen tongues licking at his asshole, to have faces serving as plates to hold up his prodigious, heavy balls for him. He wasn't just impossibly strong, a towering titan they couldn't possibly face in combat. No, he was so much more. He was power personified, he was maleness in its purest, most glorious state. His musk alone fried their brains and hotwired them all for submission and servitude. The gods the priests described in their tales were nothing compared to this true Alpha. They would surely pale in comparison to that colossus. They could never hope to be anything compared to that terrifying goliath.

In front of his power, it was only natural to feel that every last female in the world had been made for serving him. And even harder, for little, puny boys like Sigmund, to not feel like they were all pointless failures, pathetic parodies of true malehood. It was like they had all been no more than unsuccessful prototypes on the way to Killler's perfect ten.

The wolf gasped breathlessly as Killer finally picked Joy as his next fucktoy, and she let out a cry of pure, unadulterated bliss that Sigmund had never heard before. She looked utterly delighted as his hand roughly seized into the back of her neck, and her eyes flashed with triumphant satisfaction as she tossed smug gazes and smirks towards Athena and the others. The hulking male shoved her hard back against the devastated, cracked counter and pinned her down on top of it, rumbling hungrily as he leisurely reached over to grab Helen's exposed groin, his thick fingers immediately pushing forth inside her and making the dominatrix gasp in ecstasy, just like that. The young studs around her, slapping their hefty cocks on her body, fucking her breasts, her throat, thrusting their massive shafts in her eager, pumping hands... all of them could barely get her to sigh contently, but as soon as the titan hooked his fingers in her cunt and twisted them rapidly inside, producing a fantastic squelching sound, she almost had a seizure and her powerful legs kicked hard at the air, a thick geyser of nectar bursting out of her clenching sex.

The young, hulking studs could only stare at that and gasp in surprise and awe, flushed with the humiliation of being outdone literally with two fingers... but they did not complain, because the vision sent shivers of lust down their spines, and Helen only became even more ravenous, her cheeks caving in as she sucked on the two massive dicks buried in her jaws with such hungry power that the two soldiers grunted and clutched at her skull as if in fear that she'd suck their dicks right off.

And Sigmund could barely believe the way Joy's eyes, normally so shy and gentle, glowed with energy and hunger and savage lust as she gazed upwards from where her face was pinned to the top of the counter. Her tongue lolled out, drool hanging in strings from her gaping jaws, and her nostrils flared as she greedily choked herself with air that was thick and dense with the liger's potent musk. She seemed possessed, demonic, limitless in her dark devotion. Her voice was hot, trembling, hoarse as she arched her back to grind herself up against his arm, against his huge hand, like a kitten craving a cuddle, as she moaned in need, in urgency, begging: "Let me... carry... more. More of your spawn!"

Killer chuckled at that, liking his lips slowly as he gently slid his enormous arms around her neck, and then made her choke audibly as he closed her skull in a full Nelson, eclipsing her toned form with his immense mass of muscles and power as he nibbled teasingly at her ear. "I can pump so many into you that to burst you apart like a balloon, little Joy."

"If that's what you want... I'm ready." Joy breathed without any hesitation, and Sigmund trembled and grimaced in shock at that, terrified by the way Killer effortlessly robbed them all of any survival instinct, leaving them so lustful and astounded to gladly offer up their lives for his amusement. It was terrible, and terrifying... especially because Sigmund was horribly aware that he was... ready, as well. Not only aware that he could not possibly defend himself, or resist... but aware that he did not want to.

Killer rumbled in approval at that, licking a tear off her cheek and then grinning down into her excited, fearful yet blissful eyes as he growled: "Let's stop at... twenty."

She gasped at that, trembling violently, and Sigmund's mind contracted and revolted at the idea almost as readily and energically as her dripping cunt, which winked deliciously as it shut tight in a mix of fear and craving. Killer chuckled as he lined his brutal flare against her swollen, soaked, quivering sex, just in time to feel it clench and have her wet labia kiss his gigantic cockhead. "You'll better relax, my dear..." Killer gently warned, whispering in her hear... but his deep, potent, masculine bass, even in a whisper, resounded into all of their ribcages like the voice of god, a voice that could only be obeyed, a voice that could have stopped their hearts with a mere command.

Athena grinned widely at that and threw herself down between the titan's powerful legs, reaching up to dig her fingers into Joy's quivering pussy, yanking it savagely open, forcing it to spread wide in front of the gargantuan flare, just to laugh of the utterly ludicrous size difference as that godcock head loomed over the wide-open hole like apocalypse in the flesh.

"Here, let me help...!" Athena playfully teased, before spitting a thick wad of warm saliva right in that round hole surrounded by soft, delicious pink flesh...before Killer's cock twitched and unleashed a monstrous cannonade of dark precum that clogged up the gaping hole as it ripped inside Joy to smack into the helpless lives already filling her womb and all the way up into her ovaries.

Athena laughed deliriously and bathed her face into the thick cascade of precum overflowing back out of Joy as the male's blast carried on and on for countless seconds, until Killer moved a step forwards and pulled Joy up against his flexing, immense chest, her eyes filling with tears of fear and bliss as she moaned: "Yes! Y-yes! Take me! Fill me up!"

No amount of lube and previous experience could prepare anyone for the feeling of that tower of cock bulldozing its way forwards, or the shocking sensation of being tiny and frail as he leaned down over her, covering her small body entirely with his enormous form, muscles bulging with immense strength as her feet hung up in the air, her toes wiggling and curling up with her screams as her thighs spasmed out of control. Short, powerful, merciless pistons drove that immensity inside her lithe body, sending unholy squirts of blood and nectar bursting out in a thick rainstorm that showered Athena down, and Killer grinned as he mercilessly slammed his flare into her womb, hissing in delight as he felt his hypervirility reap all of those tiny lives at once. Blood splattered out across his crotch and ran in streams down his godcock as the life inside the pregnant tigress's belly was obliterated, crushing into chunky jam, stomped out of existence with brutal omnipotence. He had created them and now he destroyed them, just to replace them with more and better spawn.

Sigmund couldn't help but focus for a moment on the way Joy's feet kicked uselessly at the air; at how her toes curled wildly as her legs spasmed and she let out a gasping, breathless howl while splatters of crimson, of liquid ruin and amniotic fluids mixed with hot lust and dark, thick precum squelched out of her while her body submitted to the superior male's lust, even as that alpha-god, father of the new world, gyrated his hips to grind his immense cock inside her, to truly ravage anything that remained of his earlier opera, to really wipe the slate clean and perform an even greater feat of hypermasculine power.

He pounded her with wrathful lust, his eyes blazing with delight and hunger as he rammed harder and faster in and out of her, growling and grinding down into her as he leaned his immense weight and godlike strength into each and every powerful slam of his hips, burying that massive member again and again almost to the medial ring into the bulging, helpless body of the fuckmeat beneath him. His pistons were so powerful that Athena, caught beneath him and Joy, gurgled audibly and struggled under the same pummeling, shielding herself as best she could from the heavy, punishing swings of his colossal balls that crashed into her like wrecking balls, making it hard to even breathe as she was crushed against the broken counter, caught beneath the power of the colossus and the rain of blood and juices coming the devastated cunt smashed open just above her head.

Killer rapidly built up the pace of his thrusts, throwing his head back with a snarling grin of pleasure and snorting steam from his nostrils as he pistoned his monstrous black shaft in and out of Joy's body, loving the way her helpless passage, her very insides clung desperately around his brutal girth, her womb clinging like a glove to his gigantic flare as his glorious immensity flexed inside her with savage force.

The tigress moaned and let out screams that inexorably ended up truncated as soon as they started as he literally fucked the air out of her lungs, her ribs creaking and showing clearly through her bloated, deformed body as his prodigious godcock rammed upwards and bulged out through her chest in full, cruel definition. Impaled upon that tower of godcock, her body was suspended in midair like it had no weight at all, reduced to a bloated fucksleeve around the top half of his member. Her legs and arms dangled uselessly down, spasming violently with the shudders of agony and ecstasy cursing through her, her eyes rolling up in her skull as she foamed and slobbered brainlessly under his assault. Sigmund had heard the term "fucked stupid" before, but only pointing the camera at Joy's dreaming, flushed, messy face he now fully realized just how far that concept could go. She was a mind-broken fucktoy, an object, a piece of meat who was burning with such ecstasy and pain that she could not have possibly told him her name, not even if she tried for hours on end. Her whole form bounced violently with his powerful pistons, and she gargled as his thick precum blasted out of her gaping, slobbering jaws, firing through her whole body and like she was nothing but a tube of flesh he was masturbating with. Sigmund trembled helplessly, gulping with each loud smack as those ropes of precum bursting out of her mouth flew onwards to punch the wall ahead, cracking plaster off it and causing the concrete and the stones to visibly rot with the aggressive potency of the Life contained in his hypervirile essence. Her belly swelled and bulged, growing more and more grotesquely bloated with powerful life as great, excessive gluts of his precum erupted into her, ruining her insides, visibly blowing her stomach outwards, flooding her womb, her insides, her ribcage, making her swell more than any pregnancy ever had before, even as so much of his mighty essence burst and leaked and slopped out of her through every hole it could find, even her ears.

Killer rumbled in delight as he savagely rammed in and out of her twitching body, loving the way she vainly attempted to look up at him even as her eyes kept rolling up in her skull, leaving behind white pits that made her look like a zombie, or a vampire... some kind of undead, thirsty creature, especially as she paled and became emaciated, eyes sinking in for lack of air as she gurgled on the thick precum clogging up every inch of her form. Sigmund whimpered but focused the camera's eye on that twitching, messy, scary face, which looked even more unnaturally white due to the streaks and splatters of thick precum, darker than the mascara smeared down her cheeks. Wasn't it for all of her choking, gurgling, slurping sounds and the weak whistling of air in and out of her desperately flared nostrils clogged with thick ropes of cocksludge, it would have been easy to think she was lifeless. Her poor head was clutched between his enormous arms, squeezed between steel-hard biceps that dwarfed her skull and made her look like a baby as Killer steadied her with a full nelson, his brutal strength the only thing that kept her bloated body from being blasted off his godcock just like the cheetah from earlier... Who still half-hung from the wall, slumped and hyperpregnant and barely alive, her body bulging well beyond its limits even as thick black essence continued to slop heavily out of her.

Joy's messy, pale face was a perfect example of Killer's "cock-vampires", the barely-alive, braindead, suicidally eager women utterly corrupted by his otherworldly hypervirility. The wolf was secretly well aware of it, having collected some of the DVD collections from Killer's porn actor days. Carefully hidden away in his room, the wolf had a whole, vast collection of photos of females of all species reduced in that state by Killer's formidable strength and prowess. He didn't want to admit it, but witnessing such sights in first person was a guilty, sick, sadomasochistic dream come true.

But nothing could possibly shock him more than seeing the tarrying width of the gapes Killer left behind when he suddenly yanked himself back, ripping himself loose from a bloated, ruined fucktoy just to make the short hop to the next piece of meat in line. His gigantic godcock barely even had the chance to feel fresh air, as dozens of mouths and tongues and hands eagerly launched themselves at it, slurping and mouthing and licking greedily until the monstrous godcock bulldozed its way into another quivering cunt.

There were loud, weird, breathless cries and half-screams of awe and terror when Killer yanked out of Joy, leaving behind a twitching, overflowing chasm, an abyss so ruinously wide that it would fill Sigmund's dreams and nightmares alike for as long as he lived. It was hard to look away from that cave, but Killer plowed into Athena next, and he had to document the parting, the ripping, the obliteration of those pussy labia as his terrifying girth pile-drove into the tigress. The hulking male snarled, drooling like a feral beast as he mounted the taller tigress and immediately began to pound into her with savage force, making short work of the lives within her belly and sending liquefied ruin squirting high up into the air, blood spraying all around as his glorious balls swung heavily forwards and punished the faces of eager concubines and hotwives, knocking the crowd of sluts into motion, creating waves of shuddering, sweaty, dripping bodies.

And after Athena, an attractive cow. Then an akita with a large, shining wedding ring at her finger. Then a selection of beautiful concubines. Then more eager subjects of multiple species. Then back to Joy and Athena, just to gape them a bit worse still. Killer swapped ruthlessly back and forth between his fucktoys, his humongous blasts of precum bloating them all, making them all impossibly, unbearably pregnant and leaving behind a veritable pile of twitching, whimpering, helpless, crippled bulging bodies and holes that gaped so wide it would have been eager to check out their hearts through them... had they not been overflowing with dark pre-sperm, of course. Killer was unrelenting and unstoppable, his power tremendous, his stamina endless, so much so that even the young, vigorous studs of the Royal Guard couldn't keep up: Helen milked several of them dry, forcing a changing of the guard as more hulking males came forth, thrusting their huge members into her greedy hands and down her ever-hungry jaws. Killer, instead, only ever seemed to grow stronger and stronger, his balls pulsing with an ever churning load of omnipotent semen, bulging larger and heavier as his orgasm built up, and up, and up.

Sigmund could barely believe the sight before him as he crawled past the discarded, twitching, bulging bodies of dozens of females, all of them gaping and ruined, all of them in "cock-vampire" status, barely able to breathe, barely able to formulate any thought as they were pinned beneath their own immense bellies. They were all bloated beyond understanding, beyond reason, far beyond what a million "normal" males could do with a million loads. They were all fat and pregnant from those cannonades of precum alone, and Killer kept going at a vicious rhythm that made Sigmund half-laugh at the grim thought that the southern nations were very, very, very lucky to still exist at all, because Killer's power to breed lesser races out of existence was no exaggeration at all. It was damn real, and he was once more giving them a demonstration of it, making the millions upon millions of viewers on the internet tremble in time with the hefty thrumming and pulsing of his swollen, hyperpotent, gigantic balls.

The only thing they could smell was Killer's virility. The only things they could think of were his power and his clear supremacy, and they all gasped in anticipation and humiliation when the King suddenly ripped his godcock out of the attractive doe he had just devastated, idly booting her in the ass to send her crashing down on her grotesquely huge belly, while his hands easily seized a moaning lioness's head and the skull of a lizardgirl who had been incredibly slender and graceful, before being bloated with an incredible hyperpregnancy. He flung those two to the ground ahead of himself, grinning as he straightened in all of his towering height and turned around to face the rest of the squirming pile of bodies, of eager fuckmeat, of whimpering, spent cucks staring with bulging eyes. His immense godcock loomed over them as he leisurely stroked his glorious member, licking his lips at the way all eyes helplessly fixed on his goliath flare, before he snorted: "That was a good warm-up... but let me give you a taste of real Alpha male power..."

He spread his legs, head tilting sideways as he grinned sharkishly in front of their helpless shock and awe, his cock bobbing its heavy head with amazing strength, his colossal testicles throbbing visibly as his hulking muscles bulged and tensed, making them all feel even smaller, even more insignificant. They groveled before him, doing their best to get on their knees, even when burdened by unholy, immense pregnant bellies, and despite their weakness they fought for a good spot in the lines as they begged, moaned, gasped, stretched towards him, offered their breasts as target, licked at the air with greedy tongues, begging with gaping mouths.

He thrust into his solid grip as his hand rushed up and down along that impossibly enormous black shaft, and they all could only stare in envy, in shock, in awe, before cowering and making themselves even smaller as he let out a triumphant roar of pleasure that rattled the buildings and boomed across the whole town as his impossible testicles clenched, those almighty boulders bouncing gloriously as his shaft visibly bulged and throbbed with the godlike load surging up through it.

A fearsome meteor of dark, thick cum exploded from the tower of godcock, firing across the entire bar in an unending geyser of maleness which arched high over the adoring, whimpering crowd and smacked into the shop window with such weight and power to rattle it in its frame and crack the thick glass, sending the cuckolds assembled outside falling back on their asses and scrambling back in fear. Killer laughed through gritted fangs as he idly angled his cock from side to side, directing that unending deluge of hypervirility and sending that thick firehose of semen drawing black rivers across the shop window, over the walls, even up into the ceiling as galloms upon gallons of supreme Alpha semen piled up on the damaged window until it simply crumbled, letting the immense jet of sperm fire out across the city square.

That massive asteroid of superior godcum tore through the crowd, coating countless females and males in heavy, dense black essence filled with massive, fat and hyperfertile sperm-beasts that came tangled together such was their density in the omnipotent gunk. The weight of that broadside of hypermasculine load knocked the sluts sprawling and crashing over one-another, gasping and screaming in delight at the heat, the power, and of course, at the ravaging of the thick, enormous hypersperms that immediately swarmed all over their bodies, seeking any orifice they could tear themselves into, gang-raping them all with indescribable savagery. In some cases those hulking hypersperms were easily the size of the limbs of the bodies of their excited victims, so the entire crowd suddenly became a moaning, whimpering pile of violated fucktoys.

When the first immense load ended, a second blast followed, even greater and stronger, shooting right across the entire city square, easily reaching a building on the far side and smacking into its wall with such force they half-expected the structure to collapse. The third meteor, unbelievably, was stronger still. And more followed: more, and more, and more, filling, flooding, bulging fucktoys of all species into swollen mountains of ruined , hyperpregnant meat.

His roar rattled their hearts and crushed their minds into subservience as he blasted huge load after huge load, thrusting his tower of cock into his stroking hand, snarling in bliss as sweat gleamed across his hulking musculature and his eyes blazed with satisfaction as those great broadsides bathed and drenched and coated the broodsluts under thick layers of his heavy, potent essence.

It seemed to last forever, like it would never end, and it left them all twitching and moaning, slathered and drowned beneath great masses of his black cum which festered with powerful, aggressive life which bore down on them, invaded them, filled them with his superior spawn.

They trembled in the thick ocean of steaming seed he had flooded not just the room but even the city square with, every last female impregnated and conquered by the great flood... while the males wondered, with legit fear, if the hypersperms would fill their own bodies with young as well. With Killer, it was no madness to think of it, especially as the air was unbearably thick and heavy with the stench of testosterone and ultimate male power. It was never going to wash out, it would linger forever over the town, the region... reminding them all of who was in charge, and of the fact that they could never measure up, not even in their dreams.

Killer let out a rumble of entertainment as he looked over the sprawled masses of moaning broodmothers being gang-raped by hordes of gigantic hypersperms, and he rolled his shoulders slowly, immense muscles bulging with stupefying power. "Enjoy yourselves... there is much more where those beasts came from." The hulking male playfully teased, before turning around to look at Helen, surrounded by sweaty, eager young tiger hunks yet staring at him, and only him.

Her hands worked greedily on massive, thick shafts, milking great strands of thick precum that fired across her large, scarred breasts and over her face, and two of the largest royal guards took turns slam-fucking her face, sending slobber and ropes of spit messing up her beautiful features, while other young studs slapped her cheeks and forehead and breasts with their own massive members. They ventured near her hot, incandescent, flexing sex and smacked their heavy members on her groin, but none of them dared pushing into those blossomed labia without the king's consent... And Killer snorted in amusement, approving of their wisdom, but not of their efforts.

"Is this how you treat a sourthern fucktoy like this...? You've got the Valkyrie herself to play with, and you let her milk you dry...?" Killer taunted, taking a step closer and grinning as the royal guards immediately got out of the way, staring in awe as countless kilograms of fearsomely dense, almost-solid black cum slopped out of his godcock in a dangling, heavy rope that crashed down onto the bull terrier hard enough to make her back arch, a blissful groan escaping her cock-stuffed mouth as her eyes blazed with lust and need.

His dark, omnipotent essence blanketed her muscular body, coating her abs, changing the color of her hide, hiding her features, cancelling and dissolving the slobber, the strings of precum, the large splatters of thick white cum. Two dozens of eager young studs that had ruthlessly swapped between her mouth, her hands and her breasts, coating her in gallons of potent virility, were instantaneously cancelled, their combined maleness not even sufficient to dilute that black, incredibly thick cocksludge festering with powerful life.

Helen arched her back under that deluge, flexing as if she had been electrocuted, gripping into the hard cocks in her hands with such strength to make the hulking guards grunt in pain, before the Valkyrie let go of them and mockingly slapped their hefty members, pushing them away from her as her breath roughened and her eyes widened as she stared at her one and only King.

"You always have to remember, boys, that poor southern whores like this one have been raised in a world of lies. Weak, pathetic parodies of males try to hide their inferiority by telling their females that there is nothing better in the world. That they are the smart ones, the civilized ones, the righteous ones... superior, even." Killer taunted, and Sigmund swallowed thickly, almost nodding to himself in confirmation as he kept the camera focused on the scene, showing how those great young hulks of muscle and hypervirility retreated like obedient sheep in front of the titanic Alpha looming so much greater and stronger than even them. They were all herculean and massive, the smallest of them greedily jerking a cock that was thicker around than Sigmund's thigh, but they looked like nothing but inexperienced kids as they clustered around the King, watching in awe and envy and thrilling in the power of the Alpha they all wished they could be, they all basked in the ultimate superiority of, as Killer let his terrifying godcock loom right above the fallen heroine, dwarfing her whole body. "You have to keep in mind that Nature has given you the mission of showing those poor ladies what they are missing out on. You must make sure they understand the Truth... and that it really gets into their brains. You must fuck decades of lies out of their skulls and make sure every fiber of their being knows what their places is: fucktoys, cumdumps, fucksows and broodmothers. Isn't that right, fuckstain...?"

"It's abso-fucking-lutely right, Master..." Helen immediately confirmed, her voice dripping with hunger and greed as she leaned up to grind her breasts and face into the underside of his monstrous cock, hands reaching up to stroke along the wondrous shaft. "I can never thank you again for showing me the truth..."

Killer licked his lips slowly as he ground his immensity down into her, dragging her whole body across the cracked, shattered counter like she was nothing but a toy, a rag to soak up his cocksweat with. He spat down on her face, then smiled contemptibly as the bull terrier moaned out a grateful thank you and pushed her tongue out, trying to reach the thick mass of spit on her cheek. The liger bucked his hips just hard enough to cause his tower of godcock to swing upwards a little, before heavily slashing downwards again, smacking into her with such force to send her sinking through the ruins of the counter which pretty much exploded into slivers and fragments of wood, marble and metal. His flared cockhead crushed down against her face, sending blood spraying out of her nose and mouth as she gasped brokenly beneath it. His cock was heavier than a southern city car, so the fact she could tank such a "lovetap" from his member was a proof of just how strong and tough she was, especially as she greedily reached up for it, her whole body shuddering in lust even as she let out a cry of pain. The liger idly grasped the base of his godcock and swung it slightly to the side, sending that massive, flaccid monster slapping across her features with such force it nearly smashed her cheek in and crumbled his jaws. He lets it pendulum back and smacked her again, and her neck loudly creaked as her head was knocked violently to the side, making the stupefied royal guards all around pant and huff with excitement and disbelief, the young hulks forming almost a circle to watch on in awe as Killer smacked his cock down against her once more, almost caving in her chest as her ribs loudly created and her breasts squished and bruised.

"Look at this piece of meat. Trembling. But you can smell how much she wants it. She knows her place. I showed her the power of the real Alpha male, and now she is happy, basking in her role as cunt. Not a teacher, a war heroine, a icon for her country. Just a piece of meat." Killer callously remarked, leaning forwards over her as he guided his monstrous flared cockhead against her features, eclipsing her whole face and then hissing in pleasure as his hand pushed that thick foreskin forwards, literally catching much of her muzzle inside it, wrapping her features into it as if it was the easiest and most natural of things to do. The Guards all around panted and stroked their large, hefty members harder and faster as they nodded in helpless agreement with the hypermasculine titan, admiring his power, his supremacy, his domination over every last soul surrounding him. Killer only arched his back with a rumble of pleasure and stroked his titanic black cock, slowly, letting Sigmund crawl closer as the wolf moved the phone to follow the movements of the huge hand, gulping thickly as he once more appreciated, from close by, just how utterly monstrous that member was, so long and thick that it entirely covered even the hulking body of the fallen heroine, who let out a dreamy, blissful moan that came obscenely muffled by the foreskin covering her face and keeping her muzzle trapped.

The hulking liger began to pump his glorious godcock harder and faster, letting his jaw hang slightly agape and hissing hungrily as his heavy hand began to smack into Helen's trapped face at the end of each stroke, causing her to cry out audibly, her muscular body flexing and bulging with power yet struggling uselessly against his far larger one, her hands looking comically small and weak as she reached up to push back against him, failing to budge him at all. "It's impossible to truly rape a piece of fuckmeat like this: she likes it way too much! Isn't that right, you whore...?" Killer teased, and Helen let out a rumble of agreement, her feet kicking uselessly at the air as she shuddered in delight even as the hulking ligerbeast only smashed into her face harder with each pass, until he growled as his monstrous black godcock stirred with a titanic, powerful throb and visibly swelled even larger, veins bulging as he fired a cannonade of precum right into her face, shutting her eyes with that punch-like wad of heavy all-male load.

That massive godcock ground down against her groin, up her abs, against her stomach, burdening down over her breasts and all the way up to her face, leaving behind a thick trail of cockslime as she clawed into the ruins of the counter and steadied herself as best she could as she felt him push teasingly back and forth as he bucked his hips and thrust into his own powerful grip. Her hips bucked, wetness trickling out of her as she delighted in his abuse, in the helplessness of her position as he dwarfed even the monstrous, godlike strength that his "corruption", as Ire would call it, had gifted her. She considered it the most holy of blessings, naturally... one she was all too eager to renew, to receive again as she greedily rubbed and smeared his cocksludge, his sweat, his cum all over herself, loving the sheer, incredible energy that she felt radiating out of even his Alpha waste.

"There are still people out there who think the Valkyrie is a proud heroine of Ire, and that the stories about her betrayal are fake... but here she is, you puny cuckolds. Watch as she squirts her brains out, enjoying being put into her place..." Killer mocked, grinning down into the camera and roughly shoving two fingers up her quivering sex, spreading her labia out wide just as the muscular female shuddered and let out a broken moan of bliss, her whole body trembling as she flushed in humiliation and ecstasy as her legs kicked uselessly at the air, massive thighs spasming visibly as a flood of hot, pearly nectar sprayed out of her and ran down her legs. Killer grinned knowingly, his fingers easily drilling plentiful squirts out of her, making her whole body shiver, and then he snorted in contempt as he yanked his thick digits out and seized her by the throat instead, effortlessly choking her and smacking her skull violently down into the broken counter as he added: "Most people know better than that, of course... but they still get it wrong, because they see all the muscles, all the height, all the power I've gifted to this whore, and they think she has ascended to become a vengeful goddess... a titaness, a devourer of worlds... And she is. To you puny bugs, she is a goddess and you are right to fear her. But I want you to appreciate that, to me, she's just another cunt. She likes being treated that way. Only I can handle her, only I can give her what she needs... to be what she is. A fucktoy. A piece of meat. That's all she is. She's worthless, useless otherwise. Aren't you, bitch...?"

"I am, my God... my King... I am..." Helen eagerly replied, her voice broken by his stranglehold and by the foreskin enveloping her muzzle, but her hands only stroking, massaging reverently over the back of his much larger one, her eyes glinting with happiness as she almost drooled at the sight of him towering above. Even the Royal Guards could only stare in awe at the way he controlled her, so easily and so utterly, the muscular goddess melting in front of him, broken and eager to please, even as her massive muscles bulged with godlike strength. The whole world watched on in shocked awe as the mighty huntress of super-soldiers, the war-goddess who had rampaged all over their countries like she owned them all, now trembled and spewed her nectar out all over herself for him.

Killer smirked as he watched her shudder and whimper beneath him, loving the way she flushed and looked up at him with hunger, craving for more, begging for worse, and he liked his lips before turning slightly around to look down at Sigmund, teasingly asking: "What do you think, cuckold...? Have I made myself clear?"

The wolf's ears immediately went flat, his heart racing and his tail curling up between his legs as he felt himself shrinking even smaller under the weight of that gaze, feeling like a million tons of burden had just been tossed onto his shoulder, making him feel like he would cease to exist at any moment. "N-no-nobody could possibly h-have any doubt, Sir... a-about your supremacy, y-your superiority... t-the w-way you... dominate their... our... heroine... our best warrior... i-is unmistakable."

Killer smiled indulgently at that, then shook his head slowly as he turned around to look down at Helen, yanking his godcock back until her muzzle came free of his thick foreskin, her jaws glued together by thick layers of black precum. She visibly struggled to rip her jaws open, and greedily slurped over her muzzle, scooping up as much of that potent stuff as she could, before she rasped out in a hungry, cruel voice: "The losers clearly haven't got the memo yet."

"Indeed..." Killer agreed, speaking almost kindly. His soft tone was even more terrifying than a growl as the titan added with evident disapproval: "They think I'm dominating you, right now..."

"Stupid little bugs just can't grasp how powerful you truly are. The worthless dregs are in denial and won't understand that this is just you being merciful, and kind, helping little lost me see the Truth..." Helen growled, and even the Royal Guards gasped in shock and awe at the sheer hate and ferocity that filled her tone like poison as she thought of her compatriots, of all "lessers" from the disparate weaker, prey races. "Worthless pieces of trash, vermin and pests polluting your world... They lie to themselves all the time. They need to be shown what kind of gutter trash meat they really are."

Sigmund trembled violently, shivering as the poison dripped from her tone and her eyes blazed with savage hate and the cruel desire to flex her muscles and destroy. She could kill him with little more than a breath of hers, if she wanted. She could play with him as if he was nothing more than a little ball toy. She looked at him with a snarling grin, and Sigmund felt like his heart would stop just because of the fire in her eyes, and the drool leaking from the corners of her mouth, cruel fangs gritted and on full display. "You won't die today, cuck...I would never expect the King to get himself dirty with _shit_like you. You don't even deserve the honor of being crushed by his foot. No... I'll be the meat for this demonstration."

Killer rumbled in approval at that, and then growled: "Your precious heroine always was the best of you. She's better than you in every way. More powerful. More beautiful. Thanks to me, she is a goddess of destruction filling your nightmares... And yet, do you even imagine what I can make her do, without a word, without a twitch...? There's nothing she wouldn't do for me."

Sigmund, and many, many others, actually had a pretty good idea, but they were too terrified to respond, and too afraid that, whatever they might say, it would make no difference anyway.

Sigmund had seen Helen massacre her husband on video, for example. He remembered her savagery as she turned her mate into little more than lube and blood-oil to polish Killer's muscles with. And he had seen the brutality with which Killer had repeatedly fucked her to within an inch, or less, of her life, but he knew nothing could have possibly prepared him for what he was about to witness.

Killer smiled, almost softly, then he almost casually twisted his hips, swinging his monstrous godcock towards Helen and slapping her with the end of that monstrous tower of hypervirility, knocking the corrupted goddess down onto her side with a cry of pain, blood spraying from her bruised, split cheek as her hips bucked in pure ecstasy.

He smacked her again, and that bloodstained, gore-caked, immense flare brutalized her face, cracking her jaws, caving her skull inwards where two large scars already cut through her features, and she cried weakly in both agony and pure bliss. Hissing in need even as she instinctively half-curled up for a moment. Sigmund felt like he needed to vomit, yet he also needed to watch, to document the destruction, and he leaned in with the phone, taking close ups of her features, bloodied and broken, mauled from just that heavy, brutal hit. One eye was swollen and bruised and closed up, her cheek blown apart and bleeding, and her tongue lolled out together with strings of drool and streaks of crimson, but her lone open eye still looked up at Killer with adoration, glowing with lust and need. She whimpered like a needy puppy, staring at the hulking male towering over her, and Sigmund could only gulp at the intensity of that gaze... and at the callous little smile that the titan offered in return, which made clear that she was less than an animal, less than a living being. A toy. A living condom, if that.

Sigmund stared at the bruised, wrecked face of the Valkyrie, at her swollen, almost closed eyes shot with blood and filled with tears, but Killer only laughed and grabbed her by the muzzle, squeezing on her shattered lips and on a nose overflowing with blood and snot as he growled: "Should I stop, whore...? Is this the most you can do, you worthless cockrag...?"

Helen tremblingly shook her head, then rasped out with terrible determination and hunger: "P-please... please... fuck me... give me a c-chance..."

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she looked up at him, her agony and her ecstasy mixed together in an unholy mix, and the hulking liger rumbled in amusement, grinning as he callously commented: "The whore is born to serve... like all gutter trash sluts. She'll keep begging for it... because she's born to be an expandable fucktoy, a piece of meat for my enjoyment. Isn't that right, you dumb cunt...?"

"Y-yes, Master. Of course you are right." The muscular female hurriedly replied, pouting outwards lips bloodied lips that were still eager to serve, and Sigmund sobbed brokenly, shaking his head in weak, useless denial and terrible, undeniable ecstasy even as the hulking beast of a liger rumbled in eager, cruel amusement and seized the heroine by the hair, yanking her face up into his enormous cockhead and smearing his Alpha filth over those bloody, broken lips, then over her eyes, glueing them shut with a generous load of his thick, potent precum. "What are you, bitch...?" The hulking male asked, seizing the monstrous obelisk of powerful black meat jutting from his groin and slowly stroking it as it loomed over her, murderously massive, apocalyptically heavy, so terrible to make the cucks on the other side of the screens cry out in fear and shock. The behemoth rumbled in entertainment and swung his monstrous godcock down, smashing it against her, crushing all air out of her lungs as she cried out breathlessly, body spasming as her ribs creaked and her lips split even worse, staining his dark meat with blood.

"I... I'm your fucktoy..." She brokenly whimpered, staring as the monstrous cock went up, then slammed down again, punishing her cheek and causing her teeth to crunch as her chest threatened to cave inwards.

"... y-your worthless whore..." It struck again, the monstrous slab of godcock crushing her like a bug, ramming her down deeper into the exhausted pile of ruins that had once been a counter as blood sprayed up from her ruined features, causing her body to tense up as she pissed herself in a mix of panic and arousal, trashing violently at the warm feel of blood running down her features and dripping onto her chest as the enormous cock broke her muzzle like a toy, blood running from her shattered nose while her eyes swelled up almost entirely shut, her features turned into a filthy mask of precum, smegma, blood, tears, snot, drool and mascara.

"Y-your dumb cunt..." She eagerly breathed out, wheezing as the world went dark before another mighty blow across her chest and abdomen caused her to howl in agony and then choke on her bloodied vomit.

"D-don't kill her, stop! Stop it, I beg you! Stop it! Stop it!" Sigmund finally cried out, whimpering in shock and horror, but Helen lashed out with a massive, muscular arm and sent him crashing backwards with a gasp of terror and surprise. "How DARE you speak, you worthless dreg?" The hulking female barked, eyes blazing with fury as she glared down at him. "Shut the fuck up and do your job, cuckold." She venomously added, leaving him to nod frantically, chest heaving with pants of terror, while Killer only laughed knowingly and smashed his immense member down again and again, rhythmically, beating her to a pulp with his monstrously massive cock, almost playfully thrusting in the air with his strong hips to show how easy it was, how this was nothing but a game... he wasn't using all of the mass of that monster. Had he used it, he would have crushed her skull into a pulp. Instead he knocked her face from side to side, sending blood and snot and vomit splattering in long arcs over the floor, only for his majestic volleys of precum to bury all that under thick, dark hypervirility, showing how he could crush her out of existence without leaving so much as a trace, if he just wished.

"It's been a while since the last time someone tried to play the knight for this bitch." Killer amusedly commented, looking down at Sigmund as the wolf flushed with the added humiliation of having been almost slapped into pieces just for offering his aid. "I love it when someone is stupid enough to try..." The hulking liger added, before Helen cried out loud, breathlessly, pissing herself again, but this time her loins bucked in a different way, and some of the juices rushing out of her were not piss at all, making the hulking beast laugh darkly as he seized her thighs and spread her legs even wider to give Sigmund, and the camera, an even clearer view of her sick, suicidal orgasm, growling: "Watch this piece of trash squirt her brains out before I even get started... the fuckin' whore is beyond saving. If I didn't want you alive and well, Sigmund, she would have ripped you into shreds."

"Order it, and I'll make mincemeat out of him. Or anyone else." Helen immediately announced, grinning predatorily even as she trembled hard, her breath unsteady and whistling brokenly, her teeth knocked loose in her mouth, her jaws broken, her nose caved painfully inwards, her cheeks split apart, her lips annihilated, but nothing but gratitude and lust filling her being. Killer grinned knowingly, and then swung his cock down once more, laughing as the enormous cockhead caught her in the side of the face and one of her eyes was painfully crushed into the socket until it burst with an audible, sick squelch.

Sigmund gasped in horror and retched loudly, nearly vomiting all over himself, but Helen let out an absurd, sick sound of agony-bliss even as she went limp and dazed, nearly unconscious, darkness setting on half of her vision while the other half pulsed and trembled and became a faded series of red stains, while a deafening whistle filled her ears as her skull nearly crunched.

"Ops. I just can't control myself..." Killer taunted, and although part of him protested and screamed that he was going too far, that he was already betraying everything he had promised himself he would do in this new adventure as king; the other half of him urged him on, to enjoy everything that she had to give. The titan jerked off to smear her pulped eye down his brutal monument of hypervirility, blasting out an arrogant geyser of precum that smacked audibly into the wall at the other end of the room, and then he struck once more.

Every blow to her face, her nose, her cheeks and eyes, it made her scream hysterically and trash around violently and uselessly, pinned under that obelisk of cock, but something inside her burned with happiness, with traitorous, sick delight. Her head flew from side to side as it was struck time and time again, her only eye rolling up into her skull after being blackened, blood spilling from her ruined mouth as she convulsed and coughed up her broken teeth. Tears ran down her face and her nose ran a constant stream of snot and blood, yet she was crazy with passion and... and... triumph, This was where she belonged. This was what she had been born for. He was too much for their world. Too superior to deny. He was a giant in a world of miniatures, and he deserved everything he wanted. It was a privilege to be allowed to serve him, and a honor to be made an example of. She was now more of an icon than she had ever been before: no longer a heroine, she was now a corrupt goddess, harbinger of a darker but glorious world dominated by that walking god. Despite the pain, she couldn't help her arousal, and couldn't keep her busted lips from twitching happily as cries and moans escaped her bloody muzzle, even as her chest raised and fell at a frantic pace. She was only half conscious at that point, but she did not hesitate when the hulking male punched viciously into her side and snarled: "Say thank you, you ungrateful piece of trash!"

"T-thank you, M-master...!" She cried out, making sure to sound loud and clear between broken, wheezing gasps, and she could almost hear the collective gasps of shock and awe and horror of millions of cuckolds and losers watching on, especially as Sigmund trembled and instinctively shook his head in disbelief at her moan of gratitude and awe, of undeniable hunger. Killer didn't miss the body language from the wolf, either, and he turned slightly around to look down at him, smirking mockingly and flexing hulking, omnipotent muscles that filled the screen and made the old man shrink visibly, feeling dwarfed and ridiculed by that towering Alpha.

"What's that...? You find it that difficult to believe her eagerness to serve the Alpha...?" Killer taunted, and he was speaking more to the millions of angry, shocked, aroused watchers around the world than to the wolf himself. "Yet you are still staring. You keep crying like babies, but keep gawking on. You keep drooling over my power, over my muscles, over my cock... you could just shut down the phones. Drop out of the chat. Go hide for a little longer. But you can't, you sick little faggots. You need to see this... you need to see me fucking this whore into shreds, you pathetic runts... and you know that there's no hiding from the truth, anyway."

Killer hissed in delight, his whole body thrumming with power and with the delicious awareness of his utter control over those uncountable lives, over those sad little beings who raged powerlessly in front of his might, his sizes, his constant victories. Those helpless little boys who half-hated him and half-venerated him, who wanted to be him... or, more often than not, that lied to themselves about wanting to be him when, at that point, what they really wanted was to be in his almighty presence to worship and serve. To sniff and suck his cock, if allowed. Faggots and cucks, paypigs and losers, fans and haters. They were almost all the same, helpless watchers unable to deny his supremacy. He wished he had a screen to see the constant flood of comments and donations. Better yet, he wished he could see each and every one of them in the flesh... but he had seen enough crying husbands and boyfriends to easily imagine their misery.

The hulking titan grinned mockingly down at them through the camera, stroking his prodigious tower of hypervirile godmeat, flexing hulking muscles that bulged so indomitably to cause his own armor-like hide to creak audibly as his skin nearly ripped, tearing loose here and there as his mighty chords of muscle nearly burst through his own hide. He could easily imagine them them blushing and gaping, trembling in awe and rapture and horror as they stared at him, sunk in their chairs, lost in their weakness, fapping tiny dicks already long spent and unable to keep up with his rhythms, as they gawked at the sight of his bloodied monster of a cock, and he laughed, mocking them all as he growled: "Yeah, you faggots, fill your eyes with this view and jerk your puny dicklets off at the thought of your own daughters getting fucked into pieces... your precious wives impaled upon this godcock while you drool like the filthy losers you are. This is how your weak races will cease to exist: in the bedrooms, not on the battlefield. You are too weak to even show up to the battlefield."

Helen laughed darkly, mocking the stunned public, her only eye looking up in terror and desire at her Master, at this hulking behemoth, this ultimate alpha male. She trembled at the sight of him: a colossal hulk, a God, his cock a monumental tower of hypervirility that jutted arrogantly from his body, above testicles like boulders, that could crush her out of existence, throbbing with heat and veins, with power, with the endless churning of thick, potent load within. His cock dripped blood - her blood - but even that failed to make her think of running away. The thought that she could somehow escape him was ludicrous, but the hopelessness of the enterprise wasn't the reason why she kept drooling with delirious need, broken muzzle agape, tongue lolling out as her bloody nostrils flared wide to inhale as much of his thick, rich Alpha stench as she could force into her aching lungs. Despite the sickening pain, the agony and the anguish of knowing that in any moment he could snuff the life out of her with his cock alone, she was utterly enthralled. She was his, completely and undeniably. The fear and pain only seemed to feed her delirious need, as her tiny, defenceless little vagina quivered in terror and burned with self-destructive arousal. She had pissed herself several times, in fear and in shock, her body losing control when his heavy leviathan of a cock had crushed her... but her groin was sticky with her juices as well, and she couldn't tell piss and orgasm nectar apart, at that point. She couldn't control herself, her mind filled with images of doom and extinction, genocide and destruction, of bodies destroyed, of fathers crying... of mothers meeting Killer... of sisters joining forces in serving him... of moms and sisters being fucked into shreds, just like she was going to be... and it should all have horrified her, and sickened her, but instead made her hot and excited and spasming uncontrollably with need. She was his whore, his slut, his slave, his meat, his fucktoy, his expendable cockrag... and she felt happy because of it. She could taste the privilege of her position: he was a God, and somehow she was getting his attention for a while. Watching all that power in action was a blessing. Feeling him doing what he did so well, knowing that she was going to be just another name on the list of his victims, made her gasp with sick delight. She was his meat, and that was precisely what she had been born to be... what she wanted to be. He was the clear winner, and it was delightful to be on his side.

And she knew that, for all the pain and abuse, he was a generous Master who filled her with new energies that would not only keep her alive, but rebuild her into an even stronger and greater titaness. He took more than anyone could or would... he was demanding, he was savage... but he also gave more than anyone else could ever give. Far more. She was happy to give him any and every sacrifice he demanded, for the joy and blessing of being with him, of having his affection, of receiving his blessings.

How could she not be...? He was superior. Powerful, hypervirile, hulking, ultimate. Watching him flex his muscles and unleash some of his superior power to conquer, ruin, destroy and obliterate all in his path was a blessing. An otherworldly experience. She trembled even harder as his cock flexed with body-rending power, thrumming above her before unleashing a meteor of precum that smacked violently into the ceiling and rained back down in heavy splatters, and she cried out: "K-Killer... Killer! God! Killer!" She would have screamed her praises for him, but she was choking on his glorious musk and on his plentiful precum, so she ended up gargling instead, while the behemoth seized her frail skull in one huge hand and yanked her upwards like the little doll she was to his muscles, her bone creaking audibly as he rumbled: "Watch your precious heroine, and see just kind of filthy whore she truly is!"

He dragged her face up into his gigantic balls, crushing her bloody muzzle into the deep valley between the two enormous boulders of hypervirility, smearing her ruined features into the thick, sweathy bangs of curly, coarse white hair there, flooding her wounds with his salty, greasly hypervirile sweat and making her whimper and moan as he leaned forwards and crushed her under his godlike balls, pressing her down against the ruins of the counter. The messy, splintery mass of broken hardwood and metal groaned helplessly and collapsed further, flattened under the titanic mass of his testicles, and the hulking behemoth squatted with a dark laughter to crush Helen all the way down, teasingly pushing with his hips to drag his colossal sperm tanks forwards, grinding her into the wooden planks as he let more and more weight and mass settle down, until his testicles began to touch the floor on either side of her head. "I could crush her out of existence under my balls alone..." He mocked, and Sigmund tremblingly moved the phone downwards to let the other cuckolds see how her limbs quivered as she uselessly struggled, pawing at his heavy feet... while audibly kissing and sucking and slurping and slavering over those gigantic orbs. Even the Royal Guards watched on with increasing disbelief, gaping and panting hungrily as they stared with wide-open eyes at that ruination, and someone, somewhere behind Killer, couldn't help but breathe out a shocked: "Fuck... this is insane..."

It only made Killer grin wider, feel hotter, increasing his pleasure and showing once more how much power he held over them all.

He slowly dragged his leviathan testicles forwards until she was revealed, broken and moaning, her wounds almost sizzling as his virile sweat filled them, while much thicker, heavy precum seemed to seal them up... they all trembled as he finally squatted lower and his behemoth balls rested on the floor with an ominous meaty thud, visibly heating the cold wooden planks with their radiating masculinity. He ground his sweaty, hairy crack down on her features, nearly sitting on her face and drawing loud moans from her ruined form as she stared up into the black muscle ring of his asshole, immediately licking across it, kissing it, slurping audibly, blowing bubbles in her own drool as she eagerly tasted that thick donut of black muscle, and the behemoth male flexed his hulking muscles with a rumble of entertainment before looking down at the puny parodies of "males" he knew were on the other side of the camera, grinning in front of their helpless mix of horror and arousal as he taunted: "Doesn't even take an order, a word. Without a twitch, the whore knows how to serve her Alpha. Watch and learn, you faggots. Take example, cocksuckers. See how a real bitch worships her Master... you'll better be ready when I come for your sorry asses."

He ground his ass down on her face, flexing his muscles and closing the firm, powerful buttocks on her skull, making her groan weakly as they realized he could easily kill her with a mere flex, before he reached over to seize one of her massive breasts, fingers clamping on the bruised, soft swell and roughly fondling it, crushing it viciously down and clamping savagely on her nipple as she pushed her face even deeper into his musky crack, kissing and slurping, sucking the thick white hairs clear, choking on his strong, masculine sweat. Sigmund knew he should have felt sick and repulsed and horrified by such display, but he didn't even have the strength to lie to himself anymore, or to try and resist the sick, submissive arousal that guided his actions. He moved in closer to give the vast public an even better, clear view of her slutty, delirious devotion, before Killer grinned as he mockingly blew a fart in her and their faces, making her whimper weakly as her lone, damaged eye clenched shut in the hot rush of stink and filth, but even then she did not retreat, instead leaning up into the storm to kiss that flexing ring of black muscle.

"Good girl..." He teasingly approved, and it was enough to make her whole body quiver visibly with delight, juices squirting out of her flexing little sex as she let out a loud, dreamy moan. Killer grinned viciously at that, throwing his head back with a snarling laughter as he mocked: "Yeah, bitch, you love that, huh...? You live for the thrill of being told what a good little ass-kisser you are. Just about sums up what the whole of Ire's army is good for: kissing my ass and sniffing my farts."

What was left of all her power was a large, pretty body for Killer to abuse... and as the nanomachines and genetic enhancements in her kicked in and began to visibly heal her wounds, sluggishly regenerating her features and somehow popping her jaw loudly back into place, Sigmund couldn't help but think that the billions and billions of dollars expended by Ire in research, and all those years of effort in super-soldier programmes had only served the purpose of giving this utter, hypermasculine god a slightly more durable fucktoy. Helen had once been Ire's hope and icon... and here she was. It was like hope herself was being turned into a filthy cockrag in front of the eyes of millions of cucks, already spent and impotent but nonetheless glued to their phones and screens to watch that unholy massacre.

"Watch it, you maggots: she was by far the best weapon in your army... just think of how fuckin' worthless the rest of your "mighty defences" are!"

"Weak, hopeless, puny mortal vermin..." Helen confirmed with a hot breath, before it turned into a choked, broken cry of agony as the hulking male clamped on her breast with enough force that his claws, and then part of his thick fingers tore through her flesh, sending blood spurting out thickly. He turned around with a smirk, and dived forwards with a snarl, huge and deadly fangs closing down on Helen's huge breast, blood spraying out of the large boob as his sharp teeth sank deep, making her cry out with a useless, violent buck of her hips and yet one more squirt of hot juice. The hulking titan twisted his head from side to side, growling viciously, and then he straightened, ripping a great chunk of her flesh off her body, making her spine arch violently as she let out a gasping, breathless cry, eyes bulging as an horrendous splatter of blood rained down on her face, on her heaving chest, on the floor.

She hugged herself and trashed violently on the floor, but only mouthed and slurped on his asshole even louder, even more fervently, before he slowly, majestically straightened up, away from her, and her father could only stare as she bent her spine and tried to follow him, tried to heave herself up to continue kissing his ass... at least until his monstrous testicles, dragging backwards as he slowly straightened, rammed into her and knocked her back down, crushing her into the floor like a toy... before mercifully climbing higher up, away from her broken form, letting her gasp in an agonizing breath.

Killer looked teasingly down at her, holding his deadly jaws wide open so she could see the messy, broken, shapeless shred of her flesh that he had greedily torn off her, and then he slowly, greedily began to chew on her raw, soft meat, letting warm blood streak down his chin and dripping down all over her face. She hissed, but not so much for the pain but to attract his attention as she opened her jaws wide and pushed her tongue eagerly out, catching drips of her own blood... until the huge male leaned forwards and spat into her jaws, choking her as the large lump of-chewed up flesh smacked into her mouth with a helping of saliva and phlegm. His sapphire eyes burned with ferocity and amusement as he looked idly down into her eyes, watching with mild interest as nanomachines visibly surged into her bloody socket to rebuild the one eye that had been pulped, while he slowly and majestically stroked his monstrous godcock. She waited, looking adoringly up at him with her maws open, and he admired her devotion in action as he carelessly sent a few lazy, heavy, arrogant shotgun-blasts of dark precum into the fresh, deep, bloody wound, making it sizzle, steam and bubble with the heat and potency of his essence as she clutched helplessly at herself and bucked her hips with a loud gasp, flushing in a mix of humiliation and pleasure. He murred in appreciation of his own handiwork, and then let a thick rope of that hypervirile gunk fill up her mouth, drenching the ruins of her breast and choking her as the black essence clogged up her throat and overflowed all over her face, slopping down in streams down her neck.

Without any hesitation at all, she began to chew almost greedily on her own mulched flesh, now blessed with his thick, potent precum, and he watched for a moment as she ripped, tore, minced, and swallowed it down as her whole body flexed and her clenching sex spewed out hot juices.

He rolled his immense shoulders with a rumble of dark pleasure, then settled his huge, heavy foot briefly on her face as he softly said: "Wait, girl... don't be greedy. Let me... spice your meal up."

She let out a loud, sick moan of delight and gratitude at that, and Sigmund found himself grimacing in horror at her eagerness as the behemoth again squatted over her face, and without the need for an order she forced her jaws as wide as they could go, making them creak audibly as she breathed raggedly, trying to make room for his Alpha waste as she saw the great ring of muscle flex, then open up, showing her the stinking mass inside... and the wolf cried out in denial and horror, but she all but angrily gave him, and the watching cuckolds, the finger as she pushed her tongue out and sucked on the end of the thick, hard, heavy turd as it began to force out... before the thick, disgusting mass hailed down into her mouth, smacking heavily onto her ruined, devastated features as she arched her back and did her best to swallow, to chew into it and force it down, but she couldn't possibly do it quickly enough and more shit piled onto her face, into her empty socket, accompanied by chunky fluid that reeked of male, of power... of meat, she could swear. The meat of fucktoys like her.

His alpha waste, his filth crammed her open maw full, thick turds and slushly loose shit clogging over her broken, loose teeth and filling her throat, forming a lump of filth, precum and meat that threatened to choke her for good, but her struggling sounds only made the cruel god growl in entertainment as he idly stroked his behemoth cock, firing out a meteor of dark precum which shotgunned across the room and smashed one of the mirrors into bits, sending a loud cascade of glass crashing into the floor.

Sigmund crawled forth on his knees, gaping and staining his clothes with the drool and tears that messily ran down his face as he sobbed and brokenly cried out, shaking his head in disbelief and horror and powerless denial... and above all, helpless, terrible arousal.

Helen wretched and choked horrendously, her whole body stuttering as she coughed and vomited upwards a horrible mass of bile and shit and flesh, blood and precum and filth that flooded out of her mouth and streaked down her bloodied, broken, bruised body. Still, she struggled to contain and swallow everything she could, all but scooping handfuls of that horror back up towards her jaws, while a large puddle of urine and blood and her hot juices visibly spread beneath her. They were past words, and she needed no command from the titan to begin to chew on her own flesh and on that thick filth, choking and moaning in pain and yet chewing, and chewing, greedily tasting, savoring his precum and shit on her blood and flesh as she ripped, broke and swallowed as best she could.

She choked and spluttered and gargled as she continued to chew and swallow, even as her damaged jaw sent flashes of pain exploding in her mind, even as her broken teeth painfully broke loose and remained stuck in his thick waste, her only working eye bulging and bloodshot as his shit continued to spill down her throat and over her devastated body. Tears rolled down her ruined face, barely visible among reeking filth and almighty male essence, her wounds nearly sizzling and bubbling with the strength and heat of his precum, but she still forced herself up, trying to work her bloody lips against the flexing ring of black muscle, kissing and licking even as her once beautiful body trembled violently under that disgusting assault.

And when he let out a low rumble of satisfaction, asshole flexing and shutting as that deluge finally ended, she nuzzled up into the reeking, filthy ring and did her best to polish it with her tongue, her features, her hair, grinding up into it while she fought against her body, her gag reflex, her survival instinct to swallow down all the clumping mess that was blocking her throat and airways, breaking her breath and making it weak, cutting her air supply to a succession of sick whistles and squelches sounding up through her flared nose. The dark filth leaking from her broken muzzle smeared down all over the front of her body, and it was disgusting, and it reeked so, so powerfully... but even his shit smelled of male, of superior, hypervirile power, and her traitorous body couldn't help but spasm as her juices helplessly ran down her thighs and onto the floor.

The hulking liger could smell her desperate arousal clearly, even past the overwhelming intensity of his own masculine odors, and he grinned, throwing his head slowly backwards as he listened to the grotesque cacophony of sloshing and squelching and choking and crunching coming from her jaws as she weakly worked to eat his waste and pushed up, her muzzle literally jammed into the thick asshole as her tongue slurped up against the fat ring, hungrily exploring it and cleaning it, scooping up more filth even as she gasped and retched and gagged while weakly attempting to swallow what already filled her maws.

"S-stop it... e-end it, I beg you... she is going to die..." Sigmund finally whispered, but he sniffed with the awareness that it wasn't so much out of concern for her well being, but for the sick desire, the need to have the titan ridicule him and ignore his prayer. The hulking ligerbeast slowly rolled his massive shoulders and then lazily straightened, grinning as he teasingly rocked his hips to grind his ass into her face one last time, before smirking as the broken muscular bitch pulled up, following his movements and whimpering in weak protest, longing for more as his asshole rose out of her reach.

"She'd die happy, the whore... it's what she was born for." He callously remarked, stroking his leviathan godcock as it hung downwards, dragged down by its own terrifying weight, and the wolf trembled in awe and rapture, sweat rolling down his flushed face as he found himself hypnotized by that monstrous monument of hypervirility, that commanding scepter of superior power that loomed over the disgraced, desecrated heroine and made her look like nothing but a fragile porcelain doll.

Helen visibly shivered in awe and bliss at the sight of that ungodly obelisk of masculinity, a great godcock hanging heavily from his groin, monstrous and bloodied and brutal, a ruinous mass of potent flesh which throbbed slowly as he leisurely stroked himself, admiring his own prodigious power. He let the monstrous, shaft smack into her, nearly knocking her over, and then he slowly dragged it upwards, grinning as she did her best to hug the slimy shaft, squeezing into the behemoth cock and doing all she could to clean and polish it. He pulled back with a growl, just enough to be able to slap the immense head of his cock against her face, blood and filth spraying out of her broken muzzle, but still she hissed in hunger and eagerly helped him guide it up to her jaws, which were pretty much glued, cemented into a wide opening by all the gunk that was solidifying on them, making her look braindead and lost as her tongue lolled out and she drooled messily on herself, rasping for weak, erratic breaths. The titan only had to look down at her, and Helen grasped into his cock, her eyes only for her Master as she leaned forwards and ground her head against the bloody head of his massive pillar of shaft. She whimpered in bliss as she struggled to pull that fat foreskin back, his cockhead bulging, throbbing powerfully as it was unsheathed, and her hands gripped into the neck of his shaft before she moaned in eagerness as he brutally forced the tremendous girth into her shattered jaws and grunted in an unmistakable way.

The hulking godcock thrummed with power and then unleashed a ferocious, thick jet of incandescent, acid piss, flooding her mouth as she choked and moaned, writhing in a mix of delight and agony as the piss rushed into her wounds, over exposed flesh, so hot and bitter and strong that it felt like it would burn her meat off her bones, sizzling as the flood filled up her throat and washed out of her broken muzzle, cascading out in thick streams and rushing even into her eye as the whole world seemingly turned into a yellow ocean that had the mighty, incredible stench of pure, unmatched masculine power. He threw his head back with a grin as that hot, acid urine filled up her mouth and it felt like it was charring the pulsing, painful broken stumps of her teeth, burning her tongue, spilling down her throat. So much rushed out of his monstrous godcock that it not only flowed down past her jaws but spurted back up even through her nostrils, burning them, sending up steam with how hot and toxic it was. She gurgled and gargled helplessly in that yellow hell, but her teary eye continued to look obediently up at him even as he drowned her, crushed her. She gave a little nod to him, tried to show all her worship and gratitude, trying to be as good a little whore as she could be, as more of that ocean of piss spilled out of her broken jaws and splattered over her devastated chest, making her tremble violently with the sudden explosion of burning pain.

And Sigmund whimpered pathetically, trembling as he watched on from the floor where he had collapsed onto his knees, staring in horror and disbelief, fear and despair, drool and snot running from his muzzle and gaping mouth... and the hulking liger snorted with contemptuous entertainment, adding to the wolf's anguish as he mocked: "You are enjoying every second of this, you little cuck."

It was horribly true, and Sigmund flushed and cursed under his breath at the terrible awareness that the visible wet stain in his pants was not just because of fear-piss. He couldn't believe the tremendous, sick arousal that made his heart race and pound in his chest, and he clutched the phone with just enough self-awareness to keep it at an angle that he hoped would kind of "hide" that new defeat from the monster... but the hulking behemoth grinned at him with a cruelty and a visible amusement that told him he knew, regardless of the phone's angle. He knew he had won. He always won, didn't he...?

"I wish I could say I have raped this whore... but she's way too eager for it to be true rape, isn't she...?" The behemoth taunted, ponderously stroking his monstrous leviathan of a cock to squeeze the last few heavy spurts of piss out over her face, carelessly half-punching her pulped, stained feature at the end of each mighty pump, his thick blanket of heavy foreskin nearly wrapping over her bloodied muzzle every time he pushed it forwards. "And even you, faggots, are enjoying the show... but it's only natural for you losers to want to stare at this cock, and wonder what kind of joke your puny dicklets are."

Helen gargled loudly, almost as if she had tried to laugh of Sigmund and of the other faggots, but it only came out as a wet, sick gurgle as she trembled hard, still trying to gulp down the thick mess, helped by the potent piss but not enough to be able to clear up her airways. Her nostrils flared helplessly, desperately trying to suck in some air, but she was choking on shit and drowning in hot piss, and the light was quickly fading out of her eye as she slumped back with a shudder, jaws open painfully wide but unable to get a proper supply of air to her lungs.

"What's wrong, whore...? Can't swallow it?" Killer taunted, grinning widely as he reached down to hook two big, strong fingers into her mouth, pushing them deep down her throat and making her gargle loudly, before he yanked on her lower jaw, already damaged, and cracked it apart, blood splattering out of her torn cheeks as he effortlessly nearly ripped her face apart, widening her mouth into a grotesque, bloody hole, enormous and ghastly... and yet still ludicrously small compared to the fat, massive, enormous head of his cock as he angled it down. "Here, slut, let me help."

He seized her fragile skull in one huge, powerful hand and thrust lazily forwards with his muscular hips, jamming that monstrous godcock against her face, against the bloody crater he had ripped open in her features, making her whimper brokenly as the steel-hard shaft punched into her muzzle, too impossibly massive to fit even as the remains of her lower jaw lolled grotesquely loose.

Sigmund trembled violently and cried out some confused, broken lament as the behemoth flexed and used brutal, overwhelming force to overcome the hopeless resistance of Helen's body. His eyes went painfully wide as he stared at that godless, gigantic cockhead brutally smashing her muzzle to bits, the monstrous tower of black meat looming tremendously over the massive, bloody hole in her face, so vast and disgusting to look at and yet still so laughably, ludicrously small compared to the godlike monument of hypervirility that bulldozed its way forwards as the behemoth's muscles flexed with murderous power.

Somehow, she visibly slurped against that monstrous cock, arching her back and pushing upwards as she did everything she could to take the fat, hulking cockhead into her mouth, and the huge male growled with a snarling grin as he rammed downwards as soon as the bloody, torn flesh of her face began to wrap over the gigantic member. The veiny, colossal shaft unforgivingly rammed its way in, dwarfing her battered form and deforming her once-beautiful face, her eye nearly bursting out of its socket as it bulged in shock while the gashes in her cheeks audibly tore wider open, her neck bulging painfully as the massive cock tore down into her throat and ferociously crushed downwards the lump of shit, precum, piss and gore, smearing crimson and brown together, crushing everything into a disgusting gunk that lubed her throat and made her tongue slicker as it still desperately, uselessly attempted to work against the unholy girth that threatened to split her very skull in two.

The grotesque gargling sounds coming from her invaded throat were impossible to describe as he rumbled in pleasure and rammed deeper forwards into her, yanking her upwards by the back of the skull at the same time, her feet uselessly kicking at the air as he effortlessly hefted her clear off the ground, her whole body rocking as the colossal black cock flexed in her jaws. She vomited helplessly around that hulking girth, trashing as puke, precum, blood, drool and chunky filth forcefully surged up around his murderous cock and burst out of her face, squirting violently out due to the pressure caused by that great tower of meat clogging every last millimeter of space in her, sending the same vile mixture exploding out of her nostrils as well.

The merciless hulk threw his head back with a growl of pleasure, her tormented gurgles music to his ears as he yanked his monstrous member backwards, dragging her whole body around, before he rammed forwards even harder, deeper, the monstrous member flexing in her throat as he began to smash home rapid, cruel, short thrusts that bounced her limp body like a toy, and she helplessly vomited again, her lone eye rolling up in her skull and swelling with helpless tears as she helplessly shuddered beneath each devastating ram of his monstrous cock, and yet her hands reached forth, gripped into him, squeezing into the mighty expanse of black shaft that was still outside of her, that could never fit inside her... unless he killed her, of course, impaling her. He could well do that, the decision was his and only his, and it only added to her tormented, insane delight. She couldn't control it, she couldn't deny it, and she craved more of his abuse, more of his power to be unleashed on her... even as she cried at the awareness that it would soon be over. She couldn't keep up with this God, she couldn't serve his cock properly, she was fragile and helpless. He was going to break her and move on to fresher meat... She was just another piece of meat, no different from so many others. It filled her with anguish, but at the same time it made his power even more alluring. He could take and destroy everyone he wanted, do what he pleased with them all. That was the power of a God. It was intoxicating.

Sigmund trembled with the very same awareness, and with the terrifying thought that it was going to be impossible to stop that hulking titan from destroying any and everything he wanted, from taking away everything and everyone he desired. All the world was a toy in his hands and they could only ever watch. He shuddered at the thought of what he could do to them all, and yet he gaped in awe and rapture, his horror and fear only adding to the self-destructive arousal burning in his form. The more his mind screamed at him that he was weak, and helpless, and doomed; the more he thought of that immense cock turning even muscular, mighty, cyber-enhanced Helen into nothing but bloody mush, the more he drowned in guilty, tormented lust. His quivering, traitorous body couldn't get enough of the terrorized awe inspired by the sight of that brutal, invincible hulk that towered over him, that crushed him with the intensity of his presence, that broke his mind into pieces with the violent cacophony of sounds coming as he pounded into her face, sending massive, unmatched waves of his black precum exploding out of her through the cork of shit, mutilated flesh, blood and ichor and disgusting fluids.

As that infernal mixture of filth splattered and dripped down the ruined, unrecognizable form of the corrupt heroine, the wolf found himself hypnotized by those invincible muscles and by that throbbing, hulking, ever-growing, ever-fattening tower of hypervirility that dwarfed Helen and made even her hulking, super-powered body look small and fragile.

And he trembled when the behemoth chuckled and knowingly grinned down at him, as if able to read into his mind and soul, and the wolf pissed himself again at the sheer power of that gaze, at the cruel superiority in that look that told him that he was just a toy, a piece of meat. They all were.

"Fuck yes." The ligerbeast growled, as if to confirm his guilty, aroused delirium, and Sigmund whimpered as his watery, weak cum stained his pants once more, leaving him drawing impossible, humiliating mental comparisons with those torrents of thick, potent, dense precum that the behemoth wasted so liberally, flooding the world with his excessive, superior hypervirility.

And Killer grinned as he turned his eyes back down on what was left of the heroine, her muscles by now forgotten, made insignificant by the size of his own bulky, herculean build as he yanked her up his cock like a sleeve, her ruined body stinking of his shit and his essence, as she weakly choked on his filthy, enormous godcock.

She was barely alive, and he could hear her rasping breath becoming less and less frequent, while her heart beat weakly, pathetically next to his burgeoning monster cock, which throbbed with a whole different level of vigor, dwarfing and nearly cancelling her last residue of life. He could feel the robotic structures embedded into her muscles as part of her cyber-enhancements work hard to try and fight him back, but all they could do was make her whole body clench even tighter around his brutal girth, adding to his delight.

He carelessly thrust down her throat, punching her stomach apart and burying himself even deeper, laughing as her helpless body bulged with the tremendous size of his cock while her vomit and the half-eaten shit leaked out of her shattered face and threatened to push out even through the wounds in her chest. Blood, piss, ruin, but above all endless rivers of precum burst out of her nostrils, even out of her ears as his savage rams forced all that gunk to wash up through her shattered stomach, and her single eye still attempted to roll back to stare up at him as she drooled helplessly, a useless toy deformed and broken by the size of his godcock.

Sigmund felt himself completely spent, both physically and mentally, and now his mind cartwheeled on itself as it desperately tried to come to terms with the shocking squelching sounds coming from the destruction of the muscular, hulking heroine. He could only stare at her, at her destroyed, bulging body that shook and gargled, broken and defiled and helpless, and he moaned weakly, horrified and delighted, excited and disgusted, angry and jealous all at the same time.

The hulking behemoth was relentless, his thrusts rough and powerful and savage, monstrous godcock ramming faster, harder, rougher, smashing through organs and bone with the same terrible ease, sending bile and gunk and blood and precum spilling out around that unholy girth, while that huge, strong hand squeezed on her head with such strength that the wolf expected to see it pop like a pimple at any moment.

Her whole body was bulging with the monstrous proportions of his prodigious cock, yet only a fraction of his godlike shaft had rammed inside, with so much more still raring to go, even as her chest threatened to explode, even as ribs visibly began to poke through her flesh, broken and pushed aside by his monstrous girth, while her once firm and solid abs were distended so much that they could no longer be seen as she bulged with his sizes and with the immensity of his load of hypermasculine essence, utterly destroying her beauty, her very humanity. It was hard to even tell she was a person, but for how she sickly continued to work her head against his cock, eagerly trying to help him ram his monstrous member even deeper inside her, no matter the fact it would kill her. No, destroy her utterly.

Killer grinned and arched his back slightly, shoving the massive member a bit deeper still as the monstrous cock flexed with visible, terrible power before exploding a colossal blast of precum through her, which splattered back up out around his girth, squirting from her nostrils and ears... before a thick geyser of the same mighty fluid spurted out of her flexing ass, more of it visibly pushing up through the wounds in her chest and around the ribs that had torn through her flesh, nearly rupturing her whole body. She was about to burst like a balloon, and Sigmund trembled hard but trailed the camera over those astounding, terrifying leaks of hypervirile essence, panting hard as he documented the massacre.

She shuddered violently with one last choking rasp and went limp, eye rolled up in her skull, little bubbles blown into drool and precum and filth at the corners of that ruinous hole that had once been her mouth as she passed out, her bladder helplessly releasing what little urine it hadn't already let out earlier.

"V-Valkyrie..." The wolf helplessly stammered, and the hulking ligerbeast growled in frustration at having to stop just as it was starting to get intense... but he wanted her to cling on to life, and so he carelessly yanked backwards, ripping his monstrous godcock out of her with a loud, sick gush of mixed fluids and a resounding pop as his shaft swung upwards, sending thick splatters of precum ramming into the ceiling and nearly slapping up into his chest. Her unconscious, broken form lurched towards him, falling forth on her heavy, bulging, sloshing, precum-filled belly, but he mercilessly planted a foot on her face and roughly kicked her away, sending her poor form crashing onto the wet floor, skidding over the great lakes of precum and vomit and filth and blood.

The behemoth walked slowly towards her, stroking his immense member as it throbbed powerfully above her vulnerable, shattered form, a horrific, massive, monstrous monument of hypervirility and utter superiority as he made sure to film a good look of what was left of her, while his public let out pathetic little mewls of anguished awe, the Royal Guards milling around with excitement, disbelief, envy, stroking their massive members and spraying thick strings of precum and semen all around as they watched their King in action.

"I was barely getting started, but she wouldn't have lasted much longer... This is the problem with my toys. They never last." The enormous male contemptuously snorted, before lightly kicking into her unconscious, broken form, knocking it rolling violently over and then punting it again to send her limp, devastated form crashing back against the wall, like she was nothing but an inanimate toy. They could all see her body twitching and almost shape-shifting here and there as the nanomachines in her blood worked hard to clog up her wounds and keep her alive, and the robotic actuators and electronics within her limbs buzzed as they self-repaired and snapped her bones back into place, audibly struggling to rebuild her broken form. She could tank amazing amounts of damage thanks to her vast cyber and genetic enhancements, and that was admittedly something that Killer had always adored about her: she was definitely more durable than most other fucktoys. Still, he could have destroyed her with almost insulting ease... something that was almost as annoying as it was flattering.

She crumbled into a lake of filthy fluids and of her own blood, but the pain somehow rattled her back to consciousness, making her gasp loudly, choking and coughing and helplessly vomiting endless torrents of thick dark precum even as her single eye rolled to look up at her master, one hand tremblingly reaching for him. She rasped and struggled to clear her throat, but as soon as she managed to force out a few words, they were all for him, and they were a prayer to him, and an apology for failing to entertain him more and better. "Thank you, Master, my God... I'm so sorry that I can... cannot keep up... please, don't restrain yourself just to spare my worthless life... Serving you is what I want, this is all I am, your toilet, your meat, your fucktoy, I need you to put me in my place, use me, destroy me, peel every layer of me away and leave me who I really am... use me, destroy me, please, my God, my Master, oh... oh I need you..."

Killer shushed her with a smile, but his softness was more tremendous than any snarl as he easily said: "Don't worry... I don't expect a fuckrag whore like you to be very good at anything except wiping off my cock. And even that is questionable." He loomed over her, his gargantuan shaft throbbing with unfathomable power over her; the huge, veinous black flesh pulsing with such heat and reeking of such hypermasculinity and virility to make her cry in bliss and gratitude. "I still like you, my little fuckrag. You know I do. You know well that I am Master, I am God, and I own you. And I always liked how eager you are to teach that to other fucktoys and paypigs. That it's a privilege to be in my presence, especially for such a helpless dregs. That it's an honor to get the chance to lick the dirt from my feet, let alone get a taste of my cock."

"True. True, my Master." She eagerly replied, nodding even as she bit her lip in pain while the nanomachines rebuilt her missing eye almost from scratch. He picked her up by the skull, like she was nothing but a doll, and tossed her carelessly over a stump of counter that still stood, just so he didn't have to get down on the floor to fuck her into coma. She beamed with absolute joy despite the pain, and her trembling legs began to open for the behemoth even before he seized her by the ankles and unceremoniously yanked her towards his throbbing, titanic shaft, spreading her muscular thighs apart and roughly propping her tiny, drenched vagina up in easy reach. The hulking male licked his lips hungrily and then teasingly slapped his monstrous shaft down over her cunt and belly, making her shiver with a weak moan as the girth of the huge member rivaled with her waist, the veiny meat pressing into her thighs and forcing them even further apart while he slowly, teasingly ground his shaft down over her, the enormous head bumping into her chin long before his colossal testicles could smack into her groin like wrecking balls.

That cock was a tower, a monument, a womb-shattering leviathan that seemed to never end as he slowly dragged it backwards, more and more, until the enormous cockhead loomed right in front of her tiny, soft gate, ludicrously dwarfing it, his cockmaw alone almost matching the size of her helpless slit.

"How many ligers have I pumped into you, over the years...?" Killer mockingly asked, grinding his monstrous flare over her narrow slit, making it tremble and cry out juices in fear and lust. "You've given birth to hundreds of sons and daughters... and yet you are always so delightfully tight."

She really wasn't, of course. To any average male, and even to very much non-average ones, her sex would have felt horribly sloppy and loose. Ruined and unusable. But even as stretched-out as she was after years of serving him, she could never be ready for his monstrous sizes. Her muscular body, thankfully, had always managed to heal and close up the very worst of the abyssal gapes he regularly left behind. For him, and him alone, she was always nice and tight.

"I've lost count years ago." Helen proudly replied, grinning widely and throwing her head back with a hiss of delight. "I've found some files about me in the last Irenic army's laboratory I raided, though. According to them, 568 confirmed and many more suspected." She snorted steam at that, then licked her lips as she added: "It ought to be at least 3 times that number."

"And to think that, to your weak little compatriots, you were sterile." Killer taunted, flexing his enormous musculature and snickering as he thought back to the very first of countless pregnancies he had put her through. He had contemptuously taken a piss deep into her womb, to show her, her husband and the whole of Ire that she deserved nothing more than his Alpha waste... and that his throw-away runt sperms were more than enough to fill her barren womb with powerful life. She had barely survived: in less than a month, a savage 23 ligers had fully developed within her, shocking the world into speechless stupor.

Sigmund's mind spun violently as he tried to grasp the immensity of the thought that Helen had given birth to more than 1.500 ligers. At a minimum. It was an unbearable awareness, and it made it painfully clear that there could be no competition against the hulking liger. How could they possibly hope to keep up...?

Killer grinned as he studied his devoted fucktoy for a few moments, loving the eagerness in her eyes, before he leaned forwards and planted one tree-trunk-like arm on one side of her head while grabbing her hair with his other hand, grinning as she panted breathlessly... then howled out in anguish as he rammed forwards with his powerful hips, burying his cock forwards and feeling her tender lips stretching, stretching, stretching in the vain attempt to welcome him. Her voice shattered into a breathless, silent gasp as her poor vagina finally tore around that unspeakable girth of steel, sending a spray of blood arching up as the monstrous cockhead bulldozed its way inside, rending her passage almost in two while he flexed and leaned down with a growl of cruel delight.

The monstrous flared cockhead and the neck of his immense shaft smashed their way in, lubricated by her blood and juices, and he licked his lips at the feeling of the warm life fluids leaking out around his behemoth member, until he "rewarded" her by shotgunning a huge geyser of black precum up inside her, flooding her womb with an amount of virile gunk that a thousand males together wouldn't even begin to replicate. What remained of her hopeless cervix attempted to resist, but that feeble wall had no hopes and was obliterated by the following hard thrust, as his monstrous member punched its way into her body.

Her back arched violently as she breathlessly screamed, feet kicking uselessly at the air on either side of his thick waist as she desperately clawed into the shattered, wobbling counter beneath them, then weakly attempted to push back against his muscular, broad, massive chest... but it was like she was trying to slow down a train with her bare hands. Her eye bulged, her drooling jaws gaping wide before all air left her aching lungs in a loud scream of agony and ecstasu as the beast slammed forwards with cruel force, ramming more of that endless, immense destroyer up her form, even as her pelvis creaked, unable to accommodate the enormous girth of the invader. The resistance of her bone all but made him snort in contemptuous amusement before he yanked her head up, crushing her face into his sweaty, stinking armpit just as his glorious member tore deeper inside her, snapping her pelvis in half like a twig. Her shriek came muffled by the thick hair and the vast mass of his muscular arm being in the way, but the electric shudder that rattled her entire body was clearly visible, more violent than if she had been electrocuted. Her legs went limp and crashed uselessly onto the bed as he growled and seized her by the shoulders, fingers digging through the exposed flesh of her ruined chest as he yanked her hard downwards and rammed forth at the same time, bulging her body horrendously out of shape as his monstrous godcock ripped through her womb and rammed into the coils of her guts, her whole form trashing and flexing desperately as blood spurted out of her devastated, obliterated groin, before she sobbed and shook her head from side to side as he dragged his gigantic shaft backwards, sending out a gush of thick, sloppy mess of pulped innards, ichors, ruin, blood and precum.

Her ravaged cunt twisted inside out as it helplessly clung to the girth that had so brutally punched it out of shape, and her single eye bulged as she propped herself up as best she could to see that colossal tower of hypervirility sawing in and out of her. She whimpered at the sight of her destroyed womb clinging to his girth like the scraps of a broken condom, and she nearly lost consciousness again when it was all slammed back inside her as he thrust forwards and punched the prolapsed folds all the way back inside her, forcing her up off the broken pile of hardwood like the little toy she was, impaling her on his monstrous member.

Still, Helen gritted her fangs and bent forwards as best she could, eyes fixed on the shocking, terrifying penetration as she hungrily groaned: "Fuck yeah, I want to see... I wanna see that fuckin' huge cock rip that race traitor pussy apart... look at that... look at that!"

The immense invader cramming itself into her was so brutally massive that it cut her screams and cries short as it crushed all air out of her lungs, pounding and pulping and rearranging her insides, forcing her powerful, beautiful body to bulge horribly out of shape as her very hide threatened to tear apart, to rupture even worse than it already had, as she was callously turned into nothing but an already broken cocksleeve.

The behemoth grinned hungrily, letting his head fall forwards on his chest, a string of drool dangling from his jaw as he growled hungrily, legs spread wide, enormous balls swinging back and forth with murderous weight and mass, smacking into whatever eager concubine crawled forwards to serve him. His hulking, colossal testicles nearly crushed a skull into pulp when they rammed a concubine in the head and sent her crashing back against the broken counter, trapping her there as his heavy orbs rammed forth like wrecking balls. The tigress managed to duck out of the way after a few wet, ponderous slaps that left her face and chest bruised, and the behemoth's immense testicles went on to dent the counter's structure and caving it inwards with their prodigious mass. It soon looked like Killer was jerking off with her poor remains more than fucking her, towering over her, grinning and delighting in the way her once beautiful body was blown and torn and bulged out of proportion, how his tremendous cock had no trouble snapping her ribs, cracking her bones, pulping her insides as coils of ruined guts, almost mulched into liquid, leaked out of her prolapsed, torn cunt and clung to his cock like grotesque ornaments.

"You like that, don't you, heroine...? Your life only truly began when you discovered how superior northerner males are; how big and strong northerner cocks are, huh?" Killer taunted, grinning as he felt his immense shaft throbbing and flexing, hardening and bulging inside of her, making her already bloated body bulge outwards all the more obscenely, especially as heavy broadsides of his precum filled her entire form.

"Yes! Yes! I'm a filthy whore for superior liger cock!" Helen eagerly confirmed, breathing the words out as loudly and as clearly as she could. The Royal Guards laughed loudly at her words, grinning as they circled in excitement around their king and stared at that stupefying display, their eyes blazing and their breaths coming out in snorts of steam as their sweaty bodies flexed in delight and they eagerly pumped their hard, proud, massive cocks. They hissed in pleasure every time the famous Valkyrie screamed, and they couldn't help but stroke their mighty shafts all the harder and faster as Killer relentlessly sawed his immensity in and out of her, growling as her helpless cunt flexed and clenched and molded around his brutal girth.

She moaned and groaned and cried out and screamed words of praise and worship as her sex closed around that monstrous invader like a delightful vise of flesh which helplessly sucked on his cock while at the same time desperately, vainly twitching and flexing to try and push that battering ramp of a cock out. Killer leaned over her with a grin, the power of his lazy, easy thrusts making the ruins of the counter jounce so hard that the wooden planks of the floor began to switch and crack as well.

The enormous male rumbled in delight as he picked up speed, ramming forwards harder and faster as he he shifted his stance to lay his massive, heavy hands on her breasts, squeezing greedily into them, mauling her soft, bloodied swells and literally grinding them into the grotesque bulge in her chest, which stood out in brutal definition, letting him almost distinguish the veins of his monstrous member as he turned her body into a fucksleeve.

Helen foamed at the mouth and screamed in agony and triumphant ecstasy at once, her eyes rolling up in her skull even as she stubbornly kept trying to look adoringly up at the titan. She made no effort to contain her cries and shrieks, knowing all too well that he liked to make his playthings scream, and she just drunk greedily of the hypermasculine glory of his flexing body, with the blazing flames of savage lust in his eyes, with the godlike power of his form as he pistoned ruthlessly, relentlessly into her, pistoning harder, faster, farther, forcing even more of his colossal member inside her even as her titanium-reinforced skeleton creaked pathetically and threatened to snap like a twig.

Her whole body shuddered and sizzled with pain and passion and delight at the punishing thrusts of the colossus that loomed above her, his enormous arms and broad chest seeming to wall her in and cancel the rest of the world from sight as she almost curled up beneath his muscular form, crying breathlessly out as her juices squirted everywhere as he slammed himself home harder, faster, pounding her, his muscular body flexing, his back bulging with power.

The Royal Guards milling around her were unimportant and went almost unnoticed: her hands half-grabbed, half-slapped away those hulking cocks that were shoved against her palms and slapped down onto her bulging form. They were impressive, and massive, and glorious, and... and... and insignificant, at least in comparison to the ultimate Alpha godcock that was fucking her into pieces.

Killer looked down at the bulky soldiers with an indulgent smile, and they flushed but got a little closer still, panting hard and staring not just at her bulging, ruined form but at the king's glorious, hypervirile body. They were proud specimens of masculinity, great studs full of vigor and strength, but they blushed in awe as they felt like bugs crawling over the body of a colossus, and Killer finally smirked as he teased: "You can touch, if you want."

They blushed furiously and almost retreated, looking chastised for a moment, but then, even as some hesitated, several of the Guards reverently reached forwards to touch his arms, his back, his legs, slowly stroking over flexing, bulging muscles so massive and powerful that they just had to feel them, to make sure they were real. They worshiped and massaged into him like he was a true God, and Killer snorted in entertainment, sometimes flexing a little harder just to make those proud males gasp and moan in shock and awe.

They were no different from all the others: mortals in awe before a titan they couldn't comprehend. Toys and playthings he could use and abused of as he saw fit. Of course they couldn't help but be faggots for him. The mightiest of studs, the purest examples of Northerner warriors and breeders, trained and honed to perfection, yet they were nothing but helpless meat compared to his majesty and glory.

Suddenly, Killer slowed down, rumbling in pleasure and closing his eyes briefly, licking his lips before he straightened up in his full, majestic height. Helen let out a gasp of shock, pain, and ecstasy as the impossibly enormous godcock impaled into her body sailed upwards and effortlessly yanked her off the counter as well, lifting her whole body like it weighted nothing. Her cry turned into a messy gurgle as she foamed helplessly at the mouth, her eyes bulging as she felt her body nearly tearing into shreds as that tower of hypervirility, harder than steel, hefted her up higher and higher and swung upwards, jutting skywards and forcing her body to also get up. Killer grinned knowingly down into her eyes and seized her by the hips, spreading his legs wide and suddenly gyrating his monstrous member within her, bloating her body even worse and causing her ribs to creak audibly as that immense flare visibly threatened to just rip right out through her chest. The Guards could only stare in awe as Killer calmly turned around and sat down on the last piece of counter still standing, causing the metal to groan and the hardwood to crack under his weight as he laid back comfortably, legs spread out and his ponderous, immense testicles hanging heavily past the edge of the counter, glorious in how fat they were and how low they hung, greasy with masculine sweat and filthy with blood, gore, cum and the orgasmic juices of dozens of different females.

Helen groaned in a mix of agony and ecstasy as the uncaring cruelty of gravity tried to make her body slide further down his immense obsidian obelisk of cock, her eyes rolling up in her skull and bulging almost out of the sockets as she sunk perhaps another couple of inches along that prodigious member, already streaked with her blood... and even though her whole body was trembling and spasming out of control, she instinctively tried to prop herself up by moving her feet onto the counter, or even on top of Killer's powerful thighs. Much of his godcock was still outside of her bloated, ruined form, and if he wanted he could destroy her simply by yanking her further down that pillar of malehood... and there was a collective gasp from the barely conscious concubines and cuckolds sprawled on the floor as Killer carelessly seized her by the hips, crushing viciously down so he could pretty much squeeze into his towering godcock through a thin layer of her flesh and hide, and he began to jerk her up and down like she was nothing but a living fleshlight. She gargled in a mix of agony and bliss as she was bounced like a toy, the huge male slamming himself up into her for a few long moments... and then he grinned predatorily, and her eyes bulged with a mix of shock and lust as she felt herself being dragged upwards, peeled off his godcock like the living condom she had become.

She shuddered at the obscene, loud pop-gush sound of his flare ripping out of her grotesquely gaping, prolapsed, ruined cunt, trembling hard as a deluge of thick black precum rushed out of her, but she couldn't even straighten up, her legs spasming and refusing to support her as she hung like a toy from his hand.

Sigmund trembled hard, his mind revolting at the thought of what was about to happen, telling him that, no, something that massive couldn't possibly be shoved up her ass without pulverizing her, but Killer smirked as he held Helen aloft by the skull, like she was nothing more than a tiny kitten. He sat her limp, spasming body atop his monstrous godcock, his vast flare holding her up like her bulky body weighted absolutely nothing. She was so broken, despite all her muscles, that she slumped and lolled, while her immensely bloated belly rumbled as tar-thick precum continued to slop out of her gaping pussy in a mind-shattering cascade. Killer smirked as he slowly gathered her cum-drenched hair in a messy tail that he held firmly in one hand, before gripping her throat with the other, forcing her head to tilt backwards, her eyes rolling up to stare invertedly back at him as she weakly bucked her hips in lustful need.

"Watch your precious Valkyrie have her ass ripped apart, you maggots!" Killer rumbled, grinning viciously as he yanked her downwards and at the same time rammed viciously upwards with his hips, laughing as her pelvis snapped with a sickening crack as his brutal flare bulldozed its way up inside her. There was no gentleness as he impaled her, blood spraying out of her obliterated asshole as he rammed up into her guts, organs ripping and shredding inside her as she shook with agony, blood leaking out of her mouth as he buried his immensity within her, bulging and ruining her form beyond description as he dragged her down his immense black cock, bit by bit, inch by inch, foot by foot.

He rumbled in delight and let his head fall backwards with a snort of contemptuous pleasure as he idly began to piston himself up inside her, bouncing her like a toy, yanking her up and down his monstrous girth as her blood lubricated the passage of the colossal member, and he idly pulled her back, letting her grind against his solid chest as her whole form bulged grotesquely and spasmed with pain and shock. The Royal Guards stared at that massacre with bulging eyes and gaping jaws, drooling and breathing in rough pants as they jerked off greedily, rapidly, pumping hefty, massive members that yearned for attention, and they all slowly stumbled closer and closer to that horribly gaping vagina. The bleeding, ruined absyss, winking ever so weakly as It desperately attempted to close up at least a little, dragged them in like it was a literal black hole. Or maybe it was the King's cock itself, its sizes so overwhelmingly massive that its gravity pull yanked those much smaller members closer with irresistible force.

"You heard her. She's a proud whore for superior northerner cock." Killer teasingly invited, and the Guards almost recoiled in surprise, looking up at him with deep, shocked blushes. The king easily seized one of Helen's muscular legs and yanked it out to the side, putting the immense, hyperstretched crater of her gaping cunt in front of their faces, and the bulky soldiers traded uncertain looks. Her wasgaping so massively that they felt inadequate and useless in front of that threatening abyss, in which they could have easily stuck their whole heads. Thick black cum gushed from it in a steady flow, pouring down onto the floor, expanding an already veritable sea of thick masculine essence that was literally rotting the wooden floor with its potency, and of the guards offered a queasy smile, tremblingly asking: "W-what can we even do, y-your majesty...?"

Helen found the strength to grin mockingly at that, looking at those bulky soldiers with eyes that burned with teasing intensity as she taunted: "Come on, boys, don't fret... I promise I'm not gonna voice comparisons and give marks..."

The guards still hesitated, but in front of her taunt a first bulky stud abandoned his cautions and stepped forwards, stroking a massive shaft that leaked a sizeable string of precum as he shoved his way past a couple of comrades and hissed: "Fuck it, I want myself a piece of their precious Valkyrie."

"That's the spirit, boys!" Helen teasingly encouraged, and a second guard stepped forth with a rumble, shoving a strong hand against her muzzle and shutting it for a moment as he said calmly: "Shut up, fucktoy."

Killer smirked, slowing down his already idle, almost careless pistons up inside the exhausted, breathless whore so the two bulky guards could more easily gain access, and the young soldiers guided their large cocks against the gaping void and rammed forwards.

They grunted in surprise as their large cocks found an almost unbreakable resistance, even though she was gaping absurdly wide. Even as they shoved in together, side by side, their massive cocks didn't even touch together, and none of the two got to feel the warm, wet touch of her obliterated labia, either. They both flushed at the sloppy squelch that followed, and gasped breathlessly as they felt how, dense... sloshing around their dicks, and they were almost stopped dead in their tracks. They both felt like they were trying to fuck a muddy swamp with a toothpick, their cocks utterly lost in that void, no matter how large and ponderous they were. Killer's precum was so dense, so thick, so full of hypersperms that they struggled to bury themselves in, the King's almighty cocksludge almost repealing them, making them moan in shock at the wet, gluey, humiliating sensation of barely being able to dip into Killer's precum.

The two guards flushed terribly and traded shocked looks, then broke down into nervous, disbelieving laughter that were tinged with disbelief, humiliation, fear and something like amused awe as one of them blurted: "Fuckin' hell, it's all... all cum. It... it pushes me out..."

"It's like trying to fuck a damn swamp: like... like I'm trying to stick my dick into thick mud!"

It was humiliating, but it was also unlike anything else, ever. Killer's precum was almost unbearably hot, and the gigantic hypersperms moved around with terrifying vigor, their spiked bodies grinding into their dicks hard enough to hurt, the tangled masses of sperms working almost as alive muscles which "flexed" and pushed them back out even as they leaned forth with all of their strength and body weight.

"F-Fuck... it's... it's... I don't even fuckin' know." One of the guards babbled out, shaking his head slowly and gaping in disbelief. The two males gripped into her hips and thrust harder, slamming forth with all the force they could muster, beginning to piston powerfully back and forth, angling their cocks this way and that in the vain attempt of bumping at least once into the hyperstretched walls of her passage... but there really was nothing left to fuck.

"Where... the hell... are those walls...?" The second guard mumbled, humbled by his failure to find the limits of her obscenely gaping cunt, and a third royal guard finally snapped and moved forwards, shouldering his way between the other two and snorting steam from his nostrils as he stuck his own raging, formidable erection into that wet void. They thrust fiercely, rapidly, powerfully, leaning in to bury every last inch inside her, but they struggled to even find each other's hard dick, all three of them vanishing into that scary gape as both Helen and Killer smirked in entertainment, studying their efforts.

The other guards rushed forwards to smack their heavy cocks down over her mouth and her body, seeking the attention of her hands, spewing their semen and pre all over her bulging belly and bruised breasts as they took turns climbing up the ruins of the counter to force her to throat their throbbing cocks as they ruthlessly traded back and forth. Killer rumbled in entertainment, enjoying that vociferous display and so easily dominating the whole scene as Helen's head lolled back against him, her form shaking violently and gurgling screams still coming out through the cocks buried down her mouth. She shuddered and sweated and cried out, but not because of the assault of the young studs, but because of the idle thrusts of the King's ultimate godcock up her ass, as the lazy movements of Killer rocked and bounced her harder than the combined slamming of the three soldiers' dicks sawing in and out of her devastated cunt.

Killer rumbled in amusement at how feeble those young studs were compared to him, at how little the combined efforts of more than twenty hulking boys roughly taking turns on Helen added to the great devastation caused by his lazy thrusts.

They kept coming, valiantly thrusting and grinding into her from all sides, forcing themselves on her in any and every way and angle they could find, but his lazy thrusts were the one force driving the whole show, as her muscular body bounced brokenly in his lap, her whole form bloated out of shape by the immense godcock that dwarfed all those young studs combined.

They were all strong and massive, in their prime and supernaturally charged by Killer's own ultimate Alpha male stench and essence, which filled them with indescribable vigor and intensified their hunger almost to mind-ruining levels. But for all they had to offer, they were still nothing but an afterthought.

They did their best to keep up, but the excitement and humiliation combined were too strong for them to resist for long. One after the other, they all stiffened and rumbled, dicks hardening almost painfully before they roared and unleashed powerful, heavy orgasms, the best they had ever experienced, the most intense, the most plentiful... and yet it only evidenced how inferior they were to that hulking god, because it all came across as pathetic and paltry. Their thick spurts of white life-giving batter failed to register on a body that was already indelibly marked with the Alpha male's black precum, his sweat, his filth. A "drop" of Killer's precum was enough to wash away every trace of their inferior semen, as Helen helplessly vomited the thick dark gunk all over herself as blasts of Killer's essence shotgunned through her whole body and burst out of her jaws and nostrils.

Those Guards who blasted their loads directly inside her body, already bloated to ruin with Killer's pre, didn't even manage to disturb the scary blackness of that gaping abyss, their white cum not even managing to stain or dilute that dark ocean... and all too soon all the soldiers were spent and done, left to watch as Killer took his time, alternating slow, idle thrusts to moments in which he picked up speed and pummeled her, yanking her roughly up and down his shaft and grinding savagely into her insides.

The guards knew they had been well and truly eclipsed, and without waiting for an order they finally took turns in diving their faces into Helen's devastated, gaping cunt, licking up some of that great ocean of superior male essence, of blood, of juices, of piss. They almost drowned themselves in it, thick rivulets of the load rolling down their bodies as they buried their muzzles in and finally emerged gasping for air.

Killer enjoyed the view, and worked himself up to his own release, with no hurry, letting them all stare in awe at his power and endurance until he finally picked up speed, sitting up and roughly seizing Helen in a full Nelson as he began to slam upwards with savage speed and force, yanking her up and down at the same time. He gritted his fangs, muscles bulging with unfathomable power, biceps dwarfing the skull caught between them, and he pistoned harder and faster and harder still, pounding her viciously as she gurgled helplessly and foamed at the mouth, eyes rolling up in her skull.

Finally, the first immense blast of black cum exploded into her with indescribable force, swelling her horrendously, and she was already to brutally bloated with thick precum that it looked like she would just burst apart in a hurricane of gore and potent load. So, like before, Killer eventually let go of her deformed, nearly crushed skull and rested his hands on his hips, grinning mockingly as the next enormous blast of his semen smashed into her broken insides, forcing all the way up through her neck, causing her throat to bulge until a fat, glorious mass of dark load shotgunned out of her mouth, arching high up above her and smacking up into the ceiling... before he flexed and laughed cruelly as his immense cock flexed and unleashed an even more brutal geyser of cum. Without him holding on to her, the force of his hypervirile release was so brutal that it forced her body upwards along his cock and finally fired her off like a cork, sending her crashing violently against the wall with a last, terrified gasp.

Stunningly, the thick Alpha essence glued her to the wall, holding her whole bodyweight up for a moment before she began to slide down, finally collapsing onto the floor while great ropes of thick masculine essence stretched and tore between her and the wall.

Killer continued to blast out his terrifying loads, one more massive than the other, his hand squeezing hard into his gargantuan godcock as he stroked himself violently and thrust into his own grip to milk out his orgasm for several long, delicious minutes, snarling like a beast as meteor after meteor of ultimate male load smacked through the room in thick arcs that left the crowd trembling in helpless awe.

He oozed Helen down with cruel generosity, while her bloated, hyperpregnant, ruined body twitched, gushing thick black gunk from all ends and even from her wounds, and he idly flexed his powerful body above her, stroking his titanic black shaft and ridiculing his enemies as they watched on in terrified awe, trying to grasp the enormity of his hypervirility.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Killer slowed down and slowly straightened, rumbling in entertainment as his monstrous godcock throbbed hard still and unleashed the usual last few loads of dark cum, so dense and overloaded with massive hypersperms to make tar look watery in comparison. The Guards around him, obscenely saturated in his thick load, trembled and stared up at him in awe, retreating away from the unconscious, broken remains of Helen... and they all flushed furiously, but finally leaned in and submissively licked at his immense, unrivalled godcock, almost ritually, vainly attempting to clean it from the great, heavy layers of potent cocksludge clinging to the shaft. The king smirked a bit at that, idly resting his huge hand on the head of one of them, and he let them show their worship and dedication for a few moments.

Every now and then, he tossed a look down to Helen's crumpled form, making sure she was breathing and checking on the amazing process of her regeneration as the nanomachines within her worked hard to seal up her wounds, snap bones back together, firm up her loose teeth. Her missing eye had already been rebuilt, and it was amazing to see the wounds sluggishly sealing up, as if time was moving on reverse. After a while, the sturdy, muscular bitch actually shuddered hard, and awakened with a gasp... before rolling over onto her back to stare up at Killer, grinning stupidly and offering him a wink.

He snorted in entertainment, playfully settled his heavy foot on her face and effortlessly dragged her out of the way, making her groan as her overbloated belly sloshed audibly with the fantastic amount of powerful essence clogging up every corner of her being. When his foot lifted, she sneaked a gentle kiss onto his thick black pad, and then she propped herself up as best she could, dragging her sore, still largely broken and irresponsive body back towards the wall, so she could sit up against it and let out a drawn-out sight of relief and bliss. The Royal Guards stared at that with shocked faces, amazed by the fact she was could move at all, and she grinned teasingly at them, half-striking a pose and flexing her powerful arms to show off her huge guns.

Killer rolled his enormous shoulders slowly, idly cracking his neck and sighing contently. He was pretty satisfied of how the morning had gone, and his mind felt clearer after venting some pent-up hungers and steam. He was about to think "after making his balls lighter", but he was so absurdly hyperproductive that they were, if anything, even heavier than before.

His glorious monster cock was still reluctant to say it was enough, and it still jutted at full, prodigious mast from his waist, but his mind was pretty satisfied. With his lusts pushed into the back seat, however, he now looked down at the devastation around him with the usual more-than-hint of shame, especially at how savage he had been with Helen. Not that it wasn't what she wanted, but... he had made it his objective to leave the old ways behind, and here he was, streaming such abuse, such a massacring section of hate-sex to a world that was already rightly terrified and in awe of him.

Could he blame other states for being defensive and outright hostile, when that was the "face" he showed in public...? No. No, he could not.

He let out a frustrated snort of steam from his nostrils, flexing a little as he calmed down and regained full control of his emotions, and then he turned towards Sigmund, towering for a moment in front of the camera, letting them see his full glory: of both his mighty, muscular frame, the hulking and perfect colossal form of the god-liger that he was, and the impossible gloriousness, the perfection of his ultimate godcock.

"I think I gave you enough of a treat, for now." Killer finally said, giving them a debonair smile that was genuinely kind, but, after all they had just seen, only further reinforced how fully in control he was. "I don't know when I'll stream next. Don't fear, I will... I like having a public, and it would be just cruel to leave you without the peeks to my cock that you live for. Luckily for you, I'm generous at heart." He teasingly added, before pausing for a moment to let his message sink into their dazed minds. Then the absolute alpha leaned down into the camera with a grin, his blue eyes flashing as he reached out to pick his phone up in one huge hand, lifting it gently out of Sigmund's trembling grip. "But my schedule and methods are going to change. I'm now king of my own kingdom, and believe it or not, I genuinely care about being a good leader. Being a good leader for everyone means building peace, wherever and whenever that is possible... so, to the immense disappointment of many of you, but to the relief of many others, I will not lead my army south. I'm not invading. I've rampaged all over your lands for 7 years in a row, and while my anger is not yet sated, I think that is... enough."

His tone was incredibly definitive on that one last word. His natural, crushing authority meant that each and every one of his words rammed home like a giant, unmovable boulder, but there was a special emphasis on that last term. That last... promise.

"I'm going to try again to build a bridge between North and South. I failed the first time, but, as long as your governments behave, I will let you be. It's in your leaders' hands: if they act reasonably and with good will, we will get along. If they insist in starting squabbles they can't possibly win, I will have to crush your countries for good."

He paused again, smiling softly. It was spectacularly awkward to try and roll the dice for "diplomacy" at the end of such a ferocious display, while naked and glorious and covered in blood, but... they knew him, and this last demonstration told them, once and for all, everything they needed to remember. He felt like laughing, of himself, of the awkwardness of that situation, of his talking to the governments of the South literally at the end of a porn stream... but at the same time, he was aware that no other media was going to travel as far, as fast, as virally.

"I think we can make things work, this time around, especially considering how many of your wives and sisters and daughters are now proud moms of ligers, with countless more ligers yet to be born. You will... enjoy ample and frequent reminders of what we look like, and of how small and frail you are. It will remind you all that it is better to be friends than enemies... And of course, I don't think anything but liger-cock is ever going to satisfy your wives, sisters, and daughters ever again. But my many sons, I'm sure, are more than qualified to take care of that problem."

Killer smirked, despite his best attempts not to. It was impossible to deny that there was a very evident implied threat in what he was saying. It was clear that, even if he ceased rampaging indiscriminately over the South, change was irreversible: he had changed the world's demographics forever, and society was going to be reshaped accordingly. It was an irreversible process, at that point.

His words were an offer of peace, yes, but an offer which came from the clear winner. He was offering them mercy, but the ancient words "vae victis", "woe to the vanquished", filled his message even though they were never spoken. He was giving them the chance to survive and carry on, but only by accepting that they were the tiny, weak ones.

"In the Northlands, the Strong is expected to protect and lead the weak. As king, I'm going to follow that ancient guidance, and I will make sure to make my people and my spawn behave accordingly. You will be protected... as long as you show the adequate respect."

Killer was painfully aware that "adequate respect" could easily be interpreted as being slaves to the tigers, and he thought for a few long moments of how he could possibly explain that he didn't mean slavery. Whatever words he could use, his enemies would have a very easy time twisting them. Only actions were going to matter: he had to prove his restraint, and as determined as he was to do just that, he honestly couldn't be sure he was going to succeed. After all, he had to admit that he had given in to the temptation quite damn fast when Helen had showed up, and that wasn't exactly encouraging. He couldn't possibly blame anyone for doubting, for not trusting him, for thinking he was just making fun of them all.

Moreover, for it to work, Killer had to control not only himself, but the rest of the Northlands as well. He had to demonstrate that he could get the other kings, and all of his many sons, to show the same self-control. It was something his father Seth had struggled to do for decades... could Killer somehow do better than the Great King...?

He was making an immense promise, to himself and to the rest of the world. It was going to be a long and uphill struggle to make that promise true, so he decided that there was no sense in lingering, in trying to explain. It was something they had to build over time.

"Those of you that just can't get enough of me will be welcomed across the border and into my kingdom, naturally. Obviously, my many sons and daughters are always welcome into my reign as well." The huge male paused briefly, and then the memory of the discriminations of the past threatened to fill him up with anger again, turning his tone darker as he added: "Naturally, none of you shall be forced to move north. If I learn of so much as just one KO mother threatened and forced to come up north rather than choosing out of her own free will, I will come down south and curb-stomp the country responsible into an ugly stain."

He let his words sear themselves in fire into their minds, and then he smiled as he concluded: "So, in some ways, this is a goodbye. I'm turning a page, and starting to write another, which I hope to make far more grandiose. In truth, it's a 'see you later', because you'll still hear and see plenty from me. And I'm sure I will visit the south pretty often... but on more civil terms, all being well."

There were a million other things he could have tried to say, and a thousand explanations he could have vainly tried to give, but for the moment he thought that it was enough. He was tempted to try and slow down the chat further, to read the comments that kept flooding in, but in the end he decided not to, and only offered a slight smile as he easily concluded: "See you soon, little ones."

He ended the stream from his phone, and put it down on a table, letting out a bit of a sigh, wondering what was going to happen next. Asking himself if this new and completely different aim was achievable at all.

For him, it was literally going to be much harder to make friends with the southerners than it would have been to finish the job and just breed them all out of existence. He was picking the heroic task over the evil, delightful little game, and it was a daunting prospect... but one that, thankfully, made him feel more at ease with his conscience and with his father's teachings.

"Turn off all the cameras. It's enough, for today." Killer calmly said, to make sure that all the other phones and actual cameras were put away, and Helen immediately asked: "Are you fuckin' serious...? We are not going south...?"

"No, we are not." Killer easily replied, before strolling easily over to where the bull terrier, Athena, Joy and Electra were huddled together, propped up against the wall and bloated with his seed. He smiled down at them as he sat down in the middle of the group, spreading his enormous arms as the four females happily snuggled closer, pushing their cheeks against his broad chest.

Sigmund watched at that soft intimacy and sudden kindness with surprise. Part of him had thought that Killer didn't care for anyone and that he had no time and no interest for any form of affection, but more and more he was learning that it wasn't true at all.

He watched on with envy and almost with shame as Killer hugged the four females and made sure they were okay, trading a few whispered, soft words with each of them in turn. He thanked them, and kissed all of them even though it meant tasting his own potent cum, and he was suddenly gentle, and caring.

It was a confusing contrast from the ferocity and forcefulness of the act, but that seemed to be the way he, and the girls, liked things to be.

"Ok, now stop honeying us up!" Helen finally exclaimed, shaking Sigmund out of his reflections. ""Why...? Why are we not going south? They are as weak as gnats, in front of you. The whole of the south is ripe for the taking!" The muscular bull terrier female whined, looking up at Killer with a pout that, somehow, made him laugh.

"The south is in ruins. I've been plundering it non-stop for 7 years, as you know all too well." Killer corrected, squeezing gently around the shoulders and pulling her closer to his hot, slightly sweaty chest. "Conquering it would be too easy. Boring, almost... and, ultimately, unfair."

Helen pouted at that, frowning and looking up at him distrustfully, before muttering: "There is nothing unfair in getting those bugs to realize their place in the world. Dust belongs under your boot."

"Maybe it does, but I don't go around stomping the dust without a reason." Killer softly countered, before quietly adding: "And if you don't like the idea of me having a conscience, you can always think of it like this: if I breed out of existence all races like I did dragons; and if I crush every last country and make it mine... well, the game ends. Running out of toys would be pretty depressing, in the long run.

The hulking female opened her mouth to retort something, but ultimately slumped and just sulked, finding no good arguments that would stand up to his observation.

Her expression made him laugh, and he wrapped his arm around her with such affection that Sigmund gaped, staring in confusion and sitting awkwardly on the floor, studying that surprising scene; that side of Killer that he did not know and that he could not have imagined, especially not after witnessing his earlier savagery.

"Come on, Helen... it's not like we aren't going to have fun. And I'm determined to get everyone properly schooled on what their place in the order of things is... but I don't want to do it through reckless, unjustified violence. Frankly, I feel like a kid burning anthills at this point, and I don't like it. I want to be something better than just a bully."

"You've never been just a bully." Helen grumbled, but in truth she had serious difficulties countering the point he was making. "You've faced entire armies. Entire nations. You never brought your friends along to tag-team on someone."

"It doesn't mean anything, Helen... compared to me, they are zeroes. A thousand zeroes still add up to zero. It doesn't really absolve me." Killer softly remarked, squeezing her gently around the waist, until she huffed and grouchily admitted: "Fine! Fine, you might have a point there. But so, what...? Are you going to let them continue to be arrogant little pricks, with their fake power, their money, their technology, their lies, their puny tricks...?"

"I didn't say that." Killer patiently countered, closing his eyes for a moment and leaning his head back against the wall as he smirked and added: "Do you remember how I treated you, Valkyrie...? Did I barge into your office, grab you by the hair and force you to suck my cock...? No, I didn't. I waited for you to crumble and crawl to me begging, and it was rewarding."

"The first time you came into my office, you had a freshly-fucked slut in your arms and she was covered in your fuckin' enormous hypersperms. It was the equivalent of opening up a war by dropping a nuke." The muscular female pointedly reminded, grinning widely and tilting her head back to look invertedly up at him.

Killer blinked, going back in his memories and realizing she was entirely right, and then he coughed slightly before admitting: "Well, yes. That much is true, I didn't exactly... hide my strength. But there was no violence: I didn't force any of you sluts onto your knees. I waited for you to do it out of your own accord."

Helen let out a grunt of agreement at that, and looked thoughtful for a few long moments before admitting: "I see what you mean... and it is going to be exciting to see the world bend over backwards to please you, without you even having to so much as flick a finger for it. But I hope some idiot country or another will want to put up a fight, because watching you curb-stomp armies into mush and fuck races out of existence is hot as hell."

"Our dumb little kinglet refused to surrender and got stomped, just one week back." Electra reminded, smiling in a rather vicious fashion at the memory. "As unlikely as it sounds, I'm sure that he won't be the only one stupid enough to make a stand."

"I like you." Helen commented, grinning as she leaned past Killer's hulking frame to gaze at the tigress on the opposite side of his broad chest, and Electra batted her eyelids and offered a playful little growl.

"But fine, of course. It's not like the decision has ever been mine: the only thing that matters is what you want. You decide, and I'll follow you wherever you head next." The Valkyrie finally said, her hand lovingly stroking over the hulking male's pec and abs, drawing idle circles and figures and playing with a black nipple. Sigmund shivered in front of that display, of that true love and dedication, feeling almost more awestruck by that sincere devotion than her eager sacrifice of flesh and blood to satiate his lusts.

"I appreciate that, Helen." Killer said, before leaning down to kiss her sore, sluggishly healing cheek, even though it meant tasting his own bitter, powerful essence more than the flavor of her flesh.

"And I take it to mean that I'm going to have my place as instructor in your new army." The hulking female teasingly remarked, gazing expectantly sideways at him, and he snorted in amusement before nuzzling her as he confirmed: "Of course. I can't think of anyone better qualified for the job. And if some of the others show up, you can form a strike team with the other bloodthirsty bitches. I'm sure I'll have uses for you."

"You mean WHEN they show up." Helen immediately remarked. "You'll have your Valkyries very soon, Master."

"Good." Killer amusedly commented, before turning around to look at Sigmund, who flushed visibly and hurriedly made sure his legs were tightly grinding together, to hide the stains of his shame in the crotch of his drenched, ruined pants. The hulking liger had no intention of taunting him any further, however, and instead softly said: "I hope the fun you had outweighted the terror, in the end. I hadn't planned to... get so feisty. But some bitches just get my blood boiling." He made no names, but shot Helen a playful glare while he pinched her large and exposed nipple in his fingers, twisting it roughly and pushing a thick digit through the ring-piercing, yanking on it hard enough to make her groan loudly.

Sigmund's cheeks burned and he babbled some words, deeply embarrassed at being discovered for the massive fan he secretly was, and the liger snorted in entertainment but mercifully held up a hand to silence him. "No need for excuses. I apologize for going overboard. I was confident you'd... eventually enjoy yourself, but the truth is that I wouldn't have stopped if wrong, no matter how loud your cries of anguish. I really am bad at controlling myself, even though I'm... working on it, I suppose."

Killer paused and took a slow, long look at the devastated bar, at the destroyed counter and shelves, the disintegrated bottles and glasses, the tables and chairs he had crushed to bits without even noticing their presence, the ruined walls, the dented floor, the rotting hardwood beneath thick layers of his impossibly potent dark essence, and he made a grimace before saying: "Sorry for ruining everything again, after all the work you had just put into making this place shine. I'll make sure to let you have... 1% of today's donations, to make up for all the mess."

Sigmund gasped, doing a double take as his brain ran a few calculations: 1% didn't sound like such a generous offer, but he had held the phone in his hands for all of the stream and had seen firsthand the absurd amounts of money pouring in from all around the world. His 1% share was going to vastly exceed the already unbelievable one million bucks "tip" that Killer had left just one week earlier, and that he had mostly not yet been able to spend.

"Y-your highness, it's... it's way too much. It's... fixing the damage will cost a fraction of that. Y-your majesty is way too generous, and... and..."

"Don't worry. Money is not an issue." Killer easily replied, stopping his babbling, and Sigmund bowed deeply, forehead touching the cum-drenched floor. The hulking titan hugged his girls one last time, and then carefully stood up, taking care not to bump into their sore, tremendously bloated bellies. He tossed an amused gaze down at the wolf, and teasingly added: "Go wild. Improve this place to your heart's desire. You have my patronage. Indeed, you are allowed to advertise saying that this is my favorite bar." The behemoth chuckled, then winked as he added: "You might want to add a dedicate night club area where I can go wild myself when I visit, you know. I think I will receive a lot of... visitors... from the rest of the world, and this could be a nice place for... informal meetings."

"He means for fucking the brains out of the eager sluts that will crawl northwards over the border just to get a sniff of his godcock." Helen helpfully explained, grinning sharkinshly, and the king rolled his eyes and huffed a bit.

"Yeah, well. I was trying to say it a bit more elegantly." He said, and Sigmund tremblingly smiled, laughing a little. It was still terrifying to be so close to someone so much bigger and more powerful than him, but he was starting to understand how Killer really behaved. He was starting to understand what the actual limits were, and that he was not actually expected to cower all the time. Far from it, in fact. The wolf gulped thickly, but finally found the courage to murmur: "T-thanks, your Highness. I will, of course. And... if I think I could... name this bar after the Valkyrie, after what happened today." He dared glancing towards Helen, his cheeks flushed and his eyes filled with a weird sort of adoration for the heroine who had given herself up so utterly to the hulking male. It made the muscular female snort in entertainment as she looked back into his eyes and finally commented: "You, Sir, are a total cuck. Luckily for you, I can appreciate that."

"Sounds good to me." Killer easily replied, smirking amusedly before stretching his formidable body and strolling past countless unconscious, fucked-comatose, bloated females to make his way towards the exit.

"Hey! Where are you going? I wanna come with you!" Helen barked, but Killer shook his head slowly and smiled in entertainment.

"You know you are in no condition to get up to much, right now, with that belly weighting you into the ground. I want you to follow the others to Kendrew, the capital. I want you to hold the fortress while I'm away, and keep everyone safe. Just in case any one of the "stupid kinglets" out there was to try something."

"I'll guard your bitches alright, if that's what you want. But where are you going?" Helen insisted, hating to see him leaving so soon after meeting him again, and hating even more the fact that she couldn't follow in his wake.

"I'm "visiting" a few neighboring kingdoms. I've been told I have a rival who's been creating an empire in the East, so I'm going to capture ground and meet him halfway."

"You going to kick other kings' asses...? Fuckin' hell, I knew it! I wanna come!" The valkyrie protested, but Killer only waved his hand at her and ducked out of the door.

"There will be other chances, Helen. This is not going to be a small kingdom."