Knobzilla: King of Dongsters

Tall. You´re tall. You feel huge! You take in one deep breath. It takes almost a whole minute for your lungs to fill completely with oxygen. Cool clouds tickle and freshen your nostrils. You exhale with the of a hurricane and survey your surroundings.

Stretching out below you, barely reaching your navel, is a city of tall skyscapers and housing blocks, criss-crossed with endless power lines. The ground beneath your feet feels springy and soft, despite being solid asphalt. Your great weight causes the ground to buckle and break under your feet.

Feeling full of power you stride forward. Walking through the city is as easy as wading through water. Steel and concrete crumbles and bends like stalks of grass, nothing can withstand your mindless march of destruction! The cries of the population, smaller than ants to you, drift faintly up to you, muffled and indistinct, like music from someone else´s headphones. Tiny fighter jets buzz and whirr about your head, occasionally spraying you with gatling fire and missiles, which plink pathetically off your skin, leaving barely a mark, harmless but itchy and annoying. With a careless sweep of your hand, you swat them out of the sky, the massive explosions of their fuel-tanks feel prickly against your skin. Nothing can stop you. Tokyo is super fucked.

Suddenly, you hear a noise. A proper noise, loud enough for you to register and coming from slightly above and to your left. You turn, and behold a sight that sets your fission-powered reactor of a heart pumping, sending gallons of firey nuclear ichor racing through your armoured veins.

A woman, of the same titanic proportions as yourself floats in the air, high above the city. Her long, unruly hair is a pale yellow-gold and her skin is a deep honey-like brown. She appears to be held aloft by a massive pair of moth-wings, soft and fluffy at the base where they connect to her back. The wings are striped black, orange and gold in intricate, spiralling patterns. A pair of dainty, fern-shaped antennae protrude from her forehead. Her body is slim and toned with not an once of excess fat. It glistens in the sunlight. Her breasts are firm, medium sized with pointy dark areolae. Her hips wide and full. Her eyes, framed by thick, dark eyelashes are a shimmering compound blue, clearly multifacetted despite their human shape. Her lips are a gleaming white against her tanned skin, wet like fresh paint. Her expression is one of righteous determination. Where her slender thighs meet, there´s a delicate bush of pubic fluff. The sight of her naked body destracts you from thoughts of destruction. Forget wrecking Tokyo, before the day is done, you are going to wreck that ass!

"KYEEEE!" She lets out a high-pitched battlecry and lunges at you. You manage to dogde her swipe and are almost bowled over by the air-pressure of her wingbeats, stronge enough to send cars and trucks flying. Tower blocks crumble and break as you crash into them. Huge clouds of dust and smoke rise up. Again the moth-woman swoops down, her armoured claws bared. This time you´re prepared. As she flies past you, talons barely grazing your shoulder, you grab one of her legs. Straining against the power of her mighty wings, you swing her around and hurl her into a cluster of tall buildings, probably some sort of financial district, now a barren swathe of smoking ruins. Before she can recover, you come barrelling into her, slamming her into some more skyscrapers and pinning her to the ground. Grabbing her face, you slam it into the ground a few times, creating a huge crater and leaving her dazed.

You kneel over her face, pinning both her arms and her wings to the ground with your knees. For all her speed and impressive wingspan, her strength is not nearly enough to even budge you. Your cock, the size of a freight-train and much thicker, rests against her face, not yet 100% erect. You lift it up and bring it down on her face. The of your ten-ton cockslap is enough to blow out the glass facade of a nearby skyscraper, but to your victim it´s merely a stinging humiliation. You continue battering her face with your hardening flesh-club, one cheek then the other you slap, leaving behind a trail of hot monster precum. After a while your cock is fully hard, veins as thick as tree-trunks running along its length, a thick bead of precum glistening on the tip.

The moth girl looks utterly defeated. Her cheeks are flushed deep red with shame and anger as well as from the dick-slapping you just subjected her to. "Gyiiih...", she whimpers submissively, shimmering blue eyes filled with hot tears of defeat. Silhouetted against the sun, your prick casts a shadow over her face. Your balls, each the size of a grain silo, rest against her chin. You let out a deep, rumbling roar that shakes the earth, commanding her to suck your mighty cock. The beautiful moth maiden seems to understand: She is the loser of this duel and now she must accept the consequences as dictated by the Rules of Nature and the law of the Kaiju...