Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you feel rape in the real world is a good thing, then fuck you. While I'm disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other bigotry of any kind are also really fucking stupid. I don't own "Mortal Kombat 3", or any of the characters and make no profit from this story. Please read the story codes to ensure that you are not going to be offended by, or otherwise dislike, the content.

Description: Sheeva defeats Stryker and then fucks the shit out of him with her big shokan cock.

Content Codes: M-Herm, ncon, bond, cream pie, foot, inter, mc, viol

Mortal Kombat 3: Struck Down And Sodomised
by JD ([email protected])

There are some things for which serving in New York City law enforcement trains and prepares an officer: Zero tolerance of disrespect; eating hot dogs; chewing gum while interrogating hookers about dead pimps. Not on the list is suddenly finding the souls of every other citizen of the five boroughs being forcibly removed by invaders from another dimension. In fact, giant vortexes opening in the sky and drawing everyone away and leaving only invasion squads and foul winds blowing across desolate streets isn't even in the training for New Jersey. And if all that wasn't enough of a headfuck, a vision of an Asian guy in a stereotypical hat explaining to a cop that he would be one of the few chosen warriors to fight for Earth sure was.

If only this "Lord Raiden" guy had let Stryker know earlier what was coming, maybe he'd still have his team with him. He didn't like being a final survivor in New York City, though at least it meant there wouldn't be any questions of police brutality against the invasion squads. His last hot dog dangled uneaten from his fingers throughout the vision, and dropped to the gutter as it faded.


The hot dog eating training had proved little use in the face of the anti-rapture that had consumed everyone, good, bad, and indifferent. Stryker had to admit he didn't feel like a champion. He was just an ordinary guy, who'd worked from pavement walking cop up to head of a riot control unit. He reached down, picked up the hot dog from the road, and ate it. Chewing on the gritty morsel, he claimed an abandoned squad car and headed west, just as his vision had requested. He drove reluctantly, feeling little love for either the Asian or the invaders.

Two or three blocks later, the knowledge came to him that he was to stop, and descend into the subway station. There, he would fight a Champion of the invaders. Stryker climbed from the squad car, and adjusted his entirely radical baseball cap. Frankly, he'd rather negotiate than fight. It was always better to stop a riot before it started. Talking things out just wasn't an option with everybody gone, buildings ruined, and even the hookers off the streets. NYC just didn't feel like NYC. Checking his sidearm and baton, he descended the grubby steps into the flickering semi-darkness of the metro. Trains were still running, trundling empty around the tracks, and he didn't want to think about what was controlling them. Then, he saw her...

"What the fuck are you supposed to be?"

The question had occurred to Styker, but was spoken by the huge four armed woman first. He estimated she was well over 6'8", 6'9", maybe the full 7' tall. He was well built, but his muscles seemed pathetic before her sculpted build. She seemed genuinely surprised to see him walk down to the marked out fighting area along one set of tracks. He didn't know she'd expected a ninja warrior, an outlandish robot, or even just an Army Special Forces officer. An urban cop in a baseball cap was as out of place in the tournament as a McDonalds in Shao Kahn's palace. His work uniform seemed like overdressing beside her virtually nonexistent costume. She had only a thin modesty strip of red fabric across breasts and crotch, held in place by the kind of belt favoured by flaky new age women, and metal bracers on wrists and ankles.

"I'm supposed to be kicking your ass, at least according to the guy in the vision... Raiden."

Before she could respond, a disembodied voice announced,


She jumped, disappearing into the air. Stryker didn't even have time to swear before her long, muscular legs stomped him from above. She drove him into the tracks like a pizza parlour worker battering a base flat, and followed up with a painful sweeping kick. He backed off, barely managing to block, and found his confidence shaken badly by her inhuman abilities. An invisible barrier prevented him backing up further; the only way out of the fight was victory, or loss. As she punched high, he struck out with his baton, hoping to break at least one of her four wrists. He didn't realise she'd purposely drawn his defence up until one of her two-toed feet struck him hard in the stomach. He slammed back into the barrier, unable to block as she swirled her arms and threw a goddamn fireball at him. The hot energy washed across his torso, sapping his own energy but somehow failing to set him alight. He couldn't seem to get any offence going; she punched and kicked and then, as suddenly as it began, the round ended.

She laughed cruelly as she returned to her starting position along the tracks, but as Stryker felt his energy and endurance return to pre-fight levels, he felt a lot more confident. It was a confidence that proved mis-placed, as he quickly realised his foe had only held back through caution in the first round. She'd expected him to have some inhuman power. Now she had the measure of him, there would be no mercy. He had never seen such an expression of contempt on any human face. She looked down on him a thousand times more disdainfully than he managed for a smack dealer or gangbanger.

"We... we don't have to do this. Can't we neg-"

The second round began with a similar shout the first. She quickly closed on him. Her brutal kicks and swift fireballs wore down his defence within seconds. Stryker blocked too late as the giant warrior hit him with a massive uppercut. Extra kinetic energy flowed into him against all the laws of Earth's physics, and the battered cop found himself smashed forcefully up through the roof of the subway, and the street itself. He landed, completely dazed, on his feet. He couldn't understand how he hadn't broken against the unforgiving tiles, nor how his foe jumped up through another patch of the street with no apparent damage, and stood before him. The disembodied voice spoke again, sealing Stryker's fate.


He tried to shake off the dizziness, make one final attempt for the fate of the Earth, as she stood before him, gripping his body with all four arms. He only managed to spit into her face. The final act seemed to exhaust him; he stayed standing only within the grip of her inhuman three fingered hands.

"I should skin you alive," she muttered, tasting his saliva with an unnaturally long tongue.

Instead, she performed a gracefully brutal head butt. The forward-most small spikes atop her skull left imprints in the rim of his baseball cap, but for Kurtis Stryker there was only the brain-shaking impact and then darkness. He collapsed limply into the four arms of his conqueror, and knew no more.

Elsewhere, the first round of the tournament continued to be fought across the Earthrealm. As he came round, Stryker felt the knowledge that he would take no further part in it. He felt as if he should never have been in the running to start with. What could a riot cop do against four armed fireball throwing monster women? Blinking the blur from his eyes, such rhetorical questions were forced aside by the realisation that he was completely naked. His clothes, ripped virtually to shreds, fluttered where they'd caught on abandoned cars and broken masonry. Even his favourite baseball cap was gone, thrown away to reveal his short, sweaty hair.

His own handcuffs hurt around his wrists; they were behind his back. He felt very exposed, unable to even cover his groin. If he could just get a spare key from the car, he could get away. Escape. The army had to be holding out somewhere, but there seemed little chance of reaching them. The four armed monster woman sat on the hood, eating looted food. He couldn't help but notice how much the vehicle's suspension strained under her muscular body. She slid the last piece of street hot dog into her mouth, and stood, flexing all four arms in a display of strength. Swallowing, she spoke,

"Human, you are now the property of Sheeva. You live only because I wish it."

Out from the shadowy subway, Sheeva looked even more monstrous to him. Though her basic body shape was human enough, her two-toed feet and four three-fingered hands emphasised her inhumanity; far more than the red eyeballs set in her harshly beautiful face or the sharp spikes than ran in ridges up past the thick black hair growing from only the top of her scalp. As she approached, he saw that she had shaved her scalp out very closely to give the long untied tail of hair from the top.

"Attacking an officer is a criminal offence. You should release me immediately and turn yourself into the authorities."

She reached down with just one of four arms, and pulled him effortlessly up by one wrist. The strain on his shoulders hurt, but he refused to groan. Without even his boots on, he felt even shorter against the barefoot warrior. She responded to his statement with the scorn it deserved, emphasising each 'you' with especial venom,

"I didn't come to you. You attacked me! You're a pet of the meddling thunder god. You threw yourself into battle with a Shokan warrior. You should have run away, and hid amongst the ruins of your world. Now you are mine, so, to quote the Scorpion, get over here."

"Hey... what are you..."

While it was true that Stryker had gone looking for the fight, he was distracted from arguing the point when Sheeva pressed him firmly down over the hood of the car. His cock bounced against the cool metal, an instant reminder of his vulnerability and helplessness. He could see reflected in the windshield that Sheeva held him down with her upper two arms. He felt the others on his buttocks, and steeled himself for the torture that had to be coming. Instead, an entirely new sensation came to him... Her tongue. Her tongue was between his buttocks. Her lower hands spread him wide, while she rimmed him. He couldn't deny how good Sheeva's tongue felt on his anus, licking around the rosebud with hot, wet strokes.

"Stop this!" he gasped, "stop at once!"

She didn't answer; with her long tongue buried in his sphincter, he wouldn't have understood anyway, but he felt a hand snake between his legs and squeeze his cock. The message was clear; he was already getting hard. Wiggling did nothing; her grip on his athletic, but only human, body was firm. It seemed to Stryker as if her tongue reached deeper inside him than could be possible. No human woman would do it; if a human woman or man had beaten him like this, they'd be forcing him to lick their ass, not giving him the best hand job he'd ever known. Sheeva's three fingers gripped along his whole shaft in just the right spots.

"Why are you doing this?"

She finally pulled away with an obscene slurping sound, like getting milkshake from the bottom of the cup. Reflected in the windshield, he saw her tongue flick around those black lips, and then she replied,

"I don't want you to split."


Sheeva flipped him around and pushed him to his knees. There was no sign of any strain in her body as she manhandled him like a child's doll, using only two of her hands, though he was over 200 pounds of mostly muscle. The monstrous woman wore an almost permanent sneer at his discomfort while she pulled down the shoulder straps of her minimal outfit. She unclipped her belt and wiggled slightly, showing off the agility that taken him completely by surprise with her towering brawny frame. His eyes widened as the red fabric came away from her crotch to reveal a rapidly hardening cock. How the hell had she tucked it away? He shook his head, blinked; it was still there, with the large balls hanging behind in a hairless nutsack. Hard as she'd gotten him, with hand and tongue, she was far better hung than he. A strong scent, not at all unpleasant, immediately reached him.

"NO! You can't do this! I say you can't do this!"

"You're becoming very repetitive. I think I'll need to gag you for a while."

He knew what she intended, even as two of those four hands gripped his head, and another forced his mouth open with only two fingers. He struggled, but his struggles were utterly futile. Taking another tack, he head butted the Shokan woman's cock as it came in range. The mottled brown shaft was already firm enough that the blow actually hurt his forehead, and only bounced up against her the tight muscles of her stomach. Incredibly, she managed to bring even greater contempt into her expression as their eyes met for a second, before she pushed into his mouth.

He bit down, hard, and then again. Sheeva moaned, and fed him more of her cock. Already at the back of his mouth, he felt his eyes watering. Surely this monstrous woman wasn't going to force him to throat her? As for the taste... he had to admit it wasn't bad. He'd been expecting something vile, enough to make him puke, but... she tasted good. The scent was intense beneath his nose, and Stryker's mind started to fog even as his self disgust mounted. She thrust in more, pushing into his throat, and the scent no longer affected him. The cuffs bit painfully into his wrists as he tried instinctively to bring his arms round and push her away. He wasn't doing anything intentionally to pleasure Sheeva, but she was clearly enjoying his gagging and retching as she pushed in, then out, of her human victim's throat.

"I'm going to put my balls on your chin!"

His face grew darker while tears ran down the purplish skin. It was almost a minute since Stryker had been able to breathe properly. A roaring in his head, and ache in his lungs, told him he was asphyxiating, but his cock was as hard as ever. Sheeva balanced on one long, beautifully athletic, leg, and moved the twin toes of the raised foot to Stryker's cock. He felt them moving each side of his shaft, a skilled manipulation that had his balls boiling along with the oxygen deprivation. He tried to fight it, focussing on the pain of his increasingly stretched throat as Sheeva thickened, harder and longer.

She fucked his face with a brutality that matched their brief combat, using her cock like a weapon. Yet, her foot was only a little rough, instead of stamping his balls to mush, she worked him with a professional erotic skill. As unconsciousness beckoned, so did orgasm. Two more thrusts, and then her heavy balls rested on his chin, and she stopped. No more thrusting, no more foot. Confused, disoriented, he wanted to come. He tried thrusting on his knees, but she moved her foot away, and then her hands, holding him in place only with her shaft to his stomach. His eyesight faded, darkness clouding, and then, with one hand to his head, she pulled loose.

"I have decided," she told him, "to leave you here. You are not worthy of my fluids. I'll take this back to Outworld, and use it on one of my slaves there."

Stryker missed most of the words over his coughing attempts to re-oxygenate his brain, but he got the gist. Each deeply ragged breath drew in both air and the intoxicating scent of Sheeva's arousal. No longer thinking rationally, his thoughts immediately became filled with his own raging erection, which had come so close to drenching the virtually prehensile toes of Sheeva's foot. For all his self disgust and shame, his horror at being beaten up and violated by an extra-dimensional invader of Earth, Stryker knew he wanted to come. It felt as if something in his mind had gone, and all he could do was beg on his knees.

"Please... please stay. Please... me", he broke into further coughing.

"You're pathetic!"

The blow from Sheeva's cock nearly knocked Stryker down to the road. Thick veins pressed out along the swollen shaft, and it seemed as if the musky shokan scent obliterated all other smells around Stryker. The heady aroma of the monstrous woman's arousal served as a mind altering aphrodisiac to the human male. Though this was still very much the rape of a defeated foe by a victor, to Stryker it seemed as if he wanted it to continue. A further phallic blow glanced off his head, smearing the saliva and throat mucus she'd drawn from within across his hair. He rolled with the blow, then turned his face and licked desperately at the crown of Sheeva's cock. It seemed to have grown too large to fit again into his mouth, but in his confused state he wanted to try.

Instead, Sheeva lifted the human back up onto the hood of the police car. She reached behind Stryker, and gripped the chain on his cuffed hands. He saw the muscles strain in her upper pair of arms as she pulled, and heard the thin chain snap loudly. Though he desperately wanted to finish what Sheeva had started with his cock, he didn't try to resist as she pulled his hands around, and onto her breasts. Her large dark nipples were each the size of his thumbs; at least she only had the two. Blood dribbled down his wrists from where the cuffs had bitten in. He ignored it, and fondled Sheeva's breasts as he would those of a dearest lover.

She moved his legs up, to each side of her breasts, and lent forward over him. The both moaned as her cock slid over his, and a little precum slid from the end of Stryker's cock. She humped against his throbbing shaft for a few more strokes, enjoying the soft skin to skin contact, and the human's experienced touch on her nipples. Then it was time. Reaching one hand down, she aimed her slick cock into Stryker's tongue-fucked asshole. Even in his irrational state, it seemed far too girthsome for the tiny rosebud. After all, the riot cop had never engaged in any form of anal play before.

He cried out, high pitched and almost femininely, as Sheeva penetrated his rectally virginal body with her shockingly long shokan schlong. He knew he had to relax as much as possible, and somehow she managed to get in without splitting his ring. He groaned, squeezing Sheeva's breasts in each hand, pressing them together, but focussing his massaging across her nipples.

"A shame... you'll never be this tight for me again, human. Here, suckle me..."


She pulled his mouth to one of her nipples, and he chewed and sucked like a baby. The heavy mottled-brown breast muffled his groans as she slowly opened him up, wider and deeper. He couldn't fight it. He didn't want to then. Sheeva lifted him from the car, letting gravity drop him further onto her cock, until his own shaft was pressed against her belly. Three of her four arms gripped and moved him, getting him fully loosened while mounted fully upon her. The other hand almost tenderly held his mouth to a breast... and then, without warning, she slammed him back into the hood of the car. His teeth scraped nipple as she slammed him roughly into the metal, still impaled to the balls on her.

The blow to his head, coupled with Sheeva's shaft being entirely inside, brought Stryker back to full realisation of his situation. He was naked, bleeding, and utterly filled with a hot, steel-hard organ. He could feel the pulse within Sheeva's balls pressed against him, and the heat obscenely deep inside. She posed before him, arms up to show those bulging muscles that made a joke of his, and then flexed her cock. He cried out in shock, as his whole body lifted inches from the hood, and dropped again; a terrible reminder of the monster woman's strength. He could only play along, and hope she released him relatively unharmed. Tentatively, his hands continued across her breasts.

Gripping his thighs, she slowly withdrew her cock, letting him feel the thick veiny length rub both internally and around his asshole. He couldn't help but moan with the intense pleasure, and then she was back in, rocking the car on its suspension. Another thrust, another! Each stroke sank deeply inside until those heavy brown balls slapped wonderfully into his pale white ass. His own balls were tight hard against the base of his shaft; only half the length of hers, damn it, and he was twitching.

Suddenly and totally unexpectedly, Sheeva kissed him.

That big hot tongue invaded his mouth as unstoppably as her cock invaded his ass, claiming his lips with the passion of a teenager's first love. He barely recalled that it had so recently been in his ass. Two of her hands reached to his head, preventing his escape, while the other two kept up their grip on his hips. He came, spurting hard between their bodies, splashing the shokan warrior's breasts and washboard stomach with long stringy sprays. She was obviously close, too, for she broke the kiss and yanked her cock from Stryker's thoroughly fucked bowel.

When Sheeva pulled loose, she left behind a gaping hole with an audible slurp, and stroked her shaft hard. Seconds later the sticky rain fell. She threw back her long hair and howled, spurting all across Stryker's balls, his chest, even his face and hair. Steam rose across his body in the cold wind, though the heat of her semen was short of scalding. She drenched him utterly for several long seconds of monstrous ejaculation and then suddenly pushed the crown back inside for the last few spurts. Stryker groaned throatily as the hot pulses flowed inside. He realised the initial pressure could've actually harmed him; even then, he felt an uncomfortable pressure in the void recently left by her shaft. As she slid out for the final time, the shokan warrior's spunk squirted wetly back towards her from Stryker's gaping ass.

She held two hands on his toned stomach, as she caught her breath; massaging her nipples with the other two. Stryker's own hands reached for his ass, and his eyes widened with the realisation of how much his asshole still stretched. It seemed to be tightening and closing again, and he was relieved that he didn't seem to have been rendered incontinent. Looking down from the smugly satisfied expression on Sheeva's face her saw the dangling organ between her legs. Though her cock had shrunk in the flaccid state, it was still far larger than Stryker's. He still couldn't understand how she'd managed to tuck it away in that barely-there outfit, especially given her oversized heavy balls.

"You're a good fuck, human. I'm going to keep you with me. Any resistance will be punished, severely. But I could tell how much you enjoyed yourself..."

Stryker shuddered, screwing his eyes shut. Yes, it had felt good. No, he hadn't wanted it, except for when his mind was clouded and, no, he didn't want anymore. When Sheeva's arousal had faded, the mind altering scent had done likewise. She was too strong for him to fight, though, and it seemed as if he would just have to wait for a chance to escape or maybe be rescued. He could put up with her sexual attentions, he could put up with being forced to service this monstrous pervert, if it saved him from a beating, or worse. Perhaps that Lord Raiden had other fighters who could prevail, and quite literally save his ass. So he didn't resist as Sheeva pulled him from the car hood, onto his knees.

"Lick me clean, every inch."

He did so, running his tongue along the flaccid shaft, taking off the frothy mixture accumulated from the hard fucking of his throat, and his ass. Kneeling in a sticky pool of the same mess, with more still leaking freely from within him, and slowly sliding down his cum-drenched torso he cleaned off Sheeva's cock from crown to balls, and then tongued clean the hairless folds of her scrotum too. He felt bloated by the end, but perversely proud of completing the job without vomiting.

"Come with me. Crawl."

He did so, following his monstrous mistress and leaving a sticky trail behind him.

The End

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