"Breaking News: Keep your daughter's home at night, there has been an increase in sexual assault crimes reported since the start of the month. Hear one woman's harrowing tale."

"Alright Jessica, I have the police report here. Do you mind if I read it?"

"It's alright. I just want to get the story out there... keep other people safe."

"Well Jessica, it says you were walking home from a shift at the bar where you work two weeks ago. It said while on the way home a short, slim, homeless white male approached you asking if you had something to drink?"

"Ahh, that's the officer's note. Specifically, he had asked me if I had the 'nectar of the gods'. I thought he must be drunk!"

"Perhaps not far off. When you then attempted to disengage, the man grew frustrated and chased you."

"He wasn't very fast, but I was in heels and tripped. Heh, guess that's a safety tip, huh?"

"Certainly. Now afterward, and I'm sorry to say this on air."

"It's alright."

"But it says the man then attacked you and performing non consensual oral sex on you? Is that right?"

"That's right."

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"Uh... yes, it was, very. Of course."

"When he was done it says he grew frustrated and irate. That must have been frightening, Jessica."

"Oh yes that really did frighten me. He seemed to think I had tricked him about something and was shouting a lot. I got to my feet and ran, heels off, of course."

"A smart move. Let this be a warning to our community. Until this man is caught please walk home in groups, be wary of shortcuts home that might be less visible to the public, and of course, take off your heels for the walk home. Back to you, Diane."

"Thanks Jim, that's quite the harrowing tale. I'm told we have a police sketch of the man to show now as we prepare to move over to our next story. Holiday happenings, why the mistletoe is being canceled this year and blow-up Santa's are a new symbol of white supremacy!"

From your phone screen the sketch of the man matched the stranger walking down the street ahead of you. A lank, short man, perhaps some kind of addict with long, dark, unkempt hair and a shuffling sort of gait. Surely he must be on something, but he had bright, clear blue eyes that were as lucid as could be when they locked with yours. "Woman," he shouted out, voice cracking. "I have searched through the centuries, do you possess the nectar of the gods?" he asked sounding reedy, exhausted, frustrated.

So it was the same man. Best get moving, but of course what were you wearing? Why, heels of course. Why couldn't the 7 o'clock news come on just an hour earlier? Still, it was worth a try. First, you dialed 911 and curtly informed the operator you were bring chased. Once you turned to get the street sign, you bolted. Maybe crossing the street would help?

Nope. Crossing just meant the uneven lip of the curve of the far side could, and did, catch your heels. You caught yourself at least, hands forward, head almost against the pavement, and your tights-clad ass raised behind you.

He was quickly upon you, hands grasping your tights in a frenzy. "Blast these new fabrics," he muttered as he groped, molested, and defiled you until he gave up trying to tear the fabric and simply ripped them down, which had the added effect of trapping your knees together, stopping you from being able to kick backward easily without falling on your face. Your assaulter had no such concerns, as his face had a nice cushy place to land between your plump cheeks.

It was assault, undeniable, unequivocally rape. It was wrong, it was a crime, it was cruel, and... it felt pretty good. "Oh quit your... mmph... quit the squirming, wench," He smacked away your hands and soon managed to pin them to your lower back. The wet heat of his fat tongue slide up through your pulsing, engorged lips. Your soon dripping vulva steamed in the cold winter air as his hot breath mixed with your own dripping nectar. His tongue slid down, sliding up your clit to your cunt where his lips closed between yours, sucked, and released. Then his tongue shoved in, swirled inside and rolled itself out down back to your clit, where it all restarted.

After what was probably not very long of this venture, distant sirens were audible. "Blast, the constables," the man was impatient. This had to be finished in a hurry and there was an easy way to do that. His lips latched themselves warmly around your clit, his tongue flattened under it and he rocked his head while sucking with an audible wet slurping that came in rhythms again and again. It was lick he intended to suck the clit from your cunt and choke on it. The motion of his head, the pressure of suction, all of it drove his dripping tongue onto your sensitive button until at last you came.

The gush was immense, more than you normally would have considered normally for even you. It was a blast of hot wicked, womanly pleasure. "The nectar!" this tongue rapist roared, his voice suddenly booming. Somewhere behind you light flashed while you drooled on the pavement. Police cars rolled up, two of them, and screeched to a halt.

"Freeze!" the officers held out their guns and their headlights illuminated the scene. A woman's bare ass glistened over a dark splash of wet pavement, and behind her was a massive figure. A man stood from a crouch to an impressive height, shirtless near nude save for the strange, almost historic looking bands of leather holding in his crotch, and sandals that wrapped up his calves; must have been some sex freak, which made sense given the circumstances.

Pulling away from the woman, a glistening trail of something wet dangled. It was a tendril of fluid glistening in the lights going from between her legs to the man's grinning mouth. He licked it away, dashed his lips across his forearm and raised his hand. "Stand low, mortals. For I have at last found the nectar!" a taser went off, and soundly bounced off the man's massive chest. "Fools! Dare you challenge, Hiledorn the Strong!"

When all was said and done the cops had several empty pistols, two flipped and crunched cop cars, and broken ribs that left them groaning, but still quite alive. "Fools!" Hiledorn barked laughter, confidently planting his fists on his waist and lording over his victory. "At last! At last I have..."

Another flash, and in the massive god's place was again the scrawny, weak urchin. His waving, majestic hair flopping back about his gloomy face and his skinny arms drooping. "FUCK!" he bellowed, still cursed.

Bit of a silly prompt this time around. I LOVE giving oral, and wanted a prompt about it. The result is this? An ancient god/hero/champion has been cursed for some reason or another. He is forced to live in a weak, almost pathetic form until he locates the nectar, a particular woman's pussy juice, of course. Once he's drank of it he returns to his towering, powerful true self, cocky and all but unbeatable. Of course, for plot reasons, the effect is temporary; he'll need another drink to get back to strength and locate whoever cursed him.

The way I see this playing out would be with a switchy type person, as I'm the same. Your character has the one thing a powerful god needs, but until he gets it she's taller and probably stronger than him. She can taunt, tease, deny him his wants in return for favors or fun. But once he does get her to cum, either cause she lets him have it, or he surprises her with pleasure, he becomes the dominant one. He becomes a cocky, womanizing, muscle bound meat head beyond all exaggeration. Big dick? Sure. Infinite cum? Why not? Point is he'll full nelson fuck her like a rag doll until it runs out and he has to worry about getting his face smothered again until he begs enough for another hit.

Sound like fun? Then hit me up! I'm eager to discuss other kinks and ways this dynamic could play out. And as always, my prior prompts are also open as well.