Decisions, Decisions

Deep within the bowels of Syndrome's hollowed out volcano lair, Mr Incredible finds himself at the mercy of his arch-nemesis.  His will nearly broken, he's forced to watch as his once would-be sidekick ravages his wife...

Syndrome:  He's big, he's baaad...and he's all up in Mrs Incredible's derriere!  Oh man, if only you could see the look on your face!

Mr Incredible: I'll...  I'll fucking kill you.

Stopping mid-thrust into Helen's backside, Syndrome turns to look at Mr Incredible with a quizzical smile on his face.

Syndrome: Really now?  Tisk, tisk.  Such language in front of the children.  Alright, fine.  You wanna make threats?  Once I'm finish with the missus here, I'll let you decide who's next.

Mrs Incredible: (exhausted, trailing off) Nuh...nuh...noooo.  Pluh...pleeaasse, noooo.

Mr Incredible: Buh...Buddy...  Buddy, be reasonable.

Syndrome: Ohh, all out of threats are we?  Reduced to bargaining...while trying to play on my sympathies?  Please.  You don't have the killer instinct...we've already established that.  And you definitely don't have the IQ to play mental gymnastics with me.  Also, I'm pretty sure we've also establish that....

Mrs Incredible: Duh...do your worst, vuh-villian.  Just leave my k-k-k….

Already holding Helen by the hip with one hand, Syndrome grabs her by the neck as he thrusts himself deep inside her.  Her entire body tensing up, she winces in agony as Syndrome forcefully pushes his entire shaft inside her.

Helen gasps for breath, her face turning beat red as Syndrome tightens his fingers around her throat.  Again and again, Syndrome jams himself to the hilt inside her.  Helen's vision narrows as if staring down a tunnel, the sound of her own heartbeat growing louder and louder in her ears.  Her eyes fluttering, just as she's about to pass out, Helen feels Syndrome begin to spasm inside her.  At the end of the ever-darkening tunnel Helen can see him staring back at her, his teeth gnashed together in a maniacal smile.  What seems like gallons of warm goo pumps into her every passage and void.

Keeping himself deep inside her, not allowing a single drop to escape as his manhood continues to involuntarily pump, Syndrome releases his grip from Helen's throat.  Gasping for breath, the dark tunnel is slowly replaced by spots of light floating in her peripheral vision.  Helen groans with displeasure, Syndrome's restraining system having impaired her ability to stretch, her rectum now bloated far, far beyond any normal woman's maximum capacity.

Syndrome: Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, I'm pretty sure we've also establish that...

Mrs Incredible: So...so f-full.  Buh... Bud... Pluh... Please, Buddy.

Syndrome: MY NAME'S NOT BUDDY!

Original Art by Alex Hiro

Colors by Phillipthe2