The Avengers: Big Brute Coc

Now

Fed up with the state of her lust-smeared body, Natasha went to the shower as soon as possible. She stripped down under the shower spray, her costume being ruined beyond repair. With some of the hot cum washed off of her, she carried her catsuit and underwear to the trash can and dropped them in, then padded naked back to the shower and slowly relaxed under the steaming water.

She didn't feel guilty about what had happened. What bothered her most was the fact that it hadn't been Bruce who had fucked her—not really. As for the fuck itself... she supposed it was bound to happen. She didn't feel as frustrated as before, or as unshakably confident, and there was novelty to being overwhelmed.

After a long shower, she went back into the bedroom, slowly drying off. She was about to brush her hair when she realized she wasn't alone. She clutched the towel to her naked body, thinking it was Banner again, but then she saw that it was a woman.

Betty Ross.

***

Then

Natasha walked through the city of Sokovia, ignoring the aches and pains of the battle with Ultron. The other Avengers and SHIELD personnel were doing the same, no matter how badly ruined, but they were looking for survivors and stray, functional Ultron drones—the reason she carried her Glock 17 firmly in her right hand. She certainly wouldn't ignore an injured Sokovian, or any remnant of Ultron, but her main goal was Banner. He'd been in the city when it went down, and while SHIELD files had him pegged as indestructible, the fact that he'd recently been KOed by Stark made her worry.

In fact, she thought she would be worried no matter what. Bruce had come to mean a lot to her. She owed him for making her feel the way he did. And ever since she'd become an Avenger, her ledger always came out even.

"Hrr! Hrr! Hrr!" a loud voice came from behind her.

Natasha turned around to see him there, the Hulk, as big as ever, but wounded, feral, intense in his animality. He was nine feet tall, his flesh a green the same shade as the verdant plant life of an untamed jungle, body bloated with muscles that turned his limbs into tree trunks, his chest into a bulkhead, head a flat slab like a tombstone. His big dull eyes stared at her, somewhere between anxious caution and anger and something else, something that glowed as he saw her. He grinned broadly, then walked toward her with a limp, dragging one leg as he moved. Natasha supposed even the Hulk couldn't take having a city dropped on him without injury. From his manner, he almost seemed concussed. The smile remained on his face, though, giving her some reassurance. He didn't appear hostile, just curious.

"Sun's getting real low," she told him in a careful voice. "Nothing's going to hurt you anymore... you can calm down now..."

They were in a landscape out of the London Blitz. A hostel of some kind was bombed-out, spilling down from its foundations onto the streets, shredded floorboards and the rubble that had been the walls strewn across ruptured pavement. Miraculously, several furnishings had ridden down the collapse, and there was a half-intact room behind Hulk that Natasha could only assume he'd been taking shelter in. It was jostled, half out of sync, but there were walls, a bed—no roof, but all in all something that would be squatted in relatively quickly in most cities she'd visited.

Hulk patted the bed roughly, like a small child showing off his room, and he kept grunting and smiling at her as he did it.

"That... reminds you of your bed?" Natasha tried. She'd reconnoitered all of Avengers Tower, but at the moment, she was a little hazy on the specifics of Banner's lodgings. She supposed this could've borne a vague resemblance to Bruce's room; in its present state, it could've passed for her room—after an A-bomb went off...

"Red!" Hulk mumbled. "Hrr! Hrr! Red!"

He pointed to her, then patted the bed again. His head swung crazily from side to side. He kept up the motions, always making that simian whooping sound.

"Oh," Natasha said. "You want to show me your bed?"

She would have to humor him, push the connection between them as far as it would go. She walked over to him, under his looming shadow, and sat down on the bed. She bounced on the mattress lightly, patting the space beside her with her hand. Hulk looked down at her, even more imposing with Natasha off her feet, lower to the ground. But still, she smiled brightly at him, nodding her head in apparent agreement.

"It's a real good bed," she told him. "Real soft. Makes me want to lie down and rest. Is that okay with you, Hulk? Do you want to take a nap?"

Hulk shook his head.

His hand moved massively, its mere motion sending a gale of wind across Natasha's face as it went to his groin. He cupped his hand over his balls as he nodded happily at Natasha, looking down her suit and into her cleavage while he rubbed his swelling manhood delightedly. Natasha felt a sudden flash of apprehension go through her. She tried to stay calm as she got up from the bed.

"Rrhn!" Hulk pushed her back onto the bed, his hand holding her down with steely hardness. "Hrr! Hrr! Hrr!"

"Easy," Natasha said, "easy, big guy. I don't think we have time for that right now..."

Hulk's hand gave her another shove, dropping her on her back, and Hulk climbed over her. He was shaking with excitement, breathing heavily. Natasha got her legs up, pushing him back with all the muscle in her thighs. It was a strain just to rock him back a few feet, but it made him hesitate, confused—

"Hulk, no," Natasha said firmly, as if she were chiding a disobedient dog...

Hulk lashed out, slapping his hand against the wall on the other side of the bed. It practically disintegrated, Natasha cringing as the dust and debris landed on her. Her breasts were heaving as her breathing picked up, and she could see a sparkle in Hulk's glazed eyes as he noticed. She felt the sheer physical presence of his monstrous body pressing downward as he loomed over her again, hands distributing his weight onto the bed, which promptly collapsed underneath Natasha.

"Hrr! Hn! Red!"

"You like my tits, huh big guy?" Natasha asked him ingratiatingly. "Typical."

His bulldozer blade of a face came down to her cleavage, kissing and sucking each breast through the thick leather, drooling onto her exposed skin as he caught an entire teat in his mouth and sucked harshly on it. The sudden heat and pressure actually felt good for a moment.

"Yeah, this'll calm you down," Natasha thought out loud. "You'll be nice and quiet once we've relieved a little tension, right? Because I can't have the Avengers finding you like this. It'll turn into a whole thing."

"Hrnn! Hrr! Nnnnn..." he babbled happily as he lifted his face from between her breasts. It went to her face instead, the big mouth opening—she thought he was going to kiss her, but then a massive slab of a tongue came out and licked her from her throat to her hairline. "Red!"

He was still grinning at her stupidly, his immense body trapping her against the bed, his erection straining out against his torn pants like a weapon aimed at her—the outline of a massive hard-on bulging outward. She feared that it would rip right through his clothing and go through the crotch of her uniform the same way.

"Okay, green-jeans—you want to relax, I'm your girl." The sound of her voice seemed to have a soothing effect on him, so even though she felt like she should be putting nine bucks a minute on someone's phone bill, she kept it up. "But c'mon. You see the issue here; Hulk strong, Widow not so much. You don't want to hurt me, do you?"

"Hulk!" he blurted out, and Natasha thought she could hear the fabric of his pants straining to hold in his erection.

"Easy, boy, nice and easy—" Natasha said, unzipping her uniform to reveal her full, firm breasts to his dumbly staring eyes, their voluptuous curves even more impressive bursting forth from her undone zipper. She modeled her breasts for him, rubbing them, squeezing them in her hands, Hulk's tongue lolling out as he started drooling again. "You like these, don't you? Black, white, green—men are all the same. See, you don't have to do anything. I'll do it all for you. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You can just sit back and relax; I'll make you feel good. You know I will, don't you?"

Hulk's eyes flickered sluggishly, slow and steady blinks that suggested stagnating thought behind the dull eyes. Natasha, with her instantly recognizable hair and husky voice, had brought him out when Banner had been keeping him imprisoned. She'd somehow managed to survive his wrath in the Helicarrier, speaking of a respectable amount of toughness. And she stopped his rage before it curdled and he did bad things, things that made everyone upset, made everyone like Banner more. He hadn't truly understood how her clothing worked, but he understood that it was better to see her bare breasts than the catsuit that had been covering them, and she had done that, started to make him feel good. He felt a warm, wet sensation at his groin as a dollop of precum escaped his cockhead, and he scratched idly at his crotch to make the feeling more comfortable.

"You must be awful cooped up in there," Natasha said, eying his pants and the fly that was strained to the breaking point. "Maybe it even hurts a bit. How about I let you out?" She inched closer to him, reaching out to his groin—"That's what you wanted, right? To show me? Maybe you even wanted to jerk off." She sounded both shy and a little intrigued as she took hold of the absurdly small fastener that held Hulk's burgeoning erection inside his pants. Her gaze shot up to his eyes. There was a crackling tension in them now, but not any rage. That was good. She batted her long, dark eyelashes. "I could do it for you."

"Hulk! Hulk!" he croaked.

"You wouldn't mind, would you? You trust me, right? We're friends? I'd let you help me out, so you let me help you out... you want my help, don't you? Besides... it seems like that might be my fault, in a way..."

Hulk grinned, lustful thoughts running through his head, half-remembered fantasies of Banner's that filled him with animal need...

Natasha felt wanton, thrillingly so, as she held up her hand to Hulk's tented pants. She stared at her own fingers, as if accusing them of the sin her mind had commissioned. Then she reached for his crotch, looking as fascinated as a girl unwrapping a Christmas present. She began to tug the zipper down, inch by inch, not so much with teasing slowness, but trying carefully not to snap the overstressed zipper apart. Still, it seemed to tantalize both of them as the act lingered on. Natasha found herself wondering just how big he was.

His fly opened in a wide vee. He was wearing boxers, turned as tight as briefs by his growth, packed solid with his flesh. The outline of his erection stood out absurdly clearly, a damp and sticky patch soaking through the fabric where his cockhead throbbed visibly. Natasha's breath wafted out, and she saw the erection throb faster, like someone's breath quickening.

Circling her fingers around the elastic waistband, she pulled the boxers out wide in front, hearing an unfortunate ripping noise as she took them past their limit. They were still intact enough that she was able to bring them down over his cock, under his swollen balls, exposing all of his equipment.

"Bozhe moi," Natasha sighed, impressed despite herself. His cock was thick and lengthy, the balls as big as cantaloupes, the head a clenched fist—the whole shaft as thick around as a soda can. She felt a stab of fear go through her, even as part of her wondered arousedly if she could take it, take being his woman. And, torn between fear and desire, trying to let her sense of duty push her toward sensuality, she simply stared as his naked erection as it jerked to and fro impatiently.

"Suck!" Hulk finally rasped. "Suck! Suck! Suck!"

"I'm a spy, Hulk. I don't have a big mouth," Natasha replied, one eyebrow arched. Still, she had to do something.

Natasha cupped one of his huge, cum-bloated balls in her right hand, feeling a liquid give and slosh to its heft—it felt like enough cum to fill a water cooler. She put her left hand on his shaft, her spread fingers and thumb able to cover just one side of it, and she held his length, squeezed, shocked and impressed and a little proud of how his cock was throbbing for her.

She gave it a slow push-pull.

"Unnnnngh," Hulk groaned.

"Is that alright?" Natasha cooed up to him, guessing that it was, but wanting to put Hulk at ease. Besides, she got the impression that he liked the sound of her voice.

"Rrhh!" Hulk gasped affirmatively, nodding his head frantically. "Fst! Fstrr!"

That meant faster, Natasha took it, but she didn't really want to go fast. She wanted to make his handjob last as long as possible. She figured if she drew it out, really built it up, then it would be even more draining and more relaxing than just wham bam thank you ma'am.

But likewise, from the way his cock was pounding against her palm, almost enough to jog her grip loose, he didn't seem like he'd be able to last that long.

She was seated in front of his groin, in nostrils flaring as she breathed in the strong musk of his seeping arousal. Her mouth started to water, and she glanced up at him speculatively. What if he came and didn't change back? The Hulk had amazing recuperative abilities. Already, he was no longer favoring his injured leg. Could he get another hard-on after orgasming, with little to no refractory period? If he did, where would that leave her?

Hulk didn't know she was considering any of that. His head was back, his face contorted with lust. It was probably the first time someone had touched him so pleasurably. Natasha had stroked him, soothed him, massaged him as they worked on managing Bruce's Hulk-outs, but never below the waist. Now Hulk found himself riveted to what Natasha was doing to him, not knowing what it was, only that this was what he had wanted as he strove to impress the red-haired woman for so long.

He began to rock on his heels, fucking his prick through her hand. She moved it in counterstrokes, back and forth, back and forth, adding to the friction, watching his expression change to one of appreciative stupor. Natasha became aware that, unsupported, her breasts were bouncing with the motion of her body, feeling full in their swaying, tender from Hulk's exploration of them. It was nice. She looked down and noted that her nipples were deeply hard, a dark shade of red.

Her hand skimmed lightly over Hulk's length, then she tightened her grip and pumped him more vigorously. As her hand ran up his shaft, his foreskin rolled over his cockhead. Then as her hand tugged downward, the huge knob flared out, somehow pristine in its soft, fleshy roundness. Precum was running lavishly from the tip and she inhaled its strong odor, the scent enough to make her tongue sizzle—she could almost taste him as more and more of his precum ran down his shaft, lubricating it for her fist to slide through, up and down, up and down.

Natasha was starting to think about setting her inhibitions aside and sucking the apple-sized cockhead—she thought she could get her mouth around at least some of it—but Hulk was in no mood to wait for her. "Hrr! Hnn! HRRRH!" he grunted out.

"Jesus Christ," Natasha breathed as she saw the tip of his cock flare open, white behind it. The prospect of seeing his flood of cum deluge her was electrifying Natasha, and she beat his cock furiously from the glans to the base.

His balls erupted with an audible discharge and Natasha felt his entire huge cock jerk like a jackhammer as his cum came spurting out. It hit her in a creamy cascade, as hot and as thick as a glue gun being fired. Globs of his seed howled by her head, whizzing through the air, before one splashed on her chin and the fluttering hollow of her throat with the force of a slap.

"Ooooh!" Natasha moaned. "Don't stop! Don't! Just keep coming!"

It all came out like a dam bursting, a flood of cum that washed over Natasha's chest, her breasts, most of her catsuit, not to mention her hand, the pungent musk overwhelming Natasha's senses, erasing everything else—all she could smell, all she could taste, all she could think of was his cum.

Hulk sagged in place, lungs working like billows, an idiotic grin on his slack face. Natasha kept pumping away, but his prick was already starting to sag, soften, dropping down to nestle itself between his elephantine thighs. Hulk looked a little sheepish, and still confused, but uncaring about what had happened so long as his satiation persisted.

"Was that nice, Hulk?" Natasha whispered gently. She ran her hands through the semen that coated her. It was so thick and viscous that she was able to pick up huge swathes of it, like mudpies, and throw them to the ground. It lessened the effect a little, but still, she was just grateful his aim hadn't been a little higher. Having his cum land on her chest was like feeling the kick from firing a shotgun. "It was nice for me."

She supposed too that she should've been grateful it was just a handjob—taking his oversized cock in any of her holes could've ruined the orifice—but she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. She'd been fucked by the Hulk, and all it had amounted to was helping him masturbate. She held up her hand to her wistful eyes. His cum had formed a slimy pool in her palm. Natasha stuck her tongue out and lapped at the generous portion of cum like a cat at a bowl of milk. She stuck her fingers into her mouth and sucked away the sperm that frosted them. The flavor made her taste buds tingle.

"Now the sun really is getting low," she said to Hulk, dropping her hand, only to be faced with his prick again—standing up like a telephone pole, rooted in his once more bulging scrotum and rising up to her face like it was reaching for her.

"Suck... cock..." he said haltingly, his voice as thick and slow as molasses running out of a jar. "More... cum... for you..."