Another concrete support beam buckled under your fist. The green of your skin seemed to pulse with your thunderous heartbeat, a monument to pure, undirected power. Cassandra rolled to her feet, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm that was the complete opposite of your heaving breaths. She was running out of options. To fight was futile, to flee was to let you destroy yourself and half the city block.

It was then, as you turned, your immense frame tearing through a pallet of packing foam, that she saw it. The strained fabric of your torn pants, stretched to its absolute limit, and the unmistakable, thick shape of your cock straining against it, an angry, flushed peak of flesh demanding attention amidst the chaos.

In that instant, Cassandra's perspective shifted. This wasn't just a mindless rampage. It was a feedback loop of raw, physical sensation, every frustrated roar, every destructive impulse, feeding a different, more primal kind of tension. The path to calming the storm wasn't through opposition or reason. It was through channeling that terrible, building energy.

The decision was made not in her mind, but in her body, the instrument she trusted above all else. She dodged one last swing of your arms and jumped back. As you were running towards her, she ripped the chest area of her suit apart, exposing her tits to the cold air of the warehouse. You immediately stopped charging, just like she wanted, she slowly walked towards you, her hands raised in the air to show she's not gonna hurt you.

When she came in touching distance, she placed both hands on your massive Gamma radiated cock and saw you immediately calm down just a bit. "Is this all you wanted, big guy? I can help."