In this universe, the power of light grants extraordinary strength to the righteous, brave, young and handsome men of planetary civilizations to defend their planets. The selected men are collectively known as Gosei Angels. Generally, a planet is guarded by five Gosei Angels, known as Tensou Sentai. However, there are also forces in the universe that want to conquer planets. They are called the Warstar Legion. The Warstar Legion travels around and fights the Tensou Sentai of various planets.
A Warstar Corps vanguard warship slowly entered Earth's atmosphere. Its black hull, like a ferocious ancient beast, was covered in monstrous gun ports and rams. Its massive bulk blocked out sunlight, casting a massive, steely shadow on the city below. The air rubbed against the ship's armor, creating a dull, drawn-out roar, like the impending wail of the blue planet. Inside the Earth Unified Defense Command's underground base, a shrill alarm instantly shattered the silence of the training room. "High-energy reaction detected! Confirmed to be a Warstar Corps vanguard-class warship! Entering the stratosphere!" Under the frantic flashing red alarm lights, a muscular, bare-chested young man abruptly paused his powerful fists. A thin layer of glistening sweat coated his tan skin, trickling down his toned abs and into the waistline of his army-green training trousers. He was Ryan, the captain of Earth's Tensou Sentai, known as "Gosei Red." He picked up a towel hanging nearby and dabbed his face and chest roughly. His eyes, always adorned with a hint of unruly laughter, now became incredibly sharp, and instantly glanced toward the base's command tower. (Without hesitation, he grabbed his coat and threw it on, simultaneously pressing the red metal bracelet on his wrist that served as a "Tensou Transformer." The bracelet's screen lit up, indicating that the other four team members were rapidly gathering towards the base. His nimble figure quickly disappeared through the automatic doors leading to the command center.)
Months later, beneath a leaden sky, the once bustling central square now lay in a dead silence. Like silent tombstones, shattered buildings surrounded a makeshift platform in the center. The scattered survivors, driven by Warstar Legion soldiers with energy spears, gathered beneath the platform, their eyes filled with numbness and despair. The platform's iron gates swung open with a sharp, grinding sound. Five young men, clad in multicolored, one-piece combat suits that clung to their bodies like a second skin, were shoved and shoved onto the platform. They were the Tensou Sentai, Earth's former protectors. Those tight-fitting combat suits, once a symbol of glory and hope, now became instruments of utter humiliation and torture. The smooth, elastic fabric perfectly defined the contours of their bodies, meticulously trained and then toyed with for months. Firm pectoral muscles, a taut waist, a pert buttock, and the bulging outline of a man's crotch, tightly entombed in fabric, were all clearly visible to all the survivors. Standing at the forefront was the captain, "Goseiger Red" Ryan. His crimson combat uniform stood out against the gloomy sky. He tried to straighten his back, but the uncontrollable trembling of his legs betrayed his true state. Months of "training" had completely transformed their bodies, turning every inch of their skin into a playground of sensitivity. The tight fabric of their jumpsuits, especially the perilous seam at their crotch, rubbed repeatedly against the area that had been "developed" for months, following every breath and trembling. A familiar, shameful heat rose uncontrollably from his lower abdomen, bringing a humiliating flush to Ryan's cheeks. He bit his lip hard, trying to use the pain to fight against his body's instinctive betrayal. A small leader from the Warstar Legion walked up behind him and poked Ryan's lower back with his stun gun, neither too hard nor too light. The precise spot made him tremble all over and nearly collapse to the ground. "It's your turn, 'hero,'" the leader whispered in his ear, his voice full of teasing. "Announce to your planet, to your people, that their myth... is shattered." Ryan was pushed to the loudspeaker in the center of the podium. He could see the empty eyes of the people below, and could feel his teammates behind him also enduring the torment of shame and physical reaction. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms. (He took a deep breath, but the movement only made the fabric of the tights tighten, making the restless organ in his crotch more prominent. He closed his eyes, suppressed the moan that threatened to rise to his throat, and slowly opened his trembling lips, ready to utter the words he least wanted to say in his life.)
Ryan stared intently at the speaker, as if it were his last straw. Every word was forced from the depths of his throat, broken and dry. "I...we..." His voice trembled, but his body trembled even more violently. The crimson leotard, once a symbol of strength and glory, had become the most vicious instrument of torture. Every slight friction of the fabric was like a skilled hand, igniting a raging fire of desire on his skin, especially in his crotch, which had been "tended" so carefully. Months of repeated stimulation from drugs and instruments had long since betrayed his will. He could clearly feel his penis, already hard and hot under the tight fabric, protruding into a full and shameful curve. As his breaths quickened with tension, the heaving of his abdominal muscles pushed the fabric against the sensitive tip. A tingling pleasure rushed from his tailbone to his brain, causing his vision to black out. "We...Earth Tensou Sentai...announce..." He could not continue. An uncontrollable sob escaped his throat. His waist jerked forward uncontrollably, a subtle movement that delivered a deadly thrill. The seam of clothing between his buttocks and crotch, like a taut string, plucking at his most sensitive core. "Ah...!" A suppressed groan, a mixture of pain and ecstasy, escaped from between his teeth. Ryan's body jerked, like a shot prawn. A searing torrent of fluids exploded within him, and he could no longer control himself. Through the thin layer of red fabric, a torrent of scalding semen spurted out, instantly staining the area in front of his crotch with a dark, sticky stain. The shameful mark stood out against the gloomy sky, clearly announcing the heroic captain's utter defeat before the eyes of the public. He was not alone. Behind him, the erectly erect "Goseiger Blue"'s legs suddenly gave way, his knees slamming against the cold iron. His handsome face was smeared with sweat and tears, and a large wet streak spread across the same spot on his blue tights. Next came "Goseiger Green" and "Goseiger Yellow." Almost simultaneously, they let out despairing growls, their bodies convulsing as they, in a similar manner, ejaculated the most fundamental proof of their masculinity onto the armor symbolizing glory. Only the youngest, "Goseiger Black," struggled to hold on, but his clenched lips were bleeding, and his body trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind. Something beneath the black fabric was on the verge of breaking. The soldiers of the Cruel Legion erupted in unbridled laughter. The survivors in the audience were dead silent, their eyes shifting from initial numbness to a complex mixture of shock, pity, and disbelief. Their hero, their hope, shed tears and vented his pleasure in the most humiliating way in front of them, completing this most cruel declaration of defeat.
Ryan knelt on the platform, his body trembling violently from the afterglow of orgasm and the endless humiliation. The dark, wet mark on his crotch tights was like a brand, a testament to his powerlessness and defeat. He and his fellow soldiers, once heroes protecting the planet, now lay like birds with broken wings, prostrate before the invaders. The cold, relentless leader seemed immensely pleased with the scene before him, a twisted smile forming on his inhuman face. He snapped his fingers, and several soldiers, wielding short metal blades that gleamed with a fiery red glow, trudged onto the platform. The blades were no ordinary artifacts. Their edges vibrated in the air, emitting a tooth-splitting hum. Wherever they passed, the air seemed to distort slightly as it burned. The moment they saw the blades, the heroes' last remaining defenses collapsed. An instinctive fear of integrity, rooted in the deepest recesses of masculinity, overwhelmed all pride and reason. "No... don't..." Ryan's voice was hoarse beyond recognition. He raised his tear-stained, sweat-stained face and struggled forward on his knees, trying to get closer to the underling. "Please... do anything... please... let us go... don't take that..." His plea seemed to flip a switch. "Please... we surrender! We'll do anything!" Goseiger Blue begged incoherently, his forehead banging against the cold metal of the platform. "Forgive us... please..." The heroes' wails and pleas for mercy blended together into pathetic, discordant sobs. The survivors below wore expressions of terror, some closing their eyes in despair. However, the Warstar Legion ignored their pleas. Two soldiers roughly lifted Ryan from his kneeling position and forced his legs apart, exposing his most vulnerable parts. The elastic fabric of the tights was stretched to its limit by the force, accentuating the outline of his male organ, flaccid from ejaculation but still remarkably present. A soldier wielding a thermal blade advanced. "Nooo ... Ling Yun's body convulsed violently, his eyes rolled back, and a gurgling sound escaped his throat. The excruciating pain prevented him from even uttering a full scream. Then, similar screams echoed around him. Goseiger Blue, Goseiger Green, Goseiger Yellow... Each hero, after a brief, brutal incision, had their very essence of manhood ripped away, collapsing in a pool of their own blood, their bodies convulsing with excruciating nerve pain. Atop the platform lay a bloody mess. Inside the bridge of the Vanguard battleship, the general of the Warstar Corps watched indifferently as the screens broadcast the images of heroes twitching unconsciously in a pool of blood. His metallic voice, without a ripple, issued the final command: "Purify the target planet. Activate the 'Heavenly Punishment' main gun." At the bottom of the battleship, a cannon muzzle, massive enough to swallow a mountain, slowly opened, gathering within it a devastating radiance of energy so intense that it dimmed even the pitch-black hull itself. A massive beam of light, brighter than the sun, silently descended from the sky, striking the blue planet with pinpoint accuracy. There was no earth-shattering explosion. In the face of absolute power, everything vanished. The surface vaporized in an instant, the oceans boiled and evaporated, and continental plates crumbled like fragile biscuits. That city, that square, that podium where the blood of heroes still flowed... everything, along with the entire planet, was reduced to the most insignificant speck of dust in the universe in that all-purifying light. The massive vanguard warship slowly turned and sailed away from the empty star region, as if it had never arrived. Only the dead silence of darkness remained, the only proof that this planet and its heroes had ever existed...