leatherpunk16

Chapter 10: Because You Just Might Get IT Helixion Genetics, North Hallway, Building 3, Basement Level 5, Maintenance Area. REDACTED LOCATION. 23:20 MST. 30-Oct-20XX After the Alpha had given Stag a second dose of his potent seeds, the corruption-seeking ginger no longer required any restraints while the other creatures had their turn inside him. The viscous saliva from the initial penetration had worn off, and Stag was made to feel every second of his conversion as it continued. The Alpha stood back as one of his underlings began its work on Stag, his arms crossed, and felt a sense of pride as he watched. His boldness is to be admired, the Alpha thought. But his presumption that we would just accept him needs to be dealt with. This one must be shown his place. He had ordered the other creatures to have fun with the soldier, but also to show him no mercy, and to give him no sedation. He’ll be useful later, but for now, let’s make him regret this little excursion into our hive. The other creatures seemed to hear his thoughts, and turned their heads toward him, and then back to Stag, indicating their understanding of the orders. The first smiler pressed his bulbous cock into Stag’s gaping rectum, and found the familiar squish of corrupted semen just inside the cavity. It was on the verge of leaking out, and the smiler pushed it back inside where it must remain. Stag grunted at the penetration, and after sinking a good eleven inches deep into the hole, the first smiler began thrusting. Its sweat built up quickly and began running off him in rivulets as it started to pound Stag’s hole into oblivion. In all his years of gallivanting and whoring it up, Stag had never once played with his anus. The nearest he came to it was when he picked up a person of indeterminate gender in Thailand who surprised him by strapping on a comically large dildo. Stag had felt a simultaneous hunger and revulsion in that episode, and humiliated his one-night stand so he wouldn’t have to interact with their fetish. His internalized homophobia slowly ebbed away, and the ongoing penetration with the smiler made him realize that he might have missed a golden opportunity back then, but he was making up for it now. A second smiler came round to the front of Stag, and positioned itself just in front of his head. Stag looked up briefly and was greeted by a monstrously large corrupted dick, oozing with thick precum. He needed no instruction, and knew what was expected of him. Craning his neck up as far as he could, he opened his mouth widely and swallowed the dark massive dick as much as he could. The second smiler purred deeply in response, and forced his infected prong the rest of the way down Stag’s throat. Matching the rhythm of his brother, the second smiler began to orally fuck Stag's windpipe. He was given no choice but to comply and swallow every drop of corrupted seed that came to him as his throat muscles strained. The top smiler continued to fuck, and Stag’s resistance excited the beast further. The tempo of the thrusts increased, and Stag’s mind began to wander. He’s getting close. My God, it’s huge… he’s hitting all the right spots and it hurts so bad but it hurts so good I don’t ever want it to stop Oh for the love of God please fucking stop These evil fuckers are getting off on my fighting it Stop fighting it Bryce No yes No Yes No Yes No Yes YES YES YES YES YES AW FUUUUUUUUCK. He felt the heat coming off his tops, and the dripping sweat, and he began to feel like he was swimming while being spitroasted. The thrusts were so hard, Stag was sure this would break him in half. His hole was stretched to its absolute limit, and almost torn by the throbbing cock inside him. Then the top beast began to slow. It pulled most of the way out, and then slammed its thick shaft back inside all the way to the hilt, and repeated the motion a countless number of times. The sensations overwhelmed him, and Stag lost control of his bladder. His acrid piss began running like a quiet river that grew into a raging torrent, feeding the beast inside him. Stag felt a very brief sense of relief, but the fucking didn’t stop for a second. The smiler opposite of him removed his dick from the mouth, and jacking off rapidly, shot a hefty load of black oozy spunk on Stag’s face. It got his right eye, and ran down the cheek. Stag tried to reach it with his tongue, but was not successful. The second smiler growled deeply in satisfaction, and wiped the load from the man's face with its left hand. Then it held a clawed finger out, and Stag licked it up eagerly while trying to avoid poking his tongue with the claw. Mmm. Metallic. He had tasted his own cum once on a dare during basic, and found it too smoky and bleachy. This load, however, had a hard taste like biting a pill, but with notes of sweet nectar. Already he could feel that his tongue was different. As he watched, the Alpha could pinpoint the moment when Stag's transformation began; two superior loads deep with entry at two points plus the third on the way, and the physique started to morph into a balloon animal made of muscle and dark veins. The corruption spiderwebbed out from the source and snaked across and around the body at a surprisingly swift rate. Stag’s skin took on a slightly transparent greyish pallor as his transformation progressed. The pupils had begun to dilate; Stag was in pig heaven as he felt it taking over and obliterating the man he used to be. Perfection, the Alpha growled in approval. I can’t wait to see what he does with it. The top smiler held still for a second as it flipped Stag over while still inside him. Stag groaned with the twisting motion, and opening his eyes, he was able to see the face of the thing that was breeding him. It had its mouth open, black corruption dripping from the eyes and mouth, razor-sharp teeth like daggers grinning savagely as it resumed its ministration. Stag locked eyes with the creature, and its gaze penetrated his heart. For the first time in a while, Stag knew true fear. I could die from this, Stag thought with a hint of remorse. Fuck me, what have I done… But it’s so beautiful, and I’ll be one of these guys pretty soon with a virgin meat puppet of my own underneath me. It will be glorious. Knowing he had surrendered his humanity for the ultimate fuck, his last thoughts of resistance faded away as he fully embraced the creature by its head in both his hands. It was sticky to the touch, but he didn’t let go. He fondled the creature's horns, and wondered what purpose they served, and then discarded the query. The smiler seemed to like the touch in this spot, and purred deep in its chest. Stag locked eyes with his breeder. “Keep… fucking… Breed me… now… you… ugly … piece of … shit!” His breath came faster and in short gulps, and he longed for the part where the insemination was over and he could just enjoy his reward. His chest began to heave as the heart rate increased. Now Stag was returning the thrusts and bucking his hips in response to the pounding he had been receiving, and it caught the smiler by surprise. Its grin got wider as it figured out what Stag was doing, and in response, pushed Stag onto his shoulders, and began jackhammering him. This one seeks total destruction. Inspired, the smiler put its hands on Stag’s raw nipples, and tugged at them until they were hard and puffy. At long last, the smiler seized up, and let out a terrible roar that penetrated Stag's heart. A toxic volley of semen again flooded Stag's ruined colon, and as it moved through his chute, he felt it burning up from the inside. The smiler lowered Stag to the floor so he was lying on his back again. Stag took a moment to look at his own meagre cock, but to his astonishment, it had also changed from the last time he saw it. Where it had been a modest but respectable pale pecker was now a python of a dick, oozing its final drops of uninfected cum. Aware that the virus was working, Stag began to stroke himself furiously to empty his nuts. One for the road. Giving him all the sensations, the smiler took Stag’s balls in his hand, and pulled them downward forcefully. Stag let out a loud appreciative moan, but was cut short by a hand from an unseen figure. It held his mouth shut, and he was bound again, and working with less oxygen. Breath control, Stag thought. That’s a new one. It sent him over the edge; the load was short in coming, and when it shot, the smiler opened its mouth widely, and hungrily slurped every drop off Stag's hand and abdomen with its bifurcated tongue. The hand withdrew from Stag’s mouth, and he could breathe again. The air began to smell of sweat and spunk and stale piss and ass, and Stag was fully intoxicated by it. Heh, already an improved sense of smell, he thought. The smiler pulled out, leaving a grateful Stag lying on the floor, almost comatose as the corruption renewed its hold on him. As he began to slip back into unconsciousness, a third creature took its place, and started Stag up again before he had a chance to roll over, light up, and turn on the Late Show. Then it came: a voice familiar to Stag shouted something about liquidation over the speakers. A sudden clamor was heard from across the spacious room, but Stag and his breeder were too engaged to even register it. The Alpha’s head turned in the direction of the sounds with alarm, and it bolted off in that direction with several other smilers who had been waiting their turn. —--------- Helixion Genetics, South Maintenance Corridor, Building 3, Basement Level 5. REDACTED LOCATION. 23:40 MST. 30-OCT-20XX The impact with the air vent caused Gravestone to momentarily lose his hearing, and he attempted to get up from the cold concrete floor. His head throbbed, and the world felt dizzy. He blinked several times, dumbfounded by how quickly this escalated, and the ringing in his ears only added to his disorientation. He snapped his fingers next to his left ear twice, and it produced a dull unsatisfactory clicking sound. Feeling every one of his years, the aging commander pushed himself to all fours. Steadying himself with what he thought was a wall, he returned to standing. The dizziness slowly allayed, and everything felt surreal. The wetness on his steadying hand had only a split-second’s attention. Hearing slowly approaching footsteps behind him, Gravestone quickly turned about, hoping the steps came from either Reaper or Tex or Zero, or some other last-second hero from his squad. To his great surprise, he was greeted by a newly-converted Lockjaw, who obscured his features slightly by remaining in a shadow just light enough to see who it was, but none of the distinctive new physical traits. “Commander,” the voice said with no inflection. Lockjaw could barely contain his excitement. Gravestone recognized the voice instantly. “Adrian!! Thank God it’s you,” Gravestone said with great relief. “We gotta go. Tex and Reaper are just on the other side of the gate.” “Why the rush, commander?” Lockjaw asked in a light voice. “We have everything we need right here. Don’t run off - the fun’s about to begin.” As he spoke, the timbre of his voice deepened and sounded sinister by the last word. Gravestone felt his heart skip a beat. In that skip, he knew he was about to come to harm. His walls went up, and he attempted to step back, but found a fleshy form instead of a hard surface. Alarmed, he turned about, and found himself face to face with Pixel. “Stay with us, commander,” Pixel said in the same dreamy voice. “You’ll come to love it as we do.” Gravestone was horrified as he found himself quickly surrounded by nearly half his team, all converted into smilers; Lockjaw emerged from the shadow, and Patch stepped into view with him, followed by Sticks. Each of them had the same weirdly grey skin, the same dilated pupils, the same sharp teeth and the creepy grin that accompanied them, and each was completely naked. Two other faces that Gravestone didn’t know also appeared from unseen places, and their features seemed more developed: one had slight horns in its forehead, the other bore claws that badly needed a manicure. All were naked, all drooled to varying degrees, and all of them wielded huge penises, some more erect than others. The smilers formed a small half-circle around him. He was surprised to see that Stag wasn't among them, and part of him hoped the ass would be a hero and save him from the impending doom. “No…” Gravestone looked from one face to the next, hoping to find an ally among them, but they all gave him the same menacing grin. He raised his tranq gun, knowing the futility of using it, but it was his only means of defense for what was going to happen next. His hands trembled as he pointed his weapon from face to face, unable to fire on his comrades. “Patch… not you, too!” Tears of fear and hurt began to well up in his eyes as he struggled to process this shift in the game plan. “It’s okay, commander,” Patch said gently. “There’s no pain, no fear, only pleasure and a deep sense of brotherhood. Rapid healing, sex drive for days, and so many new features.” Sticks interrupted him. “The endorphins are wonderful, and it feels so good. Join us, commander. It will be the best thing you ever did.” Gravestone didn’t dare to breathe. A single tear escaped his eye, and ran down his cheek. An unknown smiler hissed impatiently. He lowered his weapon, and drooped his head, blinking several times as he processed a variety of outcomes. He knew there was no escaping this, and fighting back would be futile. Outnumbered and certainly outgunned, Gravestone let the weapon fall to the floor. It made a pitiful clattering sound, hardly doing justice to what he was feeling. The sextet closed their circle around him, and Gravestone shut his eyes tightly, praying that this was just a bad dream. He reopened them, and looked toward the exit where Tex and Reaper had gone out, and wished he could have joined them. “Good luck, guys.” He inhaled deeply for a calming breath. Forgive me, Denise. Gravestone surrendered completely to the darkness as multiple gobs of spit struck him simultaneously from different angles. —------------- Helixion Genetics, South Maintenance Corridor, Building 3, Basement Level 5. The other side of the locked gate. REDACTED LOCATION. 23:51 MST. 30-OCT-20XX Elias hissed sharply as Tex tried to inspect the scratch wound on his friend’s arm. “It’s a deep scratch, but I can’t treat it here,” Tex said with frustration. “Too dark, and too many potential contaminants in here.” He carefully put the jacket back on Elias, who grimaced and groaned as the garment was replaced on him. “Sorry, buddy. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding, though. You’ll probably have a scar. We’ll get Trevor to look at it when we get you home.” Tex looked back at the gate. “What about the commander?” Elias shook his head slightly, regretful that he wasn’t with them. “We can’t help him. If we go back, we’re finished. We’ve got to go NOW. With any luck, he’ll get away from those things.” The two of them started moving through the dark space, neither one speaking. The air was different here - a little cleaner, less confining, but it smelled slightly dusty. The only source of light came from the small lamp above the gate where they came in. The exit felt like a long way off. In his mind, Tex was cursing Jack over and over for his loud reactions that awoke the smilers, and took their commander, and wounded his friend. All this shit could have been avoided, and now we gotta leave another one behind. We’re the last two left, and who knows if that scratch was poisonous? I could be a sole survivor. The thought sent a shudder through him, and Elias noticed it, but said nothing. Tex continued his train of thought. Patch and Pixel were both raped and possibly killed; Lockjaw and Sticks are both MIA, Stag went rogue, and Zero… oh, brave Zero... Always the consummate soldier. Hope he lasts til morning. After turning a corner, a light was visible at the end of the tunnel, and they ran toward it. “Finally! An exit,” Elias said with relief. At last, this shitstorm can begin to be over. Only one more obstacle to freedom stood in their way: a large grate, bolted to the exterior wall. Needing no words, Elias and Tex gave one glance to each other, then coordinated a couple of swift kicks to the metal covering. It gave way surprisingly fast, and Tex looked at Elias in astonishment. “There’s no way that should have come off in two kicks,” he said. Elias was likewise confounded by it. “No kidding. Who put together that security detail?” Not questioning their good fortune for another second, they pushed the grate forward the rest of the way, and Elias was the first to taste the sweet freedom of the night air. When both he and Tex had emerged from the tunnel, they stood up fully, and inhaled deeply. The October night air was chilly, but not freezing, and considering the past few hours of activity, it was a welcome relief both physically and mentally. They paused to take in the moment, and just breathe. Elias took note of the surroundings. “Where do you think we came out?” Everything looked so different by night. He could see only trees and shrubs and the occasional rock. “I think you came out in a coffee shop, as I recall,” Tex answered, giving his friend a smirk. “I know that was a joke, but that is so not funny right now,” Elias said. “You know you love it!” Tex replied playfully. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here. The security team is probably still out front, but let’s try to sneak past them.” “Right,” Elias agreed. “They’re probably on the General’s payroll.” Quietly keeping to the shadows, they carefully followed the Helixion building around the side, knowing they would come around to the front eventually. The uneven ground and the darkness of the night made progression slow. Tex’s left foot found a sinkhole before he or Elias saw it, and he was on the grass in an instant. Tex wanted to cry out in pain as his ankle throbbed, but Elias was fast enough to cover his friend’s mouth with a hand. Wordlessly, they exchanged looks, and Elias indicated he would pull Tex back to his feet. Taking him in two hands, he pulled Tex up from under the arms, and it was a great effort for Tex to mask the exertion without making a sound. Once in an upright position, Tex balanced precariously on the right foot while hovering the injured left just inches above the ground, and a hand on the wall. Elias knelt down for a look, and wanted to issue a vilification for the hidden hole in the dirt, but knew silence was the priority. Elias looked at Tex’s shin, ankle, and foot, but without removing all the clothing and boots, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He looked back up at Tex, and gave a quick shaking of the head. In pantomime, he raised his hands to say, “Looks fine.” Tex understood, and using his hands, he mimed the word “twisted”, and drew a question mark with his index finger. Elias nodded in acknowledgement. He offered his shoulders for Tex to grab, and hobbled both of them around toward the front of the facility. Tex touched his injured foot down occasionally to balance himself as they moved slowly. As they rounded the first corner, flashing emergency lights reflecting from the surrounding trees told them what would be waiting for them around front. “We got company,” Tex said in a whisper. “Any ideas?” Shaking his head yes, Elias took a look around and motioned towards the treeline off in the distance. “If we can make it over through the fence and trees, there should be a gas station along that road, then we call a cab or Uber…” Elias said, his voice slightly slurred. “That’s a big ‘if’… not to mention cameras on the parking lot between us and Krell. Don’t ask me why, but I don’t think we can trust him…” Tex said, his ankle throbbing as he gingerly tried to put weight on it. “Stick to the shadows. We should be okay then. For such a big place, they really cheaped out on the cameras,” Elias replied, shaking his head as he spoke, fighting the dizzy feeling in his brain. Slowly, Elias helped Tex slowly hobble across the darkest part of the parking lot, before finally making it to the thick treeline, the sound of traffic and several fire engine sirens rushing past. After several minutes, and several near trips into a stray muddy puddle, the two emerged from the woods and looked up and down the street. Off in the distance, the glow of a small gas station cutting the dim soft glow of the streetlights. It was a long journey toward it, but their slow three-legged race went unnoticed by anyone, and they finally came to rest on a bench in front of the station. Tex grunted as he sat down, grateful to be off his feet at last. “Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.” Fatigue started to rear its ugly head as both men tried to process the events of the past few hours. For a few minutes, neither one of them spoke or made any sound. Finally, Tex broke the silence. “I reckon we should get some supplies before moving out,” he said, never taking his eyes off the horizon. “Buuuut … neither of us is really in a condition to do some shopping.” “I was just thinking about that,” Elias said slowly. “If we buy anything with our credit cards, there will be a record of the sale when we’re supposed to be in that godforsaken facility.” This long sentence was a struggle to put together as his words continued to slur. Tex picked up on it, and observed his friend quietly. He must be drop-dead exhausted. And that wound… maybe it was poisonous, after all. “Do you have any cash?” Tex asked. Elias fished around in his pockets, and turned up a couple of old dollar bills that had been through the wash a few times. Tex had a few more that were in better shape. Putting them together, it was barely enough for at least two bottles of water, maybe something to eat, and ice. “Well, I’m feeling a little woozy, but you’ve got the twisted ankle,” Elias said with an effort. “Rock paper scissors for shopping duties?” Tex nodded thrice, and they played a round. Tex chose rock, Elias chose paper. “Tough break, bro.” “Yeah, yeah, I’m going…” Tex said in his drawl. He pushed himself up from the bench with Elias’s support, and carefully made his way to the brightly-lit entrance of the mini-mart. Elias resumed his seat on the bench, watching his friend all the way. When Tex was inside and out of sight, Elias looked up at the night sky. It was a starry night, and the quiet here was deafening. Given all the chaos of the night, this was a welcome relief. His head was filled with images that kept playing on an endless loop: Gravestone getting knocked across the room, the long tunnel to the exit, that fool Jack, and the horrible appearances of the smilers. What were those things? Why were they interested in fucking my team members? What happened to Lockjaw, to Sticks, to Patch? Why did Stag bail on us? Right at the moment, he wished he hadn’t given up smoking - a cigarette right now would do him good and maybe clear his head, give him something to do with his hands. The brain fog hadn’t let up, and Elias just put it down to fatigue and mental exhaustion. Suddenly, he heard the cheerful bell of the mini-mart’s door chime, and Tex reappeared, carrying a small sack filled with things. Tex returned to the bench, and took a comfortable seat. “Got some things for us,” he said with forced cheer. “Here, drink this.” He handed Elias a bottle of water, and then took out another for himself. Elias took a long, grateful pull from the bottle at once, and swallowed. Then he looked at the bottle in slight revulsion. “It’s perfectly anemic,” he said. “It’s wet, isn’t it?” Tex said with a glare. “Just drink it.” He continued to unpack the bag. “I got some ice for my ankle… a couple of nutritional bars they had on clearance price…” He removed the ice and set it next to him, but kept the bars in the bag, and continued to fish for things. “Aaaand… viola! A disposable phone.” He showed the prize to Elias like a child who just found his new favorite toy. “We didn’t have the cash for that!” Elias objected. “Forgot I had a couple twenties in my shirt pocket,” Tex answered triumphantly. “I get to be the hero this time.” He reached in the bag one more time, and pulled out a box of large bandages. “It’s not exactly the ER, but we can at least cover your wound with something sterile, and I can see it better in this light. Eat this, and take off your jacket.” Elias removed his jacket again, but it caused him less pain this time. He placed the garment over the back of the bench, and it slowly began to slide off. He turned his body so Tex could see the scratch fully while Tex opened the bandage. Elias opened the bar, and took a bite. The thing was hard, but something to keep him fueled. It’s supposed to be strawberry, but all I taste is grit, he thought bitterly. Tex inspected the wound. The deep gash in the skin thankfully had stopped oozing on its own, but still looked rather jagged and painful. Likely it would need stitches, but having nothing close to that, it would just have to wait until morning. Elias breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to put his damaged jacket back on, but didn’t find it where he put it. He looked around but saw no garment anywhere. Tex saw his distress, and finally asked, “Where’s your fucking jacket?” Elias stood to walk around the bench, and found himself severely unbalanced. “Whoa, easy, cowboy!” Tex said, trying to steady his friend. Elias sat back down, and felt his heart rate slightly elevated. “Whew! It feels like it’s been ages since I last got up,” Elias said with embarrassment. “There it is,” Tex said, pointing at the jacket in a rumpled pile. “It just fell under the bench.” He grabbed it, and helped Elias put it back on. “There ya go, all better. How about we call a cab?” Elias could only nod in reply. —-------- Elias’s apartment. REDACTED LOCATION. 00:10 MST. 31-OCT-20XX The cab had appeared within minutes, and Tex used up every red cent to pay the fare. He regretted he couldn’t tip the driver more than a few pennies, but promised himself he would call the cab company the next day and set it right. During the whole ride, only the driver spoke. Tex gave the barest of information as Elias drifted in and out of awareness. Glad to be home at last, Elias poured two shots of rum, and gave one to Tex, who raised his glass as if to give a toast. “To our friends who didn’t get home tonight,” he said gravely. Elias returned the toast, and they downed the shots together. It burned all the way down. Tex had his foot propped up on the coffee table with the bag of ice draped over the ankle. Elias’s head continued to throb, and the medicinal shot didn’t alleviate the uncomfortable feeling. He collected the glass from Tex and placed both in the kitchen sink. The dull sound it produced resonated like the sound of striking an anvil. Tex observed his friend as he moved around the apartment. He looked ragged and tired, his hair was a mess in all directions, and he smelled of sweat and grime as if he had been running for days. Tex didn’t imagine he looked much better, and hadn’t the heart or the vanity to locate a mirror to prove otherwise. He also noticed that Elias didn’t look like a well man. Hardly surprising, considering what we’ve been through tonight. “We should figure out what to do about all this,” Tex said awkwardly. Elias turned his gaze toward his friend, and then away as a strange vision danced into his head. Mentally he was undressing Tex, and then pounding him into the couch with a massive boner. And then it was gone - Elias felt like he was losing his grip on reality. He pinched his nose bridge between two fingers, and after removing them, he blinked at Tex. “I’m sorry. What did you say?” “What are we going to do?” Tex repeated, now with concern followed by a sudden yawn. He removed his glasses, and set them on the nearby end table. “I… I don’t know,” Elias stammered. “I can’t think right now. I feel like I could sleep for a thousand years. Can we sort this out in the morning?” “Sure, man,” Tex said sleepily. “It will still… be…” Before he knew it, Tex had fallen asleep mid-sentence on the couch, his clothes still on, his foot still elevated with the ice happily melting around it. Elias softly chuckled, and whispered, “Good night, my friend.” He removed the bag of ice, and placed it in the sink. Elias returned with a soft kitchen towel, and placed it beneath Tex’s elevated foot. Then he covered him with an afghan, and extinguished the lights. He pushed himself down the hall to the room he shared with Trevor, and completely undressed himself. Turning toward the full-length mirror, his eyes instantly went to the spot where the monster had scratched him. His mouth twisted in distaste, and he silently hoped that the wound wouldn’t get infected or worse. I’m not a medic, but Trevor can look at it tomorrow. Hopefully just a flesh wound. He turned away from the mirror; the bed looked so inviting. He crawled into the king-size bed, grateful that Trevor was working overnight in surgery and wouldn’t be home til morning. Before he could reach over and put out the lamp, Elias was asleep in an instant, lying horizontally across the bed. END OF THE FIRST ACT.

Check back tomorrow.

Chapter 8: Zero Hour Helixion Genetics, South Passage, Ground Floor. Building 3. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:30 MST. 30-Oct-20XX “Man, this hallway goes on forever,” Elias complained aloud. “There better be cheese at the end of this maze!” Navigating all the twisting corridors in the dark hadn’t been a fun experience for either him or Gravestone. Twice he nearly walked into a wall that he didn’t expect to find there, prompting Gravestone to remark, “Careful, there, soldier. Wouldn’t want to have to carry you out of here.” “Hardy-har,” Elias responded with sarcasm to cover his embarrassment. “Let me look at the map.” Gravestone handed the single sheet of paper to him silently, and began to examine a plaque on the wall while Elias inspected the map. After a quick scan, he shined his field light down the hall they just came through. “We just went through there, and if I’m reading this right, the map indicates a left turn from here. Do you see a left turn ahead?” Gravestone turned his light ahead in that direction, and quickly found the corner. “Yup. Right… er, left here.” His beam hit the unremarkable wall. “Okay, then the security room should be at the end of the hall. Tex and Stag should have got access to the cameras by now.” The walk through the hall was uneventful, and both men kept silent as they proceeded. The only sound was the soft clip of their tactical boots. Elias was grateful that the annoying alarm had ceased, and he inwardly prayed that it stopped because Tex or Stag found a switch in the security room. Finally reaching the door to the room, both men stopped suddenly. Elias sniffed the air, and said, “Smell that?” “Someone’s been smoking, right here.” He pointed his light at the floor, and immediately found a cigarette butt, smashed from what looked like a boot print. “And here’s the evidence.” He bent over and picked it up, and after a quick examination, said, “This is that brand that Stag likes.” He threw it back on the floor with contempt. “I’d like a smoke right now, but that guy seriously has no respect for protocol.” Gravestone stood at full height. “Remind me to chew him out for it later.” Elias nodded twice, and then tried the door. To his surprise, the knob turned easily, indicating that it wasn’t locked. He pushed the door open quickly, and was surprised to find Tex lying on the floor, and the contents of the trash can strewn about him. “Shit, Toby!” Elias rushed to him, and knelt beside him. Gravestone entered the room, joining Elias over Tex’s slumped form. “Damn it! Please tell me he’s still alive,” Gravestone said, watching as Elias held two fingers to Tex’s neck. “Yep. I think he was just knocked out,” Elias replied, rolling the man over and looking around for any injuries. Gravestone then walked over to the bay of monitors. “Good, try to get him back with us while I take a look. This gives us access to the whole building,” Gravestone said, looking at the various feeds, trying to get a bit of situational awareness. “Wake up, buddy.” Elias removed the wads of paper and food wrappers from around his friend, and gently slapped his face once or twice. Tex came to, with a start. “Wha…” He groaned at once, and put his hand to the back of his head where Stag had struck him. “What the hell happened to you?” Elias asked him. “It was Stag. Sick twisted fuck knocked me out,” he said as he pushed himself up to sitting while nursing his wounded head, hissing as he touched the back of his head. “Damn…. That hurts.” “Why would he do that?” Gravestone asked with a touch of anger in his voice. “No idea. We were watching the monitors, and… oh, shit… They got Patch and Pixel,” Tex said with irritation. “Who is ‘they’?” Gravestone demanded. “Who got Patch and Pixel?” Tex hesitated, then exhaled loudly. “We were watching the monitors when we saw this… huge thing chasing them and Zero.” He kept blinking as he remembered witnessing the awful event. “They tried to barricade in an office, and the thing broke the door down when those alarms went off. It was like a man possessed, only it wasn’t a man. Or I don’t think it was. It … looked like…” Tex’s breath started coming shorter as he tried to find the right words to accurately convey what he saw. Elias and Gravestone exchanged intense looks of concern, and then returned their gaze to Tex. “What? What did it look like?” Gravestone asked impatiently. “I can’t begin to describe it,” Tex finally said. “It was black, and big, and of monstrous size, I mean, it looked human-shaped but didn’t, and it hurt them, and sliced their clothes. Then another one came in, and they started…” Tex struggled to find the right word here. “The creatures got Patch and Pixel naked, and they raped them.” “Oh my god…” Elias whispered, drawing a hand to his lips. Gravestone’s face pinched while he processed the fact. “Wh… why the hell would they do that?” “It was terrible,” Tex choked out. “And then a third one came in, but I guess Zero hid somewhere, and it didn’t find him. But it left, and then the things carried our guys away. I think maybe they’re dead, they weren’t moving and I don't see how they could have survived that.” Tex’s voice trailed off. Elias and Gravestone shot looks of puzzlement at each other. Gravestone turned back to the monitors. “God damn it! Show us which room. Where did this happen?” Gravestone asked, eyes never leaving the array of screens. Tex stood to his feet, and hobbled over to the displays. It didn’t take him an instant to find the one he wanted. “There. This room,” he said, pointing. “And look – oh thank god, Zero’s still there!” “Guy’s probably freaking out,” Elias said. He activated his earpiece. “Zero, come in.” The figure on the monitor raised his head at the call, and leapt to his feet. “Z-z-zero here,” he answered in a broken voice. “Commander, it’s good to hear your voice! Please tell me you guys are safe!” Gravestone also activated his device. “Zero, we’ve found Tex. He saw the whole thing on the monitors in the security office. Are you injured?” “No, sir. I was able to get into the ceiling.” “Did you see what happened?” Gravestone asked, concern in his voice. “Yes, sir. It was brutal. Those… monsters got Pixel. Patch, too.” “We’ve heard,” Elias said. “We’re going to find the security tapes, and have a look for ourselves.” “You… you aren’t doubting me, are you sir?” Zero asked in a hurt voice. “No,” Elias answered gently. “No, Zero, but for our part, we need to see what this was, and maybe fill in some holes in the story. We need to see what you saw.” Zero sighed but with no visible relief. “Understood, sir. I’m… just going to sit here a minute.” Zero resumed his seat on the floor in a position of defeat and what looked like coping. He cradled himself, and started rocking back and forth on the hard office floor. Gravestone looked at Elias, jaw slightly dropped, and eyes full of compassion. “Jesus, he’s starting to shut down mentally. We gotta go get him. Can you handle Tex by yourself?” “I’m fine, guys,” Tex answered. “Just gonna have a nasty bump for a few days.” “Any idea where Stag is?” Elias asked, “I want to give that fucker a piece of my mind.” “Screw him,” Tex said. “Like I was telling you, we were watching that crazy scene, and I went to throw up. When I came up for air, I noticed him… I dunno, maybe touching himself. He was clearly getting off on what we watched happen.” Tex shook his head slightly. “He said something really fucking weird, and the guys on base say he’s been off his rocker for a while now. Probably took off on his own. Didn’t exactly say where he was going.” Elias wasn’t terribly surprised. With all the venomous remarks and ambivalence toward the mission thus far tonight, he almost expected Stag to do something drastic and stupid to top it all off. “Wait!” Tex suddenly said. “Fuck, I remember now. He said, ‘I can’t have you stopping me’ right before he clocked me. What the fuck did he mean by that?” “I… think I know,” Gravestone answered gravely. He pointed at another monitor. “Take a look. Down in the basement here.” The three of them watched the CCTV as they saw Stag walking by himself, confidently, and almost strutting from one end of the screen to the other and out of sight. Elias consulted the map. “What the hell is he down there for? There’s nothing down there but a maintenance shaft.” Tex looked at Elias quizzically. “If he wanted to bolt,” Elias continued, “he’s going in the wrong direction.” “Dammit…” Gravestone said with irritation. He put his hand to his earpiece. “Stag, come in.” In another monitor, they could see Stag remove his own earpiece, drop it on the floor, and crush it beneath his boot. He then found the nearest camera, and flipped them the bird before walking off screen again. Elias’s jaw dropped open in shock. “Yep… leave him, he’s gone,” Gravestone said, pursing his lips tightly. “I hope the monsters get him, the reckless bastard. I’m done trying with him. One less psycho in the world.” Tex and Elias expressed silent surprise that their commander would so easily cast off one of the team without a moment’s hesitation. “Where are the others?” Gravestone again put his hand to his earpiece. “Patch, give your location.” No reply. “Lockjaw, what’s your status?” No reply again. Gravestone looked at the others. “Why is no one answering?” Tex shrugged. “Remember when Sticks stopped responding? Maybe this whole place is full of dead zones.” Gravestone put his tongue between his teeth with frustration and shook his head, but said nothing. “Seriously, fuck this place.” Elias continued to check various monitors. “Hey, guys, I don’t see Lockjaw or Sticks anywhere on these feeds, either.” Gravestone silently looked at the screens, inspecting each one, and hoping he’d see them somewhere. “See? Here’s where the fire door came down on the Major, and he’s not there. Shit, we told him to stay put!” Elias slammed his fist down on the panel, and it gave a small electrical buzz in response. “If they ran into those things that took Patch and Pixel,” Gravestone began in a dark tone, “then they’re probably gone, too. Fuck! That’s almost half the squad.” He sighed, shut his eyes, and silently wished he was somewhere else. This can’t be happening. “Zero, how are you doing?” Elias asked. It took a minute to get a response, but Zero finally answered, “I’m holed up here. Those things are still out there. You guys can’t risk getting caught, too. Get out of here, and get help. Reinforcements. Something.” Tex and Elias and Gravestone all exchanged looks again. “No, soldier. Stay put, we’re coming to get you.” “No, sir! I’m telling you, it’s too risky,” Zero answered back. “I’ll buy you some time. I just… need a minute. Give me a second to think.” “This night just keeps getting better and better,” Tex said sarcastically, finally finding his glasses in the bottom of the trash, a large piece of uneaten banana stuck to one of the lenses. Elias looked around the control panel, searching for something that would indicate a playback of the assault on Patch and Pixel. After pressing a few buttons at a static monitor, he cued the footage to a guesstimate of when the event occurred. With singular luck, the video feed showed the exact moment when the third creature left the room in frustration. Elias and Gravestone watched in blank surprise as they got their first look at the monsters that attacked their teammates. —-------------- Helixion Genetics, East Hallway, Building 3, 2nd Floor Chemicals Lab. Office, Site of the Double Assault. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:32 MST Zero sat in a crumpled mess, attempting to smack the demons out of his head. He kept replaying the horrific sequence of events: the running down the hall, the attempt to keep the beast out, the view of the double rape from the ceiling. His mind screamed in terror. Each time he replayed it in his head, he invented a thousand and one scenarios where something might have been different and resulted in a different outcome. But none of them convinced him that he didn’t see it, and the images would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life. He removed his earpiece, and placed it on the floor. No distractions. Taking several deep calming breaths, he tried to meditate. His mind went back to the first mission he’d ever been on: a simple mission to free some hostages from one of the nameless cartels in the region. A set of twin siblings, one male and one female. Apparently the drug lord had taken a liking to twins as of late, and the two had been pulled from their family, children of the American ambassador, in the dead of night two months prior. He’d been tasked with helping extract them. They’d almost made it out of the compound when the brother had been shot, his sister screaming in agony at the site of her twin lying in a quickly growing pool of her own blood. In an instant, she snapped and went running out into the courtyard, armed only with a blunt piece of wood. Before Zero could do anything, she was gunned down, landing just within arms reach. Before Zero could escape, he was caught by the cartel’s men. Over the week he spent in captivity, he’d endured nearly every form of torture they could think of, before their leader decided it would be a perfect time to have his way with him. Zero had been worn down and was nearly ready to lay back and let it happen when his team finally came in and rescued him. Zero covered his face with his hands and wept uncontrollably. This whole thing was a picnic compared to that. But, every time he thought back to what he witnessed, he was somehow transported back to that fateful night just before he was rescued. Smacking the side of his head one more time, he took several deep breaths and put the radio back in his ear. He had promised to cover his comrades while they escaped the facility, and this time, he would not fail. He wiped his face with one hand, checked his pistol, and resettled his uniform. After a deep inhalation, he went to the doorway, and boldly walked out with a false confidence he knew he didn’t feel. —------------ Helixion Genetics, North Hallway, Building 3, Basement. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:30 MST. 30-Oct-20XX “Baby…,” Lockjaw struggled to say, the saliva gurgling around in his mouth before he could finally spit it out. “What are you doing?” He continued to try spitting out the disgusting concoction that Sticks was now dribbling into his mouth. “Shhhh, it’s okay,” Sticks answered in a sickeningly sweet voice. “You’ll be okay, I promise. It’ll only hurt at first, but once you give yourself over to it, you’ll forget aaaall about the pain. On the other end is nothing but pleasure.” Lockjaw had to admit that the situation was incredibly kinky. In all their prior sexcapades, Sticks had never done anything like this. Lockjaw was always the top, and Sticks was his bottom. Now the roles were reversed, and Lockjaw felt uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in their dynamic. “Give…over…to what?” Lockjaw answered with trepidation, his mind swimming and he tried desperately to focus. Slowly, Sticks began to undress him, unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down with surprising strength. Roughly, he ripped off Lockjaw’s shirt, exposing his hairy chest. Playfully, Sticks ran his tongue up his chest in one long lick, before biting down hard on his left nipple. Lockjaw let out a loud groan, looking down and seeing a deep bruise already forming around the tender flesh. “To everything I want to give you, baby,” Sticks said, running his hands up and down Lockjaw’s chest. “You want it, right?” “Wh…. what are you wanting to give me…” Lockjaw said, shaking his head as the world around him bloomed in technicolor, his brain struggling to process everything. “I want to make us one…” Sticks said, hurriedly untying the man’s boots and ripping them off, quickly followed by the socks. “You want that, don’t you? You want to be mine forever, right?” Suddenly, Lockjaw gave a pained gasp as Sticks began to pull harshly on his balls, before diving deeply on his cock. Never before had the smaller man been able to deep throat him like this, always gagging at the last second. Now, it was almost like Sticks was a starved man, his teeth scraping the skin of his cock and he tried to swallow him whole. Finally pulling away, Lockjaw couldn’t help but moan, the cool air of the corridor causing his cock to throb. Sticks quickly pushed his legs over his head, sniffing and rubbing his face around in Lockjaw’s ass. “I want us to be together forever,” Sticks said, pulling back and staring almost feverishly at Lockjaw. “Tell me you’re ready for it.” “Ready for what,” Lockjaw said drunkenly, the chemicals making his mind feel like it was actually melting out of his ears, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything as his own body began to feel hot and flush. Sticks repositioned himself in reply, and then suddenly thrust his engorged, monstrous penis into Lockjaw’s rectum. “This!” Lockjaw gasped sharply as he felt the intrusion. It was larger than he remembered. For a split second, he thought Sticks might be using something as a dildo, because Sticks was never this thick or this rough. The texture of his member felt wrong, almost like the wooden leg from a piece of furniture. In that same instant, Lockjaw’s vision blacked out and came right back into focus. The mucus was working its magic, and seeping deeper and deeper into the brain. His vision swam, and the room fell into a slow, heavy spin. As Sticks continued thrusting in and out, Lockjaw swore he could barely make out the sound of approaching footsteps. They sounded like boots, and he feared discovery in this most compromising of positions. The boots stopped suddenly, and after a few seconds, the sound began again but receded, and he relaxed once again. In and out and in and out, Sticks worked himself up, and made sure that his partner was enjoying every single ministration. Lockjaw’s head lolled to one side, then suddenly rolled to the other as he relished the assault on his sphincter. He knew he would have trouble walking in the morning, but he didn’t care. This felt so good, so amazing. Everything in the world suddenly made sense. Stars occasionally came into view and burst as fast as they appeared across his vision. Why hadn’t he ever asked Sticks to top before? Probably his own impressive phallus consigned Sticks to an eternal bottom role, and Lockjaw was too happy to oblige. No longer though, he thought to himself. “You like this bigger dick, don’t you, Adrian,” Sticks hissed seductively. “It’s tearing you apart, making you miiiine forever. You - you will love this feeling as m-much as I do. God, your hole is like velvet!” Sticks’s breathing started coming heavier and faster and shorter. Lockjaw knew he was getting close, and his own prick had swelled to full size. He tried to move his hand down toward it to stroke himself, but Sticks had him pinned. Movement in any direction would require more effort than he could muster at the moment, and he didn’t want Sticks to stop ravaging him, either. The speed increased; the green hair flopped all about; the thrusts became shorter but more forcefully. Finally, Sticks shot his first toxic load into Lockjaw, and let out a terrifying howl of satisfaction. It was a sound Lockjaw would never forget; a bestial, feral roar that distorted the very fabric of reality. His body spasmed in response, but he didn’t feel that he had begun to leak his own cum during the copulation. It flowed out gently like a quiet stream in the woods, and dribbled slowly, coating both of them in his natural juices. Sticks stuck out his split tongue, and lapped it up, all the while keeping eye contact with his lover. He wanted him to see that he enjoyed the fluid, and was tasting his first meal since his conversion. “Welcome to my dark side,” Sticks said just before Lockjaw collapsed with exhaustion and into unconsciousness. “You. Are. MINE.” He bit his lover gently on the neck, making a miniscule puncture, blood barely beading on the surface. He didn’t know why he did this, but part of him knew that now Lockjaw would have another distinctive scar. Sticks cradled him, and just sat with him, his cock continuing to pump more and more of the black cum inside. —------------ Helixion Genetics, North Hallway, Building 3, Ground Floor. West Corridor. REDACTED location. 22:30 MST. 30-Oct-20XX Stag continued his cocky walk, not caring if anything surprised him from the shadows. He had got lost three times along the way, and kept finding himself back in the lobby of Helixion Genetics. After the third attempt, he opened a pocket in his shirt, and removed a tiny can of spray paint. He marked a large blue X on the paths he had already taken, and by process of elimination, he saw the one way he hadn’t gone. He was now on that path, and so far, he hadn’t returned to the lobby by surprise. He was confident - perhaps overconfident - that this was the right way toward a night of evil revelry. What do you think you're doing, Bryce? You're not gay. Fags are sick, twisted things. His internal voice was trying to protect him from the impending danger of the situation. But the devil on his shoulder also whispered to him. Oh yes, you are. You wouldn't have come down here otherwise. And you yourself are a sick, twisted thing. Remember that guy who spurned you just when you started to accept it? Stag remembered the beautiful man, wistfully, and a smile spread over his face at the memory. Then it turned to a scowl as he recalled the rejection. I'll show YOU who's not good enough! Oh, yes, that guy will get — His earpiece suddenly demanded that he respond to his comms, so he swiftly removed it, and crushed it beneath his boot. He passed a security camera on the way, and flipped it the bird, not caring if Tex or his superiors or anyone else was watching. Stag made no effort to stop in any of the rooms, or make any detours, but like a man on a mission, he made a beeline from one end of the hall to the other. Finally, he found the stairs leading down into the basement, and casually looked over the rail. Humming happily to himself, he pulled out another cigarette, lighting it up and smiling before bouncing down each step. At last, he reached the bottom, and opened the door, wandering aimlessly until he reached the corridor he had briefly seen Sticks leading Lockjaw down. This has to be the place, he said to himself, smiling as he watched as Sticks continue to pound Lockjaw’s ass without abandon, the older man’s face rolling around in sheer bliss. A part of him wondered if it truly felt as amazing as it looked. Briefly, he took in the smaller man’s appearance. He had a feeling Sticks might be gay, but the Major? He was a man’s man. Apparently so, he chucked to himself. And now he’s the little twerp’s bitch. Stag stood still for a moment, and quietly observed. He could make out the altered features of Sticks, and it piqued his interest. Is this what I can look forward to? He smirked, and forced himself to stay quiet, a monumental task. Better to not interrupt their mating. Who knew if these things could get violent, and how much stronger their aggressions would be? The improved size of Sticks, and the sharpness of the teeth were what fascinated him the most, so he regretted he couldn’t inspect these features a little more closely. He calmly walked past, neither man paying him any attention as he strode along, before finally reaching the end of the corridor, and what he presumed might be where the smilers are holed up. He threw his cigarette on the ground, and extinguished it with his boot. Opening the door, he was greeted by what he’d been looking for. The monster’s den.

This is nothing new. The English language always appropriates words from other cultures, including our own. We didn't lose it, and getting a substitute to catch on takes massive work that I think, as poz pigs, draws attention THAT WE DO NOT WANT.

My late husband was 17 years older than me. He came out late in life, and I "kept him young", so it was never a big deal. I wish he HAD been ten years younger, but that's an impossibility. My most recent BF was closer in age, but not by much. And the guy I'm seeing is my senior by almost ten years. I wouldn't say this is "my type", but it's what's available. They tend to be more settled in their lives, and know what they want, and that their clock is ticking. So they're looking for more than just an easy score, but someone to get older with, and not die alone. Which is more of a human need than anything, so I'm not complaining.

I keep a record of all the guys I play with. I remember most of them, or can pinpoint where we met (like an event or something tied to that unplanned experience). My number is 188. Might seem low to some of you pigs, but I also got to play with several of them multiple times. Once they're on the list, that's it. They don't keep reappearing.

Don't remember the first time. But I can say with certainty that I was introduced to it by my pig buddy Jim, who trained me for gay sex. He kept Jungle Juice Plus, and it was clearly his favourite because that's all I remember him carrying. I *should* know this information, but I fear that the brain cells I spent on that experience were the ones that retained the memory.

There are a few of us.

A dick. Gay sex is so fucking weird. We shake our asses to entice guys to put things in it, or we keep showing the massive gifts the good lord gave us, in hopes of feeling an internal sensation. We chase each other around to collect fluids from each other. We get off on weird shit. It's wild. Buttfuckyoume, if I had been told at the age of 15 that I'd be shoving cock up my ass for a living, I would have been fine to consign myself to fucking a pillow. 🙃

Wow, strong whore. 👍 Wish my high test levels made me horny and aggressively seeking out sex. All I ever got was some beef, the acne, and the mood swings. 🤷‍♂️

Spencer is such an asshole. LOL C

A graphic novel? I definitely don't have the skill for that. But I like - and appreciate - that you're thinking about such things.