The Master Pathogen

[leatherpunk16]

Hey, pigs. Newest instalment. Remember Spencer from the first Intermission chapter? He's back, and this should put a few puzzle pieces together for you.

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Chapter 23: Poz Me Up Before You Go-Go

City Streets. 20:14 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

Stag had deliberately wandered away from the rest of the group of infected smilers, set on following his own agenda. Instead of waiting for suitable clothing to wear in the chilly late October air, Stag had elected to wear only his camo pants and boots, leaving his muscular blackened torso exposed for all to see. He also chose not to stick to shadows, but to walk abroad in front of the rest of the world like nothing had changed for him. Doing this in secret was never going to be an option for the corrupted horny soldier.

As he passed storefront windows, he occasionally caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the glass. One particular pane caused him to stop in his tracks. Stag had been passing by a main street restaurant that hadn’t been open in weeks, and the light from the street had hit him so perfectly that he could see, for the first time, exactly what he looked like in full. His ginger hair had darkened considerably, and his face had taken on a shade of grey that could only be described as “storm cloud”. His exposed skin, in fact, had this same shade all over his body. His veins spread out like black spiderwebs. He grinned in evil satisfaction. Cheaper than any tattoo I could have got!, he thought. And way more fun.

As he observed his reflection with a wicked, impressed grin plastered on his face, he took the time to examine his teeth. The jaw had widened some to accommodate the new molars and fangs, and each tooth looked sharp and deadly to the touch. He could barely make them out, but the whites of his eyes were completely gone, and he looked positively possessed. The lanky, sinewy form he previously carried had grown into a muscular beast rivaling the best of Crossfit enthusiasts. Thick veins throbbed beneath the surface of his skin, and Stag started to get hard at the sight of himself. He reached into his pants and fondled his swelling member lightly, knowing he carried an instrument of mass destruction. He had a victim in mind for his first conversion, and had to stop himself from further pleasuring himself to save his demonic seeds for that gratifying moment when he shared them with his prey.

Stag continued his bold march through the city to the warehouse district until he came in sight of the nightclub known as InfraRED, a popular gay bar with a dubious reputation. On this night, attendance would be as high as many of the patrons, and with a Halloween party in progress, Stag could do what he needed to without the need for secrecy or violence. Hookups were part of the everyday routine in this place, and no one would bat an eye or clutch any pearls over him having sex in a very public space. In fact, it was almost expected, but so were drunks, drug deals, fist fights, and barroom brawls, and harassment by the homeless who hung around the area.

He came to the block, and saw that a canopy had been set up outside the club to funnel guests inside. This made it easier for club employees to screen guests for arriving intoxicated, and to keep the place from filling up too quickly, but Stag would not be deterred. He went to the back of the line, and spoke to no one as the line slowly moved forward. In his boredom, he lit a cigarette, and no one seemed to object to it. One man, dressed as a unicorn, turned around and saw Stag in all his toxic glory. Having nothing else to do while they waited, the unicorn opened conversation with him.

“Damn, dude! That’s a really cool costume.”

Stag nodded his head only once in acknowledgement, and did not wish to engage with anyone. He took another draw off the cigarette.

“What are you supposed to be? You kinda look like a toy army guy.”

Stag smirked without revealing his teeth. You have no idea, he thought. 

—--------

Dressing room at InfraRED. 20:09 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

Spencer adjusted his tight nylon armbands, placed a blue baseball cap on his head, and checked his shiny baby blue shoes one more time before appraising himself in the mirror. For nearly three years, he had been gogo dancing at InfraRED, and tantalizing horny men with his erotic dancing and powerful physique. Gogo dancing had been a means to an end - surely someone who came into the club would be his ideal, but so far, the perfect man had eluded him. The pay for dancing was decent, and so were the tips that were frequently shoved into his G-string, but it wasn’t fulfilling. He made enough money to live comfortably, but as time wore on, this mode of living wasn’t going to be satisfactory for much longer.

As he stared at his reflection, he ran his left hand over his thick chest, and sighed. “Is there more to life than this?,” Spencer wondered aloud. He then adjusted his girthy member inside the gold lame underwear, twisted the hat ever so slightly, and looked one more time in the glass. He had decided against wearing any costume; the unnecessary bulk, combined with his own overdeveloped bulk, could exhaust him physically before the night was over, and he needed to make some cash for car repairs. He had been a beefy satyr at last year’s party, but he was sweating so hard after the first hour that the hair had stuck to him, and he resorted to doing a sexy striptease of the costume. He felt the investment in his elaborate costume had been a waste of funds, and he wouldn’t make that costly mistake a second time.

Taking a final swallow of water from a large jug, Spencer sighed with discontent that he was stuck in a rut. His physical growth had hit a plateau, and the sex work with no sexual gratification left him frustrated night after night.

Satisfied that he was ready for the public, he nodded at his reflection in silent approval of at least his appearance, and went out from the dressing room to the auditorium. The beats and the constant thumping of heavy bass was already quite deafening, and he had danced to it a thousand and one times. Just another night, another dollar. He climbed up on his usual gogo box, and settled into the beat. 

—------

Stag scowled slightly when the bouncer closed the rope against him after the unicorn was admitted to the club. The bouncer could allow only five enter at a time, and Stag just happened to be the sixth. He glared at the bouncer silently anyway as the man clicked his meter five times. At least a few minutes would pass before Stag could enter, so he mentally reviewed his plan one more time. Meanwhile, the bouncer couldn’t take his eyes off the corrupted creature before him.

Wow, this look is fucking hot, the bouncer thought to himself as he felt his heart beat increase in envious lust. I need to jump this dude’s bones. It must have taken forever to put all that makeup on. I wonder if he’s available.

Stag was slightly shocked, amazed he could almost hear the man’s thoughts with ease. He smiled back at the man, enjoying the discovery of his newfound power.

“Sick costume, bro,” the bouncer squeeked, his voice somewhat betraying his lack of confidence. Hearing himself catch in his throat, he cleared it once, and hocked a white goober to one side. “Sorry. That’s really sweet.”

Stag locked eyes with the bouncer. “Thanks,” he growled.

“You know,” the bouncer began in a playful voice, “zombies aren’t supposed to talk. Try to stay in character, it’s sexier that way.” The smirk indicated no malice behind the words, and Stag gave no reply. Instead, he answered the criticism with a toothy grin. The bouncer wasn’t expecting Stag’s costume to be so thorough, and his mouth opened slightly with awe.

“This is killer. Do you mind if I get a pic? I’ve gotta show my roommate. He does makeup and special effects for drag performers, and he’d get such a kick out of this.” The bouncer was already taking out his phone, and turning on its camera. Stag nodded his head once, giving non-verbal permission, and came in close with the bouncer. Up went the phone, and with a press of the button, he now had a head and torso shot of the corrupted soldier in its memory bank. Then Stag stood by his side as the bouncer took a selfie of the two of them. 

“Thanks, man,” the bouncer said gratefully. “I ‘preciate it.”

“App-preciate,” Stag corrected him in a growly voice. I should just spit on this fag and let myself in. Stag prepared to launch a volley of the neutralizing saliva, but stopped short of the act. Nope, can’t do that. Too many witnesses. It can wait. They’re all doomed, anyway. Stag showed admirable restraint and swallowed it back down when he returned to the front of the line.

“You with your boyfriend tonight?”

Stag looked back at the bouncer, staring daggers at him. He was still uncomfortable with the idea that he was gay, after years of protestation and repression, but after his orgy with his squad and forming a plan to violate someone he once crushed on, he decided he had better start accepting it and getting comfortable with the idea. ‘Boyfriend’ sounded strange to his ears, like a word meant for someone else. He shook his head once, again giving no verbal reply.

“Ah, single, then?” Stag nodded once. “If you don’t score tonight, what say you and me take a little trip to hell afterwards?” Stag raised an eyebrow with interest.

Stag grinned again. When he finds out what I am, hoo boy, he’s gonna regret those words. He blinked once, and then remembered. No! Stay focused. Your quarry is inside. HE’S the one you want. 

“We’ll see,” Stag answered, non-commitally shrugging his sculpted shoulders. 

No! an intruding voice commanded. He wants it - give it to him. Infect them all!

Stag just felt like he had been caught cutting class. Sorry, Alpha. There will be time for both. 

You better remember our deal, the voice warned.

Just then, the bouncer opened the velvet rope and unbarred the door, gently motioning for Stag to enter with the other revellers in the line behind him. “You five are next. Have a good night!” As Stag passed him, the bouncer winked at him flirtatously. Stag forgot the bouncer as soon as they were apart.

—----

Interior of InfraRED. 20:30 MST. 31-Oct-20XX. REDACTED location.

“Great costume, stud! Let me buy you a drink.”

Stag had heard this line four times by now, and was no more invested than he was on its first three offers. This time, it came from a little twink who was dressed as the Good Witch in an off-pink tule gown, complete with a star-shaped magic wand and glittering tiara. 

Stag waved the offer away. “Not interested.”

The Good Witch looked puzzled, but tried to entice him by tapping the wand to Stag’s forehead gently. “I want you to be changed for good.” Stag frowned at this deliberately silly act.

“Oh, sister, I have been changed. For good. There’s no going back. Piss off before I drop a house on you. You don’t deserve what I have to offer.” The Good Witch looked things unutterable at him in great offense, then turned back to the bar. She silently took her glass, swallowed its entire contents, and replaced the glass on the bar. Stag was looking in the opposite direction when the Good Witch said in a surprisingly masculine voice, “Fuck you, asshole. Guys like you should be eaten by other zombies,” and stormed off.

 

Stag walked away from the bar and toward the dance floor. As the EDM continued to pulse through the club, and the room swarmed with writhing bodies, Stag forced himself to stand in one place and scan the room. His wild appearance had drawn a great deal of attention, and Stag brushed it all off completely, sometimes with a joke, other times with his usual outright asshole remarks. After a few seconds, he beheld his intended victim, cluelessly dancing away on a gogo box. There he is. Beautiful and massive as ever. I’m going to give him such a surprise, and he’ll never see it coming.

Like any good predator, Stag just observed the dancer. Watching with devious eyes and a wayward heart. Watching for any weakness, any opening that would give him a signal to act, Stag invented a number of schemes to trap his prey. His blackened eyes never left the muscular dancer.

—------

As Spencer continued his gyrations, he suddenly felt like something wasn’t quite right with the world. The music shifted to something that had no percussion track in its first minute, and he momentarily lost the beat. He wiped the sweat from his brow, and then felt a familiar urge. Spencer climbed down from his gogo box, and making sure to swing his hips a little as he walked, he went in the direction of the bathroom.

Stag noticed the exit instantly. Recognizing it as his opportunity, he followed Spencer at a distance.

As Spencer entered the bathroom, he paid no attention to the skeleton man and the Jedi man making out just inside the doorway. The room smelled of piss and stale pizza and bleach, all mixed into one foul concoction. The stalls, though in good condition, were a covert invitation to gloryhole sex, and Spencer was working, so he went to the trough on the far right wall. Looking down, he observed that it was again filled with ice, sending up a chill that made him frown.

Why the fuck do they do this? No one wants to drink piss on the rocks. Then he amended his thought. Well, maybe. Some pig somewhere must like that.

Spencer extracted his eye-popping dick from his underwear, and began to relieve himself just as Stag came into the bathroom. The costumed couple left without a word, and Stag was grateful to them for the privacy he would need.

Spencer continued his stream, but was getting annoyed that he had filled his bladder, and now couldn’t finish pissing fast enough. Come on, dammit. Every minute I’m in here is a minute I’m not getting cash. Hurry up! He closed his eyes in frustration, hoping a little concentration would force the remaining urine out.

Stag silently positioned himself to stand directly behind Spencer, who was completely unaware of someone behind him. He grinned devilishly, savoring the moment. 

The last drops of piss finally left him, and Spencer lightly sighed with relief. He let the waistband of the underwear snap back to his hips, and made to turn around when something wet and sticky hit his face. 

“The…! The fuck is this…?!”, he exclaimed, his vision suddenly hazy. Before he could be fully sedated, he equated the view to looking through a window where the rain was so hard you couldn’t see through the running water. Stag spat at Spencer a second time, and the dancer was down for the count in seconds.

—-------

As Spencer started to come out of the fog, he was aware of a grinding sensation on his lower body. It felt familiar and good, and as he slowly came to the surface of his consciousness, he was also aware of the feeling of cold concrete underneath him, and the muffled sound of the thumping bass in the next room.

On my back… Did I fall?

The grinding sensation continued, and Spencer felt a comfortable warmth to contrast the hardness of the floor. The room smelled different. Gone were the acrid scents of the bathroom, and replaced with light dust and metal and something he could only describe as a deep red smell. Something masculine. Something rich and bold, not unlike the scents of whisky and tobacco and leather and man musk, all rolled into one. 

Stickiness was also registering in his mind, but he gave no thought to its source. There was also a weight on top of him, and his feet were elevated in a position he would never find himself in except during…

Oh shit…

He slowly opened his eyes, and what met his view was not something he expected. 

Something was fucking him and holding him down with both hands. Something with chemically-formed muscles, and a gargantuan dick, and it showed no signs of slowing down.

Stag had dragged the comatose Spencer to the dressing room unobserved by others in the nightclub. No time was wasted in removing what little clothing Spencer had been wearing, and with another dose of spit on the dancer’s hole, he had got to work quickly.

Now Spencer was starting to wake up. Neither of them was aware of how much time had passed. 

“W..What in the absolute fuck are you?” Spencer exclaimed, barely able to get the words out. Stag bared his teeth as he smiled wickedly while continuing to thrust his toxic dick into his victim. “What the hell are you doing to me?”, he demanded next.

“Shhh, Spencer,” Stag cooed, “you’re just having a dream. Go back to sleep.” He stroked the man’s skull gently with one clawed hand, as if soothing a child that just woke from a nightmare.

“Hhhhhow the fffffffuck… do you know… my name?”

Awareness was settling in, and Spencer felt real fear for the first time in his life. To Spencer’s mind, his assailant was a mix between a bull and a man with the features of neither, save for the meaty cock that was tearing his hole apart. An unnaturally dark-skinned man with horns on his head and claws for hands was raping him in his nightclub. He didn’t understand the black eyes or the venomous teeth, or why both had liquid black streaming from those orifices. 

Nothing about this costume makes sense. 

“You fell off your gogo box, and hit your head,” Stag continued. “I’m just making you feel good, and giving you a little upgrade as a bonus.”

Spencer became aware he was completely naked, save for his baby blue shoes, now elevated above his head, his shoulders pinned against the floor. He raised his head enough to see Stag’s girthy dick, and quickly determined that this was, in fact, not a dream.

“No! Stop!” Spencer managed to yell. “Get off me!”

“Take it, bitch,” Stag growled without missing a beat or a thrust. “Am I good enough for you now, Spence?” The words had a venomous bite to them, and Stag clearly intended to hurt his victim both physically and verbally. Spencer couldn’t connect the dots, the punishing thrusts of Stag’s infected cock clouding all coherent thought. 

Spencer never imagined he’d be a rape victim. But the powerful physique captivated his interest, and overrode his morality meter. When his head finally cleared, he was impressed by the bulging muscles of his rapist, and the black veins pushing against the surface of his skin. Stag was sweating like a pig, and thrusting harder with every minute. Spencer gradually became less resistant to the intrusion and the violation of his body, but his rational mind kept invading the moment.

This guy seems to know me. Do I know him? Why are you letting this happen, Spence? This is a monster, a demon, and you’re enjoying having sex with it? Are you fucking crazy? HOOOOOOLY FUCK ON A STICK THAT’S HUGE!

Stag had withdrawn himself fully, and then penetrated Spencer’s hole with his engorgement with great force. Spencer cried out. 

Stag licked Spencer’s face with his forked tongue. Spencer saw it coming at him. That’s funny. A tongue like a snake. That’s kinda cool. The chemicals in the saliva worked quickly, and Spencer began to relax again. Ah, that’s the stuff. Like… poppers? How did he do that?

With his victim properly sedated just enough to keep him quiet, Stag resumed the infection process. During the first few thrusts, Spencer’s mind was all over the place: he experienced fear, great lust, excitement, and joyous sensations that didn’t match anything he had felt in his entire life. He’d have one hell of a story to tell in the morning. But there was the other side of it - the very act was terrifying, but so erotic and seductive, and beyond all his previous experiences. He thought for sure he was going to die from all the sensations and the terrible pain in his rectum and balls and prostate. That’s it, he thought. I’m done for. Goodbye, perfect body, goodbye perfect health, hello oblivion. But I swear I know this guy. Why can’t I remember? Between the assault on his sexual organs and how quickly this escalated, Spencer couldn’t get his brain to work. A strange yet familiar voice rattled through his head. No thoughts. Just focus on my cock.

Stag fucked Spencer without mercy - Stag knew what he was capable of, and he needed a partner who could match his sex drive while already having a great physical headstart. The white hot pain was intense, and Spencer began to have second thoughts. 

His hands trembled as he tried to push himself upright, panic flooding in fast and unfiltered. His thighs hurt, his back scraped against the cold concrete, and Stag’s massive body loomed above him— black skin catching the light like wet latex.

Spencer shoved at his chest. “S-stop— just stop— This is wrong. I don’t want this after all.”

Stag didn’t budge. His grip tightened reflexively, overpowering Spencer without effort. The instinct was pure dominance—brutal, unquestioning, physical. He mentally began to try and force Spencer to stay, feeling like with just enough force, he could make Spencer do whatever he wanted with just a thought.

Suddenly, Spencer let out a scream as he felt like a vice was squeezing his brain, a small trickle of blood flowing out of his nose. A flood of images slammed into his mind, with what he could swear was his ex’s voice echoing inside his head on repeat. 

Spencer gasped, tears beginning to flow down his face as fear began overtaking confusion. “STOP! IT HURTS! Get off— please— you’re hurting—”

The words and mental feedback hit Stag harder than the physical resistance.

His brow furrowed for a fraction of a second, like a wild animal momentarily recognizing it had bitten too deep. The growl in his throat weakened, replaced by something almost conflicted. His thrusts gradually slowed. He stared down at Spencer, lips parted, nostrils flaring.

Then the guilt hit—blunt and uncomfortable.

This wasn’t how he had imagined this going. Not with screaming. Not with terror. He was supposed to want the gift. Crave it. Break open willingly.

And Spencer—Spencer was someone he had cared for before.

Stag exhaled slowly, releasing the pressure without pulling away entirely. He shifted his weight so Spencer could breathe again, his hands flattening against the floor beside him instead of pinning his arms.

When he spoke, it wasn’t aloud.

It slid into Spencer’s skull like heat poured behind the eyes.

Babe. You always wanted more than this.

Spencer blinked hard, confusion warring with pain and adrenaline. Stag’s voice felt like memory rather than words, flooding synapses directly. Images flickered—unbidden, sharp:

Spencer in the mirror, flexing his arms. Always complaining about needing more definition. Countless Google searches for “muscle growth cycle”. Stag walking in and hearing him whispering to himself, “Someday I’ll look like that.”

Spencer’s breath hitched. “Stop—don’t— I didn’t say—”

He shoved at Stag again, weaker this time.

The mental pressure increased—not painful this time, but warm, insidious, sliding beneath the fear like oil.

You wanted to be bigger. Stronger. Admired. You wanted everyone to stop and look.

More images flooded in:

Strip lights illuminating sculpted abs. Hands grabbing him at the club, not for pity flirts but hunger. Stage tips piling up. Cameras pointed at him. The struggle to walk through a doorway without getting hit on either side. Strangers staring in awe in public places.

Spencer whimpered, overwhelmed. “That doesn’t mean I want—”

Stag leaned closer, his voice now both in Spencer’s mind and in his breath against Spencer’s cheek.

“We both know you wanted to be transformed. This is so much better and easier than all those rounds of steroids and bulking and cutting. I’m giving you exactly what you always wanted. Just trust me for once.”

The fight faded from Spencer’s limbs. Not because he accepted, but because the promise wrapped itself around his desire like wire—tight, clever, exact.

Stag’s guilt softened into confidence.

He changed tactics completely. Instead of forcing Spencer down, he slid a hand to the back of Spencer’s head, not to hold him still but to steady him—an anchor rather than a restraint.

“I could break you,” Stag murmured, sounding almost apologetic. “I can feel it. Just a hard enough squeeze and you’d be nothing but a mindless meat puppet. But that would ruin what I’m giving you. What I want for both of us to share.”

Spencer swallowed hard, adrenaline fading into tremors. “What… what are you giving me?”

Stag smiled, slow and certain.

Everything you wished you could become.

He fed images of Spencer’s skin turning black and shiny, muscles growing upon muscles, just like all the pictures Stag had found in the browser history on Spencer’s laptop when they were dating. His cock turning massive, balls becoming huge like a bull. Being able to shoot neverending streams of black foul cum out of his cock with ease. A proverbial sex demon. 

Outside, the crowd screamed at a bass drop.

Inside, Spencer’s last attempt to crawl away dissolved into something breathless and hungry as Stag let the imagery grow richer, deeper, irresistible:

Veins rising under skin, biceps thickening, chest and back growing ever wider. Dancers staring instead of ignoring, photographers chasing him eager to get another shot of his massive muscular body. Crowds chanting his name. A glass case filled with physique trophies. And the impalement of the hottest men in the world with his freakishly large dick.

Stag fed Spencer one last image: an oily pair of discarded posing trunks with a large circular button pinned to the waistband, bearing the number 7. Next to them, a hastily-removed pair of combat boots, a half-filled bottle of wine, and a single red rose. Spencer needed no explanation for what that meant.

His tears dried. His shaking stilled. He reached for the monster above without realizing he had done it. And began to push his ass back, moaning. Now he understood. This was truly a gift.

Stag smiled as he felt the mental changes take root inside Spencer’s head. Things would go much smoother now. And with that, the conversion truly began.

It had been so long since Spencer had sex with anyone and actually enjoyed it. The surprise hookup and incredible violation of this person battled in his heart, and lust won out. Spencer grabbed Stag by the horns and stared into his abyssal eyes, getting more into the sex than was probably safe. Screw it - let him keep going. This… this is too good. I’ll complain later. Good thing tomorrow isn’t legs day, or I’d be walking funny. Oh, God, I swear he’s in my second hole. Even my toys at home aren’t this big. Stag's jackhammering cock was tearing Spencer's hole apart, but neither of them cared. Spencer’s breath came shorter and shorter, his eyes rolled back in his head more than a couple times, and what began as hate sex and rape turned to a full-on glorious rectal assault that he didn’t want to end.

Stag suddenly stopped his thrusting, and abruptly withdrew himself from Spencer again, and stayed out this time. Both men lay gasping, and Spencer’s vision was hazy. The sedating effect of the spit had long worn off, but the mental coercion had done its part, leaving Spencer wanting more. Spencer stared at the ceiling, gasping for air. Stag pulled down hard on his own scrotum, his hand acting as a cockring, and preventing his load from blowing prematurely.

“Why… why did you stop? Did you cum?” Spencer asked, almost breathless. He could already feel the corruption spreading inside him while Stag took a break.

“No, I’m too close,” Stag answered him. 

“Good,” Spencer answered, surprising himself. “I want to keep going. I need you to load me up.”

Stag only smirked without looking at Spencer. I can feel it working in him already. He’ll be a fucking monster with all that mass, and what I’m giving him on top of it. But let’s savor the moment. Ten bucks says he’ll thank me in the morning. 

Spencer’s vision cleared enough for him to give another glance to his breeder. “This is driving me crazy. I have to know - do we know each other?”

Stag smirked lightly. “You don’t remember? Think carefully, Spence. You really don’t recognize the sound of my voice in your head?”

Try as he might, the name wouldn’t come to him, and Stag’s appearance had changed so much that he couldn’t possibly be recognized by someone Spencer hadn’t thought of in a long time. Out of sight really was out of mind. He had nothing to go on to even guess.

After a minute of pondering, he had to admit it. “No clue.”

“It’s Bryce. The army guy you decided wasn’t good enough for you, so you just threw him away like an old cum rag.”

Spencer raised his head slightly in disbelief, and stared directly at Stag, trying to see the man that he rejected so harshly. “Holy shit… No fucking way!”

“Oh, yes fucking way. I’ve been upgraded, and I wanted to show you my improvements,” Stag said wickedly. He sat up, and spread his arms out widely so Spencer could see everything.

Spencer was in awe of the creature before him. He remembered someone too lanky and lean with a penchant for asshole behavior. And he couldn’t abide his smoking habit, either. It couldn’t possibly be the same guy. His skin wasn’t this color, and he had none of these body mods, especially not the meat on his bones. He would never have worked so hard to look like this and get me turned on. Way too self-centered. Did he do all this just for me? Spencer couldn’t give voice to his thoughts. The memory and the present reality were just too juxtaposed. But the sex so far had been mindblowing. Spencer had never been fucked like that before, and he was discomfited to realize he needed more from the mutated Bryce. 

While Spencer processed this, Stag could already see the corruption taking hold in the massive dancer. His toxic precum was working its magic, and Spencer’s skin had a different glow to it. The ice blue eyes were darkening, but still bore traces of the whites, and what little body fat Spencer carried was already starting to burn away. It will be a slow infection, but it’ll hit him hard when I fully empty my balls.

Stag crawled back toward Spencer, ready to begin another round. “I will get you there, and I’ll be by your side for all of it. You deserve it. Now raise your legs back up. Time’s a-wasting.” Spencer could only comply, tempted with the prospect of getting bigger, and the hunger for the demon’s cock.

He…yes. This. I think this is what I wanted to look like all this time. Why settle for what I am when I can evolve into something better?

The temptation to exceed his potential outweighed any negatives, and with that, Spencer’s fate was sealed. 

“Take it easy this time, okay?” Spencer asked in a light voice.

Get big, or die trying, right? Those were his last thoughts before he surrendered to Stag completely.

Edited Friday at 03:42 PM by leatherpunk16

[Erik62]

On 8/30/2025 at 10:01 AM, kspozcum said:

Chapter 9: Be Careful What You Wish For

Helixion Genetics, North Hallway, Building 3, Basement Level 5, Maintenance Area. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:40 MST. 30-Oct-20XX

 

Stag opened the door, and strode into the room, not caring if something unpleasant lurked on the other side of it. He shut the door behind him, and took in the view - the lights were in low-power mode, giving everything a soft blue-grey hue. Half-expected to see a ruined place with blood spatters or blackened walls or his taken comrades in cocoons, or something straight out of a sci-fi film. But the room was quite ordinary, just filled with massive HVAC systems, humming away as they filtered the air, medical equipment, scientific equipment, and resembled a storage room for items that were no longer needed. A hoarder could have put this space together.

 

Then he remembered the mission briefing: this place was originally a bomb shelter, and converted after the Cold War, but the original structure still stood and was built over. In that light, the overall layout of the massive basement did indeed resemble a massive bunker for such a catastrophic event and plenty of space to hold a thundering lot of people. 

 

The walls were a pristine white, and for a moment, his heart sank as it dawned on him that he might have got lost again, or chose his path incorrectly. He didn’t know which possibility was worse, but seeing the rapidly transforming Sticks out in the hall was an indication that it must be the right place. Perhaps it was just beyond here. Then Stag noticed how much warmer this room was compared to the hallway, and the almost overpowering scents of sweat and testosterone told him he was on the right trail. The smilers would have chosen someplace warm to hibernate and incubate, somewhere out of the way of main traffic. A logical conclusion.

 

He found a nearby table, and removed all means of defense; he emptied his tranq gun and placed it gently on the table next to a pocket knife and the tin of spray paint. Removing his hat, he ruffled the hair once with his hand, and set down the hat. Stag double-checked that his pockets were empty, and he carefully placed the partially-empty pack of cigarettes in a safe spot with the rest of his possessions. He turned about, and looked for an obvious sign of the creatures. 

 

What a creepy-assed liminal space, he thought as he walked, the stark white walls and countless metal pipes almost repeating on themselves in the dimly lit space. This originally large room was divided into several smaller rooms, and Stag poked his head in all of them. One was filled with medical gurneys that had no pads on them; another was stacked to the ceiling with cardboard boxes containing who-knows-what; a third had what looked like a deconstructed medical cart and a stack of hard-backed chairs that had seen better days. Stag decided none of these were important. 

 

Finally, a clue appeared: a foam pad tinged with a huge, dark yellow and black stain. It reminded Stag of his teenage years when he would hump his bed pillow; he unloaded so much spunk into it over a year that the pillow turned a nasty yellow color, became hard and crusted, and never came clean. He treasured that thing until his mother discovered it and, disgusted, burned it in their fireplace. Now he held a similar object, and holding it to his nose, the testosterone-laden stench told him he was close. The foam pad was replaced where he found it, and Stag turned his gaze to a discarded metal vent cover. There. Walking over to it, he could barely contain his excitement. He quickly inspected the cover, and located where it came from: a large opening in the wall, presumably for vent installations and maintenance. Climbing through the darker space, he realized he finally hit pay dirt. There, in a corner, lying on the floor, were his comrades, Patch and Pixel, just finishing their metamorphoses. Both were completely naked, and taking in their new surroundings. As soon as he appeared, Pixel looked up at Stag, and grinned, showing his newly-formed teeth for the first time.

 

“Hey, Stag,” Pixel said in a dreamy voice, his voice slurred as he spoke like he’d spent the night behind a bottle of something especially strong. “What’s up? Glaaad you could make it.” A little liquid corruption drooled from his mouth at the end of the sentence.

 

Stag didn’t get to inspect Sticks out in the hall, but Pixel provided enough of a show. His heart raced with excitement, and his dick slowly hardened as he took in the sight.

 

“Pixel! Patch, oh my god,” he said with feigned relief. “We saw what happened on the monitors. You okay, bruh?”

 

Pixel’s blackened eyes looked directly into Stag’s, and didn’t notice the insincerity. “I’mmm terrific. Look, my shoulder’s completely healed.” Pixel pointed at his previously-dislocated shoulder, and sure enough, there was no sign that it was ever damaged. Stag instinctively turned his head to Patch for an answer.

 

“I diii-idn’t do that,” Patch admitted in a dazed voice. “We woke up, and were healed. I’ve never seen a fast recovery like this.” Patch blinked, and after a breath, said, “I feel… different. But in a good way!”

 

“Your…” Stag couldn’t finish the sentence, lest he give away his excitement. So becoming a monster also gives one rapid healing from wounds, he thought. Interesting. Think how useful that would be in the field. Patch would be out of work so fast. 

 

“Imagine!” Patch said enthusiastically, his voice thick as he shook it to try and clear his head. “If we could speed up the healing process from wounds… What an incredible lifesaver!” Then he realized his career as a field medic would be over, and he might be forced to take up arms instead of saving lives. A twinge of sadness hit his heart,and he let out a quick sniffle and half sob. “This has always been my worst nightmare – I’ve become a patient.”

 

“Annnnd how do you feel right now?” Pixel asked of him.

 

Patch inhaled slowly, and moved his limbs, taking stock of his surroundings. “Actually? Pretty damn good!” 

 

“And…. and we’re still alive!”

 

Patch sighed with relief. “Maybe it won’t be so bad,” he said brightly, smiling drunkenly, a line of drool now going down his chin. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Pixel enquired, suddenly sniffing the air around Stag. “You haven’t been attacked by one of those things yet, have you?”

 

“Oh no… I gave them the slip. Can you stand? Let me help you up,” Stag said, piling on the fake concern by offering a hand to Pixel.

 

In an instant, Pixel leapt to his feet, and Patch just after. Stag withdrew his hand, and now could take in their new forms. Their skin had taken on an almost sickly greyish pallor. The iris of their eyes looked odd, beginning to take on an almost golden orange color.  The veins on their skin had already begun to stick out slightly as their muscles already appeared slightly more defined. The normally slightly pudgy looking Patch already was looking slimmer. Pixel seemed taller somehow. They both swayed slightly as they adjusted to the multitude of new sensations they were feeling.

 

Both men were breathing slightly faster, and looking down, they noticed that both were sporting massive hard-ons and kept giving each other looks when they thought Stag didn’t notice. The two began to drool as their muscles tensed up in anticipation. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, their fingernails began to lengthen into the claws that the other creatures carried.

 

Stag needed no convincing. He did an about-face, and shouted deeper in the dark room, “Hey, you sick motherfuckers! I wanna talk to your boss. Got a proposition for you!” 

 

Patch and Pixel exchanged looks of interest. “You think we could take him?” Patch asked in a whisper that he thought only Pixel could hear. Pixel nodded once silently, but they also wanted to see what Stag was going to do. Turning back to them, Stag stared at them and laughed.

 

“You both are clearly infected… and stupider than I gave you credit for,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Come on, I know that you have to have some real brains running this show,” he yelled out loud.

 

A sudden scream growl echoed out of the dark, and the two suddenly stepped back, as if making way for something revered. From seemingly nowhere, a new creature came into Stag’s sights, climbing along silently on the ceiling. This one was larger than the others: his muscles were denser, his skin was black as night, his mouth and eyes poured corruption in tiny waterfalls. The thing’s claws were slightly longer; a pair of massive horns protruded from its skull, and large curving spikes had emerged from its back. The thing suddenly dropped from the ceiling in a graceful twist, and landed delicately on the open space of the floor a short distance away from Stag.

 

Stag’s breath caught in his throat when the beast stood to full height and began to speak in a deep, resonant voice. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” The creature before him grinned widely, its head cocked to one side and showing an uncountable number of razor sharp teeth, and took two steps forward. 

 

All of Stag’s rehearsed speeches suddenly left his brain. He hadn’t expected it to speak so well, looking more monster than human. The scent coming from the big smiler was overpowering, like too much cologne and days of unwash. Since Stag didn’t give an answer, the beast continued. “You do not belong here, soldier. If you came looking for a swift death, you have found it.”

 

“I… er…” Stag stammered, reveling in the beauty of this twisted thing before him. Remembering his purpose, he cleared his throat before trying again. He spat a yellow goober to one side, and said, “Are you the leader? I have something you want.”

 

“I control all and rule all. My brood serves and obeys me fully. What could you possibly have that I ever want or need?” It paused its slow movement forward, glaring at Stag with intense curiosity as a few lesser creatures like the big one entered in behind their boss.

 

“The name’s Stag,” he began, trying to choke down his nervousness. “I came to join you. I saw what you do on security feeds, and…” He let out a shuddering, almost reverent sigh before he continued to speak. “I think it’s beautiful. I want to be part of this.” The die was cast, and there was no turning back. Not now, not ever.

 

The creature’s eyebrows flicked up in interest, its head cocking to the other side as if fascinated. “That is… interesting. Go on.”

 

“As no doubt you’re aware, a military team has infiltrated your base,” Stag began, sensing a little formality and a deft touch would be needed here. 

 

Cutting him off, the larger beast suddenly snapped its head back up and began to crouch. A deep almost dangerous growl emitted from it as it replied, “Your presence is noted, your weaknesses observed. If you want a fight, you will only prolong your suffering.”

 

I just knew this infection was intelligent! Pixel thought. It's been watching us since we came in. 

 

Stag felt unbalanced again. He struggled to resume his place in his rehearsed oration. “Let me continue. You’ve already taken four of the men on my squad, and besides me, four others still remain… unblemished. A second team will come in for rescue once we are all changed, and your team with ours can take them all. I can give you access to all of them, and you will have an unstoppable army. We could take over the world, and you can have whatever you want.” Stag knew he was lying - he had no intention of giving up his teammates. They’ll all get converted, anyway, eventually. I might be an ass, but I’m not a goddamn traitor. All I want is the upgrade, he thought wickedly. This fucker ain’t getting jack out of me.

 

Patch and Pixel silently exchanged looks of concern that turned to disapproval when they took Stag’s offer at face value. I knew this ass was a sellout! Patch’s mind screamed in anger. But a swift look from the boss quelled that line of thinking. Let him finish. If it’s a trick, he won’t leave this room.

 

Turning back to Stag, the boss weighed the offer, looking up at the ceiling as it turned around for a moment as if in deep thought.. The prospect was appealing, and Stag had put all his cards on the table willingly. Calmly it turned around and glared at him as it replied.

 

“And you want to share in our glorious evolution? Is that right?” 

 

“Let me join you, and you will have one more soldier in your cause. I’m a deviant fucker, and can do things you probably don’t want to do yourself. I don’t presume to know your endgame, but I willingly surrender my humanity for this. I am yours to command.” He bowed slightly, attempting to keep the creature in a peaceable mood. Stag felt pretty good about this little show of bravado, but his conscience started telling him, You’re going too far. Stop before you regret this.

 

“Tempting,” the boss said evenly. “But we do not act impulsively. Once you are committed —”

 

Stag seized his buttoned shirt in two hands, and in one swift motion, he ripped it open, scattering buttons everywhere. “Fuck me and find out.” The boss nodded gently with approval three times, then suddenly shot a volley of its venomous spit at Stag’s face. It hit him with a soft ‘splat’, and quickly ran down his face. Stag barely stuck out his tongue to taste it, and the sensation reminded him of bukkake films he watched on occasion.

 

“You will address me as the Alpha, and you have a deal. Welcome, Stag. What wonders we will show you.” The Alpha tilted his head to the right and looked behind Stag to indicate Patch and Pixel. “You two, hold him down. I will do this deed myself.”

 

Perfect, Stag thought just before the chemicals took over. Just the very thing I wanted. Knowing what was coming next, he began to lower himself to the floor, but the sedative worked too quickly on him, and he fell over in an undignified position before he could get on all fours.

 

—------------------

Helixion Genetics, North Hallway, Building 3, Ground Floor. Hallway. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:35 MST. 30-OCT-20XX

 

Step. Step. Step. Keep your wits before you. Everyone’s depending on you. Just keep moving.

 

Zero moved slowly through the corridor, weapon in hand, and always searching for visual and aural clues. So far, the move from the 2nd floor chem lab had been thankfully uneventful. No noise, no people, no creatures. It was as if he was completely alone in the facility, the only sound emanating from the soft tap of every footstep he made, and the occasional gentle whirring of the vents. The isolation and silence with nothing to break up the monotony made the minutes seem like hours, yet Zero pressed himself onward. His goal was the security office - a plan had begun to form in his mind. 

 

In war, diversionary tactics are often useful and effective. He wanted to create a diversion for the smilers so his comrades could escape in the opposite direction. Always taking one for the team, eh, Mason? Dammit, I need to retire from this life. Go somewhere sunny. Take in the ocean. Maybe I'll collect starfish and seashells. Get sand in my boots. Settle down with a nice girl. Army provides a nice pension. I can go anywhere. Anywhere but here, anywhere drug lords and terrorists and random chaos don’t exist. There must be such a place. I’ll find it someday. Next week, perhaps.

 

Before he knew it, the door of the security room loomed before him. 

 

—-----------------------------

Helixion Genetics, Main Corporate Office Building, 4th Floor Security Office. REDACTED LOCATION. 22:38 MST. 30-Oct-20XX

 

“Jeames.” At the sound of his name, the driver for the General rose quickly from his seat on the hard leather couch, instantly ready to serve.

 

“Yes, General Krell?” the man asked, tidying his smart looking suit.

 

“I would like some more coffee,” the older man said, pointing at the unused coffee pot in the corner. “None of that vile liquid, mind you.”

 

“Absolutely, sir, your usual?” the man said, nodding as he pulled out a phone and began tapping away.

 

“That’s all for now,” the older man said, waving a hand negligently in the air.

 

As the driver quickly left the room with efficient grace, General Krell sat alone. The room was thankfully silent again as he began to ponder. Even the regular communications over the secure channels of the soldiers had ceased, and in a fit of anger, he removed the offending earpiece that was tickling the hairs of his ear.

 

Unfortunately, the order to shut off the fire alarms had done little good, and now a small army of fire trucks were sitting at the entrance to the facility, their captain arguing with his staff. Still blind to the majority of the cameras, he flipped through the few he had yet again, yielding nothing of note. As far as he hoped, the mission was still active. But, the lack of any communications from Briggs had become somewhat unnerving. Even that bootlicker Kade had been in total radio silence. He supposed that they could be deep in the bowels of the building, effectively unable to get a signal out.

 

He walked over to the large glass window, overlooking the campus, holding his hand to it and feeling the cool surface under his fingertips, the chill just barely seeping through what was surely a cool autumn evening setting in. Suddenly, he heard a crackle come from the radio, and he quickly stuffed the earpiece back in. He waited a moment, listening for another signal.

 

“Patch… are you….pying…” the sound of Briggs’ concerned voice just barely cutting through the heavy static. “Lockjaw… -ow about y… Zero…. Do you have…. On anyone?”

 

Krell stood still, listening intently.

 

“I… I might have someone, sir. I just made it to the security office on the 1st floor,” the voice said, presumably Zero.

 

“Soldier, this is General Krell,” the older man said, years of command taking over and allowing his voice to carry an air of authority. “Are you able to patch me into the feeds?”

 

“Um… sir…” Zero’s voice said, sounding small and confused. “This is Lieutenant Hawke. I… I don’t know how to do that. The guys who would —” Krell quickly cut him off, annoyed.

 

“That’s an order, soldier,” Krell demanded, slamming his fist on the window. “Surely you’re smart enough to plug a damned USB stick into a computer!”

 

Krell was met with a few moments of silence until another voice cut in.

 

“Just…. I left one on the desk. I forgot it when I got hit in the head,” another voice said.

 

“Oh… yeah. I see it. Let me just barricade this door and-” Zero said, sounding out of breath from exertion.

 

“You can barricade the door after, soldier,” Krell said angrily. “I need eyes on the situation. NOW.”

 

“Belay… order,” Briggs said, the coldness of his voice not being hidden. “He…. no authority in your… Secure the ro-... then get the bastard what he wants.”

 

I knew that fucker was still holding a grudge for the whole Berlin thing, Krell thought to himself, flopping down in the chair in frustration. Unable to do anything, he waited, knowing better than to push his luck. Hopefully the man would establish the link in short order as Krell was left to ponder.

 

Odd as hell the rest of Briggs’ team isn’t answering, he thought to himself, wondering what could be the cause. Suddenly, it hit him. The project. But how? It wasn’t ready like this on my visit last month. Maybe that stupid shit Blaine actually delivered for once.

 

Almost letting out an excited whoop, he watched as a progress bar suddenly popped up on his screen, the link to the security feeds finally coming alive.

 

Quickly scrolling through each feed, Krell suddenly stopped as he saw something flash before one of the cameras. He flipped through more before finally, he saw it. A black hulking creature was slamming its fists on the door, unable to get it to budge.

 

Well I’ll be fucking damned… the dumbshit actually delivered on his promise… Krell thought, a smile creeping across his face. The driver suddenly entered the room, silently placing the hot cup of gourmet coffee on the desk before him.

 

“I’m afraid our schedule has been moved up drastically. I will also require a team to begin extraction. Make it so,” General Krell said, turning his attention back to the monitors, curious as he had now lost sight of a redhead in the lowest level of the building. Flipping through the feeds, he let out a huff of surprise, counting as several more monstrous creatures began to body slam the door on camera.

 

“Better make sure this team is properly equipped,” he said, perturbed as he was finding no further evidence of the tall, lanky redheaded man. “Not what I ordered, but I guess it's better than nothing,” he said, slouching back in the chair. “Tell them to equip the heat vision goggles as well as live ammo. These little demon creatures seem to be packing quite the punch.”

 

“Right away, sir,” Jeames said, quickly tapping more commands on his smartphone as he held the phone to his ear with his left shoulder. “Will that be all, sir?” the smartly dressed driver said, holding his hand to the device’s microphone.

 

“No, leave me be for a while. Let me know when the new extraction team is here,” Krell said, watching the camera intently. The driver disappeared again, as Krell finally forced himself to turn to another feed in search of more information.

 

“This calls for a celebration, I guess,” he said, taking the bottle of scotch he was gifted upon arrival, and pouring a healthy amount into the cup. Shame what’s happening to Briggs’ team, but… as the saying goes, sometimes one must break a few eggs. At least now that thorn in his side would finally get what was coming to him.

 

—----------

Helixion Genetics, South Maintenance Corridor, Building 3, Basement Level 5. Location REDACTED 22:42 MST. 30-Oct-20XX

 

“Hey guys, take a look at this!” Tex said, pointing at an old blueprint sitting on a workbench. “I think we finally have a way out!”

 

Gravestone and Elias walked over to the blueprint in front of Tex, examining it.

 

“This definitely wasn’t on the map we got,” Elias said, pointing to one of the shafts extending out from the boiler section. “But it's not on any of the other maps we found. Are we sure it's even accurate?”

 

“This does seem to be a rather old layout,” Gravestone said, stroking his chin as he pondered. “I mean, it could be someone forgot it on a newer iteration, and it just got left out.”

 

A sudden sound of something falling over in the next room caused the three men to suddenly be on guard, aiming their weapons at the doorway. Silently, they stalked into the next room, the sight of a man crawling on all fours trying to make a fort meeting them.

 

“Oh fuck… it’s Crazy,” Tex blurted out, watching as Jack haphazardly continued building his cardboard fortress.

 

“Got to make a safe room… make it all safe… No monsters getting in here,” Jack muttered to himself, not paying attention to the three men as he worked.

 

“Should we… do something?” Tex said, letting his weapon down as he watched the manic pace at which Jack was stacking the boxes.

 

Pinching his nose, Elias sighed. “Do you want the blame if something happens to him?” Elias said, slowly crouching down, putting his hand on the man's shoulder, causing him to jump.

 

Blinking around, Jack looked at the three men. “Oh, hello again mister soldier man,” Jack said, his eyes darting around the room.

 

“Hi… Jack…” Elias said, looking at him with an almost sad look on his face. This guy really has lost all grip on reality, he thought to himself.

 

“I’m making a safe room to keep all the nasty homo monsters out,” Jack said, turning back to the boxes with renewed energy and working even faster. “But I can only make it big enough for me. If you all help, we can make a really big room to keep them out.”

 

“Why don’t you come with us,” Tex said, talking to him like one would to a 5-year-old. “Wouldn’t you like to get out of here, buddy?”

 

Jack stopped for a second, staring at the three. “We can leave now?” he said, a leery expression on his face. “Is the scary man here?” Jack looked around nervously for Stag’s unfriendly face.

 

“No, he’s gone,” Tex answered quietly, remembering the bump on his head.

 

“Hey… buddy… it’s time to go…” Gravestone said, going along with their logic awkwardly, speaking to him as a child. “You want to go, right?”

 

“Yes please. I wanna go now,” Jack said, smiling and hopping up fast.

 

Elias looked over at Tex, who only shrugged his shoulders. Leading the way, Gravestone grabbed the blueprint as they continued to walk. As the four walked, Jack continued to mutter to himself in a fractured conversation, not making any sense to the other three men. Finally, they found themselves at a chain link framed door, with a rusted sign that said “Maintenance” in fading letters. Slowly, Elias pushed the door open, hearing as it creaked loudly open. Holding his finger up to his lips, Gravestone took point and slowly walked through the pipe and HVAC-filled area, the occasional hissing of steam escaping several pipes as they slowly walked around more and more of the clear slimy-looking puddles.

 

“Fuck, you think this might be their den?” Tex whispered, pointing to the numerous puddles.

 

Elias nodded, thinking exactly the same thing. Fear was quickly pooling in his stomach, as he wondered if they were in fact walking into the belly of the beast. As silently as they could, they slowly explored the large basement, passing various pieces of medical equipment, HVAC units and more boxes. Finally, the team made it to a large rusted-looking door, the sign above clearly stating “Maintenance Tunnel to Building 2 and 4.” Next to it, a green lit numerical keypad sat next to the handle.

 

“Shit… do we have a code?” Tex said, pointing at the keypad.

 

Suddenly, Jack started rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet. “I know it… but… the monsters, they’ll come just like last time…” Jack said, nervously glancing all around. “He likes it down here… him and all the other nasty homo monsters. They like the warm and dark. They were so mean last time.”

 

“He…. who is he… actually, you know what… just give us the code and we’ll keep you safe from him,” Elias said, quickly deciding to not overtax the already frail mind of Jack.

 

“1, 2, 3, 4….” Jack said, rocking back and forth, hugging himself as he spoke in a sing-song-like tone. “5, 6, 7, 8… 1, 2, 3, 4… 5, 6, 7, 8…”

 

“So much for that idea,” Tex sighed, shaking his head. “Fucking guy is truly looney tunes.”

 

Elias slowly watched Jack to continue counting out loud, deciding to give the numbers a try.

Firmly pressing 12345678, he almost laughed at the sheer stupidity of the code.

 

“No fucking way…” Tex said, shocked as the indicator light turned from red to green. “Seriously… that's the code?”

 

Pulling on the handle, Elias frowned as the rusted frame barely budged. Suddenly, a loud screech overhead broke the calmness of the basement as Zero’s voice broke out over the speaker.

 

“Black Sigma, this is Zero in the security room. The primary liquidation team has just entered the building and will be at your location in five minutes. Repeat, the primary liquidation team is in the building.”

 

Suddenly, multiple scream growls broke the relative silence of the basement.

 

“NOOOOO NO NO NO NO!!!” Jack suddenly started screaming, clawing away as Tex tried to grab him. “I DON’T WANT THE SLIME! I DON’T WANT TO SEE HIM!”

 

Several creatures came lumbering out of the room they had just checked, sniffing the air and looking around. Suddenly, three of the group of monsters turned and faced the soldiers, smiling and baring their sharp teeth. They almost seemed to chuckle as Jack suddenly ran at them, quickly pushing past the monsters as he ran away. Two of them gave chase after Jack and vanished from sight.

 

“Shit!” Gravestone yelled, taking a defensive stance and pointing his weapon at the nearest monster. “You guys get the door open! I’ll cover you and get Zero.”

 

Gravestone quickly put a tranquilizer into the nearest monster. For a moment, the team thought he was successful as the monster staggered, and gave a quick sleepy shake of its head. However, their hopes were quickly dashed as the monster simply looked down and calmly pulled the dart out of its chest, leaving a trail of thick black liquid dripping down its chest. 

 

It wiped the liquid away with its hand, before it looked back up at the men and seemed to smile even wider, drool pouring out of its mouth. It threw the dart away, and hissed at him. Turning around, Tex frantically began to tug at the door, slowly budging it an inch more open as air from the hallway rushed around the frame. The smiler calmly walked up to Gravestone, who tried to raise his gun to defend himself. Taking a massive swing, the monster slammed the man across the room, his head hitting one of the metal air vents with a solid thunk.

 

“Commander!” Elias yelled, reaching out and trying to grab for the man, watching the entire scene in horror.

 

Suddenly, Tex was finally able to fully open the door, pulling it open with a resounding metallic slam. Grabbing Elias, he pulled him away as the monster’s claws sliced through the cloth of Elias’ jacket, causing him to scream out in pain. Pulling the both of them as hard as he could, he grabbed the heavy door behind them, slamming it shut as the the monsters began to bang hard on the other side.

Both men doubled over in shocked silence, their gasps hard and fast as they looked at the door in horror and astonishment.

 

—-------------

Helixion Genetics, South Maintenance Corridor, Building 3, Basement Level 5. REDACTED LOCATION. 23:20 MST. 30-Oct-20XX

 

Slowly, Stag woke up, feeling somewhat groggy as the effects of the saliva finally wore off. An intense pain in the ass was the first thing he noticed. Looking behind him, he watched as the Alpha smiled down at him, slamming hard and fast inside of his ass. His arms were pinned to the floor making a T-shape by Patch on one side, and Pixel on the other. He instinctively tried to press himself up, but their grip was too strong, and he found he couldn’t move an inch.

 

“Wakey, wakey… pretty boy…” the Alpha said, grunting as he continued to slam hard and fast in Stag’s ass. Stag groaned in pain and pleasure as his abdomen cramped up, feeling full of liquid like someone was flooding his insides.

 

“Time for a second round,” the Alpha growled out, as a sharp pinching sensation shot through Stag’s core, forcing him to gasp out in pain and pleasure as he felt the infection start to take hold.

 

Looking to one side at his hand, he watched as his veins plumped and skin already started to take on the sickly grey pallor. A euphoric smile spread across Stag's face, feeling the sudden rush as he felt his heart begin to race, and the room took on a hazy glow. Satisfied, the Alpha withdrew from Stag’s ass, leaving a gaping hole in its absence as a pool of thick black cum slowly drooled out of Stag’s ass. His comrades released him, and made space for the Alpha. Reaching back, Stag felt his hole, smiling as he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them clean.

 

The act surprised him, and left him wondering what had compelled him to do this. It had never previously occurred to him to taste the juices. Looking up, he watched as the Alpha spoke to a group of the creatures, unable to make out what they were saying in his muddled state of mind.

 

The Alpha suddenly turned around and pulled Stag by the chin, licking his face with its large forked tongue before shoving it into his mouth. Stag again was surprised to find himself enjoying the feeling, rubbing his tongue alongside the Alpha’s. The taste was slightly metallic, and Stag couldn’t drink enough of the fluid as it transferred mouths. He would now be tasting this for a lifetime.

 

“Hope you enjoy the ride, boy… The infection is going to set in fast this way,” the creature growled, suddenly releasing its grip on his chin as it walked away. “Just remember, this is what you asked for. And remember our deal. I expect you to come through.”

 

Stag frowned at the parting words, when the group of smilers suddenly walked over and one knelt down, roughly shoving its glistening black cock deep inside Stag’s already brutalized guts without any words.

 

Letting out a scream, Stag fought back tears as the monster quickly got to work.

I'm a cock hungry fag who loves having my cunt gang banged & flooded by piss & cum but, getting fucked & flooded like this, I would be in paradise especially if I was used multiple times a day.