################### ## ABYSS DIVERS ### ###################
POV: Warlock
The catacombs below the village gave way to a system of caverns the ancient Gray had once inhabited, leaving carved ornaments and the russet gunk of long decayed wood work.
Dominus Rex was walking up front, headlights supplementing angelic perception. Candy was taillighting, the Sphinx shield ready to repel.
Warlock kept close enough to the middle to mindkill anything suddenly stirring beneath their boots.
Goopy nests and empty cocoons grew common but all the big stuff had taken part in the surface invasion. The first thing fighting back were winged geckos, too small to easily target, swarming in loose clouds.
Plasma blasting upward, Warlock let his golden power roam the fluttering swarm. Charred and mindkilled lizards dropped. Some got close enough to bite.
Warlock snapped orders to each man but his rangers knew what to do anyway.
"You think they're dangerous?" Cypher communicated from the safety of his capsule. His repulsion field was keeping one side clear of flyers, giving the Merry Men an invisible wall to keep their backs toward.
"Immature," Faggot said. "No venom gland yet. Give them another couple of days and-"
"Gimmi powaaaah!" Fist King yelled in spread-eagle pose. He'd completed his setup.
Force fields went up to either side, interfering a bit with the Sphinx repulsion. Candy held his shield high to give them a safe ceiling.
The bat-geckos were funneled into sentry mines, going up in sparks.
Fist King's Nova launched metal slugs into the swarm.
Saint Sexy had stuck his knife to the blaster and plasma charged it. He was blinking around outside their force field funnel, slicing the air more effectively than gun shots could against targets so small.
Arms broke through the ground – a mix of vines, tentacles and claws, locking onto their bodies even in death, long nails scraping skin even if they couldn't break through the psy-radiance.
Warlock dipped his psy-dick into Faggot's ass, rubbing on the plug spread walls in preparation. But Yggy wasn't even whispering. Had the invaders written this place off? That could be a good sign.
Slices, shot and stomps took out the gripping limbs as fluttering beasties dropped around them.
Candy and Faggot examined every ripped diamond-calve for bleeding cuts. Skin glue almost undid all damage within seconds – curtesy of scientists appropriating one of Yggdrasil's many wonders. Hands brushed along the hot, slick fibers of massive thighs to confirm all bruises healed.
They advanced with Candy's shield pointed up, stragglers easily dispatched.
POV: Faggot
The star rangers reached an organic landscape, glowing with bioluminescence diffused by hot fog. Giant hearts pulsated along the walls, man-high feeding tubes squelched their contents back and forth.
"It's a steam room," Saint Sex said and mimed a sweat-wipe across the ahegao forehead, the hood keeping his hidden face dry while the rest of his body dripped.
"There's the gecko eggs," Cypher said as Dominus Rex crunched over broken shells.
Farther in, the alien organs left no cave wall uncovered. The floor turned to swamp, processed and blubbering fluids mixing in puddles.
"Enzyme sludge," Faggot said. "It's making something bigger than a god worm."
"Might have to call in an orbital," Warlock said. "Let's find the center and get out. Still no Yggy presence. Either the enemy has given up on this place, which is doesn't look like..."
"Or," Saint Sexy continued for the leader, "the fist-sucker was trying hard to keep it undetected. Almost managed to collapse the entrance, too."
Faggot continued to trace their path and matched it with above ground maps. The buggy was trailing them overhead. If all else failed, they would get intel auto-uploaded and die heroically down here.
The sludge increased, puddles turned to creeks, getting pumped along the divots in alien floor-flesh. It amassed in a lake, gleaming like oil, colors swirling into each other for an oily shimmering gold fluid like molten metal.
At the center of gold-lake was a whirlpool, spinning in slow procession.
"Some kind of amniotic?" Warlock guessed. "A seed leak this far out? Gotta have a sample. Is there anything else?"
Faggot sent his drones around, linking up with Candy's. "No exits I can find. No secret tunnel to the peninsula or anything. This is a brood pocket."
"Let's get it. Drink up and hand them over."
Warlock opened his canteen and emptied it into his mouth. He collected his men's empty canteens.
Candy was ready with the Sphinx set to fluid repulsion. The rainbow honey sea parted before his shield with Warlock hugging him from behind.
Dominus Rex was carefully advancing into the lake, submerged to the tracks, swiveling at anything that pulsated too much.
Warlock reached the gold amniotic and filled canteens.
The walls came to life.
Before anyone finished shouting a warning, muscle strands as big as Faggot himself bulged off the gut piping and swung inward. The room shrunk instantly and all men on the shore were pushed into the lake. Tentacles ruptured through heart-like organs and slapped for the rangers.
Faggot was hit by serval, finding them sticky enough to lift him on touch. He got crowded in, the others fading from his awareness as Yggdrasil offered an explanation of the situation if only he let it in.
His blaster was sticky taped to his back. Xeno muscle wrapped around it, keeping it out of reach. Faggot pulled his knife from the thigh sheath and sliced. A sticky tentacle-muscle stuck to the base of his plug and pulled.
He lost the cobra.
The anal rush was overwhelming for a moment but it left him with too little sex to retain battle frenzy. He brought his free hand down to his legs and fisted his ass for a poor substitute.
The angel pulsed in his neck.
The knife was effective. Faggot dropped into the lake, gold splashed in the darkness around him. He sunk and resurfaced. With his legs spread enough to fist himself, he was submerged to the nipples.
The basis of his fear was confusion. If he understood better... if he accepted the Promise of omniscience...
POV: Warlock
He was crotch deep in amniotic, arms spread by sticky tentacles, ass empty with the horse cock tantalizingly close between his feet.
Angelic perception was as good as bright illumination and then some. Warlock wasn't afraid of the dark and the hot xeno-flesh pressing against him. He knew Fist King was to his left getting dragged closer, and Saint Sexy struggling in the sticky trap right in front of him.
But he had to admit it was over.
He had failed as a leader. His men would die knowing he was incompetent and they'd all be names on the KIA list – which might as well leave them nameless.
Even his lieutenant wasn't blinking away. Yggdrasil had them in its grasp.
Now he only had to answer the Question. Did he want to become his best self? Instead of a name only worth cursing, he could be the force everything and everyone worked along. He could be Yggdrasil's spearhead, a beast of a leader.
Yeah, that would be fucking nice.
The ripping of a knife. A fist punching into his ass, rattling all the way past the third hole with the molten-metal-like waters driven deep.
Warlock was anally cumming hard. For a moment, the Question was forgotten.
Faggot dove into the gold, groping for the horse cock, the knife stuck in a random tentacle, the all-important fist still deep in commander ass.
The horse cock re-entered Warlock just as Yggdrasil renewed its negotiations.
The leader felt Faggot pull the thorn-skull down and an inhaler was pushed into his face.
Warlock took a huff. Rainbows faded into his blind vision and the hood was haphazardly pulled back up.
Sex sex sex. Nothing but fucking mattered.
With the angel in his neck itching, Warlock set out to phuck somebody. But Faggot had moved on.
His angel struggled against non-omega type symbionts. He managed to phuck Saint Sexy in the mouth for but a moment, then moved on to the next available hole – Cypher's ass.
With the plugs pulled, Warlock got good traction in the beta-angel carrier, phucking hard enough to qualify for half a fisting.
A single Cerberus triple-shot rang out and half the alien muscle-strands holding him up fell away.
But Cypher was next to him, so who was firing the...?
The moment his capacity for rational thought returned, so did the Question.
There were two Warlock. One led five unappreciative idiots in a circle forever in the futile hunt for a higher rank – as if - in a military that had sent him to die in a cave. The second one became the core of Yggdrasil's most feared creature, a kaiju standing the head of an army so astounding it made Napoleon look like an amateur.
But there was a third path. Something in the connection. Faggot's angel wiggled into his subconscious.
The commander assgasmed so hard to lost control. A guttural scream. If he hadn't been hanging off sticky muscle strands, he'd have sunk into the gold goo with weak knees.
Warlock hit a moment of calm perfection. Power radiated everywhere.
He would have liked his men to work with him in this instant but he was fine with the universe at large doing his bidding for all of five seconds.
The room died. All non-human life in the cave sloughed and withered. The amniotic bubbled as it rotted in fast forward.
POV: Cypher
To his shame, rage and sex alone hadn't saved him. Seeing all his friends get slurped into the center of the lake had hit him so hard he'd forgotten to be angry for just a second.
The Quiet had found a foothold long enough to make him slip off the plug. Not an easy feat with the minimal space available but Dominus Rex had been turned upside down so gravity had worked for Yggy that time.
Like moving in a dream, he'd opened the hatch and wandered into the lake, entering the silence, accepting his dissolution. He'd almost been neck deep.
Even someone panic-phucking his hole hadn't been enraging enough to save him, golden fluid lapping into his gaping ass.
Until it had all stopped.
"Dude! Uh, Sir, d-did you just mindkill a fagging lake?"
While the others were still extracting themselves from dead tissue, the commander was standing tall, at his full 7', the lake merely to his knees. Warlock righted his askew hood.
"I think... I integrated."
"Holy fuck, two in one day?" Fist King asked. "Got it!" The grenadier triumphantly pulled his forearm plug from the golden soup.
"The warhorse bucks the trend," Saint Sexy said, and blinked to shore where he tried to flick alien amniotic off his many-bulged ass plug.
Cypher waded after him, toward the tipped over Dominus Rex. "Oh..."
Faggot was inside the open, flickering Yaeger, having used the controls to fire that one, all important shot into the sticky mass. He was using Cypher's smooth bullet to fuck himself sane.
Faggot's dragon hood was down around his neck, his face contorted. "Dude, your plug is so fat. How can you sit on that all day?"
"I'm bigger," Cypher said. "Go get your cobra."
"You go fish it out. I gotta keep this assgasm going."
"Already done," Candy said, strutting on by and tossing Faggot's plug into the open Dominus Rex, the other omega carrier failing to catch the slippery snake.
Candy worked his own tentacle in, golden fluid rushing from his hole as he pushed in and out. "Hope that stuff doesn't itch later."
"We should get that looked at," Cypher said. "Commander, did you get a sample?"
Warlock jiggled the canteens. "Yeah. See if you can get the Yaeger up and running. We gotta make pace. So I guess brood pockets can be trapped, that's new."
The jog back was uneventful. Cypher left his capsule open to chat with the hoods down, his plug giving him back his will to continue. He wasn't the type to dwell on shame, but having left the safety of Dominus Rex and submitting to Yggy after a near party wipe left him feeling like a failure.
Well, more stuff to push into the rage box.
POV: Fist King
The buggy ran an uplink, resting on top of a hill covered in pink Sig-3 clovers.
With the still crackling ruins of the little Redwater Pass village far behind them and a thorough sonic shower later, Fist King enjoyed the deep punch of Saint Sexy's big arm spreading anal balm within his guts.
Dripping, shivering and feeling oh so good, the short, dreadlocked muscle hunk reviewed their footage.
Faggot swiped around the dashboard, multiple clips playing next to each other.
The grenadier had managed to get a "gimmi power" in there nicely. With none of the rest caring for catch phrases, he'd become their channel's top meme himbo. In isolation, he didn't care for feats like that but it nicely upset the madman currently ass punching him whenever brought up.
And yet...
Seeing himself vulnerable, violated, controlled by alien forces was going to make him crazy. All the meditation – and assgasming – in the world wasn't going to keep him from breaking down if he didn't do something about it.
"Boss, can we go kill something?" Fist King asked.
"The gooner's not around," Saint Sexy said. "Out for a gallop around the perimeter."
Fist King twisted around. "Well then I'm talking to you, lieutenant."
Saint Sexy dug deep one more time – leaving Fist King with one more anal rub to make him scream – then slowly slipped back to the sphincter. "I'm guessing well have to deliver the sample, but I'll put in a word for a detour if we're interrupting the roster anyway."
"You're my hero, buddy."
Saint Sexy blinked a few inches back, the sudden anal vacuum making Fist King squeal like a girl in surprise. He kicked back and hit the lieutenant in the jock pouch.
The ensuing wrestling match was interrupted by Warlock hopping back into the buggy.
"Listen up. Gray scouts report sightings in sector T-7. It's on the way to a garrison with a delivery scheduled so we'll drop the sample off there."
"Sightings of?" Fist King asked.
Warlock shrugged. "Something big, what else?"
Fist King raised an arm. "Wanna know what else is big, sir?"
Warlock spread his cheeks for him and pulled the Python-lube dripping horse cock out. "Sure. Lotion up."