################### ## ABYSS DIVERS ### ###################
POV: Saint Sexy
Vegetation grew a bit fuller, even with the rain-catching northern mountains still beyond the horizon. Puffy, cyan acacia-lookalikes and swirly purple pines stood among more green, earth-like foliage.
But the city ruin was a true jungle.
In the initial Yggy takeover, the former provincial capital had seen an explosion of mutated vegetation, native plants turned half-fungal with the sludge of captured and processed Grays. All but the outermost structures – suburbs of dryly rotting wood – was overgrown. Titanic trees stretched toward the sky in the city center.
The Merry Men encountered resistance immediately.
"Doggos!" Candy yelled.
The creatures had always looked more like rhinos to Saint Sexy but every alien beast was a dog if you squinted hard enough.
Brown, wrinkly, furry beasts galloped toward the buggy. The star rangers couldn't afford the thing getting rammed too much so Warlock ordered them to spread.
Saint Sexy blinked out.
He sensed a light brush of the Gaze, the invasive fucker swearing to look with a million eyes if the trooper performed well in his execution, reminding him over and over that nobody else was watching him do cool shit so intently.
Saint Sexy flipped off the nearest camera drone, in lieu of actual Yggdrasil eye balls.
Fist King had set up the chokepoints, force fields funneling dogs into sentry mine range. Saint Sexy hammered his plasma bold right between the aliens' small horns, splattering skull and brain. Meanwhile his angel kneaded his plug so hard it almost made him weak kneed – good thing he had unbelievably strong muscles. His feet nearly cramped with uncontrollable, standing toe curls.
They advanced toward the city, into broken stone buildings, stepping over moss and vines and goop. They stuck to major roads and rubble paths blasted by previous patrols.
Candy was up front, his Sphinx shield set to `absorb' to suction the miasma out of the way, pink fog creeping along the ground so densely Saint Sexy had to blink out of the way of bitey gerbil-bugs every so often.
Faggot kept analyzing the environment, in case they were running into another trap – but all the creepy vines were inert. His red drone carried the heat field projector, fizzling away the gentle shower of spores overhead.
They were attacked from up top anyway, by some spiders with wing webs between their legs. Dominus Rex' shredding slugs made short work of them.
"So fagging far, nothing out of the plain-ass ordinary," Saint Sexy said and blinked back into the middle of the group.
"Almost too quiet, fucking cliché as that is," Warlock said. "For a ruin that's not been cleared out in a while... The Gray scouts insisted something big crept in and buried down. May be entirely hidden. If you see a way down..."
"Ugh, more caves," Candy said and the eye roll was practically audible even behind the kitty mask hood.
Saint Sexy ruffled the shieldman's heart-shaped platinum mop. "We'll find you a thing to brag about."
Candy puffed up his chest. "I don't need bragging rights like some people, I just-"
Saint Sexy phucked him in the mouth. "You want the praise, not the raise. We know. Compliment-slut."
Candy hit a demure, girly pose and licked psy-dick with abandon.
Warlock mumbled, "I'll take the raise," for no one in particular. Then the commander slowed down, shoulders tensing. His bald head moved in the way that indicated a frown behind the thorn skull with the many eye holes. "Is it just because I integrated a couple hours ago or..."
"You mean..." Saint Sexy was picking up the signal. "Yggy's not really trying here. So many beasties but I'm only getting my brainstem tickled by the Gaze like a first time rimjob."
Faggot aimed at the broken stone road beneath their boots. "I've barely been feeling the Promise. The same trap again or... Y'all don't think the big guy buried here is-"
Maybe Yggy could tell the jig was up, maybe they'd been lucky to figure it out just in time.
"Sex Tyrant!" Warlock yelled.
The Merry Men ripped their plugs out just as insanity level fuck cravings hit them.
Saint Sexy groaned. He could go years without missing his erections but each Sex Tyrant encounter made him feel like his entire body was a hardon ready to burst – all while despairing at the amount of horniness that would have needed ten more full-body hardons to store.
Pussies and assholes and fists were etched – nuked – into his mind. In a brief moment of lucidity he noticed he'd dropped to all fours, then it was back to licking the air with the taste of pussy and cock and sweaty skin tantalizingly filling his senses.
A shock went through his spine, harsh enough to make him cry out like a child. The angel was clamping down on sympathetic nerve activation.
The fuck craving lessened... subsided... vanished...
This was why rangers didn't wear plug harnesses. If he'd kept his beloved ass toy in his guts, the assgasms would have broken him – opening his mind to submit to the Sex Tyrant.
Yggy wasn't able to offer orgasms, but this creature was, and sometimes the world tree handed over the reins to a different psychic invader. For some variety. Well, until it absorbed the Tyrant and its victims later.
The angels finished the body-brain stopgap clamps.
Zero horniness after years of nothing but superhuman sexuality pushed Saint Sexy into a flash of depressive existentialism. What to even live for in these next minutes? Sharp clarity of mind was its own insanity. Good thing he'd been trained.
"Gotta find the thing," Warlock shouted. He was collapsed against a wall, half sunken into alien ivy, the plant's venom slipping off his psy-radiance. His horse cock stood lonely between his thick, long, black legs, Python lube oozing from his hole.
"Triangulating psychic waves," Faggot said. "Areal pattern search in-"
Big unreal cocks entered them from both ends. Saint Sexy got assfucked so rough he almost felt bad for all the phucking he'd dished out.
The oral assault was worse, though. Thanks to angelic perception he didn't have to worry about his vision blurring but it sucked to have to suck.
"Hgnngn," Faggot said. Talking into the angel link without actually vocalizing required a lot more concentration than any of them had right now. They followed the drone engineer's gestures into a roofless building.
Grav-neut drives rumbled to life behind them.
POV: Cypher
Cypher had been at the back of the group, ready to secure their escape or to rush ahead. Now he was jumping over the sorry pile of phucked warriors, his Yaeger's engines ignoring gravity for one big leap.
The smooth bullet plug was in his way, bouncing between his legs and abs, the tip slathering even his pecs in Python lube, the dripping but empty ass getting Tyrant-phucked brutally. With horniness turned off it felt mildly painful.
The oral Tyrant-phucking kept him from gritting his teeth.
The `sexuality suspension' by the beta-angel in his neck dulled all feelings. It left Cypher with little more than strong discomfort. He fought for his life but without purpose. Oh well, rage was useless here anyway.
With Faggot's drone stream the only thing on his displays, Cypher found the Tyrant's blow hole. A nostril sphincter bigger than Dominus Rex. And it may only have been one of several.
Shouting incoherently into the virtual dick, Cypher thumped Cerberus shots into the blowhole – like shoving a torch into a man's nose.
The ground lifted.
The carefully buried Sex Tyrant undid its work with a violent eruption. A skyscraper of spiky armor plates pushed out of the city ruins.
Dominus Rex was pushed back in a shower of rupturing stonework and shattering trees. He jumped with a grav-neut burst.
The mecha landed in a cluster of trees and the jiggling ground unearthed roots and toppled stems - almost fluid in the face of a creature so large.
Dominus Rex got buried. The capsule cracked, metal screaming as it deformed and the lid half-popped.
The snail-like Tyrant had mostly emerged, already retreated into its conch of a home. Cypher kept his guns all trained on the thing, chipping away at the rocky armor with plasma and metal.
The grav-neut pods worked overtime and the wheel tracks did their best to shred some tracking into the trunks pinning the Yaeger down, but it was slow going.
Cypher was trapped in an immobile tin can. Every pilot feared this day.
He tried to follow orders, still. Coordinating with Fist Kings arsenal and Faggot's scans, he aimed at whatever fractures in the conch he could reach if it helped.
The rest of the Merry Men were up close, firing into exposed spots through the phuck convulsions.
The tree trunks atop of Dominus Rex cracked and rattled aside enough to let the lid open fully. Cypher had an escape route if necessary.
Immediately he was beset by the anteater-duck-things that called the foliage home. He pulled his plasma blaster from the holster inside the Yaeger and went to town.
The lack of rage didn't mean he felt calm, but rather awkward and disquieted. He was almost glad to be getting phucked into both holes – the Tyrant's futile invitation to get horny – so something distracted him from his inner unrest.
The Tyrant exploded slightly.
A crack in the conch ripped open and a flood of blue sludge began to bury everything like molasses.
The phucking stopped.
Cypher slapped his neck, encouraging the angel to work faster, even knowing he accomplished nothing with impatience.
The unclamping took its sweet time.
Creatures burst out of the sludge, a hidden stash of enemies to spill out the moment the Tyrant died.
Fungal-headed praying mantises drove the troopers back. The blue sludge reached Dominus Rex and the shattered forest.
"Plug up!" Warlock yelled.
He was right. With the Sex Tyrant's psy field gone, Yggy could retake control over the xeno mutants any moment.
Cypher dropped back into the seat, snuggly fit to his exact, massive proportions. The plug went in with reluctance. With the clamp still in place, it only hurt. Faggot had been right, the thing was too big.
And everything was too chaotic. He could shut it all down. The pain, the noise, the inner turmoil, if he just- oh fuck, Yggy was back.
He focused on gunning down the slimy shroom-mantis things before they got close, the gun rattle translating into his plug uncomfortably.
Dominus Rex was severely damaged, limping on broken tracks, unable to close, displays flickering or broken, mechanics auto-reporting being stuck – if their warning lights even worked.
This all sucked so much. Rage bubbled up.
Cypher grinned behind his swirl hood. "Ha, that's more fuckin like it, bitches."
The molasses flood pushed away the supporting ground under the Tyrant corpse. The conch turned over – rolling toward him.
There was no escape. Dominus Rex was too broken to rush away and Cypher would never make it on foot. He was about to be crushed.
"Get in the fissure," Warlock yelled. "Shoot out the belly."
Well, okay then.
Cypher lined up the limping, bumpy Dominus Rex with the big gash from where blue sludge flowed and the falling Tyrant fully swallowed him into its wound.
The headlights found nothing but blue sauce that quickly spilled into the half-open capsule. Cerberus thumps burned away meat and tissue as he grinded his way to the soft underside the creature's fall should have exposed.
But what for?
For some gunners who couldn't give him a second of silence when he asked? Why not be still forever, so perfectly still...
Sexuality came back online and- oh wow, had the giant plug always felt this good? Maybe he needed a bigger one.
Tweaking his nipples and groaning, Cypher let the guns autofire as he kept moving forward, hot blue molasses flowing around his reclined figure, his pecs and calves just high enough to escape.
Yggdrasil hit him harder.
There was no porn playing, no music blasting. He was more vulnerable than ever in the snail corpse.
He felt himself torn. One Cypher was untethered, vaguely awkward everywhere he went, only telling people to shut up with predictable reactions. The other freely swam in harmony, a perfect synchronous hum of all Yggdrasilian life, suffusing him enough to grant peace without overwhelm.
Cypher couldn't remember the last time he'd cried.
His hood drank the tears as he kept rubbing his nipples, the anal stimulation a futile distraction from the offer of balance, of peace, of Silence.
The clamping came fully undone. His lifetime of chastity rushed back into his awareness and the pleasure in his asshole culminated in a bodygasm so hard he couldn't breathe.
If he hadn't relied on angelic awareness alone, he'd have seen darkness creep into his vision.
It unlocked his nervous system - pure returned rage had him screaming incoherently.
The blue goop splashed as he desperately rode the plug auto-fucking into him.
Something ethereal broke.
He felt Yggy recoil, like a shield was pushing out of his skin. It was a brief moment of ultimate clarity. Plug-riding and fisting and raging and mecha gun thundering. The Silence had no power here.
With him barely at the tail end of the weird esoteric vision, he ripped through the Tyrant's underside, a brightly lit, verdant city before him.
His friends stood on a pile of mantis corpses, Sphinx shield and sentry mines creating kill zones for the rest to slam gleaming plasma charges into.
Was it all real?
As Tyrant gung streamed off him like honey, Cypher brought his arms behind his head, flexed his thighs to ultimate fiber-bursting size and hit a deep abs vacuum. His naked toes curled instinctively.
The bullet plug was large inside him, pushing against the rub of his angel-controlled guts. The dream faded with more and more powerful assgasms, his sharp abs quivering with fuck-convulsions, finally mindlessly pleasurable again.
He rejoined the fray.
"Cypher?" Warlock said with astonishment.
"Yes sir."
"You feel so... you integrated?"
"You can tell?"
"You got that afterglow."
Cypher grinned. "Only took a good backshot from buddy Rex."
POV: Candy
"So we all agree, three out of six is un-fucking-usual," Candy said, hands on his hips, legs even farther apart than the sheer omniroided thigh-size already necessitated.
Fist King pushed his lotion slick hand up the shield bearer's guts for the final time, making Candy rise to his tip toes. "Sure as balls, Sugardrop. Most star rangers never fagging integrate. Be glad you graduated from fodder to picket & patrol."
Faggot and Warlock were lotioning each other's insides. While the plugs rammed perfectly engineered fuck pleasure through the Merry Men at all times, the spontaneity of fisting was a difference-in-kind that had both parties trembling.
"We're not getting shipped to the elite battle front yet," Warlock said. "We don't even know if it'll stick."
Candy flexed his massive pale glutes as he felt lotion drip from his hole, making a white spurt shoot down his inner thighs. "Faggot apparently integrated a second time, dicking around in the gold pond."
Faggot's face expressed desperate madness from his commander's hand size. "S-sure did."
Candy huffed. "If it wasn't for our pilot, I would have wondered if it's an Earthborn-only phenomenon. Cy, you're not from Earth either, right? There's still hope for me?"
Pilot Cypher was on his back, sliding his minimalist plug in and out, refusing to take a hole rest after the Sex Tyrant battle. With his immense legs in the air it was hard to see him phuck his own mouth. He wasn't exactly deep throating, just spinning his tongue gently around his own phantom dick.
Cypher seemed to dislike his focus getting interrupted – phucking yourself was tricky, Candy had been told.
"Yeah. New Callaway, Gaia Prime. Born and raised."
"Freedom, Oceanus," Candy said, hands on his pecs.
Fist King rolled his eyes, but Candy wasn't going to miss an opportunity to remind everybody about his lore. For the new viewers if no one else. He winked at an internal buggy camera.
Saint Sexy wasn't happy about falling out of the center of attention and got extra feisty, which could mean cuddly caresses one second, and nipple-twist wresting the next. Candy took on the duty of keeping him occupied with the lieutenant's psy-dick in his mouth, feet in each other's faces for some very minor tussling for dominance.
"Does the Yaeger still attach?" Warlock asked.
"I think so," Cypher said. "If not we can tie it to the buggy. It won't drive anymore but the engine's good, so it can supplement the battery."
With that said, Cypher demonstratively phucked his own mouth harder, signaling he wouldn't appreciate further interruptions.
Faggot finished a long assgasmic groan. Somewhat whimperingly he said, "Here's hoping they got a spare ready."
The dashboard bleeped with a finished downlink.
"Oh," Faggot said. "They do. Delivery at GT-073 is gonna bring along a brand ass-spanking new Dominus Rex."
POV: Fist King
With their human bodies demanding a terrestrial sleep schedule, the squad moved to `garrison tower 073' for a siesta during the long Sig-3 zenith ahead.
Faggot maneuvered them under the shade cloth dome of the bulky structure. Turrets swiveled on the top floor of the simple steel-concrete structure. Mines reactivated with the gang inside the protective ring. The reinforced sluice opened for them.
Fist King was the first to hop out of the buggy, his dark body still shining with fresh body oil, his plug flopping in his hand.
Boots were dropped off at the door, the ground cool on sweaty soles.
Two angelic civilians were doing admin work along with a couple of deputized Grays.
"Merry Men reporting in," Fist King said ahead of the group. "Heya Lux. Fixin the tracking system again?"
"Ha, not a day the fist-sucker doesn't throw a fit," Lux said, looking up from his desk of unscrewed electronics.
The rather pretty, boyish Asian with an undercut had a lean body perfectly in shape but he was almost a child next to Fist King. He wore only a black thong and lounged wide-legged, making it easy to see how big his cockcage was.
With a dick this big, it made sense he'd pick the less safe option instead of getting his genitals minimized and going anal only.
Fist King tried phucking the technician in the mouth, which Lux easily pushed away as a fellow `beta' carrier. But it had all been a ruse. Fist King – with so much focus he felt heat in his neck – pushed his virtual fist into Lux' ass.
The prettyboy slammed himself against the desk, failing to rise, eyes wide in pleasure horror.
Fist King tutted. "Not plugged. What a shameful safely violation."
"All in," Warlock said. "Close the door, technician Lux."
The civilian stuttered, glancing angrily between the grenadier and his commander, but complied. "Y-your guy ghost fisted me."
Warlock smirked, his sharp face towering high above. "If Major Micro saw you working empty like that, you'd be on plug riding duty for the rest of the fagging day."
They headed up to the breakroom where the garrison dudes not manning turrets right now were entertaining themselves. A carpet with the star ranger logo lay amid well-worn sofas in the United Stars colors.
Garrison uniforms looked mostly the same as patrol uniforms, but in a dim, sandy yellow instead of black.
The highest ranking garrison officer on break, Goonlord, rose from his x-mas tree shaped plug, his gaping ass squelching shut as he slammed his shorter frame into the Merry Men leader.
Goonlord was bald, Japanese tattoos running along his pecs and abs, some even on his face. Saint Sexy blinked behind the fellow Asian and shoved a fist up the vacated hole. They both retreated to a sofa.
Candy tried to say hi' to everyone and was immediately claimed' by an incredibly sculpted arab with a shaggy mohawk.
"What's your name?" the hunk said. Martian accent.
"Candy, sir."
"Cute. I'm Nubbie."
Nubbie dropped his yellow jock pouch to reveal a one inch dicklet. He started phucking Candy's face and forced the white to his knees, pretend-fucking him in the face with a ghost cock while his real nub kissed Candy's lips. Drool splattered from the bottom's throat with body-wracking gags.
Fist King quickly claimed Faggot as the only remaining omega.
A sticky strap attached their plug bases to create a `double headed' rod. Ass to ass, they fucked their holes, with Fist King's massively more muscular and dense body easily hammering Faggot's rear, putting him firmly in charge.
Cypher switched on his porn feed and an entire wall was nothing but cocks, pussy and ass, a flood of cum and lube dripping from them. He claimed the garrison's fuckmachine and continued to self-phuck his face - the giant muscles of his ass, thighs and calves pointed at the room.
Goonlord and Saint Sexy were plug riding face to face in front of the porn wall, competing for silliest ahegao. The occasional gags made clear they were in a battle of breaking each other's expressions with oral phucks.
Warlock and Nubbie also used the double-headed dildo trick, while Candy was underneath, getting phucked by both in some configuration.
Shortly after, the `boys' from downstairs showed up. Lux stared at the porn wall and worked his way onto his own plug. Fist King shot him a thumbs up. The hornier, the safer. Goonlord and Saint Sexy pulled Lux into their middle, engaging him in the oral-phuck wrestle which the technician was no good at.
The other civilian was truly a twink. Black, slender with a buzzcut. He wore a blue hip scarf.
"Hi," the stranger said. "I'm Chaz."
"Fist King. And this whore is Faggot. You're plugged?"
"Yes sir. Of course. Wouldn't go around doing inventory without being at sex peak."
Fist King sensed the intrusion resistance of a beta angel. "So responsible. Feels great, huh? Wanna phuck the bottom?"
"Sure," Chaz said and Faggot started to gag as he got violently asspounded by the double-headed plug.
Chaz dropped the hip scarf, revealing a modest dickcage. The grenadier just then noticed the patterns on the clothing.
"Jupiter style? You're from the Terra system, dude?"
"Yeah, you?"
"Never been," Fist King confessed. "I'm from the atolls of Cat's Cradle.
Someone thundered down the stairs from the dorm. An omniroided white guy, beefy as fuck but just as short as Fist King, with a circle of buzzed hair, fully nude.
"Toothpick!" Fist King yelled.
He rose, dragging Faggot along for two steps, then taking the double plug with him. Faggot stayed behind, uncontrollably trembling, his assgasms shaking his ultra-cut muscle legs, every fiber in his back flexing into an involuntary wave.
Fist King pushed his psy-hole into Toothpick's face for a phantom rim as their huge pecs slammed together.
"You got bigger," Fist King said. Toothpick said it at the same time but the pressure of virtual ass on his lips made him mumble.
They moved over to a sofa. Fist King left Faggot's plug behind.
Chaz and Faggot had already become part of the Warlock-Nubbie-Candy orgy, both getting phucked. Chaz' and Faggot's holes gaped with psychic mega-dongs, phantom hips impacting their glutes, lube making their hamstrings shiny.
Candy's plug was sticky taped to Warlock's jockpouch, letting the commander plug-fuck the bottom while Nubbie's fist joined Warlock's plug, putting the leader in the vers spot. Nubbie's other fist was inside Faggot, joined there by Chaz's slimmer arm.
Cypher had dragged the fuckmachine over and was on all fours, his fist deep in the already plugged Lux who was going completely insane with pleasure – maybe this would teach him about the importance of constant safety.
Toothpick ghost-sucked Fist King while they rode their plugs sticky taped to the sofa, forcing them to semi-squat. Their gigantic legs rubbed together as they alternated up-down for fast assrubbing, Toothpick's drool and snot running down to his chin, pecs, and mini-dicklet.
Fist King's eyes glanced to the corner of the porn wall. Only another twenty minutes before they'd have to retreat to the dorm upstairs if they wanted to get a full rest. Warlock would insist.
Wanting to squeeze the most fun out of this now, Fist King leaned on Toothpick, their weight pressing on each other as they alternately rose and squatted. With a workout this hard, the assgasms were truly earned.
###POV: Candy
Totally nude, Candy got woken up by an incredible load of phantom cum exploding into his mouth and throat – the result of Cypher's hour of self-phuck edging.
Cypher hit a lazy most-muscular as simulated orgasm rushed through his angel interwoven nerves.
While Candy struggled into his uniform, Cypher already phucked the bottom's ass again to wordlessly goad him along.
Together with the tight lipped pilot sans vehicle, they held watch until the supply barge made it into the garrison's perimeter, leaving the other Merry Men dreaming and glistening, their tiny nub dicklets ever-soft between beefy legs that entwined in the sleepy cuddle pile, assholes dripping with lotion.
They met the delivery outside, under the shade dome.
The barge was similar to a battle buggy, but with more closed containers and little room to lounge. A Yaeger was tucked to the back, adding horse power, while another drove besides.
"That'll be your new mecha," Candy said. "Excited?"
Cypher honored the question with a grunt.
Candy leaned into the quiet guy's bronze shoulder. "Did you make radio contact when they entered range?"
"No."
"Oh fuck yeah. Because I did. And you'll never guess who's about to show up. Never."
"My brother," Cypher said with an attempt at a monotone voice, unable to play over his apprehension.
"Wh- How- how did you know?"
Cypher finally looked his way, eyes half closed, expression sagging with disappointment. "Literally what other gooner would make you say that to me?"
"Uhhh, right."
The barge-driving Yaeger was adorned with red stripes, a fanged grimace smiling where the capsule opened up.
Oni Tempest, the name stenciled into its side, detached from the barge and met the duo halfway.
Candy and Cypher saluted, their hoods down around their neck but still capable of transmitting a simple military greeting into the connection.
Oni Tempest's lid popped.
Just on eye level, the pilot's ass was getting machine-fucked, legs in the same deep caramel as Cypher's flexing with the pulsations, the toes of his naked feet curling.
Plastic wrappers, paper talismans, jiggly figurines and even dangling crystals decorated as well as littered the capsule. Luckily, Oni Tempest's pilot wasn't as crazy pod-fillingly musclebound as Cypher, his naturally wide frame supplemented by mid-range gainboosters.
"P.V.," Cypher said, with a light nod.
"Bro! Wahzzuuup?!" P.V. yelled through his hood - a simple line drawing of a vagina getting penetrated by a dick from below. Central had allowed the mask art but vetoed his original call sign `Penis-in-Vagina'.
"Heya, Peach Vanilla," Candy said and started climbing into the pod. "Glad to see your fagged up ass again."
P.V. pulled his hood down, the messy black curls sticking with sweat to his sharp features. "Couldn't miss the opportunity to fuck up bro's day, dude. How's my party tiger doing?"
"Better now," Candy said and faux-rode P.V.'s jock pouch, getting his plugged ass phucked. They nipple fingered each other. "Not been partying in way too long, though."
The other, nameless Yaeger was diligently unloading minor cargo to resupply the buggy, Python lube, water, coolant, nutri-pellets.
"Sorry I'm not hopping down," P.V. said, "but I'm assgasming so hard fucking right now."
"Mission should take priority," Cypher said. "You're a pilot first, slut second."
"Oh fist off, Cy."
Candy dropped out of the Yaeger pod, still getting phucked, legs weak at the sensation of Peach Vanilla's unreal hips slamming into his glutes.
"But seriously," Candy said. "What are you doing here? Not with the Oni Crew anymore? Did you stop being legendary?"
P.V. put on his boots, blowing a raspberry at his brother. "Nah, we Oni still tight as dick. I'm drilling some noobs."
He started extracting himself from his plug-seat. The three-bubble snowman of a plug slid from his gaping hole, the aftershocks making him look about the cry.
Cypher grumbled. "Isn't drilling volunteer-based?"
"Sure is," P.V. said and hopped down on weak knees. He started pissing from his jock pouch instantly. "And your oh so degenerate, irresponsible bro volunteered."
Gauging the state of consent with a mere look, Candy dug his fist into the pissing pilot and made P.V. whimper at the sky.
Licking up P.V. neck, Candy giggled at the tip-toeing pilot's reaction. "I never figured you for the noob trainer type."
With a hard grunt, P.V. pulled off the fist, dramatically collapsing into Candy's arms. "Oh not you too, Candycane! Would you indeed malign me before my own flesh and blood?"
"Just saying," Candy responded.
"Hey, I'm a good boss. Ask Cumbag."
Peach Vanilla flagged down the other Yaeger who had finished and was waiting. The mecha rolled closer and opened.
The trainee within saluted. "Drill trainer Peach Vanilla, sir! Cumbag reporting after mission completion, sir."
Cumbag wore the bright pink noob gear that kept beginners unmissable in hectic situations. From boots to pouch to harness, all pink, including the generic mask spelling out his claimed call sign over his face.
He was white, the hair shaved into little square patterns like a pineapple. The pale muscles popped too much for a noob on something mild, indicating he was past his first cycle of omniroids.
The angel's omega type made itself known with a demure, slither-y sensation of an invisible gap opening to get fucked by anyone and anything whether the carrier wanted or not. Sometimes Candy really wished he could be a phucking top, but angelic compatibility never changed.
"Trooper Cumbag," P.V. said, barely seeming able to take himself seriously. "Just say hi to my grumpy bro and my awesome-ass bestie."
Cumbag jumped down, his ass remaining plugged, and saluted with one hand, awkwardly struggling to pull the hood down. "Sirs, trainer Peach Vanilla told me a bit about you both. I've been watching your videos on the way here. Already a huge fan."
Cypher only nodded. Candy tossed himself into a hug around the soon-to-be beefcake, their hunky physiques colliding. He pulled away, his gaze on Cumbag's teen face.
"I swear," Candy said, "they recruit younger every year. You look twelve."
"I get that a lot, sir," Cumbag said. "If I take after my dad, the jaw should come in around 20. I'll keep hoping, hehe."
The anal phuck stopped, but not because P.V. had creamed his unreal load. Instead he was phucking Cumbag's mouth for the shot, the noob gagging with surprised terror, then a resigned smirk.
"This is mine?" Cypher asked, his hand gliding over the edge of the un-decorated Yaeger.
"Yeah bro," P.V. said. "Dominus Rex - what is it now - version 4?"
"You keep track of my failures, typical," Cypher said but he couldn't suppress the grin.
P.V. thumped his chest. "Yeah, and I brag to the old folks anytime you break something and I don't."
The brothers got into a brief headlock match, P.V. finally orgasming unreal cum strings down Cumbag's throat. The noob struggled with the phantom loads flooding his drooling mouth.
Candy leaned in for a hug and a whisper. He licked across the quivering lips, ghost cum spilling over onto his tongue before vanishing from perception. "I know the feeling. You were hoping for gold when you signed up, huh?"
"Actually, I half-expected this. I just wanted to be in. Grew up on the moons of Proserpina-4. We were always hopping worlds when Yggy popped up somewhere."
"Now then, trooper," P.V. said. "Tell your elders that trainer Peach Vanilla is the best and takes great fucking care of your squad."
Cumbag shrugged. "We all know you're angling for the promo."
"You piece of biomass," P.V. said in fake rage. "Name one time I played favorites. Uh... No, actually don't."
"What's this about?" Cypher said, glancing between his brother and the teen in pink.
P.V. mimed collapsing with a sigh. "Daddy's little boy is in my squad. He wanted a trainer who'd whip his son into shape but, like, chill."
"You got Sergeant Daddy's eyes on you?" Candy said. "Because you're taking care of his baby? The stress would kill me."
Cypher hopped into the replacement Dominus Rex. "I'm taking this baby for a spin. I'll put the old one on the barge for you."
"Hey," P.V. said, "we have more to load up. You guys carved a whole cluster of glands out of that Sex Tyrant."
"I know. They'll squeeze so much rainbow dew out of that. Better load it up fast, Oni Tempest."
"Oni is not a cargo-"
Cypher closed the lid, Dominus Rex 4 already in motion.
"Phucked up of you, bastard," P.V. mumbled, arms crossed. "Cumbag, you take over. And meanwhile..."
He hopped into his capsule, sat on the snowman plug with eyes rolling back into his head and hopped out plugged. "We'll wake up the Merry Men for a little buggy party."
"Fuck yeah," Candy said. "I have a bottle of Gray gin saved up for this occasion."
Chaz, Lux and the hired Grays were getting ready to leave, exiting the tower's lobby as they saw Dominus Rex drive off. This party was going to be a minute affair. Candy slapped Cumbag's plug base and rushed off for an unignorable wakeup call.