################### ## ABYSS DIVERS ### ###################
POV: Warlock
Facepalming meant his huge hand was running along the contours of his skull's many suggested eye holes. Warlock allowed himself a sigh.
"You gooners didn't even tell them about the amniotic sample? How was this Cumbag noob supposed to know to take it?"
"My apologies," Cypher said. "I didn't realize they were going to goof off the whole time."
"Hey, don't act like you taking a joy ride was part of the grand fagging plan, dude," Candy said.
Warlock gestured them to calm down, which did nothing. The buggy bounced on rough terrain, zooming across a sandy area, nowhere near top speed but running away effectively from its own sizable dust cloud trail.
"If we want to spread some blame around, commander," Candy said, "it would have been your duty to check the cargo manifest. You didn't even have a sip of my special gin, you have no excuse."
Candy had a hard time sounding serious when he made accusations. It was rare for him to be so angry he could stop acting the lovable oaf and this wasn't one of those times.
"Fine, we'll figure it out," Warlock said.
He pulled Faggot by the harness out of the driver's seat and deposited the drone controller behind the seat where Faggot dutifully kneeled with hands behind his back.
Taking over the buggy, Warlock stress-phucked into Faggot's face, hearing the gagging the sputtering whimpers while he shot a message into the uplink.
"We'll see if that gets through to Byzantium. In the meantime I guess we'll do a clear-out in a place closer to the barrier in case we gotta meet up with the barge a second time. Any favorites?"
Cypher and Candy didn't respond. They'd started jostling and ended up with Candy's jock pouch taped to the pilot's plug, fucking the gigantic bullet shape in and out of the quivering muscle ass. By the flexing throat underneath the kitty mask, it was obvious Cypher revenge-phucked his `top' in the face.
Warlock settled into the drivers seat.
It took a half hour for them to reach a swamp lovingly referred to as Meat Soup. Just enough time to edge out a huge virtual load.
Meat Soup's sludgy waters muddying the savanna were the organic outflow of a forest of flesh blobs, rising to a pyramid shape a couple miles across. Considered reasonably contained, Meat Soup served as a decently easy hunting ground for enterprising Grays to get their hands on some native wildlife – albeit mutated.
The buggy drifted into the green-gray swamp, Dominus Rex detaching to project a repulsion field ahead.
Warlock waved at the Gray on their woven floating mats, who speared the shallow water for aquatic prey.
The Merry Men made it deeper into the forest of flesh walls, spiraling to a blossom at the top, xeno blood dripping off the leaves high above. This was the east sector, the south having been decimated most recently, the north having been visited by Peach Vanilla's own noob gang a week ago.
"We'll park here, don't want to fight past the roots. There's a pretty clear corridor cut through by the Hardshell Hooligans, but overgrown, of course. We're not branching off of that too much."
Their boots stayed behind, big naked feet sinking into the moist ground. Psy-radiance had too hard a time emitting from clothed skin and Meat Soup tended to have most of its surprises on calve-level.
Sticking to the parts not so underwater, they squelched along fleshy undergrowth.
Dominus Rex and Fist King went ahead, flame thrower modules on their weapons clearing the space with yellow-white plasma streams. Heat bounced in waves between the squad mates. Candy held his shield high, funneling the spore and blood rain into his absorption field.
Warlock fired on everything that moved.
Their first enemy type was a hybrid of porcupine and bat, merged and blown up to the size of a human child. Pins rained onto the Merry Men, Candy's drones able to hold repulsion modules in place with the flesh trees forming natural chokepoints.
Whatever slipped through, fell to Warlock's mindkill. Anything trying to nibble his toes surfaced dead.
Life turned weirder as they made it farther in.
The red-ish flesh-like trees turned purple, then blue. Pulsating veins were replaced by clusters of pustules vibrating on approach. As the dripping leaves overhead grew fatter and closed the canopy, they began emanating blue and lilac bioluminescence.
The animals grew more fungal infested, spiky flyers squirting toxins that would have made a Gray or an un-angelic human instantly drop dead. The venom painted the star ranger's teal and cyan, sliding along their bodyoil-guarded skin. Big feet rose heavily against the resistance of deepening mud.
None of it stopped burning, though, the flamer modules conjuring a blaze hot enough it'd have melted metal.
The Question rose several times, penetrating Warlock's thoughts. Wasn't he tired of this futile flailing, unrecognized and destined to die a pointless death?
No, he countered, he was ripping xenos to shreds with his best xeno-ripping buds while anal orgasms ripped his body to pieces. And his body was ripped as fuck, too.
Waiting for the tail lights to clear a huge root, he hit a full abs vacuum, his 7' frame tightening at the core as his thighs bulged. The horse cock was gripped tighter, his fingers reassuring its presence within him, his fears knocked away by thunderous pleasure.
"Is Yggy not really trying today?" Warlock said.
"The fuck are you taking about?" Fist King yelled. He'd been yelling the whole time, but mostly for joy as he set everything ablaze. "I'm holding on by a thread, commander. This place is phucking me in the soul."
Warlock glanced at Faggot, then the others.
"Man, I really integrated, huh? Like really integrated."
"Good for you, bitch," Fist King said. He switched to slug thrower mode and turned a solid flesh wall ahead into chunks for more burnable surface area. "I'm this close to becoming Yggy's little slut. Sorry we can't all by elite fist-suckers."
"That's now that I-" There was no time to consider implications. He had an easier time wiping away psy attacks than he'd ever imagined. He had to extract and redo the plan.
"Incoming," Faggot said. "Uh, it's a... dragon?"
Warlock shouted into the link, mostly toward Dominus Rex. "Turn of the fire. I think it's responding to-"
The flame drake tore through the few beef trees that didn't curl out of the way fast enough. A reptile, beige skin set through with bright blue mushroom growth, shining with a pale light like the vegetation all around.
Its wings and long tail helped it maneuver, but true flight was impossible in the constrained environment of the closed canopy. It was also filled to the brim with liquid and audibly sloshed.
Candy stayed defensive, the rest focused fire. The porcu-bats did a great job catching plasma blasts for their draconic overlord as living shields.
The drake got a fire breath off. Blue spray spewed all over them. Acid? It smelled like gasoline.
Saint Sexy blinked onto the neck of the creature, his blade sinking into the buckling dragon's shoulder. `Wooping' in the throes of a wild ride, Saint Sexy managed to bring his blaster to the right spot and shot the flame drake right through the brain over and over.
The beast fell and Saint Sexy blinked to safety. He landed on one knee, moist undergrowth bursting from his blink-landing site. The dead drake's neck squirted more blue gunk around.
Saint Sexy rose and blinked a step back from the stream but, like the rest of them, he was already drizzled. "Is that fucking petrol?"
"Initial analysis suggests yes," Cypher reported.
"Bio fuel," Faggot said. "Normally dragons aren't so stuffed with it."
"Keeping us from burning the forest," Warlock said. "Clever girl. We gotta extract anyway. Get into Dominus Rex' shield. We wrecked enough shit for now."
Candy was basically free of the blue "gasoline", having sucked it up with his shield as it had rained his way. But with the swampy underground, he couldn't avoid getting some on him. "You don't think Yggy has a way to start a fire, too?"
"Probably does," Faggot said. "Path ahead is looking relatively clear. Shouldn't be ten minutes until- Uh, topological shift incoming."
The blue meat trees laid down, forming dense walls. It would take minutes to shred through. But they laid in a way that left a road open.
"Faggot, what's along the new path that just cleared?"
"Not sure, but I mean, it's gotta be a trap."
"Dude," Fist King whispered. "Somebody tell me a good plan, and fast."
Right, Fist King didn't do well with loss of control. Somehow having an easy time brushing off the Question let Warlock forget his men weren't all "elite" now.
"The old plan is the new plan," he said. "We just have a wall to climb. Fist King, grav-neut right here. Cypher, you jump up and secure the top of the wall. Saint Sexy, you go last and blink after with the grav-neut."
The Yaeger jumped. The plan held for about thirty seconds. Before the first on-foot ranger made it to the top of the wall, the wet, meaty ground jiggled and curled.
The fairly level swamp bulged to a steep mountain, making everyone, even Dominus Rex tip over. The mecha fired its own grav-neut boosters and made it onto a meat tree, then Warlock lost sight of it.
The remaining five struggled to hold onto slippery rootwork as the mountain turned into a slide, sludge and water rushing them along in narrow rapids. There was a lot of yelling and little communication.
They slid, feet first, bit by bit, as their hand- and footholds retracted the moment one of the warriors found a good grasp.
Saint Sexy blinked to safer spots along the path but couldn't get enough leverage to pull anyone out. More drakes showed up and started raining the stinging xeno-petrol that slopped in their bellies.
Fist King managed to toss Saint Sexy his Nova launcher but the device was too big for the lieutenant to take with him in blink teleports, limiting his angles of attack.
Warlock had to brush away the Question again – no he wasn't useless to his men, no they'd still follow him if he messed up – and had to wonder how hard the others were getting hit by those psy attacks.
Chasms opened along the slope, big enough to swallow a man along with the rushing water. Warlock pulled the knife from his thigh strap and stabbed a handhold into the meaty mountain to leverage around the chasms.
Purple lizard chickens cackled along the shore, hopping from tree to tree, screaming mockingly. Some fell into the stream and were pulled along the rapids. More stuff to mindkill. He was exhausting himself – and his golden angel.
He managed to catch Faggot on the way, clutching him in one arm.
"Drone report?"
"Sir!" Faggot said, somewhere between panic and routine. "It's a big hole at the bottom of this. With teeth. A maw."
"Cy!" Warlock communicated into the void, hoping. "Do you have the gravity pillar?"
"Yes sir."
"Get ahead."
"Yes sir. On it."
Warlock heard the engine scream of a massive Yaeger jump.
There was stuff in the gross water. Eel things and squid beasts. Warlock mindkilled anything that touched him while clinging to Faggot as they got tossed from chasm to chasm. The knife provided just enough grip in the fleshy riverbed to let him avoid the yawning traps.
While the flow of liquid was shallow enough to make these maneuvers possible, the steep slope was too slick to dig his toes or heels in anywhere.
The trees pulled back to clear a widening path.
Then came free fall.
POV: Fist King
Being scraped and bruised and super-duper wet, Fist King didn't mind so much. Even falling down a waterfall inside a flesh canyon was, well... From a horny perspective it was just like diving into the biggest baddest xeno pussy.
But the Menace wasn't giving him a moment's rest to get his shit together.
What if he gave in? Let big, steady, sturdy Yggdrasil hand him all the control and solidity the galaxy had to offer? He didn't even have his Nova to hold onto anymore. What was he now? A speck of meat, bloated with roids, swimming in a lust for sex he'd never get to have – an ability he'd let others take away. For Yggdrasil's sake, in the end.
Who was really in charge here? Wouldn't it be great to take over, never be vulnerable again? Just let Yggdrasil in and-
Fist King maneuvered down the water slide by twisting his short, crazy-muscled body. He put his hands between his immense legs and plug fucked himself.
He was in charge, the artificial arm ramming pleasure along his inner walls according to his desires. Yggy had nothing on that ass-rodeo.
"Big chasm ahead," Faggot said into the link. "Teeth are not too bad if you don't get speared. Knives out if you haven't."
The squad dropped into an open maw that gargled the deluge deep below in darkness.
Fist King was fast enough to grab a tooth. Psy radiance vibrated from his skin as his hands gripped serrated tusks. The maw's teeth were the size of forearms – although not the kind he'd want in his ass.
Maybe fucking himself had been a mistake, leaving his plug only half inside him as he broke his fall. Its weight alone pulled it out. His precious, custom fist was ripped from his guts with one final goodbye-assgasm, then vanished in the maw forever.
He had a good handhold. His feet both managed to find resting places, more "teeth" just barely missing his diamond calves.
But the xeno environment was saturated with hostile psy power. Depression and fear hammered into Fist King like an unwanted brain stem fisting. He couldn't help but look down. The call of the void was nearly all he could think of. If he just let go and dropped... Yggdrasil would never let him feel helpless again...
Dominus Rex dropped into the maw, grav-neut engines at its tracked feet burning hot. A cyan painted muscle hunk rode the capsule like a surf board, contorting wildly to keep from falling.
With drake bio fuel covering the tattoos, the ahegao of the hood, the maroon hair and the Chinese ochre skin, Saint Sexy was only recognizable by his alpha angel's signature in the link.
The lieutenant activated the grav-neut device he was holding, balancing it on Dominus Rex' shell. The pillar reached easily to the top of the maw.
Fist King had a hard time hearing Warlock's voice. Everything felt underwater, grayscale and numb.
Warlock, Faggot and Candy had hovered out of the maw. For Fist King, only the void called.
Except the commander came back down, pushed out of the gravity pillar and fell right next to Fist King.
"Work with me here, buddy," Warlock said and gently but firmly pushed his fist into Fist King's ass. Deeper and deeper, to the third hole, the big fist sliding until the commander's elbow hit the muscle-glutes' crack.
The instant sexual rupture almost made the grenadier let go of the xeno teeth in blissful shock.
"Gonna have to climb a bit," Warlock said. "But I'm right behind you. I'll let you know when to jump off."
Fist King followed in a trance. Without hesitation – was it trust, training or both? – he made his way up the tusks, then dropped into the pillar and followed his fisting top to a safe, wet slab of torn, bleeding, purple meat.
The Yaeger rose from the maw last, Saint Sexy standing on top, arms crossed, slightly leaned back to display his physique – no matter how sludge riddled.
Faggot was past the elbow in Candy, his arm sliding besides the plug for an extra insane spread, probably keeping Candy sane throughout the psy attacks. His free hand fired randomly in the direction of the ugly lizard chickens threatening to nip at their shins.
Candy wasn't idle either, letting his black and white drones carry the heat field projector.
"It's keeping the fire drakes away," Candy said. "I think they're going to catch fire and blow up if they get too hot."
"Let's find out," Saint Sexy said, appearing next to them.
"Not while you're drenched in dragon vomit," Warlock reminded.
"Okay mister no-fun neat freak."
Warlock pulled his horse cock from his own ass and shoved it into Fist King. "Will that do for now?"
It was a decent replacement.
"Y-yeah, but sir, what about your hole?"
Warlock shrugged. "I think I'll be fine as long as we get out fast. Just punch me in the ass every now and then."
"Yes sir."
Saint Sexy became their vanguard against the drakes, blinking onto them for a good stabbing whenever possible. Faggot pointed the way, Candy's Sphinx shield absorbed most of the blue gasoline vomited at them, Cypher stomped ahead with his mecha's heavy feet, letting roots explode into beetroot juice before them.
It started to rain. No, the plants were breaking overhead. All the damage the star rangers were doing ripped through the forest and watery sap drizzled down in ever growing streams, mixing with the starchy, honey-like sludge puddles of the swamp.
They waded knee deep, thoroughly drenched.
But only one thing mattered - Fist King got his precious Nova back.
"Gimmi powaaaah!"
Metal slugs shredded the forest while his sentry mines made flying, crawling and swimming beasties go up in sparks.
His beta-angel flexed his involuntary inner muscles around the horse cock for a fancy new experience, Fist King's ass raw enough to appreciate the might of the tool even if it wasn't his perfect fit.
As much as the Menace still lingered, it was a fairly relaxing experience. With the forest providing enough natural chokepoints to make his job trivial, he could focus on the fun part – the lightning thrill of destruction and thunderous joy of horse cock bodygasms.
POV: Faggot
Now that they were wading through navel deep water, all the bio-fuel had washed away and they risked use of fire again, scorching away the avalanche of lifeforms stalking them, blinding fire streams rising front and back.
A standard enough journey out of Meat Soup, but Faggot couldn't help notice the shift in the network. His omega angel received the vague tingle of needs from his nearby tops – the ones that hadn't integrated.
It didn't tell him anything other than to prepare for the usual post-mission stress relief phucking, but it was intel he hadn't received before. Integration had put him more in tune with the little symbiont in his neck.
With his lookout task less demanding this close to the entrance, he started reviewing the drone footage from the maw. He hadn't exactly had the wherewithal to pick the best angles, relying on Hummingbird AI.
He scrolled around the scene thumbnails, low resolution timelines dipping into his perception on request. Saint Sexy's rise on the Yaeger was terribly cheesy but that was his brand. Also, Fist King's "gimmi powaaah" moment had to make it in. Oh, and Candy liked shots with his ass in the air, or rather the comments they elicited.
"Faggot?"
"Wha- Yes sir, commander!"
Warlock was riding on Fist King's shoulders, so his uplugged ass wasn't underwater. Candy – one arm holding the shield – punched a lubed up fist elbow deep into the leader whenever he had a moment.
"You're going to report this the second we're out of Yggy range," Warlock said. "Maybe we're just incredibly unlucky but something has shifted out here. This is turning from patrol duty into traps and subterfuge."
"Yes sir. I'll have it ready by the time we can uplink."
Some Gray floated closer, hoping for an easy kill of some big creature just behind the Merry Men but no such luck this time. And if central considered their report worthy of action, the natives were going to have to migrate to less infested pastures soon.
Warlock hopped off Fist King's shoulders and ruffled Candy's messy blond heart of hair. "Thanks Candy, you've been a great assgasm donor."
"Anytime, sir."
Saint Sexy blinked from the back to the front of the gang. "How's life for warhorse without the plug to ride? Still sane? I'll let the `neigh' sayers know."
"Trickier but doable," the commander said.
"Want it back?" Fist King asked.
"We'll get back to the buggy and unpack your spare first. You need it more."
"Yes sir," Fist King said, his gait a bit funny. "I think for my next anal optimum assessment I'll see if I can get bigger."
Faggot knew the schedule. "Your next assessment is in two weeks. But they're usually pretty good at spreading you to maximum size."
"I mean lengthwise," Fist King said, thumping his pecs. He indicated where inside him the horse cock's flared head resided, sucking in his abs to reveal the shape. "This goes in a few more inches than my arm and it's weird as fuck but I'm loving it."
"That's more plausible," Faggot said.
Saint Sexy threw his shoulder around Fist King's wide frame, rubbing the tip of the horse cock through the abs. "Sounds like you're going shoulder deep soon. You'll have to change your name, Shoulder King."
"Doesn't have the punchy ring to it," Fist King said, and after too much of pause added, "Saint Mildly Attractive."
Dumb but meme-able. Faggot marked this moment as a possible ending for the video. Commenters would feel the need to find cleverer nicknames.
Back on the buggy – after a sonic shower, lotion fisting and general maintenance - they vaguely set off toward a clear uplink area, so they'd be able to pivot to whatever Central told them - meet up with Oni Tempest again or continue their planned route.
It turned out to be neither.
"P.V. is still doing the rounds," Faggot summarized the message. "Central wants us to hit Base Retribution. There's a rocket ready to take the amniotic sample up."
"I'll drive us," Warlock said. He shoved his horse cock in for the first time again, expression briefly slipping into ecstasy. "Faggot, you have hole rest."
"Video is 90% done, though," the drone controller responded.
Warlock gave him an oral phuck just to spread his lips, then pushed his toes into Faggot's mouth. The driver and editor was pushed out of the seat and onto the ground, a huge foot on his face.
"I said rest, buddy. You've been staring at the screens for an hour."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir."
The commander took over the steering. The foot stayed, toes dipping into Faggot's mouth. Fist King rolled over to pull the cobra out and add soothing balm instead.
With his ass soon dripping lotion, Faggot settled in for a nap but of course with an omega carrier's ass empty, none of the tops could resist phucking his hole in turn, white gunk slipping from his guts with their unreal thrusts from across the vehicle. Even Cypher phucked him from within his capsule, still reconfiguring the new Yaeger to his profile.
Faggot's shallow dreams were suffused with rugged hunks roughing him up and plenty of orgasms.