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Invasion10:Last Stand Of Man

He could not stand the appearance of his wife. She had beauty, once, but it was now overcome by the hairy looks and disposition as that of the chupacabra overlords. The worst insult was watching how she went from his lover into a beast like the rest of those foul things that now ruled over the village.

To be fair, theirs was a reasonable people, and complaint had gained them a new regent that, for his two weeks as leader of the realm, had done everything well that the previous regent had not. His personality was endearing, his concerns were true, and he became more a guardian of the village than drug lords in charge of the area generations past. Still, for a humble people, dictatorship was very obvious after helplessly tolerating every regime. The feelings were that this was intolerable, as at least mens' motives were clear. For these creatures it was arguable, as they were made to work in strange white clothes as a few of the villagers were taken and changed by the monsters.

When the previous regent had kidnapped his wife to be his erotic slave, and the new regent had kept her as his own after the transformation concluded, Esteban saw nothing of these foreigners that could be redeemed no matter how nice Pleban tried to make himself on the wake of the peoples' outrage. These people--simple farmers and tradesworkers--were again stirred by the ideas and unity of Communism much as Che Guevera had brought it to them before. A cruel man seemed preferable to a kind animal. Mostly, everyone agreed, as men's whims were transparent and predictable.

The new beast could offer no ammends to his own plight but that which was truly insulting: they could share her sexually, or he could swallow the changing pill and become one of the regents' private harem members. Neither appealed to a humans' pride, so he thought about how to fight back instead. He wasn't alone, either, as the whole town wanted the monsters out. The only lingering question was the method how to do it, and he'd seen their weapons fail on the special beast armor repeatedly.

With all that armor, there was always a weakness to be expected. Laster fire was no good against the shiny black beetle shell, but a few random bullets had proven that other physical means would have the right effect desired for getting through. The only problem with that was how older modelns of weapons were so obsolete that they were difficult to come by. It would be a true assessment if he hadn't know the Spaniard.

Fortune was that he'd come across Lunacio Lopez, historian and heir to the Guevera guerilla museum. Each of those weapons within could be made functional without much effort, as Lunacio activated and disabled them at his leisure for various test firings. The man knew how to shoot, to mix his own powder, and was even deft with a blade. By miracle, the chupacabra had left the museum and its curator well alone like some kind of curiosity.

Esteban held his hat when coming onto the property, an elegant man in old regal uniform and flashing rapier to greet him. Compared to Lopez, he was very homely in the white jumpsuit slave uniform given to all the laborers. "En Garde! Prepare an excuse for this trespass, condejo!" He roared out, voice and body toned in gold like a lion, "And swifter than I bade my sword, with that tongue." The man warned, flexing the slender weapon with skill and disinterest like a short whip.

"Please sir. The regents are no good for our kind. We must remove them." The curator cursed at Estebans' brash impertinence with a scowl, looking around outside with a sweeping glare before motioning the shoddy peasant inside. The museum, in the true aristocratic sense, was as much a mansion as a fine display area. He was seated on the least gilded bench before beckoned to continue in confidence. "Even had they not stolen my Maria to be their whore, I would still hat them. The gringos are too strange for us, and their aspirations most unclear." He offered, hoping the fancy man would be moved by his words.

The desired effect was not readily achieved. "We all know of the burden you suffer without a spouse, but the dictator was removed and his replacement is very kind to us. For a chupacabra, he is not very well versed in our language, but he has done right by the village and historical society. If your intent is to kill the new regent, then I cannot be a part of such things. The overlords have been--kind towards my role amongst men. Though, the talking animals are problematic in other ways. Can you imagine what a mockery it is to have my own herd of cattle, but never be allowed to eat them? Milk and labor, true, but these are meat breeds meant to die for my table!" Lunacio sighed heavily, hair over his eyes in muted defeat. "Peaceful creatures, Pleban and his creed. If I cannot slaughter another bull for fear of offense, at least it is that man, woman, and child will no longer perish needlessly as were the days of these foul weapons." The Spaniard made very good arguements to take the fire from Esteban's insane resolve.

He thought through them and realized it was only his own petty heart set on revenge and the changes to his way of life by outsiders that drove him so. "Give me the weapons. Give me their bullets. I have hands to hold them and conviction to use them." It was then a heavy storm with lightning darted suddenly in the rainforests outside with the random beating on leaves and air itself of rain much like war drums.

Lunacio bolted from his chair with blade hand outheld. The shaft slender and safe to touch, but the tip quite sharp and deadly; able to sting into a man's heart as an arrow. "To take from Che, you must earn your right!" The Spaniard yelled with an aggressive stab and animated hooting breaths with sudden hooking slashes about the air.

He fell backwards, flipping the bench to defend the killing blow as he crawled away. There was altogether something frenzied and primal about his style, but he didn't recognize it until the other man pounced, ready to sting with glittering claw like a jaguar. "Fools! All fools before the Guevera dynasty!" Esteban barely parried the next blow coming for his chest by using a tin tea platter as a shield, trying to rise; getting knocked on his ass instead. Lunacio kicked the tray away with a clanging smack against the back wall within the fireplace. A cloud of flaming soot rushed out into his face, causing the curator to growl and swear furiously while backing away and batting the air randomly to keep his foe at bay.

"Has no one taught you not to play with fireplaces?" Esteban taunted, reaching over for a slender object with a hook that had fallen out of its rack; now burning into his hand, though he dared not let go of his only weapon. "Have at me, then. Show me the pride of your lineage!" He challenged, a thin line of sizzling gray smoke coming out of his fist from the red burning poker. Even as it hurt him, he lashed out with the iron handle while inhuman hatred and vengeance refused to let him drop it even as his palm and fingers curled and fused to the neon-orange metal. Already prepared to die, the loss of his hand in this wavering state of consuming rage was an inconsequential sacrifice for the larger goal. "It makes no difference if the cage is lined with barbed wire or gilded with gems and padded with polite pleasantries--we are all the same to the chupacabra. Today my wife, tomorrow your sons and daughters. Don't let selfishness govern your motives!" That set the matador maniac loose, howling with red stinging eyes like el diablo and his face blacked and burned by molten soot.

"This is your new life. To fight the overlords is folly, as they cannot be stopped." Lunacio snarls, jumping behind an armchair of bergundy leather to kick it through the air. Esteban smacked it with the poker and his wrist, breaking a bone in there as the furniture flipped sideways hafl in and out of a now decimated picture window. To most, fighting a god was truly a mistake. But if they bleed, then they were as mortal as any other thing he'd hunted on his farm before the laser guns were rounded up for destruction. The museum pieces had probably been overlooked as artifacts instead of their true devious capabilities. "Perhaps if you sleep tonight, the seeds of rebellion will free themselves from your heart." A true absurdity, as the anger simmered eternally with every passing day. It did no good that the overlords were nicer after the multitude of abuses and rapes by the previous garison; once he'd seen the evil in chupacabra souls, they lacked any trustworthiness.

Esteban knew a fool deluded with lies and airy gestures when he saw one. Too bad such a fool did not fight like one to make things any easier. "Your people will not leave this treachery to sit." He declared, looking at all the guns in their cases and knowing none of them would work for this battle. And a battle it was, for the enraged aristocrat didn't make the job very easy as Esteban lunged into his attack to drive the other man down with a shove; both tangled together and struggling when the curator finally noticed his opponent's hand, causing him thus to hesitate. "Yes. Look at what the seeds of rebellion do to a man with conviction before dismissing those you call beneath you." He demands, peeling the poker from his melted flesh until chunks of burnt bits came off like black cheese to expose the bones.

Lunacio stared long at the damage, unable to will his mind to accept it. "The fire? It has done nothing to you?" He glared as the cook sinew had curled the fingers into a permanent poised eagle claw. In truth, Esteban was glad for the respite and ready to kill this compatriot; vengeance becoming truer by the closing moments. But instead, the Spaniard stopped his tirade of violence to look around at the ruined room with distaste as he stood, leather sheathe bobbing on his thigh. "You are a passionate man, but passionate men die young." He declared, kicking broken chunks of a candle away from his boots.

"And old fools do not deserve the cowardly honor of a longevitous station. What will become of our country if not even the two of us can agree on a course of action?" Esteban mused aloud, struck by such an odd notion. But as he thought about it, he already had the answer. "It will go on as it always has. Still, I do not much suffer the insult of these overlords or the prostitution of my own wife." Then he stopped, trapped in those nasty memories.

His Maria was a toned honey-skinned goddess with the blank color of light-stealing black hair. It wasn't that they had been sworn in love for decades like an old couple, but the content of the three years in which they DID have was a heavensent bliss. Aside from the sparing moments in his childhood of joy, she had always been a source of sunshine in his life. It changed when the visitors came--when the first regent seized her for his own while his soldiers raped everything in the village that could be imagined. For months, he lived off the jungle all alone in a state of fear over being sodomized by one of the monsters.

He only had the boldness to return to his village once those chupacabra overlords were made aware of the abuses of the first regent and replaced all those responisble with a much kinder garison, but the horror had been done. Even though he met Pleban personally on the matter of his wife, there wasn't anything the fuzzy creature could do for him since the process was done with and irreversible to her humanity. Worse though, things had been done to her very mind that made Maria agreeable to everything the monsters said. the offer to join her as another member of the harem was a grave insult, but Pleban sincerely believed it was the solution to their problem.

Pleban was a good soul, but he couldn't anticipate the complexities of a human society. His courtesies and diplomacy fell short of satisfaction as outrage built: a sweltering anger of stolen children and family; of forced pointless labors and rationed alien food without traditional meats. That was why him and his troopers had to die. "Do you know men who can help?" Esteban finally asked, smashing one of the exhibit cases open to tear out the dusty leather falconer's glove within for the wretched hand that revealed all secrets.

Lunacio was not a man connected. Esteban realized the flamboyant peacock appealed to the higher echelons of overlord commands, but the same couldn't be said of his human contacts. He flipped and gave information on the once proud Columbian mafia, but that only provided mixed results. The only good that came of a liason with Bonaito Salazar was an inside contact working on the local command ship and a rumor of a stash of German military surplis in some cave. They'd certainly need the bullets and whatever other supplies might be inside, but finding it was trouble.

This contact though, was far more useful than silly rumors: for the time being, Igan Fresch was still a man and entirely cocky about that fact now that he was useful for something other than getting fucked. Esteban could tell it was entirely shameful for a man to become a sex slave for the pleasure of much larger animals. Small wonder the man with a few sparse patches of fur growing on his skin would be so eager to do the seething village of fighters this enormous favor!

By irony, the ever randy overlords had also graciously provided Igan with a nifty place to hide the bombs that would disable their armor coccoon stations. That was, if luck willed, he wasn't plowed on the way to his assignment, as could very well be the case. Despite coming into constant oppressive estrous and being passed around like a beer, there was enough humanity left in the man to take on this task.

Fortune then, as it would be better if the beasts did not have impressive armor systems to validate the ignoble force of their will. The black shiny suits hadn't been contested by anything except lasers, but he hoped to remove them as the hanging uncertain variable altogether.

Yet, whatever callous rage he harbored, there was still gimmering some honor to be the righteous man. Regardless of misgivings, he wanted to give that cocky regent warning to leave of his own volition before hell came upon him.

The ruling bastard was kind enough to meet him at a quiet patio of a cafe as steaming apple tea was poured for both parties even as Pleban's silent bodyguards stared at him in benign curiosity; struck dumb by the human's constant insistent arrogance. "You've been more kind to us than we could ever ask, but I insist that you please leave us alone." Esteban declared with a prideful grin and dancing eyes.

Pleban was clearly taken aback by such reckless arrogance; unable to offer any intelligible response for a time while the fragrant subdued tea seeped in the brown porcelein cups. Brown, much like the regents' own fur as he finally shook his shiny raven-black hair in tones of annoyed dismissal. "Although I value your opinions and happiness, it is not a request that can be--entertained. Our Emperor wills that this planet come under our protection and allegiance. Deterring from such a course is not acceptable, you must understand." Pleban offered, trying to radiate his infinite patience and calm while his words only detailed what Esteban had known and feared all along: War.

He took a sip of the too-hot-tea without noticing the pain in his mouth and on his lips, eyes closed with measuring secrecy. How much to say was the true difficulty. "I warn you to leave for the sake of your lives. There is opposition enough that wants you removed by any means required." his threat received an obvious shiver when the chupacabra looked around nervously as if expecting an impending attack. "Those interests send me as an ambassador of good will." It was only then that Pleban noticed his host had beend drinking lava-hot tea with the cup in a thickly padded and well-scuffed old leather glove.

Wide eyes stared at the hand, and likely those deep widened nostrils could also smell the pus and rot of whatever was left of it. "What occured to your arm?" To which he only got a grim deathly smile from the human as the man dropped his cup to the ground and yanked the falconer gauntlet loose with a nasty obscene sloppy noise of wetness as it came loose.

He confronted the regent with the entirety of the soggy gangrenous mess that had escaped medical attention even as tendons barely worked anymore. "Sacrifice. Bold sacrifice worked some magic on this fist. Hatred only lasts so long unless a reminder is always handy." He wiggled the grotesque bony black fingers for emphasis as his monster guests gagged or vomited. "But I myst bore you. What are your concerns?" He declared offhandedly while putting the stiff mitt back in place.

Staring at the alien's facial nuances had given him better opportunity to understand how the animals would react, and as plainly honest as these creatures were in broadcasting various intents, he didn't like what he saw. "I was informed by my sources that this area was pacified of such feelings." The heavy warm animal remarked, only managing to drink his own tea with great difficulty. How wrong he was!

Esteban felt like laughing in the face of such an unassuming fool. "Maybe once, whne we hailed you as gods much like the Conquistadors before you. But getting forcibly kidnapped and raped by a telephone pole of meat does a great deal to deter one's previous beneficient assumptions." He said, finishing some other beasts' tea and pouring more from a ceramic pitcher.

Pleban got himself up, the bulge in his skimpy plain attire and the flick of his long glowing black tail obscenely obvious. The alien was about to leave, but gave him a cold stare he hadn't anticipated. "I warn you to stop this. I warn you to accept us. Even if you win in whatever battle you are planning, you will only lose. It would be better if you and your friends drop this nonsense at once once so you may keep whatever genuine happiness and free will there is left." Although he didn't heed the threat or pay it any overt attention, he would have been better off ignoring this whole mess to go back to his plain life.

Igan was the only one in the mare's harem that still had most of his original body still intact, but it proved a hollow blessing only time would change. Nearby laid nakedly over several silk cushions was the regent; the only male horse present off duty, which was peculiar for two reasons. One, he had his own mare to see to his needs: the caramel mare named Maria now stroked his enormous heaving chest and nipples while feeding him grapes from her own dainty muzzle with graceful deep kisses. The other odd reason was because soldiers typically went to the harem in shifts, so there were always a few present to be satisfied by the females.

The human tried not to look at the limp pipe of floppy flesh. Having been ignoring his own artificially enforced estrous needs to train for resisting those awful intense urges with bombs and a detonator up there, it wasn't an easy ordeal when confronted with what he now found undeniably sexy. Watching and listening as he tried to shad his eyes from the glorious package that would only infuriate new subservient lusts. "You must tell me about your husband, Maria." Pleban mumbled between munching a grape and spitting out the seed, his speech partially mumbled by other grapes stuck in his cheekbones like he had equine mumps.

Horny and uncontrollable as she was, she stroked one of his wide (and now full) cheekbones gently, nipping affectionately on his bottom lip with a passionate screeching mare's nicker. "I do not know him. I want you eternal, my master." She protests, wet plump vulva rubbing along on his oversized testes.

He could only sigh when faced with her blatant oversexualized behavior. "Then the previous regent before me did too good a job of reconditioning your wild spirit for being a mare." He remarked, his head full of other concerns in which sex would only be a hindrance. Fortunately, a new idea seemed to strike him, as with little effort, he got himself quite hard. "New approach, as you humans say. 'Carrot and the Stick'." He smiled, satisfied as she stared at his throbbing organ and dripped profusely from all holes in obvious promiscuous hunger. "Now, my dear. Tell me all about your old husband, and you can play with my stick to your hearts' desire." Pleban offered with a light grin and ears forward, certain to hold her in place in case she tried to cheat him.

Even so, she lunged for it in his strong grip like a starving dog confronted with bacon scraps. "My man doesn't matter anymore: I only want Ehlosian partners, now." She whined, eyes staring obsessively at the two feet of floppy wet dick. Though he enjoyed her enthusiasm for being mounted, his business was too important for such trivial behavior.

Igan paid close attention; knowing whatever was said here might compromise the revolt. While Pleban's insistent teasing frustrated Maria, she hadn't become cock-sober and as needy as he had. If this went on for much longer, he would end up losing the last of his self-control as she did and clamber wildly for that giant penis like it were made of solid gold instead of flesh and blood. "He always means what he says. SINCERELY." She grunts, wide-eyed and salivating as he unexpectedly let her neckfur and mane free of his grip, aghast at the implications.

To Fresch it was no surprise, but the horse aliens had grown accustomed to empty human boasts and angry rants that were nothing but noise. "You are sure?" He mumbled, nearly speechless as she pounced for his tall firm spire of meat like some feral cat; completely ignoring his request for information. The scene was pathetic, and yet, he knew soon enough that the nanites would intensify his own erotic addictions. Despite having a horny mare suckling on his junk, the horse had a miraculous grasp on his composure. "Now I know why you humans call armed struggle a 'revolt'; such grim news leaves a revolting taste in my mouth." He spat, visibly disturbed. Watching Maria go at it, his impulse control wasn't much better, so Igan decided to leave and find some relief on a lap that hadn't already been claimed for a more sultry lass than he. It wasn't as hard an undertaking as it sounded; the garrison was off duty, and far more stallions needing company than mares present to be able to give it. He took one more look back at the shameless Chestnut creature trying to ride on Pleban and gave up with a sigh and a nod: Esteban had a right to be angry with the horses, as there was little left of her womanly charm and personality after what had been done to her.

They had been given a week to leave, but even with his own glowering patience, that seemed too generous. In any event, the warning hadn't been heeded and it was the day to take action. Esteban hid around a corner in a tilted maroon beret as a round green grenade rolled idly in his curled gauntlet-covered hand like a baseball about to be sneakily pitched for a strike out. Nearby, three of the nearly naked troops had a subdued chat in the alien language while drinking plain hot tea and cucumber sandwiches. They might have had something to sweeten said tea if they weren't scarfing down cubes of sugar from a large crystal bowl as though they were potato chips or some equally addictive foodstuffs. Unknown to them, he would be doing something that left a bitter taste in all their mouths. Patience. . . the very last of it would be a gleeful wait in the shadows until Igan got his task completed. In the meantime, he felt nothing for the piercing sunrise flashing over the rooftops as his precarious cover was slowly crept upon by golden rays. Perhaps in a touch of irony, he had a experienced some of the same impatient lust exhibited by his wife. The only real difference was that his own staggering passions were violent in nature. In a state of wide-eyed meditation, he rehearsed how he'd throw the grenade repeatedly in his mind; an effective technique taught to him by a martial artist many years ago.

Fresch was surprisingly fresh, not that he enjoyed the newly chaste condition while smuggling quite the payload in his ass. To do his part in the rebellion, he had to avoid having sex and sneak his way past any stallion that looked even the slightest bit insatiable. With his gaping butt crammed full of det-packs, sex would not only be impossible but quite painful for both of them. The only solace he could provide his rape-craving bum was some massage on the quivering anus with his fingers, but it was nowhere near enough stimulation.

So far every peek around a corner in a corridor was a miracle, as these ships were normally infested with horses even during periods of granted leave. It was only by luck that he made it to the first of three terminals; squatting with a painful grunt to remove the first bulky painful object from his hole and dropped it behind the gray fleshy tall computer station. The next station also went without problem, but when he got to the last he was stopped by a demanding voice as soon as he had dropped the heavy white bound bricks into the last place."You there! This is a restricted area. What are you doing here?" Not knowing what exactly had been witnessed, he surrendered to the imposing silky black horseman with the vain hope that at least the other two bombs would do the job.

He looked around nervously, unable to invent an excuse for his actions but could think of none. "I dunno" He squeaked, quaking and growing more fearful by the minute as the mysterious stranger stared on his small nude body with intense interest.

"Ah, I see what's going on here!" The stallion growled sharply, putting his palms on the wall and threatened to crush Igan against the corridor with his large muscular warm body. He made a sharp noise of terror as his heart suddenly jumped up in his chest like a bounce on a gymnastic trampoline. The pain of the thump in his frightened chest caused his breath to choke in his throat like a chunk of concrete sand. The stallion leans down on his subdued prey with hot breath now against his shoulder, cheek and right ear. "You were looking for some male to mount you, but were to shy and modest to want it in a public place like the regent's harem where other's could see!" Igan blushed as he got a friendly long lick on his neck, nearly melting in elated lust from the touch.

He wanted it so bad, that he forgot the detonator still in his ass. It was after a flurry of heavy kisses and a barrage of filthy degrading 'compliments' about his body and disposition that he remembered and knew how bad an idea a fuck would be. Still, he watched the horse get hard in hopes that it would be smaller than others he'd taken. Hopefully, it would simply move the det-box further up in his colon without being noticeable. If not, it would be like fucking a rock.

Accompanied by those sloppy tender licks, he watched with wide eyes as the stud not merely got hard, but defied his expectations with a penis that would hurt no matter how he'd prepared. "How the hell--" He gasped, but was cut off with a large finger on his lips.

"Am I this big? Father's a draft, but I inherited my dam's much smaller agile body. Do believe that it's a difficult burden to carry around, but the mares can't get enough of it." Igan stared in awe as the horse preened with pride, twisting it around at different angels for better appreciation. But what the human WANTED to say was: how the hell am I going to get that in me?! "Now, if you relax your cute lil body, I'll take good care of you." The horse purred like an exotic panther ; black shimmering tail raised and whipping about with a smile and bulging legs flexed with veins and electric twitches. He hoped Esteban was ready with his preparations : he was about to test the 'butt bang theory.'

Normally observant creatures, it seemed peculiar that the three soldiers in nothing but their underwear thongs were oblivious to the fact that the little town was nearly empty except for the dutiful waitress in her white jumpsuit constantly refilling their sugar bowl. Once finished with the tea, they were given new drinks these chupacabra neither asked for nor knew existed.

When offered a cold pitcher of horchata and three clean wet glasses, they tried it with nervous suspicion like poison, but quickly fought amongst themselves over who could drink the most of the sweetened rice beverage from the tall container. Convenient distraction : he lurched from cover like a wearisome zombie and gave the primed spoonless grenade an underhanded flick right into the pitcher like an artist of ironic death.

They stared at the green metal ball sinking to the bottom in confusion for a few seconds before the whole courtyard was filled by a bursting splash of glass, ice, liquid, and a muted thump of intense fire that only lasted a second or so. His part of the plan went on time, but Igan was late, so the revolt went on regardless. If the overlord's brought their armor, Esteban had to hope these guns would work. "Board the shuttle! We'll bring our dissatisfaction to THEIR house." The tall long craft was parked nearby with its hatch open to make theft easier. Up to this point, no one had ever hijacked an overlord shuttle, so they were seldom locked down when troops came down to eat or interact with the locals.

At first Esteban wanted to do a guerilla campaign in the jungle, but decided against such a prolonged period of attrition. This way, it could all end in one sweep instead of years hiding out amongst the trees and poisonous animals. Besides, Che would have taken the fight to the leadership if given the right opportunity to end all that fruitless struggle.

When they got on the regent command ship, the thirty or so fit people aboard spread through the hallways like a quickening flourish of white fire and duct-taped gunmetal. "They had their warning. Spare no monster." He ordered as Lunacio drew his sword and some silver flintlock pistol out of his belt ; a savage knowing grin on the Spaniards' parted lips as he cried out and charged. And as was only fair, once every one of the troops had been killed, the ship would be the property of the children of the revolt to deter any further invasions.

Because Igan had failed in his mission, they were beset by a tide of Grunts in shiny black armor like shelled beetles. The spectacle of so many imposing aliens proved intimidating until Esteban snapped his dusty bandaged rifle up and fired from the bolt-action at the hip like it were a guitar. It shuddered violently in his hands like a wounded animal ; threatening to shake apart into a pile of useless steel and wood if he wasn't careful.

Regardless of their armor, the heavy bullet slapped into the nearest soldier and shattered the armor where it hit like spider-webbed glass on a car windshield. Once they realized that nothing could stop the ancient weapons, the mob-fired without moderation as the aliens charged for them in a suffocating press of sweaty bodies and the overlords own debilitating sweet stink.

The revolt continued onward, bathed in stick drying blood as all knew the day had been won and nothing could stop them. Much like Guevara's triumphant charge into Havana with the very citizens of Cuba themselves, Esteban intended to put the fear of death into any dictator who thought to control the will of unfathomable man. A few more chambers, and he could confront that arrogant prick Pleban and ensure the self-determination of the town.

Igan Gasped, desperate for breath as the horse creature simply sat himself on the floor and now made himself a very-uncomfortable fuzzy bean bag chair to sit upon ; horny dripping spike pointed straight up like a skyward pike to discourage "cavalry". "Shy little slut. Did you think you could defy your own bodily urges? Even without the proper genitalia coupling, I can smell the intensity of your estrous on your ragged breath--from you very pores!" The horny beast chuckled playfully, managing to hold the human upright in the air using both muscular midnight arms with flecks of dust and Igan's dead skin flakes like a sparse sprinkling of stars. What the horse wanted, he wanted as well but knew there'd be hell to pay if that throbbing cock managed to hit the right spot of the triggering device.

His butt and back scraped on the hard horse pecs as he was precariously lowered on his slut throne. "I don't think I--what's our name?" He blurted out suddenly as the human looked down, the wide flared tip now right against his hole. A bit late to exchange such pleasantries, but the stallions' odd aloofness had caught his interest like no other thing except the spirit of the ongoing rebellion. He received a harsh nip on his ear to distract him from the coming pain as out of the corner of the horses lip came : "Why, your love-god Kentares, of course." The horny beast purrs as he impales the wiggling tiny human cockslave on his unruly monolith. Igan gasped as the action of being forced open by the draft stick caused him a great amount of burning pleasurable pain. Used to being fucked by countless others, his aching rump was still just barely used to getting ravished by this new rape Romeo. And truly as horny as all the horse males were, they were still compassionate romantic creatures whom acted on their own impulses. What if--his sabotage was the wrong idea?! He had a strange second to wonder about that odd betrayal as a gasp left him breathless with sharp numb spreading pain as his ass sunk in all the way down three feet of horsemeat the thickness of his own arm twice over. His body strained with the sudden pain as inelegant sloppy waves of drool fell from a dumbstruck dainty mouth. By some miracle, the cock must have pulverized the black plastic box into dust or rammed it deeper, as neither of them noticed any sudden 'blockages' to the simple extreme act of being tied. "Now that I got your attention, how about I give that cute silly butt a ride it won't forget?" Kentares rumbled while his horse spear dribbled a pre geyser sloppily into Igan's snug gripping boi cunny. Maybe if the revolt failed, it wouldn't be so terrible an idea if this horse beast owned him. Savage, but not unkind without love or mercy. Maybe, he was glad his bombs wouldn't go off. The chupacabra were no fools: even if their armor was ineffective against the bullets, there were plenty of storage containers blocking the halls to make passage most difficult indeed. Clambering over the cumbersome wreckage of grey hardened boxes wasn't easy, and the Mob steadily lost energy to the tedious journey. It felt like a mile climbing on the rough uneven mountain of trash before making it to a harem devoid of all but the mares. Though left in peace, it was not easy to get past a veritable minefield of horny female aliens as they threw themselves shamelessly at the men in the group like whores. There was more pity than anything as the revolt left the harem without making any of the grotesque victims suffer violence. Down the following hallway, Esteban opened a locked door with a grenade only for his allies to be suddenly beset on all sides by an ambush of the angry muscled monsters. Bullets filled the corridor; killing and maiming many friend and enemy alike. He aimed down the simple sights of his scopeless hunting rifle and shot one such enemy in his his spine; dropping the fierce animal with a paralyzing blow that crippled him from the hips down. It didn't take long for them to reach the regent's shipboard control center as the brown creature sat nakedly in his captain's chair with a faint sartonic grin. "What took you so long to get here?" The giant male declared, legs crossed as he waited. Esteban leveled the gun at the male's head with an impatient growl. "Any last words bicho?" The wait for a response was painful as a wild finger tickled all over the trigger. "A few, but I know you won't enjoy them." Pleban remarked as his head was suddenly thrown back by a loud cracking report bouncing around the cozy room; heavy gun dropping from his weary hands in perspiring triumph. He strode with confidence toward his dead adversary and dumped the warm freshly bleeding corpse from the chair. "Then I'm glad I ended that speech of yours prematurely." Esteban mumbled, falling to his knees and ready to pass out. Behind, Lunacio dropped his sword and pistol to approach him from the front with his arms crossed and an oddly familiar grin on his thin lips. "I'm afraid not. You have failed your test just as surely as Igan barely passed his own trial." Lopez declared, his sharp Spanish barks lowering in baritone to a more despised accent that he only recognized too well. Esteban looked up, his thoughts coming to a sudden uncertain halt as the wild Spaniard lost his clothing and morphed into Pleban just as the corpse melted into the floor like sponged water. "Now please follow me. I'm afraid I quite insist." At that prompting, all his fellow villagers became male aliens to forcibly escort him. Frustrated and angry, he was taken to a brightly lit room with a giant fish tank against one wall. He was practically blind and couldn't see much, but there was surely something big in that clear tube of blue slime. Hard hands on his arms, he was taken closer by his jailers until he could recognize the floating form inside. At first, with all that black hair on the head, he thought it was his beloved Maria before she was perversely altered. "The fuck is this?!" It wasn't Maria in that giant capsule. It was himself! The elegant nude Pleban put a hand to the glass with a gentle longing and regret in his lovely emerald eyes. "I understand how this confuses you, but I had to make you see your own hubris in a way you would take notice. This is a virtual manifestation of your body right now. You are witnessing what happens to it in real time." What most caught his attention was the black thing coming out of his real life neck. Was that what allowed them to get in his head? The tentacles in the blue jelly seemed to remove his waste and fed him. "Because you have failed our test, I cannot allow you to be my mare with Maria until alterations are made. You have proven yourself far too dangerous to ignore, so I must recondition you until your stubborn ways can be corrected." Pleban declared, his jaw grimly set and his eyes, cold with foreboding sadness. "The procedure is normally very minor and easy, but in your case it calls for extreme execution. Once completed, I fear you won't be the same person as before. But I promise you will live a very comfortable pleasant life much like your interesting friend Igan, whom had the luxury of sharing in your test. Now to begin the procedure--" Though he struggled and hated every second, even in his own mind he wasn't the one who was in control or made the rules. He had been deceived by total freedom to be the bigoted bastard he was, and now it was too late.

Pleban didn't much like the prospect of prospecting some man's mind of its precious memories, but it had to be done, and the Ehlosian didn't trust the delicate task to anyone but himself. He worked the console with some vain silly hope that whatever was left of Esteban might forgive him when it was all over with. "Is there anything you require, Sir?" A nearby guard asked, his eyebrow raised in curiosity as he watched the process at work. The regent dismissed him casually, fully concentrated on his grand work. "No no. Please leave us in peace. This is a procedure where the patient deserves all privacy that can be afforded." So he was left alone to continue the tedious undertaking with faint distaste etched on his lips and nostrils widened as though filled with an awful stench. When it came to excessive reconditioning, a great many memories had to be erased or changed. Most of those gave a man like Esteban strength and removing them would make him weak, cowardly and gentle like a domestic animal that responded sweetly to being fed by strangers. "Where do we start?" He mumbled to himself, a genuine gesture of confusion.

Esteban watched in fearful turmoil as every one of his bad memories of getting abused by family or friends dying or his own cruel acts of petty violence were brought by his own eyes and cracked into useless pieces like panes of glass as he struggled and cried out. As he felt his rugged personality change to something more shy and cuddly, he wondered what would be left of Esteban Rodriguez once Pleban got done with him. "When I get done, I promise no more ill or neglect will befall you as my lovely slave. You will have you wife again. Won't that be wonderful?" The virtual form of the regent declared with a lovely disarming smile and a body that became increasingly sexy and beautiful as his homophobic experiences were also rendered into shattered memory shards. What new life awaited?