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Marcus shuffled forward, staying in the shadows. The second floor balconies, or what were left of them, were in stark shadow, light splashing up from the plaza below, across the remains of the walls and out into the cavern around him. He was in the sunken city of Ilima, buildings shattered by the tectonic shifting that'd opened the sinkhole. The place had been a parade ground once, and now it looked like it was reliving its purpose. It was teeming with Locust forces, an army of the mutant aliens arrayed in front of him, and in front of them there was a woman -- some kind of Locust commander? She looked human enough -- speaking. Marcus unholstered his rifle off his back, muffling the sound with his hands, and raised it, aiming the sights at the woman. His finger tensed on the trigger, the slow squeeze to shoot --

And two Drones burst from the shadows and tackled him. The shot went astray, his gun went flying, and Marcus slammed to the ground with a cut-off shout, pinned under the weight of the huge aliens. A cloud of plaster dust burst around them, dry and crumbling-smelling. Stones shifted under him, the shattered masonry crumbling apart, and Marcus and the Drone plummeted down to the ground floor as one, a comet clouded with dust and rubble.

The impact drove all breath from Marcus' lungs, leaving him open-mouthed and vainly gasping, trying to fight against the grip of the Drone on top of him. The second Drone leapt down, landing next to them with a crash, tiles cracking around its huge body. There was the clack clack clack of boots approaching, and he looked up to see the woman standing over him, looking down.

"Marcus Fenix," she said, and the room went silent, the mumble and shift of Locust dying down in an instant. "You look like your father." Marcus spit at her feet, still gasping for breath. There was another clack as she knelt down next to him, knees an inch from his nose. "COG will fall soon. There's no hope for you."

"You know," she continued, conversationally: like Marcus wasn't wheezing, pinned under the half-ton body of a Locust Drone. "I wanted peace between us. It was your father who made the war inevitable, working on genocide when we simply wanted a cure. His research was useless to us." The woman smirked down at him, shockingly strong fingers forcing his mouth shut when he opened it to speak.

"Not that any of that means anything to you. But Marcus, dear Marcus," she said patting his hair and smiling when he tried to jerk away, "we have solved the lambent crisis. The one weakness of us; of our Imulsion. So we'll have peace between us, whether or not you like it.

"And we are merciful, Marcus: we know full well what you had been planning for us, if you won. We have another plan for Sera. We have a symbiosis."

Marcus spat at her feet. "Lady, I don't give a shit what crazy-ass plans--" The woman slapped him across the face, snapping his head to the side.

"It's not for you to talk while your betters are speaking," she said, glaring down at him. Marcus opened his mouth to talk again and she kicked him backwards, her booted foot at his throat. "You're something of a symbol to the humans," she said, staring down at him. "Which means you're worth more to us alive than dead."

Marcus twisted, struggling against her foot and the claws of the drones pinning down his limbs. "You're human, you crazy fucking bit--" His voice dragged off in a hacking wheeze as the woman angled her foot just slightly, boot pressing against Marcus' windpipe. His breath was loud, wheezing, as she continued speaking.

"I certainly look it," The woman said, tracing a hand down the extremely skintight body-suit she was wearing, the lines of her body sleek, breasts massive and impossibly pert. "After we perfected the lambent serum, I was one of the first to undergo transformation. The Locust are the next step in evolution, Fenix." The woman's grand gestures pulled in, her hands fiddling with the coils and straps of her armor. Marcus' eyes bugged out as she started to pull it off, the skin-tight plating opening across her sides, down her stomach, exposing pale skin. He yelled, some incoherent exclamation, and she just waved a hand in his direction. "Gag him."

A drone clapped one of its immense, leathery hands over his mouth, its monstrous thumb digging along the underside of his jaw, clamping it shut. Marcus stared at the woman, stripping in front of him, mouth spitting out obscenities against the drone's palm.

"I was the Locust's Queen," she said, naked to her waist, her breasts taut and firm, nipples broad nubs poking to the side, still posed imperiously over him. "An office I was honored to take in the service of the hive. Now I am queen in a more... biological way. One with the swarm, at last."

It was the most surreal situation Marcus had ever been in. The woman -- Myrrah, the legendary queen of the Locust -- stripped slowly, and so close Marcus could feel the heat of her body. Around them, a bizarre tableau, were hundreds of Locust troops, staring. Watching. Marcus felt himself stir, gaze following the smooth curves of her stomach, muscle strong and toned as she stripped her bodysuit off. His cock dug into the thigh of the Drone pinning him -- it leered at him, shifting its leg so the tent of his cock stuck out proud.

Myrrah stripped to mid-thigh, her leggings the only clothes remaining. She still looked human. Marcus couldn't keep himself from staring at her: skin pale white, breasts heavy, stomach solid but not sharply defined, a dark dusting of hair between her thighs, her labia darker and wet, flushed red. His cock pulsed when he saw her: slick wet flesh, folds sliding over each other as she stepped closer.

She knelt, hands sliding down Marcus' sides, and even through the layers of body armor he could feel the pressure of her touch, slowly insinuating down until she was touching his cock, fingers wrapped around his bulge with only the straining material of his regulation grey boxer-briefs left between them. His clothes were peeled away, brutish Locust stripping off the armor vest, the tac leggings, the underarmor padding, even pulling his durag from his head, until he was splayed out on the ground, bare-ass naked in front of hundreds of Locust troops, their queen stroking his cock.

Huge warted hands clapped down all across his body -- a half-dozen Drones surrounding them, their grasp pinning him to the ground, bare ass on the broken tiles. The Drones stared at them: equal desire for him and Myrrah. Their hands -- and Myrrah's -- groped across his body, fingers carding through the thick hair on his thighs and ass, tugging at the base of his dick, clawed fingers pinching his nipples into stiff peaks. Myrrah was between his thighs, the fat spread of her labia nearly enveloping his half-hard cock. He was already stubbornly hard, foreskin pulled all the way down, the tip flushed brilliant red-purple. Pre wound its way down his shaft, into his shaggy pubes.

Her fingers were slick with her own juices, leaving cool trails across his thighs, wetting his hair to his skin. The Drone keeping his mouth shut was kneeling in front of his head: his armored kilt was bulging, the reek of alien sex overwhelming. Marcus was an inch away from seeing straight up between the Drone's thighs, at whatever thing he was packing. A shock of wet heat splattered across his calves: there were ropes of pre drooling down from the Drone pinning his legs, his kilt rucked high up, revealing his mottled, patchwork skin, grubby white and yellow-brown. A sheet of pre oozed down from the inside of his kilt, splattering across Marcus' calves. Hot fluid pattered across Marcus' scalp; pre dribbling down from the Drone above.

His cock was leaking, twitching spasmodically by itself, each one sending a rivulet of pre streaking down his shaft. Myrrah tapped a fingertip against the head, pulling back with a gossamer string of pre, and then shifted forward, thighs straddling his. She lowered herself down, swollen labia spreading shockingly hot around his cock, tight and clenching and slick as she took him all the way in, settling on his thighs with the full length of his cock buried inside. He groaned against the Drone's hand, long and sustained as she buried his cock deep inside, hips bucking up -- and then dragged flat on his ass back to the ground by the hands spanning across his thighs and stomach. She clenched, muscles across her stomach shifting, practically milking his cock, and Marcus groaned again, wet lips practically kissing the Drone's palm.

"We are fair, after all," Myrrah said, talking as she rode him. "I'll carry your children, as you'll carry mine." She arched back, fingers grinding against her clit, groaning as she hilted him inside her, fingers slick against the base of Marcus' cock. His cock was spurting pre, gushing in wet wads deep inside her, their mixed fluids coating his cock when she pulled back.

The wet slap as she rode him formed a dizzying rhythm, heat streaking across Marcus' body -- even the brutish fingers pressing under his balls, or rubbing against the side of his jaw became heated touch, pleasure pooling under his skin and soaking down inside, bubbling up across his belly as Myrrah rode him, cock pistoning up, slamming into the depths of her cunt. Hot fluid splattered across his crotch, her fluids soaking his pubes to the skin, and wet Locust pre splattered across his skin, the Drones watching and drooling, rutting their grotesquely huge bulges against his sides, smearing his skin with their thick pre.

Marcus could feel it coming for minutes: muscles in his chest and stomach spasming; his hips rocking against the grasping hands to meet her thrusts; his mouth open, tongue lashing against the Locust-hide covering his mouth; muffled groans bursting from his chest. He let out a long, low cry, orgasm cresting over the course of a full five minutes, until he was nearly sobbing by the time he tipped over, the clench of Myrrah's cunt bringing him off. His cock kicked, spraying his load deep inside, pulse after pulse of come flooding her cunt, spilling down his shaft in sticky rivulets.

Myrrah kept riding him, milking him until it started to hurt, and finally dismounted, standing -- sweaty, breathing hard, with his load dripping down her inner thighs, sloppy and streaky where it was mixed with her fluids. When she spoke, her voice was barely strained. "We'll see how much you like the next part, though." She jerked her head to the side. "Fetch the device," she said, not to him.

The Locust pinning him down shifted, dragging him to his knees -- the feverishly hot bulge of one Drone pressing against the small of his back, drooling gummy pre down his hairy cheeks as they shifted him into position, kneeling in front of Myrrah.

"What do you know about Locust reproduction?" she said, a smile toying at the corners of her mouth. "I suppose you'll be finding out soon." Her fingers spread her flushed lips, slick fluid slowly trickling out, threaded with the white strands of Marcus' load. "Lick."

Marcus leaned in, dazed, the aftershock of his orgasm still echoing inside him. The heat in the room was getting to him, sweating all over. His eyes were blurred, not quite focusing properly: just the pink blur of Myrrah in front of him and the interlocking mess of grey and browns churning behind her. His lips parted, jaw going slack, and she pressed his head forward, lips touching her swollen, bruised labia. It was sweat-salty, the familiar taste of his own load more bitter, and he licked inside, dragging wet up the arch of her cunt, all the way to the fat knob of her clit at the apex, buried under folds of flesh that he lapped aside, tongue and lips pressing against her in an obscene kiss.

Myrrah's hand pressed against the back of his head, pushing him forward, her breath catching in a soft moan as she ground against his face. She moaned, rutting against his face, the swollen flesh of her lips dragging over his stubbled cheeks. Deeper inside, something shifted, her inner flesh straining and pushing, a gummy-slick thing sliding out from inside.

Marcus made to jerk back, surprised, but the Locust's hold on his body was like rock: huge fingers shoved against the hinge of his jaw, the rocky palm keeping his face pressed against Myrrah's cunt. A huge, gooey egg pushed out between her gaping lips and into his mouth. Marcus tried to spit it out, to bite down on it, but the Locust behind him jerked his head back, sending the large egg sliding down to the back of his mouth, and then fingers were pressing a cold metal thing against his throat. It prickled, jolts of electricity sending stinging pain across his jaw as his muscles contracted involuntarily, forcing him to swallow the egg. He gagged, Imulsion slime squirting from his nose, frothing across his lips. It took multiple jolts, each one sending his muscles convulsing. The huge egg distended as it got stuck in his throat, bulging and stretching with each swallow until Marcus thought it had to burst, until each minute jerk had pushed it down through his throat. It settled in his stomach, heavy and churning. He gasped, sucking in ragged breaths, throat clotted with slime.

Then the next one crowned. His lips were slack, stretched and aching, his jaw loose. It pushed into his mouth, and again the Locust tipped his head back, making him swallow. Pulses of electricity, short and sharp like a static shock, made him swallow it down. Each egg went easier than the last: her juices were burning yellow Imulsion slime, sloppy drooling from between her folds, and the slime coated his throat, transforming it into a slick passage. It was gritty and sour between his teeth, tarry where it pooled around his gums. Imulsion slime drooled in clotted streams from his nose and mouth, glossy and bright, flabby strands jiggling as he gurgled around each egg. Her eggs squelched into his mouth, slime burbling around it, building up into a bubbly froth across his lips as egg after egg popped down his throat, choking and gasping with each one, until he was red-faced.

The room swam, every shape split double and quadruple. The sour rotten-metal taste of Imulsion was rank, soaking into his tongue; his face was glistening, coated in glowing yellow slime, smearing in crested peaks as Myrrah's gaping cunt lips dragged across his stubbled cheeks. Marcus was dimly aware of the weight growing inside him: the churning of his stomach as it bloated with eggs, more and more until he felt sick, beyond overfull.

Eventually Myrrah stepped back and he almost toppled forward; he dizzily realized he'd been leaning against her legs. Myrrah stepped away, leaving him lying forgotten on the floor, a sheen of Imulsion slime drooling from his face, spreading slowly across the cracked tiles. Her voice rang out loud, something in her intonation triumphant. Marcus rocked over, summoning up the energy to simply roll onto his back -- the eggs shifted inside him, a heavy weight almost pinning him down -- and let his head loll to the side. There was an army there, Locust hordes teeming before her, and with his vision fractured it seemed like it must be tens of thousands. It was like watching a sergeant on the promenade, rallying the troops. And here Marcus was, bare-ass naked, coated in slime, stuffed full of eggs. His hands stroked over the curve of his stomach -- at some point the Drones had let him go -- and it was like touching someone else's body: his stomach was bulging and lumpy, seamed with red lines, the hot ache of his cock hidden under its new curve.

Marcus tipped his head in the other direction. There was an honor guard behind him, huge drones heavy with alien regalia, the ones who had been pinning him down. Its line was ragged, destroyed as they all gathered around him.

The Drones' touch, on his aching sides, lit a sweet heat through his skin. It sizzled, their rough hide dragging hot over new stretch marks, down over his hips. Marcus leaned into the touch, cock sliding neatly into a waiting palm, already slick with slime. Their grotesque cocks rutted against his hips, pulled from under their kilt-like concealing armor, drizzling Locust pre over his skin.

Slowly, with his eyes closed, looking away from the Locust army; with Myrrah's voice still sounding triumphant in his ears as a long string of meaningless syllables: Marcus reached for them, sliding fingers under their clothes, palms dragging down the leathery Locust-hide of their stomachs, their hips, to the hot thick prongs jutting out, steaming in the open air.

They practically burnt his hand, hot to the touch, monstrously large and fatter than anything he'd ever seen before. They were lumpy, clustered with warts, with thick-skinned foreskins that dragged back and forth over their lopsided cockheads. Their balls were enormous, rolling over their thighs, and it took Marcus a moment to realize it was because they had four of them, each one fist-sized. The skin covering them was like rough leather, clustered with bloated warts, in layers of smooth-edged discs.

They grunted lowly, cocks twitching: a moment later arcs of precome splattered over his stomach and thighs. Marcus stroked them off, their fat cockheads digging into the swell of his stomach, pre jizzing over his hips, smearing in tacky lines over his own cock. He could've used both hands on one of them and had room to spare, but instead he just slowly glossed his hands back and forth, slick-sticky with precome, their flesh hard but yielding under his touch.

Marcus opened his eyes to see them kissing above him, fangs clacking against each other, tongues wetly tracing their lips and teeth. His cock pulsed, a dizzying bolt of want racing down his spine, and he found himself struggling to sit up, trapped beneath the weight of his stomach. A Drone levered him up into a sitting position, on his knees between them. He lurched forward, open-mouthed, wetly panting against the Locust's shoulder as their cocks ground together, the mammoth club between the Drone's legs absolutely dwarfing Marcus'. The one behind him rutted forward, cock grinding up between his cheeks, with the tip mashed hard against the curve of his back. The Drone's balls pressed against his ass, massive and low-hanging, shifting as they rutted against each other. He kissed the Drone, his lips painfully sensitive. The kiss was desperate, groaning as he rocked against his bloated cock. Shocks ran down his spine, his asshole sweaty and puckered, twitching as the Drone's massive cock ground against it. He spread his legs, pushing back wantonly, the hairy cheeks of his ass spreading to reveal his tight hole.

The Drone scattered, pulled away, and Marcus didn't even have time to yell -- sob -- before someone's hand caught his jaw. Marcus looked up, eyes focusing slowly on the form in front of him. It took a long moment for the bleary shape to resolve into... Skorge. The Locust -- general? cult leader? Recon had never been very sure. Right now Marcus only knew the Locust was touching him, the leather of his palm hot across his cheek, the sharp claw of his thumb spreading Marcus' lips. Skorge's lips peeled back into a sneering smirk. "I'll fuck you," Skorge said, guttural-growling. "You're too important for just some drones to have their way with you."

Marcus whole body was shivery and hot, spikes of heat burning over his back as he looked up across Skorge's body. Not just a Drone: he stood head-and-shoulders above even their massive frames, his hide grey-brown where theirs was white-yellow. His muscles were huge, but on his titanic frame they were still lean-looking; his stomach was chiseled, each muscle sharply defined under his mottled hide, his thighs were block-pillars, like cut marble, and all of it curved down to meet at his crotch, right in front of his face. Skorge shifted, hand pulling his loincloth off, and Marcus found himself leaning forward, mouth open, asshole convulsing, dizzy with want.

Skorge's skin was a mottled brown down his underbelly, creamy over his inner thighs. Marcus was fucking drooling at the thought of his cock, the same warted brown, fat and heavy. And then the cloth fell to the ground, revealing a slit between his legs, slick and dripping, the inner flesh a dimly-glowing yellow. Humiliation pricked hot across Marcus' chest, even shuddering and feverish realizing that he was disappointed that Skorge wasn't gonna fuck him with some kind of oozing, pustulent monster cock.

Still, he toppled forward, pressing his slack mouth against the lips of Skorge's cunt, lapping inside. He tasted like Imulsion, rancid and sour, and Marcus moaned against his skin, his lips spread wide in an obscene kiss. Skorge laughed, deep and rumbling, and cupped the back of his head, grinding Marcus' face against his messy, drooling slit. The folds of Skorge's cunt spread around Marcus' mouth, his lips sinking inside, and he just swallowed and swallowed, throat jerking as he drank down Skorge's slime, face pressed hard against the pebbly skin of his crotch.

Skorge's cock came as a surprise. It was a hard nub in his cunt, drooling something salty, and as Marcus slurped around it, tongue stroking the underside, it pushed out, fat and jaw-stretching as it slipped into Marcus' mouth without once touching the open air. Skorge got hard, pushing the mammoth club of his cock past Marcus' lips, over his tongue. Cords of saliva and precome squelched in Marcus' mouth, bursting out past his aching lips in long, liquid slurps. Skorge's cock was lumpy and spined, fat spiky barbs along the underside, and they dragged over his lips and tongue, sharply scraping over his oversensitive skin.

Skorge pushed Marcus' face into the slick mess of his cunt, the heavy pads of his fingers rough and scraping against the back of Marcus' head. His extending cock pushed right into the back of Marcus' mouth: there was the slightest hitch as the sharp, spike-crowned tip slotted into his throat, lubed by Imulsion slime and spit and Skorge's own slick, salt-sour juices. The wet gurgle of it cutting off his breath silenced a low, desperate moan, one that rumbled still deep in Marcus' chest. It pushed in easy, filling Marcus' convulsing throat, the spasming muscles working over the fat knobbled spines all across his length.

Marcus gagged, coughing. He couldn't remember when he lost his durag; his hair was soaked to his skin with sweat, soul patch plastered to his chin, rivulets of slime streaking down his face. Imulsion slime drooled constantly from his nose and mouth -- hell, he could feel it burning inside his tear ducts, yellowish tears streaming from his eyes. His throat worked around the fat spire of Skorge's cock, coughing out thick lines of fluid -- phlegm and pre and dozens of kinds of Imulsion -- across Skorge's crotch. He looked up, eyes blurry and dazed, cheeks puffing out from the sheer volume of ooze Skorge was pumping into him. Scummy peaks of spit and slime smeared over Marcus' face and webbed between them, sliding in cords over Marcus' rough-stubbled cheeks as the sludge drooled down Skorge's thighs.

Skorge worked his hips, fucking deep into Marcus' throat. His cock just kept extending, pushing through the slimy mess filling Marcus' throat. Marcus' neck bulged, swollen, throat jogging each time Skorge edged deeper. Skorge's whole shaft grew, the barbs fat and stiff, jutting straight out from his monster cock, pinning Marcus' tongue to the bottom of his mouth. Lumps distended his neck, moving up and down as Skorge_sawed_ into him, the spines catching and popping over his flesh as they pushed past his lips, throat, esophagus.

Marcus gagged; an explosion of slime erupted from Marcus' nose and mouth in clotted streamers, running wet-hot over his face, dripping down his chin. He drew ragged breaths around the cock, throat stretched sloppily open, swallowing air and breathing slime, choking and coughing even more, until his eyes teared and his nose ran. The smallest fraction of Skorge's cock finally pushed out into the open air, between his cunt and Marcus' choking mouth. Marcus' bleary eyes focused on the fat length, nose pressed against its root, nostrils full of scum. The shaft was mottled cream-purple, warted and lumpy, with immense swollen veins bulging from its surface. Its spines flexed and twitched in his throat, pulsing with Skorge's twin heartbeats. His balls were visible, half-inside his cunt, like fist-sized fruits, his sac smooth and shiny, prolapsed out from his cunt by their sheer size.

Marcus' Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the oozing slime eagerly, even as his lips split around the grotesquely-thick shaft. Skorge flexed his cock, the barbs flexing all down the length, cockhead snapping hugely wide almost in his stomach. Marcus burbled, slime spraying from his bleeding lips, thick ooze welling up from the spurting, leaking cockhead lodged deep in his spasming throat.

Skorge's fingers squeezed on the back of his neck, drawing his face up. With a slow roll of his hips he drew fractionally back, dragging his cock through Marcus' stuffed mouth, and then rutted forwards, the minute fraction of his cock pummeling forward down into Marcus' mouth again, ramming his slack jaw against his gaping cunt lips. Marcus' whole body shook, muscles convulsing, like he wasn't sure if he wanted to push back or lean forward.

Skorge fucked his mouth: filthy slime drooled from his aching lips, his jaw slack and open as it overflowed; his eyes silently teared, eyelids fluttering, half-clogged with slime; more clotted alien pre dripped from his nose, adding to the layers of murk clotted across his face. Marcus' lower lip dragged along the underside of his shaft, fat prongs ripping back and forth through the loose ring of his mouth, dragging over the satiny-sheer slickness of Marcus' swollen lips as he plunged in again and again, each time drawing out a wet hacking convulsion, chunky phlegm and clots of glossy locust jizz spraying across Skorge's naked thighs.

One huge hand spanned over the back of Marcus' neck, his hips pistoning. The bloated, knobbled length of his cock squelched into Marcus' throat, over and over, churning up slime as Marcus gagged and choked. His cheeks bulged out with each thrust, a thick slurry of fluid welling over his swollen, bloodied lips. Thick lines of slime -- alien jizz and mucus and bile -- splattered across his slack face in viscous tendrils, smearing over his bare chest, down to his stubbornly-erect cock. Sick slurps filled the air, a hollow squelching, wetly, from deep in Marcus' chest as Skorge plumbed him.

Skorge was quiet about it, the low creak of his flexing hide drowned out completely by the wet splatter of slime drooling down Marcus' face. He grunted, low, and growled, buzzing like a chainsaw. Overwhelmingly Marcus couldn't hear it, drowned out by the sound-sensation of his heartbeat, fast and hard, and Skorge's slower twin beat, heavy and throbbing through his cock, feeling like it was beating right through his core.

Skorge came with snarl, lips pulling back from his fangs as his cock pulsed again and again. To Marcus it was a dizzy weight, just adding to the aching stretch of his stomach. Skorge came straight down his throat, only the dregs of his load working their way up, drooling grubby white around his over-stretched lips. It was almost gentle, Skorge cradling his head in one massive claw while his bloated shaft cracked Marcus' jaw wide, clots of jizz pumping with an audible gurgle into his swollen stomach. He just didn't stop, his cock pumping time after time, each spurt spewing a burning-hot rope of jizz down Marcus' throat, until it felt like his stomach would burst.

Skorge's spines caught against the inside of his throat, digging into the aching flesh there. His withdrawal felt like it would take Marcus' throat with it, turning him inside-out along the length of his monstrous shaft. Hundreds of spines dragged their way backwards up his throat, over his tongue, catching on his teeth. Skorge groaned, come flooding in thicker bursts, minutely higher in his throat as he tore his way out of Marcus' throat.

His cockhead scraped upwards, above some knot of muscle, and the next gagging spasm closed around it, Marcus' mouth suddenly awash in bitter-sour jizz, chunky clots of it working up Skorge's shaft, spraying in a savage, wracking cough, burning through his sinuses and dripping in coagulated strands from his nose. He was awash in the rest of Skorge's load, his cock still pulsing as it dragged excruciatingly slowly up his throat. The grey-white jizz was threaded through with veins of blood, bright red.

Skorge pulled out in a flood of grimy white, painting Marcus' face with sluicing bursts. Chunks of jizz hung from ropes, dangling along Marcus' jaw, sliding down the back of his neck, pooling in his ears. His mouth was slack, a wet, red target for Skorge to aim the last of his orgasm, ropes splashing over Marcus' tongue and lips, drooling from his flushed and bloody lips.

Absent anyone keeping him propped up, Marcus slumped forward, moaning in pain at the pressure against his grotesquely pregnant belly. Skorge caught his shoulders. "So does the savior of humanity have anything to say for himself?" Skorge said, hand catching Marcus' jaw loosely -- loosely, because he was just too slathered in jizz and slime to take firm hold. His claws dug into Marcus' skin.

Marcus coughed more, wetly spitting up gummy chunks of blood-flecked jizz before speaking. "Fuck my ass." His voice was a ruined rasp, guttural and near-incoherent. His cock hurt, too hard, balls drawn up so tight against the base of his cock they were almost pulling back inside his body.

Skorge let out a sharp bark of laughter, lip curling up to show his fangs. "You're some primate, thin-skinned and blunt-toothed. Our Queen ordered me to fertilize your eggs; you couldn't pay me to fuck you." He shoved Marcus back, even as Marcus strained for the still-dripping length of his cock. Skorge sneered down at him. "The grunts will have their pleasure with you after all," he said, turning and walking away, claws tak-tak-tak on the marble.

Marcus' wobbling arms finally gave out and he slumped forward, almost facedown, ass in the air. He lay there, eyes sagging shut, arms taking just enough weight to keep his bloated stomach from pressing into the ground. Even now he could imagine it: his stomach sloshing with Skorge's load on top of Myrrah's eggs, fertilizing inside him.

There was a muffled shuffle around him, drones approaching again, their footfalls heavy and flat. The abrupt slide of a massive, misshapen cock against his stubbled cheek, catching on the sodden hair of his soul patch, tore a groan out of him. His bloody, froth-flecked lips opened, simply an invitation to use his mouth as a hole. Another body settled against his legs, scorching hot hide pressing against the back of his hairy thighs, a cock like an iron weight pushing against his ass.

Marcus couldn't tell if it was the same Drones as before or new ones; it didn't matter. Their cocks were slick already, cocks spurting watery Locust pre in a constant stream. The one behind him dragged his cock back down the channel of Marcus' asscheeks, adding another layer of slime to his sweaty, soaking skin, all his hair already matted in a dark layer to the heavy curve of his ass.

The Drones didn't even try to prepare him, just shoved inside. His mouth was open enough already: slack, well-lubed. The ramrod hardness of the cock filling the stretched, gaping emptiness down his throat in the aftermath of Myrrah and Skorge. His asshole was tight; the warty, lopsided span of the drone's cock dimpled against the pucker of flesh for a second before it crested inside.

The fist-sized head slammed into him like a battering ram, spreading the way for the even-thicker shaft, warted and bulging, corded with bunched veins. Marcus yelled, throat opening wide, and the drone before him slammed up, driving his fat length of cock down his throat, dragging Marcus' head forward effortlessly. His spanning hand simply curled around the back of his head. The weight of his hand coaxed Marcus down, until his face was buried in the drone's crotch. Marcus was red and flushed from lack of air, the bulb of the drone's cockhead distending his throat, jaw practically cracked open around the fat base, the locust's balls sweaty and hot, overflowing, pressed tight under the space of his chin. His nose was flattened against the muscled plane of the drone's crotch, cheeks smeared between the iron-hard surface of the drone's inner thighs. The drones balls slapped against his neck, hitting the distended lump of his swollen cock, two of them alone spanning across his neck, all four of the drone's massive, misshapen testicles pressing back against Marcus' head, digging in rock-hard swells into Marcus' neck.

The drone thrust almost experimentally, groaning when Marcus' throat took him all the way down, gagging and spitting up ooze across his crotch. The drone behind him did the same, his ass practically pristine compared to the wreck of his mouth.

Grimy pre gushed up the crack of his ass, squelching as the Locust fucked his cockhead into his ass, back and forth through the ring of his asshole until it was bruised and slurping with each motion, puffy and red. Thick cords of pre oozed down his body, dribbling across his balls and forming heavy lines down to the ground, cords that jiggled and snapped when the Locust slammed his cock to the root in Marcus' ass. He yelled, lips flattened against the muscular plane of the other Locust's crotch, the cock spurting down Marcus' throat as the yell vibrated up against his cockhead. The other Drone thrust into his ass, sawing back and forth, his gargantuan balls smacking against Marcus' hairy ass each time.

Marcus gurgled around the cock in his mouth, aware of the wet dribble of pre leaking from his ass, each smack wetter as his ass flooded with pulse after pulse of grimy Locust pre. A slimy mess of pre built up just inside him, until his asshole convulsed, squirting a mess of ooze against the Locust's shaft, forming drooping webs of slime between them, catching and folding over themselves as he kept thrusting, the crack lost under the wet squelch of Marcus' flooded, overflowing ass, each thrust just spraying more pre out across the Drone's crotch. His stubby fingers dug into the meat of Marcus' asscheeks, spreading them until his asshole gaped wide around the shaft inside him, red flesh almost oozing up from inside: florid red lips sucking on the root of the Locust's dick, drooling syrupy lines of grimy yellow-green pre as the Locust fucked his cock into Marcus.

The Drone fucking his mouth snapped his hips forward, hilting with a smack that sent fluid spraying everywhere, the thick slurry bubbling from Marcus' mouth and nose, gushing up with each retching gag around his grotesque cock. He rutted shallowly, just bashing Marcus' head against the muscled plane of his crotch over and over, fucking the very tip of his cock back and forth deep in Marcus' esophagus. He looked down, locking eyes with Marcus -- eyes tearing and unfocused, face purple-red and streaked with sweat -- and smirked, grunting deep in his chest as he unloaded. His balls kicked against Marcus' chin, their churning alone like a punch to the chin, and then his cock pulsed, shaft thickening, cockhead swelling fatter until it was like a new egg lodged in his throat, and the Drone came with a grunt, spraying Imulsion ooze straight down Marcus' throat, both hands clenched on his head, fucking it onto his cock, adding his own mess to the sloshing slurry in Marcus' stomach, pulse after pulse until Marcus' gags brought up brilliant yellow Imulsion slime, rank and sour. He pulled back, cock tearing from Marcus' throat with nothing more than a gurgling squelch, emerging still-twitching and tethered to Marcus' throat, thick lines of slime running over Marcus' teeth and down into the fucked-open passage of his throat, pulling up huge, slobbery slugs of ooze every time the Locust's dick pulsed. He was still coming: he stroked himself off with one huge fist, hosing Marcus' disheveled face down with Imulsion, brilliant yellow and reeking.

Seeing Marcus get hosed down set off the Drone fucking his ass -- he'd been thrusting slow, thumbs grinding down the crack of his ass, clawing inside, grunting each time a wracking cough made Marcus' asshole try to clench down. He snapped his hips forward, pace fast enough to jam Marcus' face up against the underside of the filthy cock in front of him, the final spurts splattering over his shoulder and into the sweaty hollow of his back, his face jammed up against the Locust's huge, churning balls, his bleeding and rubbery lips sucking them into his mouth almost on instinct, cheeks bloating out as he slobbered across the Drone's sac.

The Drone behind him fucked him brutally, only a few more thrusts before he too tensed, cock twitching and then pulsing, coating his bowels in his scummy load, burning hot, still thrusting as his seed overflowed Marcus, oozing out around his churning shaft and splattering to the ground below with a plop, a flood of thick neon yellow ooze bursting from his ass with a sickening slurping noise every time the Drone withdrew. His thrusts slowed to a churn as huge, viscous ropes spilled out around his cock, streaking down the Drone's thighs, until he finally pulled all the way out, cockhead seeping the dregs of his load over Marcus' ravaged asshole, the muscle gaping, swollen and brilliantly red under layers of slime, winking open and letting out gurgling spurts of Imulsion before snapping closed for a moment, only to flutter open again and again.

Both the Drones pulled back, and Marcus just knelt there, thighs trembling, arms quaking from the simple effort of keeping himself upright, his breath gurgling and heavy, rattling in his chest. The Drones' only concession was pushing him over, to the side, so he could lie there boneless without squishing the bloated swell of his stomach.

There was the clack of boots again, and he opened bleary eyes to see Myrrah standing before him, still naked. "Sleep well, Marcus Fenix. The Locust require you healthy; well-maintained." she said, before turning smartly and walking off, the horde of Locust trailing behind, leaving him to collapse into complete unconsciousness.