FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

“So I heard you've advanced on the Deathclaw project."

“Advanced? No. We are almost done, Sir! Soon, we will have a Deathclaw army to retake America and the entire world! The shade of the communist tyranny will be erased!"

“Mhmm… Presumptuous. How are you certain we will have that army?"

“Let me show you!"

Steps echo through the Enclave Compound B09, one R&D facility hidden in the Appalachia, far from the population's prying eyes. The structure is sleek, recently repainted even, and no neon light is to flicker as the General and Scientist pass through the corridors. In the distance, they can hear grunts and groans, different from the typical silence from thinking researchers or the distant buzz from the computers working days and nights.

“What are those sounds?"

“It's our project! You will see, but we must… Keep him stimulated!"

With a flare, the Scientist advances, almost bouncing, as he approaches one door. One code is taped quickly, and steam escapes the hydraulics. And a waft of hot, musky, pungent air escapes, too. Reptilian musk. Somewhat of an oddity, but the General is the only one bothered.

“What is that smell? It's worse than last time when you had three deathclaws in heat."

“It's… Way better, sir! Let me show you!"

The command room stands ready. The Enclave's flags have been set everywhere. Even the medallion atop the main computer is shining, prepared. Yet, the eyes are beyond the left-alone computers or the piles of documents.

“See. We found the specimen LPB outside in one hot spot. He was wearing clothes and saying something that was not English. We assumed he was a creation from the communists, but we were wrong."

“What is this, then?"

“A new subspecies of Deathclaw! One we can breed!"

Beyond the window of the observatory deck lays the subject LPB. Tall, taller than most humans, the large creature is sprawled on his back with his legs up. Covered with soft cyan scales, the creature differs from the typical Deathclaw. The traits are softer, more expressive, and those eyes are brimming with intensity. The horns… Softer.

A deep rumble escapes it as one proud Soldier is pounding that hole in missionary, proudly claiming that cunt for the future of the Enclave. And beneath, the creature is crying, shivering, moaning.

“What's in it with the feather headdress? Is this a joke?"

“We found it wearing it. Somehow, we were able to pull away the clothes, but whenever we touched the headdress, the subject would become aggressive."

“Your deathclaw doesn't look intimidating."

With a growl, the General looks at the creature's legs tense up in a cry and then, the feet try to hit the air before it is over. The Beast has reached its orgasm. Yet, the Soldier continues, adding a few more thrusts before backing away.

An unimpressive display the General observes. Not only is the creature smaller. But it is… Weaker. Those arms are soft, those thighs wide like a wetnurse. The belly is swollen, but not round, and that chest would be more fitting to a woman. And yet, it is undeniable it is a male.

Atop that ruined donut, glazed over and outstretched, there are male genitalia. Small, shrunken, spewing something translucent, but masculine genitalia.

But the creature doesn't seem to mind as it holds its cheeks, spreads them apart to expose that ruined hole while blabbering something.

“Thank you for enlightening me."

“This is your grand plan? A slutty Deathclaw to fuck and abuse?" asks the General, dubious. “It looks like a scrawny female. I have seen things more impressive from the West Coast."

“It's normal, General! It's the effect of the hormones and drugs we injected in the subject LPB! Let me… Let me show you!"

With a quick tap and an unhealthy dose of stress, the Scientist slips in front of a computer. Just as suddenly, a screen descends from the ceiling and turns on, displaying the Enclave's seal, and then… A feed. A camera feed from the subject's apprehension.

Lizard Priest held his head. Whatever that spell was, it struck his friends and the mirror square. He thought he should have died, struck by that hellish Cursed Warlock. But no. He was not only alive but devoid of any wounds. His clothes were still there, without any holes, and he was able to walk without much pain.

However, he was not in the Catacombs anymore. In fact, with the glaring light above, he was outside in broad daylight.

But the air was stale, sickly so. It didn't have the smell of fresh grass or plants despite his feet clawing into the dry soil. It was not the scent of burning sand; it was different. Toxic. And unhealthy.

Pressing a hand on his muzzle to cover it, Lizard Priest offered his ancestors a prayer. A miracle of guidance would have been appreciated. Instead, there was no answer. No. His ancestors were not there. Wherever he was, his ancestors could not reach him, and he felt… He felt he was somewhere new, maybe hell like the humans spoke about.

Around him, a green mist surrounded him. It hid away everything. He had to squint to see as he walked towards the Sun's direction. Then, his steps became an ascent as if he was climbing a crater. Voices. Followed by a buzz and an artificial note. Voices, three. He could not understand them, but he could hear them close. Close enough for him to prowl closer through the mists, watching his steps.

Then, as he was close enough, he saw them. Three large and armor-clad individuals. Armors. It was the only term he could use to describe those titans of metal. They looked like dwarven armors, but too tall for them. Maybe another race?

He approached and saw another figure. A fourth one. A human. This one wore a strange cloth covering his entire body except for his exposed and burly face.

He was talking to one of the figures, but not the one standing behind him. Odd.

Still, if there were a human, there would be more. They would be able to help him. The Human King had made an alliance with the Lizardmen. It would be fair to assume the human was a part of it, as weird as it was.

_Lizard Priest uncovered his muzzle and approached, waving his hand at the four shapes. He approached as all their voices stopped, and they turned toward him. Especially the human in clothes who looked at him, bewildered. _

It was typical, not many humans saw Lizardmen in their lands. It would not be the first time he would have to present himself. And so, he waved and approached the one at the center with a smile.

The same who stood up and approached, his face closing up. Again, not the first time.

“Greetings, Hu-"

Before he could say more, the Human reached for his muzzle. His eyes opened wide. And wider as one of the armor lifted its fist. And hit him.

“So what? You had a Deathclaw coming up to your squad and speaking gibberish? What's so important?"

“Well. By any account, the subject is a very healthy Deathclaw. Almost no radiation poisoning, muscle tonicity, and an acute intellect. It has learned English, and it is capable of repeating sentences."

“It doesn't matter if it understands us if it can't follow our orders."

“Hoho. But it can."

With a smile, the Scientist types a few messages. Right away, the speakers sputter as he leans towards one micro, watching the subject's reaction in direct.

“Subject LPB! Stand up! Salute!"

The creature looks up, glancing at the speakers. His fingers that have been on his asshole slip away, letting out a spurting sound as the muscles relax and cum oozes out. But the creature stands up. And does a military salute.

Despite wearing none of the proper attire and looking more like a whore back at the main base.

“It can salute. Should I be satisfied?"

“Subject LPB! Fetch one toy and ride on it. Thank the General for his Inspection here! And repeat the Enclave's call!"

The General rolls his eyes but watches the creature slip away, the gait unstable, and come back with a sextoy. A fake human cock that is as big as his fist. Yet, the creature places it down and stretches its legs. It places itself above it, and then… lower. Lower those hips, that ass. Until the dildo has slipped behind it. No, more than that, until that ass is squelching audibly and the creature moans.

But no erection, no apparent pleasure before the creature is squatting, taking more than half of that dildo while saluting.

“Thank you, General, for your presence! We shall work as one for the Enclave's return to power! America shall rise from its ashes and become the sole Superpower on Earth! I will give my body for the United States of America!"

“It's… You conditioned it well. And it speaks…"

“That's why we assumed it was a Chinese creation, but no. We have yet to determine its origins, but it speaks of a land populated with more Deathclaws. It's fascinating, they seem to have developed a culture about their ancest-"

“Fine, fine. Where is this located?"

“We have tried getting the information, but even the subject's arrival is a surprise. Still, even if we cannot find that land… We have contingencies."

“Contingencies?"

“Yes!"

With more taps, the screen changes. Still, there is the feed from the subject riding the Dildo and keeping the posture while saluting. Its tail is wagging, its face as a satisfied mask. But the screen splits, and the other side is taken up by… A scan.

A thorough scan of the subject's body. Muscles, bones, vitals. Everything is registered. And everything was as that scan seems older and doesn't account for the recently added weight.

“What is this?"

“Our breeding project."

The walls were warm, enough to be comfortable even with the lack of clothes. But Lizard Priest felt cold. Cold inside as his body was enduring something. Working. The humans kept injecting him with drugs. It was hurting at first, and it had become torture by then. His legs and arms were slowly weakening. No, worse than that, he felt… Changed.

With their weapons and armor, they kept him from fighting back and led him to strange rooms. Sometimes, they made him exercise with metal weights. Sometimes, he was to stay in a tank and breathe through that mask. They constantly used their needles to pierce his scales, to the point he was feeling sore everywhere, and felt that cold purple liquid run in his veins.

But the worse were… The sessions.

_With a sigh, Lizard Priest grunted and approached one of the walls, the buzzing one. It was the warmest but also the loudest to be against. Still, it felt good to have that warmth spreading across his body. It was rejuvenating, making him feel better. _

His muscles were so sore, too. He could move, crawl. But he was exhausted as he reached for his chest. No longer muscular and perfectly chiseled for fighting, it had gained weight. They fed him despite the blatant gain. Quite the opposite, they were even adding more as the fat accumulated on his pectorals, making them sag and bloat. He poked at them, feeling the sting of his nibbled nipples, or the pain as the men had been suckling on the soft scales, leaving the flesh beneath painful… And yet invisible.

His ass had been the target of those licking, sucking, and spankings. They were no different than goblins. Truthfully, they dwelled, too, in those cold stone caverns. They had armor, they had everything they needed, but they lived away from the sun.

And they kept fucking him.

Even now, as he offered a prayer to his ancestors, he felt the throbbing in his ass at the thought of those human cocks plunging inside his hole. It was gaping constantly, and wet, too. Whatever they pushed inside him, it had changed his hole to be more swollen, needy, and continually prepared. So much so that even in the dead of the night, he was feeling its sting. Its presence nudged him to slip a finger inside, to push one single digit beneath his tail and right against the scalding hot orifice. He pushed the tip in, and his orifice sucked, and he moaned.

Those humans were doing everything so he would be pleased and addicted to the sensation. And it was working. Being fucked by humans felt much better than with other females. Their cocks were constantly driving him crazy. Whether it was the scent, the aroma at his tongue tip when they fucked his face. Or their bulbous tip when they rubbed that point inside his ass.

He tried to reach for that point, but his fingers couldn't reach it as well or as far. It was impossible to feel it, like when they fucked him on the ground and pounded his hole until his cheeks burned and legs were screaming.

Still, he fingered his hole. He nudged his fingers left and right. He reached for the wrinkled rim, tugged on it with a fourth finger. He could almost fit his hand inside. He was like a female here, like one of those many females he had seen abused by the goblins.

He was just as much impotent. But rather than losing his mind and becoming broken like them, broken little things, he was getting addicted to them.

And even now, he was feeling his cock stirring to life from the fingering.

He reached further. He wiggled deeper. And his cock throbbed with blood. But remained soft. Swollen, yes. But it remained against Lizard Priest's testicles, barely reaching three inches at most. No, more than that, it was… Numb. There was the throb and the sensation of need, but even if he brushed. Even if he held it. Even stroked. It would not offer him any satisfaction anymore.

So he fingered himself, growling and grunting while his muscles tensed and he coiled. Then… It was against the wall that he leaned, passing his tail above his shoulder and wrapping it around his neck so it wouldn't exacerbate his headdress' poor state. He fingered deeper, passing a hand against the wall to support himself as he rode up and down, using his hand like a makeshift toy.

His groin was… Full with needs. His mind with lust. His soul with corruption.

But he needed to ejaculate. To get off. To release that load. And he continued, his trimmed claws grazing the pleasant spot. He drummed against it, felt the spark rising from his groin. Then, he drummed again. Once more. Again. Just a bit more. Another hit. A renewed tentative.

He continued, heaving and salivating. He knew the humans were watching him constantly. He knew and could get some details of their speech. But here in that cell, he wanted to feel good. And if he were to be cold, he would at least be… Satisfied.

So. He pushed his fingers deeper until they were there, and he squeezed. He squeezed again. More. Without a break! CEASELESS!

“HRMPH! Ancestors!" he shouted, half-roared, as his tail straightened against his neck and shoulder, and he felt it. His ejaculation.

Well, it was nothing to be proud of. There were three shots, liquid and almost transparent. But still, he sighed and nearly dropped back. Here, he came. He was… Satisfied, done.

“We have increased the dosage last week. But we expect progress and the acceleration of the eggs' development."

“It's… Unnatural."

“But we will get an army for the enclave! And it's only a few drugs!"

The General watches the changing vision. The fat accumulated around the muscles, the slow atrophy, the changes in the Deathclaw's bowels to create a pouch where eggs would be stored. The atrophy of the genitals, the constant reminder of the modifications to the brain's chemistry. Sometimes, it is frightening to witness how easy it is to condition someone or something.

Then, he glances at the creature, still holding the posture despite the tension in those legs and that tail. That face remains still.

“How cooperative is the subject?"

“It has been trained to see any human as its superior. It will do everything to fulfill the orders. There's a problem."

“What's that?"

“The subject's hostility levels are too low. We cannot use it for combat anymore."

“This is… Disappointing."

“But we found a better usage. Well, beyond the breeding."

“What is this?"

“Troop morale! Let me show you."

With a hand, the Scientist beckons the General towards one door. From here, it is only a quick descent of a flight of stairs to reach the subject as it remains still and riding that toy. From up close, it is clear the subject is tall and more than most humans. But it remains immobile, even if those eyes go on the General. No, on his groin. Lustful creature.

“If you may, General?"

“May what?"

“Open… Your pants and show them your… uhm. Pardon my impertinence, your cock, sir."

“My… You know I was married and have children? I won't sully myself and my wife's memories with a creature's mouth!"

“You should try. It's… Different than anything you have experienced. I cut the cameras before coming here. You can do whatever you want."

The General scowls. But his hands are on his pants, on the tent he has been sporting since viewing that beast at first. He gropes it, gropes himself while the specimen glances and salivates at the view. And then, he relents. He relents as he undoes his belt, the buckle clicking before he slips it out and undoes one button, then the zipper. He fishes out his damp underwear and… Peels it. Peels it from his cut and wide cock. Something big, something he used to please his wife before he lost her.

Ever since, he refrained from enjoying anything. But it is different. He sighs, watching the throb in his length, almost eight inches, as it appears from his bushy pubes. He is hard, so hard. And with a firm stroke, he feels the precum dripping all over his veiny cock as he approaches it from the specimen who salivates.

“What… About the teeth?"

“The specimen is very mindful when pleasing his superiors. We did our best to teach him how to please American citizens."

Still, the General huffs as he looks at the specimen. As he reaches for that muzzle. The beast doesn't slip away, so he advances a thumb, slipping it to touch the lukewarm gums, the teeth that have been smoothened… The wide tongue he pulls on it before releasing it.

“Hmm… Suck me?"

“With great honor, General. I shall be your whore!"

The specimen's voice is deep. Grating. But worse is the perfect diction before that mouth rushes down to press against the cock. Yet, the first action from the beast is to take a whiff from those pubes.

“Is… This normal?"

“An issue with our conditioning. It is now addicted to human smell and will always do that when given the opportunity."

“WORSHIP!"

_ SMACK! _

"PLEASE!"

_ SMACK!_

"COMMUNISM!"

_ BZZT! _

“CHINA!"

_ BZZT! _

"A GOOD SPECIMEN IS A GOOD WHORE!"

_ SMACK!_

Lizard Priest's eyes were riveted to the screen, the modified headset strapped around his head. Each time there was a new word or a new sentence, he felt it: the spank on his ass or the buzz against his pleasant spot in his ass… Or the painful one on his testicles.

He watched the words come and go, replaced by other visions. A human's cock. A human's scrotum. A human's armpit.

Sometimes, there was even a droplet of a musky and pungent liquid dropping on his muzzle as he remained in that strange contraption with no way to move or escape. His legs were bound. His mouth was gagged. His hands were partially free, but he was only allowed to move the right or left hand.

If he chose bad, he would be punished. But so far, he had made the right choices.

With the refusal of communism, he was getting his balls and prostate teased. With the acceptance of capitalism, there was the spanking, the movement inside his hole.

It was good… So good. He did not know why it felt so good. But it was as more precum dribbled from his genitals onto the ground. He was… happy.

Happy despite being kept in a painful posture with his tail lifted and pulled.

Happy despite being observed by the many scientists taking notes, commenting, or speaking to themselves in their little box.

Happy despite the burn as more drugs were pumped inside him.

“THE ENCLAVE!"

_ SMACK! _

“DEATHCLAW SUBMISSION!"

_ SMACK! _

“SOCIALISM!"

_ BZZT! _

“DIPLOMACY!"

_ BZZT! _

“REBELLION!"

_ BZZT! _

Lizard Priest didn't have to think to translate the words anymore. He understood them enough to know what they meant. He did not know what was China or the Communism, but he knew it was bad. He knew he would have to fight it for the Enclave and America.

He-

“Stop. Let's see the results!"

The machines stopped. Everything stopped, even the slides and the speakers. However, they stopped on one vision. One human enclave soldier wearing his armor. Even without the toys drilling and teasing him, even as the scientists were rushing to free his legs and ass, he shook his right hand.

And then, he was fully released.

He narrowly dropped on his face, stopping with one hand moved by rusty reflexes. And he looked around. The scientists were holding their clipboards, looking at him. Then, he looked above his shoulder to see one human. Naked, big, hairy, muscular, musky. The human's stench was strong, he used to find it too strong for his sensitive nose. It was like meat but seared under the sun, with too much salt.

But… He had grown used to it. Accustomed to its tempting presence.

“Present yourself!"

An order. Lizard Priest pondered about it. But his hands were already leaving the ground to go for his posterior. He reached for it, for the recently inked symbol covering them. He gripped his cheeks to spread them apart and exposed his ruined asshole. His perfectly vertically split orifice, whose texture was like a cunt, if not softer. And more than that, it winked at the soldier. It winked and released a stream of lube right onto Lizard Priest's nuts and then the ground.

But by then, his cock, too, was starting to twitch and throb helplessly. It, too, was starting to drip with anticipation as his index finger was awfully close to that hole.

“I. Am. Bitch. Soldier Whore," Lizard Priest articulated each word with difficulty. With his gag out, his voice was sore, and his pronunciation was not perfect. Still, he managed to get those words out while he glanced at the approaching Soldier.

The Human was so hard, so stiff. His cock. It was not the biggest Lizard Priest had taken. But it was good for him as he felt the warm cockhead press into his orifice. Right away, the hole closed and massaged. Right away, the hole tried to grip and keep the Human's cock deep inside.

The soldier moaned and mumbled something, but Lizard Priest could not pick it up. Rather, he did turn his eyes toward the slide. Toward what he had been taught, trained, drilled to select. To pick.

He clenched his eyelids, clenched his buttcheeks despite his lifted tail, and massaged the soldier.

He went all in to please that Human, who, in return, started to smack and hit Lizard Priest's ass. He left the scales sore, pained, burning beneath. His hips hit and smacked, closing the distance with a slurping noise and a thrust motion. Precum and lube spewed everywhere, hitting the human's groin, sticking to it.

“Good pussy!" shouted the man, eagerly thrusting and punching Lizard Priest's guts. He hit them squares, and continued, pumping more and more within that scalie ass. Each time, the rumble escaping Lizard Priest's mouth grew stronger. It grew deeper. It grew… needier.

_His voice spoke, his breathing continued, and his mind was breaking apart. _

Those thighs, covered with soft skin, were hitting and bouncing off those cheeks until they were completely burning up beneath the scales. Until the sweat, lube, and precum, were forming threads joining the human's hairy body to Lizard Priest's backside.

And rather than fighting it…

Lizard Priest was embracing it. His arms and shoulders moved. His knees scrapped the concrete floor while his ruined cock spewed more and more onto the ground until there was a puddle. And his hips hit back.

Yes. He participated in the assault, participated in the breeding as his ass smacked back against the human. His lifted tail, the tip of it, wagged like crazy while his mind drifted again on the screen. Worship.

That would be the word behind it. His little finger, the right one, lifted as a reflex.

But it didn't stop him from going back against the Human's deep thrusts, to moan in answer to the smack… Or even to shoot his load as his prostate, swollen and unhealthy, burning even, contracted and released its load on the ground.

More than once. Many times, as if he was fertilizing a female's eggs. Instead, he was shooting and wasting it, wasting the watery liquid as it dripped everywhere while something else was pushing deep within his ass' recesses. Cum.

The Human's Semen. And he loved it.

The subject kisses and slurps, swallowing every drop of sweat that might have stuck to the General's pubes before its mouth moves along. Without a break, the General watches the creature moving its head down. The mouth open, the teeth are sparkling under the neon light. And then, that tongue slips out to coil around the length.

A rather long, turgid, and perfectly fitting length, the creature slurps and embraces. It's suckling with an expertise contrasting with those serrated teeth and that powerful jaw. A jaw that is mindful, careful, as it closes and those simili-lips are happily holding onto the General's veiny length.

The insides are warm. Pleasant. Silky. Velvety. Better than a wife's kiss, hotter than a whore's cunt, and more intimate than a tender embrace in bed.

“How does it feel?"

“Pretty… Good," grumbles the General, passing a hand on the subject's head. He pokes at the scales, finding them cold despite the warmth that was that mouth as it rushes to meet his length. It presses, squeezes, caresses. The entirety of the subject's mouth is wholly dedicated to pleasing him.

And it takes everything, every parcel of his will just to keep it together.

Just to keep a straight face despite the blood rushing to his groin and face, the tension in his toes, or the contraction of his cheeks.

He feels it coming, the orgasm. The ejaculation… The need.

Slowly, his hand moves closer until he reaches for the creature's horns. Softer than expected, he still holds onto them like bars as he's starting to thrust within that silky mouth. In… Out. In… Out.

He pumps, gritting his teeth and huffing, trying to show off to that Scientist who's the leader here and who can endure.

“Yeah… It's… It's pretty good!" he rumbles, not giving in to the orgasm arising in his groin or the burn at his cocktip. He feels it, however, as the creature is eager to flick its tongue against his urethra to sample it. And he growls. He growls… And closes his eyes as his grip on the horns tightens.

He cannot let it go. He cannot let that mouth go as he holds the specimen close. It gargles, it groans, it tries to breathe, but only a whistle comes from that thinned breath.

And the General holds it.

He feels the throat pushing back, trying to get him away. But in doing so, they massage his cocktip, his length, even the base against which the specimen's tongue swirls and strokes. And then, with a growl… He bends further and forward.

He bends. His scrotum lifts. His ankles taps against the floor a second before he slips. And he cums. After days of not having any release at the base, he's cumming. He's cumming his brain out. Cum is pumped right inside that needy mouth.

And even if the creature is gargling and mainly choking, it doesn't budge. The throat bulges with cum. Only then for it to be chugged down, swallowed by the subject. Every shot, every drop…

Until the General pulls out, his cock again graced by the coiling tongue which slurps back any droplet… Leaving his cock pristine and glistening as he slips it back into his underwear. Relief. Peace.

“Fine. I'll bring it back to the base! Prepare the transport!"

“Wait! What? Sir! This is our project! What do you plan to do?" asks the Scientist, suddenly surprised at the General's reaction.

“Keep finding Deathclaws and breed them. But that one… I want to see that Deathclaw working at the main command, today. The Subject LPB will be working for America."

“It is my species' pleasure to be bred by strong American soldiers and to bring back America's glory!"

The white noise is constant, but not enough to hide the round of applause from the television.

The stench of cum clings to the air, to his scales, to his entire body.

It has been… Maybe years since he stumbled upon that strange world. He has learned how humans colonized it entirely, then brought destruction to it through weapons. Then, how America is rebuilding back to conquer the entire world and bring peace to it.

A noble role, that's what he's been taught, reminded, conditioned for.

And to keep the troops' morals… He is here.

Here with his spawn.

Each day. Each hour. It is another man who joins him and abuse his asshole. It had grown so used to the abuse, it felt almost unnatural to have it untouched for less than one hour.

And as the gloved hands finally slip away, pulling the last batch of his spawn, Lizard Whore moans. He moans as another weak shot escapes from his cock, a transparent jet like whatever remains of his manhood, before it lands on the ground.

“Good work, Whore. You make the commandment proud," says a voice. The General. His Husband.

“Anything… For America," moans back Lizard Whore, his voice rough and sore from being facefucked by two men at once. He coughs, only to sample the mix of spit and cum hit his tongue, the latter titillating his senses and making his asshole instantly close.

It doesn't hurt anymore. Not with the drugs he has been injected with, not with the surgeries done to make his body more fitting for his role as a whore for the Enclave.

But it's fine.

_As the door closes and the Medic's gone, Lizard Whore stands up from the examination bed. His legs are wobbly, but he accepts the offered hand. He accepts it as much as the other, fondling his soft and fattening body, his round belly, his petite and cold genitals… Before it slips onto his thighs, onto his curvaceous posterior. One pull, and it spreads, revealing the clenching but vertically split asshole. _

The eggs are out, but not all the semen as it drips and drops.

More than that, it is starting to ache and burn. The fertilization drugs are again at it; the dosage has been increased to augment the number of eggs. More eggs, more specimens, more whores for the Enclave.

“Deathclaws will serve the Enclave! You, too, can own a personal Deathclaw guard! Or maybe a pretty damsel when your spouse can't answer your needs!"

“I want seven more specimens for your next brood. Got it?" growls the General, his pants already down and his shaft erect, poking at Lizard Whore's entrance.

“Yes, Sir. Of course, Sir," he replies with envy… And delight as that human cock is back inside his hole. Where it belongs. Where he belongs.

Before, he might have hated what he became.

But now…

Whenever he is fucked by his husband, sharing his life with him, watching the television with his husband, he is happy. He is happy to feel the Human's cock plunging into his ass, conquering his asshole. He's happy to be fingered and offered new lace undergarments.

And he is happy to be used by the Enclave.

Whenever he sees himself on the television, his bits censored, but proudly saluting for the American flag, he is satisfied. He is the front, the first of many. Of the Enclave's New Weapon to conquer America back.

Even if it is one egg at a time.