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He sighed, his assault rifle mercifully covering the rapidly growing bulge between his legs.

To understand exactly why Jake Bandit needed to use a high-powered piece of military hardware to hide an erection tenting his pants, you had to understand a few things.

Firstly, the man.

Lance Corporal Jake Bandit was a Space Corps marine. Not just any old marine though. His military occupational speciality had him marked as a 'critical skills operator.' The name spoke for itself really. He had skills - critical ones - and as such Bandit found himself passed around from unit to unit like a drunk slut at a party.

He'd been running missions back-to-back for the better part of a year. Most were boring, standard patrols in lawless stretches of space. A few were high octane. Boarding pirate vessels tended to pucker the ol' sphincter. But in all, between all the transfers, learning new names and executing missions, he'd barely had a long enough period of down-time to bust a nut on anything other than his laptop keyboard.

Forced to spend your mandatory R&R days on an isolated battleship in the depths of space didn't incur many opportunities to meet civilian women unbound by the corps' fraternisation rules. The desperation of this virile young man was understandably growing - and the strain was starting to show.

Somewhere further down the packed shuttle was a frustrated moan that mirrored Bandit's sentiment. A little closer to where he sat, a well-built anthro tiger chuckled.

"What's the matter, Tanner?" she asked.

"Not much," Specialist Tanner, their resident techie answered. "Just the fact I haven't been laid in fucking months! Whose dumb idea was it to join the marines anyway, Madison?"

The tigress, Corporal Madison chuckled again. "Yours, I'm pretty sure. Some bullshit about mean green girl power, I think."

Madison was almost as big as Bandit, and anyone would agree she was twice as hot. She not only had a powerful physique with which she'd laid Bandit out on the sparring mat a few times before, she also had the feminine curves that had given Bandit an involuntary erection just before she slammed his face into the floor.

Her hefty bust was pronounced by the way her breastplate was moulded to the ripped contours of her body. She had wide birthing hips and muscular thighs Bandit would have no problem being trapped beneath while she squatted.

Generally speaking Bandit preferred taking the dominant role in sex. However, where Madison was concerned, he realised he wouldn't mind if she pinned his legs up beside his head, then squatted down on his cock, dominating him in the amazon position.

"It wasn't all bullshit," Tanner argued. "Look at us. Badass marines bringing the hurt to the galaxy."

A few of the other women sitting on the shuttle laughed and gave a hearty "oohrah!" Madison, though smiling, didn't seem as amused.

"Yeah, look at us. Sitting on a butt-plug and pretty much capable of drowning full-grown men in our panties right now."

The woman beside Bandit gave Madison a strange look. "You got a butt-plug in right now?"

She grinned. "And vibrating panties, but the batteries died like an hour ago."

The second thing to understand: Widow Platoon.

A platoon of the 33rd Force Reconnaissance Company, Widow Platoon had been originally set up as something of a gender diversity experiment. Until then, most grunts on the front lines had been male, for a number of pragmatic reasons. And for all those reasons, command expected Lieutenant Ripley's pet project to fail.

As if too stubborn to go gently into that good night, Widow Platoon excelled. Consistent of twenty-four of the best female recruits, they passed every test, every training exercise and every obstacle thrown in their path. And thanks to the project being made quite public, command couldn't just shut Widow Platoon down without being given good reason. So, they were in the corps to stay.

Though their active missions were restricted to patrols in what everybody knew was peaceful space, and no hostile engagements to their name, the women who made up Widow Platoon were eager to prove themselves in the fires of war.

And through some immense retardation by the bureaucratic fucktards in the sky, Bandit was both blessed and cursed with an assignment to this military hen party.

Tanner scanned the female anthro faces lining the shuttle hold, then settled on Bandit's featureless visor with a half-grin. "Well, if we get desperate, Bandit is a guy. At least, he looks like one."

Bandit figured he could just as easily turn the jab on Tanner. Of all the women on Widow Platoon, she was probably the least desirable.

Not to be mistaken with least attractive, none of the marines were unattractive per-se. They all had filled out, athletic bodies with sumptuous curves that their tight-fitting battle dress seemed to draw particular attention to. Though in contrast to a woman with a nicely toned hourglass figure sitting beside her, Tanner was lanky.

A skinny anthro weasel with brownish fur, Tanner didn't have much of a feminine shape to her. Flat chested, barely an ass or hips to speak of. Although she did have long slender legs, and carried herself with the sexy allure of an upper class woman. Even in full armour, sitting on an uncomfortable assault bench she was sitting pretty, upright with her long legs elegantly crossed.

She was also extremely flexible. Bandit had spied her stretching with absolute ease after long PT runs. She'd keep her legs perfectly straight while propping one heel up against a wall in an impressive set of splits, the tight lycra of the yoga pants she normally wore pulling taught to define the outline of the teeny cleft between her thighs. She was probably tighter than a barely legal Thai schoolgirl, and many nights Bandit had growled her name under his breath while rubbing one out, imagining her graceful legs twisted into a sexual pretzel while his cock bulged out her flat tummy.

"Have you seen the size of Bandit? Can you imagine how big his dick is? It's probably the size of my forearm." Madison said plainly. Bandit wasn't easily embarrassed, but he casual way the tiger was talking about his privates had him blushing just a little. "He'd probably rip you in two."

Tanner squirmed in her seat, biting her bottom lip. "Stop. My coochie is already drooling at the prospect. I'm a hair's breadth away from jumping that hunk-a-licious slab of man-meat."

A few laughs rippled throughout the ranks before one of the marines spoke up. "You? Hold down Bandit? That I would pay money to see."

"There's twenty-four of us and only one of him," the weasel sang suggestively.

Bandit made a show of yanking the charging lever of his rifle, then flipped Tanner the bird. As pleasant as her proposition sounded, Bandit refused to be anybody's bitch.

And finally, you had to understand the man... again.

Bandit had been a marine all his life, even before he enlisted. His dad had been a marine. His grandad had been a marine. All the way as far back as the young Eustace Bandit who had enlisted to fight Nazis on the beaches of Normandy. The warrior gene ran thick in the Bandit men.

His rough, working class upbringing and father's metered application of discipline had essentially forged a devil-dog testosterone factory who quickly became no stranger to female attention. And that in turn raised him up as an enduring man who could bust a dozen times in a day and still have the energy to keep working.

Fast forward to Bandit's enlistment, standing in the recruiter's office like an excited puppy, his eyes twinkling with motivation.

"Of course you're gonna get pussy, son!" the recruiter had exclaimed with a laugh. "Just think about it. Germany, Japan, Melke VI. Those blue skinned beauties of the Melke system have bottomless throats too! Literally no gag reflex. It's amazing! I guarantee it, kid; you join the marines, you'll be getting so much strange you won't be able to keep count."

Cue the thirsting laughter of trickster gods. As it turned out, Space Corps recruiters are trained salesmen. Bandit did not know this until he was about a year into his contract of service, and hitting a dry spell the likes of which he'd thought impossible for most of his teenage life.

So, there he sat, the only proud owner of a Y-chromosome among about two dozen fit, athletic and sometimes outright Amazonian warrior princesses.

At the very front of the troop compartment, a slender figure climbed to her feet, arresting herself against the jumble of turbulence by tangling her fingers into an overhead cargo net. Her helmet hung from her belt, a state of the art assault rifle like Bandit's dangling down by her side. She was a canine, a vixen with dark steel grey fur highlighted with paler fur on her face, and thanks to her attire Bandit had to imagine the other patches of white fur between her firm breasts and slender thighs. She had athletic curves, nothing over the top like Madison, but was definitely more filled out than Tanner. She had that idealistic cheerleader figure guys like Bandit would lust over in high-school, even in her early thirties.

Lieutenant Ripley had a terse sort of expression, but that didn't stop a small smirk from appearing on her mouth. "Okay, ladies. Stow the trash talk. Leave our poor toy-boy alone."

That got a laugh from the women, and an odd look from Bandit, especially when she added, "If anyone's going to be having her way with Bandit, it'll be me. Perks of command if you will."

The wolf sarcastically cocked his head away, the roll of his eyes hidden by his reflective visor. And the strained throb of his cock was hidden tightly behind his rifle still.

As Ripley had been talking, his mind had involuntarily wandered to thoughts of decorating her face with long strings of his pearly white seed. Lieutenant Ripley would certainly look amazing, her vulpine face draped in cum. She'd probably look better on her knees though, her lips wrapped around his knot and his length bulging her throat.

Sitting at the very front of the shuttle, Lieutenant Ripley was completely oblivious to Bandit's lewd thoughts as she produced a tablet and pulled up their mission.

"Focus up, everyone," she ordered. "Quick refresher of our mission. We are on the way to Think-Tank research station, an orbital xenobiology study platform. They are currently beyond the frontier colonies, studying a class-three planet. Two days ago all communications from the station went dark. The corps is sending us to investigate, and if needs be, assist with re-establishing comms with the rest of the galaxy." As she said it, she nodded to their tech specialist.

"Think-Tank has an older style comms array," Tanner said, pulling up specs on her own tablet. "But this model is pretty robust. I doubt there's any physical damage. Likely a software issue."

"Or the problem could be between the chair and the keyboard," Madison interjected. "What if they've been hit by pirates?"

"Then we solve the problem regardless," Ripley said, patting her assault rifle. "Either way, we run this mission by the books, ladies," she smirked, glancing at Bandit, adding, "and toy-boy."

Bandit cringed. Their jabs had started out pretty good a few weeks ago. Now it was all a bit forced.

Ripley continued. "Keep your trigger fingers tight and your eyes wide. We're here to provide solutions, not murk a civilian scientist. Rah?"

"Ooh-rah!" the platoon answered loudly as one.

One by one the women of Widow Platoon started pulling on their helmets and readying their rifles. Bandit having done all that shit already, checked the console on his gauntlet, running one more pre-mission check. His magazines all registered as full. His suit diagnostics were green. He was ready to go.

Looking over, he suddenly noted Ripley was looking at him with an unfamiliar expression. A small smirk decorated her muzzle and her eyes half-closed while she moved forward with a seductive sway of her hips. One foot in front of the other, she kept her balance in the light turbulence like a runway model balancing on ludicrously high heels. And despite her armour and flat soles, there was just an undeniably sexy allure to the way she moved.

Halting in front of him, Ripley smoothly squatted down like a professional dancer, her knees together and bent out to one side while she planted her hands on his legs and forced them apart. Still balancing on her toes, the lieutenant eased her way between the silent marine's legs and tore open his pants, freeing the throbbing erection from its restraints.

Madison hadn't been too far off. He was almost the size of her forearm, a little under a foot in length and girthy even without a knot swelling at the base. The member twitched in the cool shuttle air and he felt a desperate churning in his nuts as they worked overtime to produce a thick load of batter specially for Lieutenant Ripley.

She barely paused with her hands on his cock. They barely fitted about the shaft and probably wouldn't be able to do much in the way of a quality handjob. She'd have to order some of the other women in the platoon to help in order to gain any sort of ground. But Ripley didn't seem to be in much of a sharing mood at the moment.

Instead she dipped her muzzle forward, mouth open wide and tongue sticking out. A moment later half his cock disappeared into her muzzle, the sensitive crown jabbing into the back of her throat. The vixen gave a little gag, and then a throaty gulp before her lips pursed over the mid-shaft and she bobbed intimately a few times.

Regardless of what little of his cock fitted into her mouth, Bandit was so pent up he couldn't hold back. The feel of her hot muzzle enveloping him, her silky wet tongue lapping the shaft and circling the head. He came instantly, swelling between Ripley's lips and erupting down her gullet.

She swallowed desperately and choked on the third gulp. Cum flooded her mouth and dripped form her lips as a few strings shot from her nostrils in the subsequent cough. She pulled back to catch her breath, a powerful jet of Bandit's thick seed blasting her chin, followed by another thick rope cascading over her muzzle and dappling her eyelashes...

The shuttle shook and Bandit blinked hard, surfacing from the daydream. The lieutenant was looking down, busying herself with rifle calibrations, while a small dribble of precum trickled down Bandit's rigid cock.

Quickly, the wolf jerked his gaze around, staring at the wall opposite him and trying his best to keep his thoughts clean...

Oh, who was he kidding? This was going to get worse before it got any better.

I

Widow Platoon fanned out, guns up and heads down in a perfectly choreographed dance. Beams of torch light criss-crossed the darkness, sweeping the corners and clearing their entry point with textbook efficiency.

They had assessed Think-Tank hung in stable orbit upon approach and accessed an auxiliary airlock with a gentle application of brute force. The armoured doors still glowed behind them where they'd cut through with plasma torches.

At the end of the maintenance corridor, Lieutenant Ripley held up a fist, halting the marines just behind her. Ahead the bulkhead was sealed, and she waved Tanner up to deal with the problem.

Parting down the middle the doors opened into the transit lounge, limbo between the station proper and the piers where transport ships typically docked. Couches and luggage racks filled the space, with a wide set of doors on either side leading out, both shut and locked down if the crimson lights were anything to go by. The far wall was home to a long window, behind which the empty security checkpoint station was visible. A few consoles glowed with amber holographic light, but there were no other signs of life. No people. No sounds.

Just the rattle of boots as the marines spread across the lounge.

"Clear," Madison called, her report echoed by some of the others. "Looks like nobody's home."

"Copy that," Tanner added from where she knelt by the doors leading into the station proper. "This console is inaccessible. Power cut at the looks of it."

"What do you need?" Ripley asked, lowering her rifle and taking stock of the situation.

"The consoles in the security checkpoint should be able to re-route power. It's not a permanent solution, but it should get us into the station at least."

The lieutenant nodded. "I need a volunteer," she mused out loud, then in the same breath called: "Bandit! Get your ass on it."

Bandit's eye twitched irritably. His pops had warned him of the cardinal rule the day he enlisted in the Space Corps. Never volunteer for everything. It was an adage he had tried desperately to abide by, to no actual avail. His superiors had always found a way to volunteer Bandit, and not always solely because he was reliable.

First in boot camp, he always drew attention to himself for being the biggest recruit, head and shoulders above the rest. And now in Widow Platoon, being the only man among all the women, he tended to stand out just a little.

That way Ripley knew to think of him when there was a shit job to do.

He knew better than to complain though, so with only a private sigh the wolf slid his carbine onto his back, tightened the sling then set to scrambling into the open ventilation shaft connecting the transit lounge with the checkpoint.

As he climbed though, the suitcase he used as a step flopped over, disappearing from under his feet. Digging his nails into slick surface of the shaft with a hair-raising screech, Bandit felt his body shift back an inch or so, dangling precariously between holding on and falling out on his tail.

It must have been a sorry sight, his ass hanging out of the shaft and his legs kicking feebly for some sort of purchase. As he fully expected them to, the ladies had themselves a hearty laugh. Even Lieutenant Ripley joined in.

"I must admit, I like seeing you from this angle, Bandit,"_she teased across the comms. _"Where's a strap-on when you need one, eh?"

Bandit silently let her laugh it up. When this stupid mission was over and done with he'd find a quiet corner and jerk off while thinking of Ripley fondly. And by thinking of her fondly, he actually meant he'd fantasise about bending the vixen over, punishing each of her holes individually then painting her face in cum.

Bandit had been stuck at lance corporal for a long time in a corps that made a habit of shitting all over its lance corporals. He had passive aggressive vengeance down to a fucking art form.

After a bit of a struggle, Bandit managed to drag himself through the vent, punched out the metal grate on the other side and dropped unceremoniously to the floor of the security checkpoint. It was sort of a bland room. The weapon racks seemed to be empty, though the consoles were still on, providing the dim room with most of the light.

Rolling over, Bandit suddenly came nose-to-nose with something that made the room much more interesting.

It startled him at first, the lapin face of an anthro, or what had once been an anthro. Flesh had been melted away, glassed in placed even, revealing a charred canine skull beneath. One eye had liquefied and oozed out of its socket, joining the tangled crimson mess that was the rest of its partially liquified body.

Several more bodies were stacked up in the viscera behind the first. Bandit was no doctor, but he'd seen bodies before. These men looked like the result of a brutal melee scrap. Most of them looked to have been bludgeoned by large blunt instruments, and then bludgeoned some more, either out of rage or a desire to make sure they were dead.

The first was different though. He suffered some sort of plasma searing, but from no plasma weapon that Bandit recognised the results of.

Noting it for later report, Bandit focused on the task at hand. Stepping around the bodies, he faced the window looking out across the transit lounge and pulled up a general console. Security was light, and he was able to gain access through emergency military routes. Once in, he pulled up a station diagnostic and spun the controls to Widow Platoon's tactical cloud.

Tanner opened her tablet and was given direct access.

"Got it. Feeding power now."

The doors hummed with energy, then parted down the centre with a crunch of metal grinding on un-oiled tracks. They had barely opened half a metre when the first bodies started spilling into the transit lounge.

Bandit leapt into action, transitioning his rifle to his front, but there was little he could do while secluded behind double-panes of bullet proof glass. The rest of the marines did the same, but by the time they could get a bead on the invaders, they were swarmed with grasping hands and tackled by squirming naked bodies.

His mind swam, taking Bandit back to late nights in the barracks blasting virtual space zombies. If there was anything he was scared of, and his fears were few and far between, it was the prospect of being swarmed by hordes of undead monsters on a secluded space station. What he saw certainly put the fur on his neck on end, and as one of the women let out a sustained burst of gunfire into the ceiling as she was tackled, Bandit expected the blood and viscera to start spraying.

The truth, turned out, ended up being stranger than his imagination.

A cacophony of frustrated moans reminiscent of the one Tanner had let out on the shuttle carried through the ventilation shafts to Bandit's ears. The figures were women, their clothes either shredded or non-existent, some wielding sections of pipe or tools as bludgeoning weapons. Others racked riot shotguns and nailed the marines down-range with rubber slugs. Ripley took one such slug to the chest and fell gasping on her ass before several naked women piled on top to hold her down.

They flooded the transit lounge like a wave, their eyes wide and glowing with the unmistakable spark of desperate lust. Bandit would have thought this to be some sort of uprising had he not caught a glimpse of pink slits between their furry thighs, glistening as their pussies drooled with longing.

By the time Bandit considered scrambling back through the vent to help, it was all over. Widow Platoon, caught completely with their pants down were floored. And what followed were eerie moans of sexual frustration coming from the assailants, and hefty footsteps that throbbed through the deck.

When it stomped into the transit lounge after the wave of women, Bandit made less sense of the situation rather than more. But the newcomer at least represented a recognisable trope. Out in the depths of space on a science station that had fallen out of communications; of course, Bandit would come face to face with a towering alien lizardman.

Built with muscles stacked on top of more muscles, Bandit was reticent to call the alien an anthro lizard. The term 'dinosaur' or 'dragon' seemed more apt. Tall enough that it had to duck through the doorway Tanner had opened, the hefty beast was built almost as wide as the pressure doors designed to allow four men abreast to stride through comfortably. As it moved it left faint impressions in the floor. A flat, wide head adorned with tusks and bony horns, its face was dominated by a wide, dribbling maw from which a few jagged and crooked teeth jutted. Each limb ended in stubby digits, four fingers topped with thick talons on each hand, and three toes on each foot.

The alien was naked, revealing the rippling musculature under the olive-green scales that shimmered in the light as if wet or oily. Most notably, it had a long flaccid cock dangling over a hefty set of balls, the ribbed crown of the penis dangling about the obviously male creature's knees.

He didn't seem to look in Bandit's direction at all, as the suddenly small wolf stood frozen in a mixture of shock and repulsion. He wasn't so much jealous of the towering alien's physique, more so cringing wondering if the thing wouldn't mind putting on some fucking pants.

The lizardman sauntered calmly, stepping between the floored marines to observe the catch. The women who'd tackled Widow Platoon looked up at him longingly for approval as he moved nearby. He merely regarded them back with a soft snort and moved on. It didn't take much brainpower for Bandit to imagine the working relationship here. This beast had somehow hypnotised these former crewmembers of the Think-Tank. And it was no coincidence that all of those hypnotised were female and - with a glance he inspected the bodies in the corner of the room again - all the dead were male.

He came to a sudden stop and did a double take. The lizardman's small, crimson eyes fell on where Corporal Madison lay, held down by four women - one pinning each of her limbs. Immediately, there came a grumble of approval. A thick, frog-like tongue ran across his scaly lips, leaving a thin sheen of saliva. With a claw he beckoned the women holding Madison down.

"Big slut," came the beast's grumbling voice in broken, guttural Terran. "Big slut good for deep fuck."

The women under the lizardman's command cooed as if understanding and slinked away, leaving Madison unrestrained. Bandit fully expected the alien to get a good ass-kicking now and actually smiled a little. Any second now she'd roll towards her rifle and put a forty-millimetre grenade down the fucker's gullet...

Except Madison didn't move in any way Bandit was familiar with. Instead of dashing to her fallen weapon, or even charging the lizardman with violence of action, Madison very calmly climbed to her feet. Then walking with a feminine grace that oozed sexuality, the tigress walked up to the lizardman. Her hips wagged from side to side with a light swish of her tail, as if she was rubbing her thighs together in anticipation for that enormous appendage between the alien's legs. The display had the lizardman's large, ribbed cock twitching, gently swelling as it began to harden.

Inch by inch the cock began to rise and by the time Madison was in arm's reach, the rigid member stood to full attention with a slight upward bow. The head had swollen to the girth of a fist (in fact the whole thing looked like Bandit's muscular arm had grown out of the lizardman's crotch) decorated with a few fleshy ridges that almost resembled callouses.

Reaching out, Madison firmly grasped the head in one hand, the other tearing off her helmet to reveal the lust drunk smile across her face. Her eyes, usually bright and intelligent were dull, more resembling the vapid stare of a cock hungry bimbo. The other marines, Bandit suddenly noticed, were no longer struggling either, their expressionless visors all staring at the lizardman's pulsing cock with rigid attention.

Before Bandit's shocked eyes, the Amazonian marine who had decked him on the sparring mat more times than he could count squatted down low, and still gripping the head of the cock, ran her rough tongue from the base across every barb, rib and bump along the shaft right to the tip, where she suckled and lapped lovingly with the skill of a pornstar.

The lizardman grunted with approval, then lifting her in the air by her waist, roughly slammed the tiger down on a stack of cargo crates that were about tall enough to put her at crotch height to him. With a dull thud the lizard then slapped his cock down on top of Madison, who giggled girlishly and hugged the appendage like a girl snuggling a large teddy-bear.

A teddy-bear that unleashed a small spurt of clear, jelly-like precum across her face. The glob of thick, warm, slippery arousal splattered Madison across her nose and she shut her eyes, some of it falling into her mouth. She smacked her lips though, hungrily swallowing the stuff down before desperately lapping at the lizardman's cock for more.

He didn't give it to her though, instead rolling his hips back to spread some of the precum across her front. All over her armour it went, hissing and smoking wherever it touched her gear. More of the precum drenched her crotch, causing armoured plates to crumple and tear away like wet carboard, clothes subsequently eaten away as if dissolved in acid. Her fur and flesh below were unharmed however, drenching the orange and black stripes in her fur previously hidden by her modest battle dress.

Madison cooed as the lizardman thrust forward, the shaft now glistening with precum massaged the slippery goo between her thighs, up across her firm tummy and between her ample breasts. She grabbed her own nipples and squeezed her tits together, struggling to envelop the lizardman's cock between the large soft globes. Her legs were wrapped about the lizard's waist and with an excited moan bucked her bare cunny against the rigid length of meat massaging her body.

As she curled her legs up, defining the curves of her ass some more, her tail lifted and Bandit realised Madison hadn't been bullshitting about the butt-plug earlier. Lodged deep in her ass so only the wide round base was visible was a large rubber toy, the purple colour standing out against her fur.

The lizardman seemed to notice as well with a toothy smile.

"Good slut hungry for cock," the lizardman growled pulling back. "Slut thinks she ready for brutal lizard cock."

The utterance had many of the hypnotised women around him giggling at some unspoken joke. Madison didn't seem to be paying attention, her eyes shut and mouth agape with gasping anticipation as the pointed crown of the cock speared her swollen labia open. The lizardman paused at the entrance of her quivering canal, savouring the warm bead of moisture on his sensitive, sex-hungry glans.

Then without ceremony, he thrust forward. In one go, the cock disappeared into Madison's yearning body. She screamed at the top of her lungs, spine arching to press her body against the lizardman's, as his cock ripped, bump for bump, ridge for ridge into her tight pussy. Madison squirted at the same time, a torrent of her juices released all over the scaly crotch of the alien beast.

Even as she was squirming, a claw pinned Madison to hold her still. When he had a firm grip around her throat and around her waist, the beast began thrusting in and out of the mewling kitty wrapped about his member. She seemed nothing to him bar a warm sheath designed for his pleasure. He grunted, throwing his head back a little, savouring the wet warmth of a mammal speared on his cock.

"Like it? Mammal slut like brutal cock?"

Madison squealed and nodded jerkily. "I love it! Keep fucking me with your big brutal cock. Please, master, don't stop. Never stop~!

The women around, even the marines who were now barely being restrained anymore, crawled closer and watched with obvious jealousy as Madison was fucked absolutely silly by the immense alien. Madison's legs twitched and shook, it was the only bit of movement the lizardman would allow as he plunged in and out of her. Her mouth was agape, her shrieks of ecstasy echoing off into the distance loud enough to wake the dead and drown out the wet slaps of scaly flesh on fur.

Her hands clawed feebly at the lizardman's chest, leaving little rakes as she fruitlessly set her nails into his protective layer. Long lines of drool ran from the corner of Madison's mouth as her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her body trembling between the lizardman's claws as she came again and again over the course of a few long minutes. But on the whole, the frantic love-making session didn't take longer than that.

The lizardman suddenly stiffened and thrust deep, holding for a moment. Madison's large breasts jiggled, her whole body undulating with the deep thrust into her cervix, gasping sweetly as her body was irrigated with alien seed. The lizardman then pulled back... and thrust back inside, rolling his hips back into the same frantic fucking motion as before. The torrent of seed he filled Madison with leaked out of her stretched, quivering cunny, ran down her leg and formed a sizeable, thick puddle of cum beneath them.

One of the women darted forward, her tongue out to lap it up, before another, an anthro wolf leapt on it, forcefully shoved the other woman away and buried her muzzle into the opulent alien seed. With long, hungry laps like a dog sucking up a puddle of water after a trek through the desert, she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of the pearly white jizz, then tilted her head back and opened her mouth wide to catch a few thick dregs leaking directly from the source.

For almost five minutes this went on. The lizardman would stiffen, fill her up, then keep fucking. Madison would helplessly orgasm, again and again in the meantime, catatonic in a series of orgasmic afterglows blending together, the cock fucking her quivering cunny in earnest the whole time.

Finally, for what was the last time, the lizardman thrust deep, held for a second, then pulled out with a sodden pop. A torrent of seed he'd deposited in the tigress' belly flowed out of her stretched pussy like a waterfall into the wolfess' hungry mouth. She pressed her lips to Madison's pussy and sucked the cum out, gulp after gulp with much of it escaping to run down between hear furry breasts.

The lizardman in the meantime turned and a long geyser of cum hosed the women directly in front of him. He didn't ejaculate in spurts like Bandit, or any other man would. This was just one immense torrent, easily a few litres of thick spooge flowing freely as if someone had turned on a faucet. Thick and slimy, the cum glazed the dozen or so women in range. Many drank it down happily, a few even rushing up to close their lips about his crown in turn to choke down mouthfuls in turns. Others massaged the stuff across their bodies, their leftover shreds of clothing dissolving away as if the cum was some sort of selective acid.

Bandit stood, mouth agape, his body refusing to respond in any way bar the erection now painfully bent against the front of his pants. He was without words. Without thoughts. He didn't know what to do, what to think...

Survival instinct did finally kick in when the lizardman came down from his orgasmic bliss. The red eyes fluttered open and he looked down at his harem of worshippers, rubbing themselves eagerly against his softening cock. Even some of the marines, their armour melted away to reveal their tight, trim bodies underneath lapped up the alien's mesmerising seed, drank in his hypnotic musk and fought their way to the front of the crowd so they may bless their mouths against the hot flesh of his swinging member.

Only the lustful pride in the alien's eyes did not last very long. As he turned to decorate his harem and bask in their company, he also turned to face the security checkpoint. And on the other side of the glass, for the first time, he spotted Bandit standing paralyzed.

The alien changed as if a switch were thrown. One moment he was calm in orgasmic afterglow. The next his eyes had grown in size, burning with absolute fury. Spittle was flung from his maw as he let out a roar that shook Think-Tank in its orbit, and shoving aside some of his worshippers, the lizardman threw himself forward on all fours and slammed his head directly into the security glass.

With one blow, the pressure-tested acrylic glass - specifically engineered on a molecular level to withstand abuse from armour piercing bullets and even grenade blasts - cracked. First a spiderweb of breaks formed across the glass, then the lizardman put his fist clean through.

"Little bitch! Weak, spineless cuck! Beta man-whore! I'll crush you! Break you! Snap you in two!" The alien was belting out all sorts of nonsense as he tore away at the layers of glass in a desperate attempt to get at Bandit.

The marine didn't scare easily. But even he had to admit, in the face of this immense thing's inarticulate rage, it was time to_di-di-fucking-mau_!

Turning on his heel, Bandit booked it and didn't dare look back, even as he heard the security glass shatter and the long, thunderous bounds of the lizardman's footfalls follow him into the next corridor.

"Come back, puny creature! You can't have them! Sluts are mine! The pussy belongs around my cock!" Bandit heard the creature snarl among a long stream of muttered curses. "Impotent," "weak," "limp" and "tiny" were among many of the other insults being thrown his way. But to be honest, Bandit didn't have time or patience to tell this insecure cock-muncher he wasn't interested in taking away his playthings. Right now, Bandit was focusing on his breathing as he sprinted full tilt ahead of the alien.

Slamming into a wall at an intersection, uncertain which direction to pick, Bandit whipped around. Through the glowing sights of his assault rifle, he saw the lizardman follow, down on all fours and shouldering his way through the narrow corridor.

Bandit unloaded a full magazine into the creature, expecting something to punch through. To no avail, every armour piercing round slammed into his hide and bounced harmlessly off, leaving a momentary glowing mark of hot slag on his scales that then hardened and crumbled away.

His clip bottomed out and with a frustrated growl, Bandit tilted the weapon to see the bolt locked open. He picked a direction and kept running, dumping the empty mag and slamming a replacement in place. As he moved, he opened the underslung grenade launcher on his weapon and fed a forty-millimetre into the chamber. The forty-mike hummed as he set it for overcharge, with a bit of hope and a short little prayer. Bandit was by no means a religious man, but atheists in foxholes and all that.

Slipping through a half-opened doorway, Bandit skidded to a halt in what looked like some sort of workshop. Tools line the racks and workbenches. There were more bodies like in the security checkpoint, less visceral but all bludgeoned to death never the less. No doubt these were caught by the lizardman's harem, hypnotised into doing the violent bidding he himself wanted to do to Bandit.

On the far end of the room was an elevator, the power seemed to be out and the doors were wedged open with a maintenance sign dangling from the control panel. He didn't see any other way out of what was essentially a dead end.

The lizardman wasn't far behind, and with terrifying strength the thing tore open the maintenance doors Bandit had squeezed between. Trapped halfway though, the broad beast struggled to fit through the doorway, and clawed at the deck, leaving massive gouges in the floor.

Jumping back, Bandit levelled his assault rifle. Only instead of fingering the trigger, his off-hand thumbed the controls for his grenade launcher. The shot was going to be danger-close. But Bandit was fresh out of ideas, and out of time.

He pulled the trigger and the launcher let loose a loud 'thoomph' followed by a deafening bang of the concussive 'forty-mike' grenade. The Space Corps wasn't so insane to issue their marines high explosive shells for a boarding action, so they introduced the latest innovation DARPA had come up with. The concussive rounds were less fire and shrapnel, and more localised outburst of energy that could put a charging bull on its ass.

Bandit only half heard the explosion before the concussive wave of noise left naught but a faint ringing in his ears and knocked him clean off his feet.

It took several seconds for him to shake off the effects of the blast, his hearing slowly returning and his vision un-blurring. Sitting up, Bandit waved away banks of acrid smoke clouding the workshop. Slowly but surely the clouds parted and framed in the doorway where the lizardman had been moments before...

... the lizardman still lay, snarling with narrowed eyes and a fire of fury glowing in his irises.

"That was mistake," the lizardman growled irritably, and Bandit slumped a little with a sigh, silently agreeing.

Tensing himself, the lizardman started dragging himself forward. The doorframe holding him back buckled, rivets and bolts popping like bullets shot from a gun, bouncing about the room as the alien made some wriggle room. Inch by inch he clawed closer to wrap his digits around the rival male he was itching to pulverise.

Bandit glanced about for new ideas. And eventually his eyes fell upon the open elevator shaft again.

Screw it.

Rolling to his feet, Bandit threw his rifle into its sling as he leapt out of the raging lizardman's reach and into the elevator shaft. His gloves wrapped about the steel cable from which the elevator hung far below, but with decades of grease coating the cable, the wolf failed to find any purchase. His hands slipped, and Bandit plummeted down through the shaft.

The darkness swallowed Bandit a moment later, a deafening clang and a flash of searing pain the last thing his senses registered before the world blurred, and the black took him.

---

II

"Warning: Minor trauma detected."

Bandit grumbled.

"Warning: Minor trauma detected. Enable medical diagnostic for more details..." the harsh, gruff mechanical voice meant to emulate that of an authoritative drill instructor droned on, rousing Bandit from his uncomfortable slumber.

His head hurt. His back hurt. His nails hurt... hell with it, everything hurt. But the inner tough-guy forced him to jerk his eyes open and blink away salty tears. Slowly but surely Bandit sat up and looked around.

Far above he could see the faint lights of the workshop. The frame of the elevator doors were no longer wedged open for maintenance, rather the alien beast had ripped them clean out and completely buckled the frame. But thankfully, thinking him dead, the lizardman had abandoned the search there.

Bandit had landed on the roof of an idle elevator about a dozen metres below, the crack running across his visor and some of the OLED fluids seeping oily streaks over his field of view indicating his armour had taken the brunt of the hit.

To his side were set of doors leading out of the elevator shaft, wedged open for maintenance like those above. Beyond was the harsh, almost blinding sterile lighting of the station proper. Doffing his rifle, Bandit tested his harms and legs were still working, then crawled slowly out of the shaft.

He found himself on some sort of office or laboratory level in the lower levels of Think-Tank.

The corridors were decorated with long panes of glass and stark white plasteel panelling. The floors were squeaky clean and the LED tube lights in the ceiling gave the place an all too perfect heavenly glow. Most unsettling, a grim silence filled the halls.

Sitting on one knee, Bandit pulled off his helmet, gave the broken visor a quick look, then deciding it was a total loss, tossed the headgear.

Under his wargear, Bandit was quite a mint specimen of prehistoric Alpha wolf. Young, easily still in his mid-twenties, he had a sturdy muzzle with powerful jaws, jet black fur broken up by some patches of dark grey, brown eyes and his black hair was cropped short and tight in the typical fashion of a jarhead. His vulpine face suited his muscular build, and even among the progressive social circles where this exemplar of masculinity wouldn't be much appreciated, least of all respected, he'd still earn a secretive glance or two from even the most rabid feminist.

Inspecting his weapons, the wolf took stock of his predicament.

Situation: alien specimen on the loose. From what he could observe, it was a walking tank, highly aggressive towards men and was turning women into a mindless army of zealous followers.

Objective: while Bandit was no tactical genius, discerning his new mission parameters was easy. Kill the alien, rescue the mind-slaves.

Problem: Bandit was, as mentioned above, no tactical genius, and a far cry from a scientist. The alien had sucked up a whole magazine of armour piercing rounds and taken a forty-mike to the face like it wasn't even shit.

Solvable: Think-Tank was a research station. They were bound to have experimental hardware on board. No doubt he could find something with which to kill the alien. He could worry about the rest later.

First things first. Bandit slid his rifle over one shoulder and slung it across his back before drawing the blaster on his hip. He set the fire selector to less-than-lethal with a flick of his thumb. Bandit wouldn't have enough ammo by any stretch of the imagination to deal with all of the alien's cock-slaves. But so long as he kept things quiet he could sneak about unhindered and reserve ammo purely for self-defence.

Keeping the pistol in a two-handed grip, Bandit found his feet and pressed forward.

Closer inspection revealed he was somewhere on the station's research and development levels. It was a curious mixture of laboratories, observable from the corridors through long windows, and sprawling office blocks packed with cubicles.

The labs were unlike anything Bandit had seen before. They looked more like a sterile sex dungeon than a research facility. The first most notable things were massive steel racks upon which one might restrain a biped much like the alien lizardman. There were smaller steel pillories too, and large stretchers to which you could chain a man twice Bandit's size. Additionally, he spotted mounts for chains and shackles on ceilings, floors and walls.

The tool racks were just as interesting. Some of the equipment was mounted on highly advanced robotic arms. Some of the appendages were phallic in nature, others sported silicone vaginal openings like over-sized fleshlights. There were neuron-whips, coils of rope, chains galore and a few more normal sized moulds of various anthro cocks. The one Bandit recognised was a replica of a canine cock, complete with a knot, almost as big as his own.

Pausing to look, Bandit tried to wonder exactly what kind of research was being performed here. When his mind wandered to filling a pillory with a sexy woman in a lab-coat, getting fucked silly by robotic dildos and lines of horny men; Bandit quickly shook his head and moved on before he was afflicted by another erection. Now was hardly an appropriate time.

Pressing through a glass door onto one of the offices, Bandit gave the large room a quick sweep. Satisfied he was alone, he holstered his sidearm and took a closer look at the nearest desks. Sitting at the nearest terminal, he decided to at least try and research his predicament a little. Surely there would be some research notes or video logs explaining what the hell was going on around here.

His first casual search of the chosen cubicle indicated little more than the fact this was a woman's terminal. The lady-scented hand moisturiser on the desk, and the letters melted off the keyboard by nail varnish gave it away. Some snooping through the drawers in the desk revealed more blatant details.

Cocking an eyebrow, Bandit lifted a long phallic machine from the drawer. It was a light pink-purple colour, with a bulbous head, soft ribs and nubs all along the shaft and a hooked appendage at the front Bandit recognised would be for clitoral stimulation. While admiring the guts of the woman who owned this terminal to 'relieve a little stress' on work hours with colleagues so close by, he must have touched something as the rabbit vibrator started to hum and wriggle in his hand. In a moment of panic he dropped the device back in the drawer and kicked it shut, before sheepishly searching for another cubicle to raid.

This one was a bit more spartan. Probably a man's workstation going by the smell of cheap cologne. Additionally, this one seemed like a good prospect for intel-mining as Bandit found a sticky note with a password stuck to the screen. It took the marine a second to log in, but he was quickly presented with a new conundrum.

Bandit couldn't make heads or tails of the folder structure. There were documents galore, shared drives coming out of the wazoo and folders named after projects, codenames, chemicals, experiments... it made Bandit's head spin trying to decipher even a fraction of it all.

Eventually he found an unread email from a Doctor Kara Weaver, which proved to be a promising start. Attached was an audio file with an embedded play button.

"William, if I've told you once, I've told you a million times," a woman's voice, presumable that of Kara Weaver, spoke tersely from the computer's speakers. She had that no-nonsense tone, but it was the feminine type of no-nonsense that excited rather than intimidated. "Stop leaving sticky notes with your passwords laying about the place. And for the love of all that is logical, will you please follow the standard filing procedures? I found more of your video observations in the wrong file location. Everything to do with the new specimen goes in the 'Species 42' folder on the L: drive!"

Bandit browsed to that folder first and found rows upon rows of video files inside. He picked one at random and hit play.

Instantly a window showed a wild alien world from the perspective of another. The helmet cam bobbed as the wearer followed behind a few other expedition members. They wore full armour with respirators similar to Bandit's own gear. Most were armed as they trudged cautiously in a loose formation towards the idling drop ship waiting in a mesa a hundred metres away.

The expedition member just ahead lifted a hand to his helmet and his report could be heard across the cross-comm. "Think-Tank, ground-pounders are returning to the drop ship now. Expedition was a success. We have secured the specimen. Expect us back in orbit in twenty minutes."

As a woman's voice confirmed, not that of Kara Weaver as far as Bandit could tell, going by her Irish brogue, the recording tilted as the helmet cam wearer looked over his shoulder. Directly behind were several more men in identical dress escorting a hover dolly.

Restrained, groggy from the litres of tranquiliser pumped into his system and loaded on the dolly was the scaly goliath himself. The alien lizardman who now ran Think-Tank had obviously been brought aboard from the planet below against his will. But no doubt he was enjoying his new habitat, evidenced by the harem of female crew at his beck and call

Behind the lizardman's dolly was another. That one seemed to have been reserved for a second specimen, however was stacked high with body bags.

Closing the window, Bandit skipped ahead a few videos. The next opened up on a redhead vixen in one of the labs he had passed earlier. She was pretty, somewhere in her mid-twenties and sported an intelligent sparkle in her green eyes. Her long red hair was elegantly curled, framing her face. She wore a pressed blouse under her lab coat, buttoned all the way up to her throat with a modest black skirt down to her mid-thigh. Her coat-tails hung down as far as her calves which were covered in opaque black tights and she wore a pair of smart high heels drawing attention to the slender length of her amazing legs.

Nothing about this woman was particularly promiscuous, and somehow she wore modesty in such a sexy manner Bandit could feel his cock hardening at the sight of her anyway.

"This is project lead, Aoife Doyle," she said in the Irish accent Bandit recognised from the previous video. "And joining me is our new guest. Say hello, Species 42."

The image panned over and standing in the lab beside her was the familiar bulk of the lizardman. He was restrained with titanium shackles in an X-shaped rack. Restraints were clamped over his arms, legs, wrists and ankles, forcing him spread eagle with his muscular nakedness on full show. Though despite his predicament, there was a faintest glimmer of a satisfied grin on his scaly lips as Species 42 seemed to be undressing Aoife Doyle with his eyes.

"This specimen has picked up some Terran language these past couple of days." Aoife told the camera drone. "Apparently it's not dissimilar from his own native tongue. He's introduced himself as 'Trusk,' which is certainly less of a mouthful than having to call him Species 42."

Giggling at some joke Bandit didn't get yet, the camera followed Aoife as she turned and boldly strode closer to Trusk than the marine would ever care to get. Reaching out, she scooped up the enormous flaccid cock dangling between the lizardman's legs.

"And speaking of mouthfuls," she giggled, making Bandit roll his eyes.

The camera zoomed in a little to frame Aoife's petite hands hefting the near twenty-inches of light pink man-flesh. A trickle of precum seemed to form at the head as she ran her fingers over the uneven surface of the shaft, drawing attention to the bumps and ribs.

"The primary reproductive organ is not dissimilar from that of a Terran male. Size is an obvious difference, considering the large build of the average male. There is no protective sheath. Testicles are guarded by scales, like the rest of the body. Preliminary tests indicate they can store several litres worth of semen at one time. Trusk's kind are built specifically for chained ejaculation." She seemed to sigh. "I wish Terran men were in some way built like this."

Giggling to herself, she began blatantly stroking her hands up and down the shaft. One hand squeezed over the head, slippery precum squelching between her fingers. Quite quickly, the member hardened, swelling until it was too thick for her to wrap her slender digits all the way around. She seemed to try and push the cock back down, grunting with effort as she failed and the muscular member just bobbed back up again.

"The penis is very powerful as well, covered in these ridges and barbs we can't discern a use for." The precum was dribbling like a small waterfall from the tip now, and Aoife's tone became a little uneven. "The smell is also quite..." she paused and moaned. "I don't... something's wrong. I'm getting a little... light headed-..."

The video cut out as if victim of corruption. Static blasted the speakers for a second. Then the video resolved itself, a cacophony of sodden thrusts and erotic moans filling the room.

Bandit almost leapt out of his seat, then scrambled to mute the video like a teenager caught browsing porn on the school computer.

The sound was turned down to a more modest level, while on screen was a scene worthy of an amateur porno. Aoife's face was the first thing he saw. Her mouth agape, a dumb look in her rolling eyes as she undulated back and forth, tongue hanging out the side of her muzzle and a long string of drool swinging back and forth. Her clothes were mostly melted away by Trusk's precum, ladders torn into her tights by his groping claws, her shirt shredded open, bra missing and the white fur on her tits glistening wetly as they jiggled back and forth with the thrusts. A wet slap of scales on sodden fur rang out each time she rocked back, driving Trusk's cock under her skirt and up into her snatch. Her high heels gave her just enough elevation she didn't have to squat or stand on her tippy-toes. She just bent over, pulled up her skirt and took the lizardman's brutal length into her pussy.

Trusk's massive hands were wrapped about the vixen's slim waist to hold her in place, his grunts and Aoife's blubbering, mindless moans for "harder," "deeper," and somehow "more cock, please~!" drowned out the wailing containment breach alarms ringing in the background.

Bandit closed the video, blinked hard a few times, then with the same curiosity of a man who'd just found some new fetish he wasn't entirely sure turned him on or not, delved deeper into the video files. Clicking the next one he was introduced to another woman framed on the screen.

This woman was much like Aoife Doyle had been. She looked smart, and was undoubtedly pretty. The only difference was, this one flaunted her sex-appeal.

A pale furred snow leopard, the feline had a bob of platinum blonde hair, the diagonal fringe brushed out of her face to reveal her icy blue eyes behind a few errant tresses. She was a little older than Aoife, but this feline had a trim, yoga-sculpted body. Slender hips, athletic curves and reasonably sized breasts that were by Bandit's guess, a playful handful each.

She was dressed to show off. Her blouse was partially unbuttoned, revealing a few frills of her black bra framing her cleavage. Her black skirt was long enough that it was appropriate for an office setting, but short enough to reveal the solid black hold-up bands of her translucent tights ending about the mid-thigh. Her shoes were more like a pair of fuck-me pumps than something a respected scientist would wear in the office.

Even the leopard's stance was something of a mistress ready to shove your face between her thighs. Feet slightly parted, a hand on her hip to draw more attention to the curves of her ass and the length of her slender legs - her legs alone held Bandit's stare long enough he had to catch a line of drool dripping form his lips. Her rectangular glasses just completed the whole ensemble.

"Day four of Species 42 research," said the familiar, terse voice that had directed Bandit to these video files in the first place. "This is Doctor Kara Weaver. I have been appointed by the station director as the new project lead in the wake of Miss Doyle's... err... incident."

Now that he had a face to put to the sexy voice, Bandit rested his head in one hand and watched with interest as the good doctor walked up to the camera and flipped the device around.

After some micro-adjustment to the focus, Trusk was once more framed in view. This time he was being observed from the far side of a glass pane. Inside the isolated lab he was restrained spread eagle just like before, and joining him were two male figures in full hazmat suits. Between them, the men held what looked like a massive fleshlight with the top cut off, and they worked it up and down Trusk's erection. With every deep thrust, the tip of the lizardman's alien cock popped out of the top and a glob of semen plopped out into a large sample jar.

Bandit suddenly realised maybe his job didn't suck as badly as theirs did.

"We are gathering samples of Trusk's bodily fluids for testing," Kara explained somewhere off-camera. "He doesn't have any sweat glands, so we're starting with excrement and sexual discharge. So far his semen is the most promising discovery. These past few days we've discovered that any women who enters the room with Trusk holds his interest. And the moment he begins to secrete precum, in preparation to mate, the women report feeling light headed. Moments later their personality shifts and they unabashedly mate with Trusk." Kara paused to think then reworded her observation. "Though 'mate' is probably not the exact right word for it. They fuck... frantically. There's no desire for procreation in the acts performed. The female will bathe in Trusk's cum, ingest it as if it's the most delicious milk she's ever tasted. They'll relish in the pleasure again and again as if sex is the only thing worth doing in life.

"Men are unaffected by this phenomenon. In fact, Trusk becomes visibly agitated when men enter his field of view.

"Our studies of this effect lead us to believe there is a pheromone in Trusk's sexual secretions that reacts to female brain chemistry, releasing excessive dopamine so that they become, in essence, addicted to Trusk's presence.

"I've restricted access to Trusk to male members of staff only, at least until we can come up with... oh, for-... Dave, would you be careful!?"

One of the men, the smaller one with the leaner build, huffed and let go of the fleshlight milking Trusk. His hands on his hips he tutted bitchily in a voice that was just borderline effeminate.

"If you think you can do it better, Doctor Weaver, I invite you to do it your damn self!" Dave called, clearly quite unhappy with his given task.

He'd been careless, with one gloopy wad of cum missing the rim of jar and drooling down the side to leave a thick cup-ring on the metal table. But as Dave let go of the thrusting fleshlight, the other man was left with all of the weight and he sagged with surprise.

Trusk thrust into the tight folds of the silicone toy and a larger, stronger jet of cum shot forth, splattering the observation window with a thick rain of splash-back hitting both Dave and his colleague. Instantly, the cum started eating through their suits, and as Dave thrashed almost out of instinct, throwing off the helmet and gloves to reveal the slight build of a grey furred anthro rat underneath.

The other man was not so lucky. Reacting to the cumshot in a way that it didn't seem to affect Dave, the man screamed. Thick, black acrid smoke rose from his form as he thrashed, the liquid eating through his suit... then into the anthro beneath.

A sudden throe of panic knocked the camera over and in the commotion, Bandit heard screams for a containment and medical team, Kara's high heels rapid-fire on the polished lab floor and the hypersonic charge of security teams loading their stun-batons.

The image was a blurry mess before the video finally cut to a camera drone. The timestamp had skipped about five minutes, and showed a group of people in the isolated lab's airlock. Kara waited just outside, only half in frame as she watched a technician work frantically on the door access panel.

"What's taking so long?" Kara asked.

"It's locked from the inside. I'm working on it," the technician said urgently.

The camera followed Kara as she moved back to the observation window and inside, Bandit saw that Trusk was still restrained. The man who had been screaming earlier as the cum ate into his suit had been reduced to a partially dissolved soup of blood and bone. Bandit raised an eyebrow, recognising the burns from the bodies he'd seen in the security checkpoint earlier. Trusk had done that, but not with weaponised plasma. The damn lizard could melt men with his freakin' jizz!

'Dave' on the other hand seemed un-affected, much like the women Trusk had doused in his jizz so often. The rat was on his knees however, that familiar blank look of desperation to serve in his eyes as he shoved and pulled the fleshlight, mouth open wide to purse his lips over the tip of Trusk's cock. The lizardman's member still convulsed, flooding the scientist's mouth with wave after wave of salty cum that burst from his lips, ran down his chin and chest, dissolving the front of the rat's hazmat equipment.

"How is this possible?" Kara asked. "How has Trusk hypnotised a man? His pheromones only work on women! The lab tests-..."

"I didn't want to say anything, because it was a fucking HR nightmare already, but 'Dave' isn't technically a man," someone called from off-screen. "He was born Danielle Lummel, and personally identifies as male."

"Oh no, you have got to be fucking kidding me." Kara groaned, pinching the bridge of her muzzle between a thumb and forefinger.

Trusk on the other hand was immensely amused by the whole affair. Ignoring the melted man laying just a few feet away, he laughed loudly between pleasured grunts.

"Haha! Puny mammals funny! Impotent male actually a tight little whore thirsty for seed of real man!"

There was more to the video as Kara seemed about to go into a rant, but Bandit closed the window. He had the general idea for what was going on. He scanned down the line of videos and noted one more standing out.

The vast majority were marked with case note serial numbers and dates. This one was simply named 'Brides.' Curious, Bandit gave it a click.

Not only was it named differently, but the format of this video was different. Instead of showing the feed from a helmet cam or a camera drone, this video seemed to have been pulled from CCTV surveillance, and spliced with a voice-over.

"Chief of Security, Sam Ward here. The brig has been appropriated by the Species 42 research team, and they've brought me up to date on a potential security risk," the voice-over said.

The video showed the exterior of the cells at first. the heavy steel doors were shut, observation shutters closed, with each door flanked by a pair of anthros kitted in riot gear and LTL shotguns.

"Currently our five-star bed and board is being provided to a total of six women from the Species 42 team," Ward continued to say with a joking tone in his voice. "Willy asked me to go over some notes so this update can go on the record... provided he remembers to file the video in the right place."

The video divided the screen into quarters. Each of the four views showed the interior of a different cell. Each held a different woman. Two were canid of some sort, the details escaping Bandit. Another was a rabbit, her long ears slicked down the back of her head. The fourth a feline. Each of them was relatively young, each quite attractive, but none were particularly familiar.

"These poor women were caught in lab accidents, turned straight up psycho by Species 42. We've started calling them Trusk's Brides,' for obvious reasons. These women had to be restrained, not even for their own safety but ours. They're hyper aggressive against men not Trusk and they'll obsess over Species 42 non-stop. They're like crack addicts for his baby batter.

"When not trying to murder their male colleagues, the Brides are throwing tantrums or showing hyper-nymphomaniac tendencies, self-administering sexual pleasure for sometimes hours on end." There was a pause in which Bandit heard some shuffling papers. "Will's got a way with words anyway... ah, here we go."

The view changed to show the last cell. This one was inhabited by two figures. The first was Aoife Doyle. The other was 'Dave' from the previous video.

"This is the co-habitation experiment. Former project leader Aoife Doyle, and Danielle Lummel. For obvious reasons, HR finds it a little redundant to use Danielle's preferred pronouns right now."

The anthro rat was laying back on the shared bunk, her long slim legs spread wide and hooked around behind her arms. That gave Aoife exactly what she needed, leaning forward and pressing her lips firmly to Danielle's quim. As the vixen's broad tongue slipped between the tighter woman's swollen lips, Danielle gave a silent cry, her eyes crossing as she shuddered with pleasure from her ears right down to the tips of her toes.

"These two have been going at it for days straight. Friends and family pointed out that before contact with Species 42 they were strictly heterosexual. But after, it seems both have given over to bisexuality without any issue."

There was another shuffle of paper as Ward seemed to go back and forth through the notes, coming to terms with what it was he was reading. "Man, this is pretty fucked up right here."

Bandit killed the video and leaned back, the chair squeaking under him. He wasn't going to pretend he understood absolutely everything that was going on. For instance: why in the literal fuck would anybody want to fuck about with a dinosaur whose musk enslaves women and whose jizz melts the flesh off other men!?

Needless to say, he failed to see exactly what the worth of the Species 42 research was. Still, what was done was done. Bandit just had to figure out how to fix it, or Trusk would turn him into people-soup next.

At least he'd learned something new. Skimming a few more video logs detailing Kara Weaver's research, Bandit figured out he was dealing with an uber patriarchal alien whose whole culture - if you could call it that - revolved around fucking up men and building a harem of women addicted to his cock. Additionally, it seemed Trusk wasn't entirely invincible. He had an intelligence, somewhat. And a bit of an ego. That could be exploited. And the research staff had tranquilised him on at least one occasion.

Putting Trusk to sleep might be step one in putting him down. Heck, maybe pumping him full of enough tranquilisers might just stop his heart. It was as good a place to start as any. Kara Weaver said the station director had a hand in making her project lead. No doubt she might have been given administrative privileges on station workings. Figuring she might have records on where the station's tranquiliser stores and delivery methods were stored, Bandit decided to search her office next.

Kara Weaver's office was not hard to find. It was the only office secluded from the rest. It also had her name printed on it in bold letters. But before he could head inside, Bandit heard a faintly muffled, feminine moan.

A sound that normally would have invited him in, instead made his heart skip a beat as he pulled his sidearm. He kicked the door open a heartbeat later and followed his gun inside.

Waiting for him was a sight that should have been every college frat-boy's dream, but considering everything happening aboard Think-Tank, Bandit was too hopped up on adrenaline to really admire the sight of two woman holding down a third and pleasuring her silly.

All three figures were easily recognisable. First and foremost was Kara Weaver, the anthro snow leopard who had until recently been the Species 42 project lead was now suspended on her executive desk. Her wrists were bound in electrical cord, tied off through a ceiling rafter above, while her ankles were restrained to each corner of the desk to keep her thighs spread wide. She was almost completely naked, wearing just her glasses and the translucent hose on her left leg half pulled down.

Completely bare as if clotting was an egregious offence, were Aoife and Danielle. The former was on her knees in front of Kara, eating her out like she had done for Danielle in the brig, while the latter kept one hand over the snow leopard's mouth to muffle her cries, gently kissing her slender neck while her free hand toyed with the rosy flesh of her bare nipples. Kara tugged at her restraints in time with Aoife's zealous licking motions, to no avail, her eyes rolling into the back of her head while glistening trickles of drool ran between Danielle's fingers.

The anthro rat looked up, an absent half-lidded gaze catching Bandit on his entry. She seemed tortured for a moment. She wasn't ready to choose between tightening her grip on Kara's nipple and grabbing the nearby letter-opener with which to assault Bandit.

Aoife was set in her decision. Her ear twitched to acknowledge the bang of the marine kicking in the door, but the vixen didn't move away from Kara's pussy. Instead, she ate deeper into the sopping pink flesh, Kara's voice heightening into a squeal that Danielle's hand could only barely block.

Bandit didn't give them another second to think about what they were going to do. His finger feathered the trigger of his blaster, putting two energy blasts into Aoife, right between the shoulder blades. She squealed into Kara's slid, then went slack and crumpled unconscious to the ground, smoke rising from the singed fur on her back.

Danielle had time to let out a frustrated cry, separating herself from Kara and going for that letter-opener. Bandit caught her in her bare breast with a third shot, mid-lunge. The disruptive energy coursed through her most sensitive nerve endings for a second, and the slender rat's whole body shuddered. She lost her footing and dropped to her knees, eyes rolling as a squirt of girl-cum trickled down her thigh, and eventually she went down.

By the time Bandit shut the door behind him and finished a final sweep of the office, Kara came out of her daze. Her eyes were still glazed over as she looked Bandit up and down, and for a moment he figured she might go crazy like the other women on Think-Tank.

However, before she went full Bride of Trusk, she asked, "Are you with a rescue party?" Her voice was husky from edging close to orgasm on the tip of Aoife's tongue.

Bandit hesitated, wondering with his finger on his blaster trigger if he should just tuck her in and move on, but something slowed his judgement. He nodded slowly.

Still panting, her bare breasts heaving rather nicely, Kara glanced at the door expecting more marines to pile in. After a brief silence, she swallowed a breath. "Are there more of you?"

Bandit shook his head.

"You'll have to do then." She glanced up at her bound wrists and seemed to have come the rest of the way down from the pleasure of Aoife's dexterous tongue. She cocked a slender eyebrow, seeming more offended by her binds than the fact she was naked and in a compromised position before the sex-starved marine.

"Well? Are you going to cut me down?" Back was the bossy sort of 'I'm smarter than you' tone Bandit recognised from her on the recordings.

Hesitantly, Bandit glanced down at the unconscious women, and Kara's eyes followed is before she sighed impatiently with a roll of her eyes.

"Think about it, marine. If I were a sex-crazed lunatic there would have been no need for Trusk's Brides to restrain me."

It was a good point. Bandit gave a nod, then pulled his bayonet and cut the woman loose.

Immediately after, his brain seemed to catch up to the situation. Standing in front of him, rubbing her wrists and looking for her clothes stood an exquisitely sculpted woman in her early thirties, unburdened the the fatty trimmings of motherhood as revealed by her gorgeous, naked figure. She reminded Bandit of a high school teacher he'd fantasised about; another woman who'd been older than him but held his fancy all the same. The delicious proportions were all the same, wide hips and an attractive pair of breasts he could easily slide his dick between, a trim sculped belly with long slender legs that seemed to go on forever. And now she wasn't wearing any clothes, Bandit could easily count the spots on Kara's fur and the rings about her slender tail... though that obviously wasn't what held his gaze.

Bandit swallowed, feeling his cock slide an inch out of its sheath and press against the inside of his shorts. He had to quickly turn around so he could stealthily pluck at his pants and arrange himself so the bulge wasn't so offensive.

Kara didn't seem to notice, assuming he turned away to give her some privacy as she rummaged through the clothes Aoife and Danielle had torn off before tying her up. Much of it wasn't very modest anymore. The buttons on her blouse were gone, the clasps of her bra were bent out of shape and broken. Ladders were torn into her thigh-high stockings, though that didn't stop her from pulling them on as carefully as she could. Her panties slipped up over the luscious curves of her ass next, followed by her skirt. Eventually she shrugged on her blouse, her nipples showing through the light fabric as she tied up the tails of the shirt across her chest, exposing her slim mid-riff and leaving a large plunging V-shape that showed off her ample cleavage.

"Bandit, is it?" she asked suddenly.

The wolf threw a furtive glance over his shoulder to see Kara was about ready. She slipped her feet into a pair of glossy black pumps and straightened her glasses. She must have read the nametape on his uniform. He turned to face her proper and nodded firmly, but her improvised outfit did nothing to settle the throbbing boner between his legs.

"I'm Doctor Kara Weaver. I guess you've already figured out part of what's going on here?" Bandit nodded, then looked at the unconscious women on the office floor again. "I avoided their fate by immunising myself against Trusk's pheromones. I created a protein that tricks the pheromone into thinking there's a Y-chromosome present in my body. But by the time I figured out how to administer it across the station Trusk had already broken containment and was running rampant. I've been dodging his brides for days, until just a few hours ago when Tweedledee and Tweedledum cornered me."

His expression must have betrayed his interest, especially as she was explaining how she immunised herself.

"In case you're wondering: yes, I can cure the Brides. But first we'll need to synthesise more of the protein. Are you up for a little science, Bandit?"

The marine smiled and gave her a thumbs up. He followed as she beckoned.

"Once I synthesise more of the protein I can aerosolise and pump it through life support. All of the Brides will be affected at the same time. They'll be cured and inoculated against Trusk's pheromones." Kara led the way past the offices towards the labs where Bandit had started exploring this deck. "Most of what I need is in the lab here. I just need one key ingredient."

Bandit was about to ask what that might be when Kara threw him a grim look. "You're not going to like it."

Frankly, today was going pretty shit, and Bandit didn't know how it could possibly get any more shitty. That was of course until Kara took advantage of his optimistic grin and informed him he needed to collect a sample of Trusk's semen.

Rock, meet bottom.

---

III

Finding Trusk proved to be the easy part. Even getting close to Trusk proved fairly easy. The reptilian had made the hydroponics deck his throne room, which worked in Bandit's favour. All across the main floor were mist-vents that managed heat and humidity among the glass houses where Think-Tank staff grew flora-based experiments. Bandit easily fitted through one of the grates and followed the under-floor tunnels to where Trusk had settled in for the evening.

His stealthy approach mixed with the fact Trusk was severely distracted by a dozen mouths worshipping his cock meant Bandit was able to get into position quickly and undetected. Now for the next part of the mission. Laying prone in the shadows, just below a grate above which a towering alien monster was getting his dick wet on numerous soft tongues.

There were at least five women lathering Trusk's length with kisses and licks while he lounged in a makeshift throne made from sacks of potting peat. All of the women servicing him were familiar to Bandit. Each of them steadfast marines before now, magically turned into cock-worshipping sluts.

The rest of Trusk's sizeable harem - at least those who weren't prowling the rest of the station looking for phallic objects to sit on - lounged at his feet, all watching with murderous jealousy as Trusk enjoyed the company of his newest toys.

But the apple of his eye turned out to be Specialist Tanner. The slim weasel was working on the head of Trusk's cock, one hand massaging the rim of his ridged crown while her lips planted sloppy French kisses on the tip. Her other hand was knuckle deep in her snatch, vigorously thrusting her fingers as deep as they could go into her depths. She was so wet, every time she pulled out a small waterfall of her fluids would run down her hand and splatter through the grate over which she knelt, a small trickle of femcum dribbling into the vent right in front of Bandit's face.

He barely dared breathe, watching Tanner's slippery juices form a puddle that reeked of arousing femininity right under his nose. There was a brief moment of panic his erection tenting his pants would somehow warn Trusk to the interloper's presence. Thankfully nothing happened.

Instead, Trusk waved the women off with a gesture that seemed uncommon for him. The women let out disappointed little moans, but obeyed. As they scattered though, Trusk reached out and caught Tanner by the arm. The motion was so sudden she should have yelped with surprise. Instead, Tanner moaned as if the touch of her master brought her unbridled pleasure. Immediately her fingers flew between her thighs again and she massaged her clitoris wetly under a fresh torrent of liquid arousal.

"Not you," Trusk growled. "Tight slut make lovely cocksleeve."

Tanner purred with a half-lidded gaze. "Yes, master." Her voice, previously loud, proud and laced with playful flirty tones, was now soft, half-whispered and thick with slutty seduction. "Fuck me silly. I want your dick in my body. Stretch me out, master. Use me like a living fuck-toy. Please, I want your big cock to tear me in half."

There seemed to be no thought to her words. She opened her mouth, and all that got past her lips were pure filth. Trusk liked it however, picking her up with a broad smile. She was like a toy in his hands, just one capable of wrapping all the way around her slim waist. He lifted her clean off her feet and turned her over until her legs were spread around his face. Then opening his mouth as if he was going to swallow her whole, a long, powerful tongue slid out between her legs, up over her belly until the tip slipped between the flat bumps that were her breasts.

Tanner cried out, trying and failing to plump up her flat chest, and instead just pulled and twisted at her dark brown nipples, convulsing and thrusting against the thick, slippery tongue thrusting between her legs. She closed her thighs over the slick appendage, grinding with lust and desperation. Trusk, getting the message, pulled back, lapping against her fur and tasting all of her body before slipping the narrow tip of his tongue between the sodden lips of her pussy. It found the winking canal of her vagina, then slipped inside with the power of a set of fingers, or a firm, well-lubricated cock. Several inches of tongue disappeared into her body and swelled, convulsed, wiggled...

Tanner's eyes were wide as she squealed with divine pleasure, more sweet filth and curses rolling past her lips.

With an eventual pop, Trusk withdrew, then lowered the shuddering weasel into his lap. Tanner's toes were still curling as she set her teeth into her bottom lip as Trusk planted her firmly on the tip of his cock. Her ass-cheeks were spread over the crown, her hands still massaging her lean chest while her legs hung twitching weakly below. The tip of Trusk's cock speared into her anus, stretching the dark ring of unexplored muscle just a little. Just enough for her to feel it. Enough or her to anticipate where all that cock was about to go.

It seemed an impossible feat at first. While Trusk's member still glistened with pussy juice and saliva from previous intimate attentions, it was still almost as thick as Tanner's barrel and almost long enough that the head would surely fill her throat if it went all the way up her ass.

And despite that, Tanner gasped excitedly, drawing her knees up a little and reaching down to spread her tight little tushy just a little more. She wanted it in her ass. She wanted all of her master in her. She wanted to feel him rip all the way through her body then drown in the waves of his sweet cum.

Bandit only knew that much because she said as much, using less articulate language.

"Yes!" she gasped breathlessly as holding her around the mid-riff, Trusk started to pull her down on his erection. "Yeeeeeessss! I want it! Fill me uuuuuuuu-AAAAAAAHHH~!"

Bit by bit her body stretched open around the head, possibly the widest part of Trusk's cock. Then, as her tight little ass wrapped over the cock head and pursed about the shaft, inch after inch began to disappear into Tanners firm, athletic body.

A bulge, the ribbed outline of Trusk's cock appeared in her belly. Her mouth hung open in a silent scream, short erratic gasps coming from Tanner as bit by bit, she eased down over the mighty spear she was being impaled on.

She finally sat back in Trusk's lap, his cock entirely sheathed in her ass. Tanner had become a cock-holster.

As Bandit silently mouthed an appropriate 'what... the... fuck...' he saw that somehow Tanner was still conscious, and somehow enjoying every throbbing moment of being wrapped around Trusk's member. She wore a silly, twitching expression on her face. One eye was a little wider than the other, her pupils rolled back, her tongue hanging limply out of her mouth and soft moans escaped her throat, indicating Trusk's member hadn't totally stopped it up just yet.

One of her eyes twitched in time with one foot, like a nervous tick as Trusk started to lift her up. Just a few inches at first, then slammed her back down on into his lap again. Bit by bit the lengths of his thrusts lengthened, until Tanner - now a living toy for the lizardman to fuck into a senseless stupor - had nearly a foot of cock passing in and out of her ass.

Her arms went slack, much like her legs were already. Her head rolled back and she undulated with each of Trusk's jerks, slamming the immense cock through her body with a tug of his arms and a roll of his hips.

Trusk was in heaven at the looks of it, enjoying Tanner's tight body wrapped about his cock. He didn't let up for a minute, and it reminded Bandit a little of himself that one time he was rushing to rub one out just minutes before his squad had to be assembled for a boarding action. Trusk was in this for himself. He didn't care about Tanner's pleasure, clearly. The fact her pussy was twitching and ejaculating little jets of femcum was sheer happenstance. Trusk wouldn't have cared one way or another. He was just masturbating, using Tanner's body.

Just a few minutes later, the rest of his harem watching jealously and fingering themselves while cursing Tanner under their breaths, Trusk got what he wanted. With a tightening of his gut and a long, loud roar, he wrapped his mitts about her body, arms and all and pulled her down until he was hilted inside the tight little weasel. Tanner gasped, then choked and gurgled. What happened next was almost as impossible as what had been happening for the past ten minutes.

Tanner heaved, still squirting and twitching with an orgasmic seizure as she did. Her lips pursed shut and her cheeks bulged. For a second it seemed she was going to vomit. Then, with a bulge swelling in her belly, Tanner couldn't hold it all in any longer. She opened her mouth and a fountain of Trusk's thick cum came spurting from her lips and out of her nose. With that same mindless expression the other Brides wore, Tanner let the salty spooge cascade down her bare body and splatter the floor beneath where the pair had been fucking frantically.

The waterfall of cum continued to cascade for a solid thirty seconds, before the pressure eased off and coughing, Tanner was allowed to catch her breath. Her aspect was utterly ravaged. Her fur was bedraggled, her belly swollen as if she were several months pregnant. Cum dribbled from her lips and nostrils, tears flowed from her eyes despite the rapturous blank expression on her face. Her whole body was coated in cum, while the rest of the Brides formed a riotous mob that surged forward to catch flying dregs of seed or lap it up off the floor. Nearly fifty mouths were open at once to catch the geyser of white slime, with many more mopping the floor with their tongues.

Trusk eventually lifted Tanner off his cock with a loud, wet plop. Before her ass was able to fully shrink closed, her belly deflated and a fresh waterfall of cum ran down the back of her legs and dribbled from her toes.

Trusk chuckled heavily, turning her over to give Tanner a good look. "Feckless cunt," he laughed, considering her expression.

She was then quite literally thrown aside by the lizardman, as if she were nothing more than a used condom... a twitching, moaning, fucked-silly used condom who lay there limply, her limbs sprawled unceremoniously while her fellow Brides crawled over and lapped the seed directly from her fur, face and puckered asshole.

Bandit couldn't even begin to guess how her ass wasn't a gaping cavern and she wasn't bleeding from ever orifice. Maybe there was some scientific skulduggery to it. Trusk's cum maybe had healing properties on women, the same way it was like hydrochloric acid for men. The marine decided to chalk it up to 'magic' and got on with the task at hand.

While some of the 'alphas' in the harem managed to fight to the front, drinking the rest of their master's essence directly from the source, Trusk leaned back and lounged in their affectionate attention. At the same time, much of the cumshot had missed all of the mouths, and some streams landed on the grated floor, right above Bandit's hiding spot.

Opening the specimen jar Kara had given her, the marine quickly - and carefully - held it out and filled it with alien lizard cum as if holding a glass under a water faucet. The musky, salty odour made him gag quietly, and looking away, quickly screwing the lid back onto the glass jar, Bandit managed to stop himself from heaving. His eyes still watered though, and the wolf fought to hold his composure.

He at least managed to tuck the sample away safely before it happened.

While Bandit was distracted, an excess drop of cum that landed on the grate right above where he hid slipped through the gaps and made its slow, gloopy way down onto the wolf's back. It started to hiss gently as soon as it touched the articulated body armour protecting Bandit's body, giving off wisps of smoke as it rolled down the sleek curves of the impact plating and slid between the chinks. Tearing smoothly through the under-armour, it hit his fur and flesh next, sending a lance of pain right through his body.

Bandit had never been burned by a plasma charge in his life, but he'd heard some horrifying stories of the worst pain imaginable. This, he imagined, was something like that. Only a tiny drop left a horrific burn on a tiny patch of flesh, and it was enough to cause a full body spasm. The vent rattled noisily all around him as Bandit thrashed with a mixture of agony and surprise, and he couldn't help letting out a scream through his gritted teeth.

Immediately clasping his hands over his muzzle, Bandit held his breath, trying and only partially succeeding in putting the pain into the back of his mind. Worse than the searing agony now throbbing on his left shoulder-blade, the sounds of suckling and fingering just above him stopped. An eerie silence descended upon the hydroponics deck. Despite the dull throb of pain retarding every conscious thought, Bandit sighed sarcastically.

Claws dug into the steel grating just above Bandit and the vent covers were torn away as if made of balsa wood. Towering over the wolf, Trusk looked down at Bandit with the same disdain he'd shown in their initial meeting. His chest heaved heavily, and his immense member instantly softened to dangle uselessly between his legs, as if the sight of the anthro wolf was equal to finding a dead animal between the sheets.

"Thought womanly scream was familiar," Trusk mused angrily.

Bandit rolled his eyes then flipped the lizardman the bird; because fuck him. And speaking of which, Bandit brought his rifle to bear, rolling onto his back at the same time.

Trusk immediately lunged forward, his massive hammer-like claws unable to quite fit into the vent. His maw opened wide and he seemed ready to try and chew his way to the marine. As he did, Bandit thought fast, shoving the muzzle of his rifle into Trusk's mouth and letting a sustained burst rip into the soft flesh.

Globs of blood and flesh splashed the marine as his shots finally penetrated. No scales to protect his mouth, Bandit gave the fucker a dozen fresh mouth-ulcers and just as many killer cavities to think about. Trusk recoiled in pain immediately, giving Bandit time to vault out of the floor vents.

Rolling to his feet, he dumped his empty mag with a sidelong flick of his assault rifle, eyes quickly counting the number of Brides torn between running to their beloved and jumping on Bandit to tear him limb from limb. He kind of wished he could have rewound the day to when Specialist Tanner alleged to the idea of Widow Platoon all raping him at once, just so he could answer, "Yeah, sure. Have at it, ladies." Because between the confused boner trapped in his pants and the fact nearly every woman in sight was ready to straight up murk him, getting gang-raped by a bunch of furry hotties seemed to be a more favourable outcome.

Bandit bounced before the Brides or Trusk could recover from the shock and awe of discovering the sneaky marine. He slammed another magazine of AP rounds in his rifle, mentally taking stock of the ammo he'd used up so far, then quickly transitioned back to his blaster. Several of the brainwashed women were standing between Bandit and the exit, and he didn't want a bodycount on his conscience.

Driving the pistol out in both hands, he took on a shoot-and-scoot tactic, firing as he went. Shots fizzled against naked bodies, some reacting with a common side effect to the stun setting on these low-yield sidearms. The energy bolts messed with the motor nerves of the target, but also tapped into the sense of touch. Hit a nerve ending connected to a pleasure response and the target was just as likely to have a sudden orgasm as they were knocked the fuck out.

Madison had a wrench in her hand and was seriously ready to cave Bandits head in. And she could have done it too, were Bandit not sporting an unfair advantage. He quickly caught the downward blow by her wrist with his forearm, and firing from the hip he put shots up her thigh. The first two slammed into her leg, the third carried up somewhat to hit her right in the cleft.

The tigress convulsed, eyes fluttering as she collapsed to the deck in a puddle of liquid gratification with the loveliest of squeals Bandit wished he could hear while holding her down on his bunk.

Bandit silently apologised as he ducked under another blow aimed at his head, struck back with a quick riposte then charged guns blazing forward again. The last two women in his path dropped along with an empty blaster mag, quickly replaced as Bandit sped his way out of hydroponics.

Behind, Trusk recovered from his mouthful of superheated lead and the heavy footfalls of his pursuit could be felt all across the deck. But Bandit was already skipping out the exit, turning only to punch a control panel and seal a set of heavy blast doors behind him.

Bandit had no delusions of grandeur. Not only did Trusk have several rocket scientists among his harem who could no doubt still operate a door, the lizardman could probably tear through the barrier if given enough time. Still, it would hopefully slow them down.

Darting into the nearest elevator, Bandit put as much distance between him and hydroponics as he could; a fresh Species 42 semen sample sloshing in his pocket, and another burning on his back...

---

IV

Doctor Kara Weaver fanned her face with one hand as a hot flush flared through her body, and for a dreadful second she wondered if maybe her immunisation against Trusk's pheromones had somehow worn off. Although, that wouldn't have made much sense, considering it wasn't the alien lizardman she was feeling suddenly hot for.

Even despite the threat of being killed or turned into a mindless cocksleeve, Kara felt oddly safe. They were delving into Think-Tank station's engineering decks. The life support control station was just up ahead, a place once bustling with activity now completely silent bar the hum of machinery.

Speaking of hums, there was an irritated cawing for attention between her legs, and Kara stumbled for a second. Her hands tightened on the silver case she carried, and she regained her balance. But the quickfire rattle of her high heels caught Bandit's attention, and the marine paused to look over his shoulder.

He was in the middle of clearing the next corridor, assault rifle shouldered, and still took the time to throw her a concerned look. She quickly flashed him a patient smile, assuring him she was fine. He didn't look entirely convinced, but still nodded and pressed on. They were so close to the life support station, so close to flooding the station with a counter-agent to Trusk's pheromone that would remove his hold on the women of Think-Tank. Then Bandit would have Widow Platoon back on his side, and hopefully enough firepower to deal with the lizardman.

Bandit's objective for the moment as simplicity itself. Protect Kara Weaver and that case of vials she was carrying.

Kara's desires were, and had been since Bandit had liberated her from her captors, a little more selfish. And following close behind her big strong escort who made sure to sweep room by room, corridor by corridor, that desire was only amplifying, manifesting in a large wet patch forming on her panties.

Her interactions with Aoife and Danielle had been over an hour ago. She'd been brought so close, but not quite to orgasm for a long time, teetering torturously before Bandit had rescued her. The time since should have calmed her down, but every time she focused on a task and distracted her mind from the more carnal needs of her body, Bandit walked into view and shattered every ounce of concentration.

His hovering while she prepared synthesis of the protein hadn't helped her initial progress much. Then he'd returned with the semen sample, proving he wasn't just nice to look at, but quick thinking and resourceful too. Perhaps not the brightest spark in this sector of space, but that didn't seem to be a very bad thing at the moment.

After finishing her synthesis she'd noticed he'd been injured while collecting Trusk's sample, and she'd insisted he strip so she could dress his wounds. The burns weren't very bad, thankfully. Bandit would certainly have a few more scars added to his collection, most of which were visible across his torso as he pulled off his shirt and faced away from her. Kara had only barely held her composure as she applied a burn salve to the angry wounds on his shoulder blade, biting her lip and fighting the urge to throw herself on him or slide her slippery fingers up her snatch.

Bandit of course had no idea what Kara was thinking, and that was almost frustrating enough for her to berate his intelligence again. He'd been hovering over her shoulder, watching her work as she synthesised the cure for the Brides, and every five minutes she'd snapped at him out of frustration. She couldn't remember too much of what she'd said, her mind constantly wandering from fantasy to fantasy, imagining him sidling up behind her and sliding his thick cock into her, or roughly bending her over the chemistry set and fucking her like there was no tomorrow...

She just hoped she hadn't taken her frustration out on him too harshly. God only knew, she wanted to take her frustration out on him in a non-verbal way as soon as they'd dealt with this crisis.

The lance corporal's ears twitched as there was a metallic clang somewhere off in the distance. Bandit was on stag in an instant. He grabbed Kara around the waist and protectively shoved her behind him, squaring off to where the noise came from like a heavily armed human shield.

For all intents and purposes, this really shouldn't have been Kara's type of guy. Bandit was more like the high school jock who would have at some point in time made fun of the smaller, geekier guys who would have been more Kara's speed. Believe it or not, Kara had not always been the slender wet dream of every man she met. She'd been chubby in her younger years, more the intellectual than the physical type. With pudgy cheeks, unfashionable glasses and a social circle padded out by cultures growing in a petri-dish, Kara hadn't been the type of girl to attract the attention of someone like Bandit. It was only in her college years when she got more active; realising she wanted the attention of guys like Bandit. So, she worked for it, the same way she worked for her PhD.

Easing off as the noise turned out not to be the prelude to an enemy approach, Bandit patted Kara on the arm to drag her out of her daydream, then led the way further into the engineering quarter.

"There," Kara said, breaking into a jog as she directed the wolf. "We're almost there."

Bandit hooked right through a set of open doors and swept the open chamber that was life support control to make sure it was clear. Like outside, not a sign of life. No bodies lying about either, which Kara was silently thankful for.

She quickly reached back and sealed the doors behind them, and carried her case to the main console against the far wall. Bandit on the other hand walked along the long panoramic window revealing space just outside. It showed off a small stretch of Think-Tank's upper engineering tiers, sparkling lagoons of solar panelling, and beyond, a lush green and blue planet too big to fit entirely in his field of view.

Kara booted up a workstation and started emergency systems. Among a plethora of features, life support had a built-in aerosol inoculation system. The design was specific to the air filters of these type of research stations. The idea was that in the case of a hazardous material outbreak, staff could quickly and effectively deploy an aerosolised countermeasure throughout the station. Although, the theory was solid enough in theory that companies were commissioned to build the thing... in practice, considering how quickly pathogens could spread in enclosed environments, Kara hadn't heard of any instances where this system had actually worked. Here was hoping Think-Tank could be the first.

She inserted the vials of the cure she had prepared into the receptacles, keyed in her admin details and fed the relevant commands. The system analysed the station, accepted the samples then started dispersal process. A large progress bar flashed onto the screen, filling green at an agonising crawl.

Kara noted Bandit watching it like a child watching a kettle boil.

"The system has to aerosolise the cure first, then backfill the system before releasing across every corner of the station," she explained. "It takes a little while unfortunately, especially on these older life support systems. Don't worry, the release is quite, er... potent," she added suggestively, her slowly drinking in the stoic marine. Her gaze crawled down his chest to his waist, then just a little lower. "Something I'm sure you're familiar with?"

Bandit cocked his head with confusion. It was kind of cute, like a puppy trying to figure out what its owner was trying to say.

Bending over the console she'd been working on, Kara gave her hips a rather blatant wag. The hem of her skirt was pulled up, revealing her damp silk panties clinging to her yearning cleft like a second skin. But despite what Kara was trying to tell him, Bandit gave a surprised blink and looked away like a gentleman had accidentally walked in on her while she was undressing.

Kara's ear flicked in irritation. The last thing she needed right now was a gentleman!

Taking a calming breath, Kara rolled her eyes and pushed off. There seemed to be no point to subtlety, so Kara walked over, squatted down until her face was level with his crotch and tore open his pants. For a badass marine, quick on the trigger any other time, he was slow to react to this engagement.

His bright red member had half slipped out of its sheath already, and a few skilfully planted licks saw it out the rest of the way. Long and hard, just the way she liked it, she figured Bandit was a little over ten inches long, with a rather hefty girth that only just fitted in her slender hands. Kara couldn't help herself, the dizzying scent of his masculinity making her mind race in all sorts of lewd directions.

She sucked his cock into her mouth without hesitation, and didn't stop plunging deeper until the tip jabbed her in the back of her throat, making her gag. Pulling back, she swirled her tongue over the head, then popped the member from between her lips and laid several long, sensual licks along the shaft. She worked from the tip down to the base, then base back up to tip, leaving no inch of the long member unloved.

Once he was nice ad slick, Kara jumped back to her feet and sat on the console she'd been working with. Her knees pulled up to her chest, she hiked up her skirt, spread her thighs and hurriedly tore the sodden silk of her panties aside.

"Girl-on-girl-action is really nice and all," Kara admitted. "But sometimes, nothing beats getting rammed by a nice big hot cock."

Bandit took the hint, finally. And to Kara's eventual relief he didn't turn out to be a timid virgin who needed showing the ropes. She wondered how many keening young sluts had been impaled on that big slab of cock already. A dozen? Two dozen? The higher her imagination went, the more experience she imagined he had railing women into an orgasmic stupor, the hotter her pussy got.

Bandit guided the tip of his cock against her swollen labia, and for a moment held fast. He seemed tense for a second, almost nervous. Then taking a calming breath, eased forward. The tip found a hot pool of moisture at the mouth of her arousal. Then planting his hands on her hips, fingers digging into the soft curves of her ass, Bandit pressed the assault, delving deep into a raging furnace.

Her walls stretched out, his girth just touching the limits of what could have been painful. In one instant Kara felt sorry for the poor women being ruined on Trusk's cock. But at the same time, as Bandit's tip bumped her cervix, scratching a desperate itch no cock, dildo, finger or tongue had ever managed to reach before, her thoughts went blank and all she could focus on was that giddy, divine feeling of being filled up to the brim with a hot, iron hard rod of pulsing meat.

Kara gasped and giggled, setting her nails into Bandit's armour and holding on tight. Her legs possessively wrapped around his waist, ankles locking so hard one of her shoes slipped off. She didn't worry, nor think about it. All that mattered was all that cock bottoming out in her body, making her feel so divine.

Bandit grunted as he held fast for a moment. There was still almost an inch of his shaft that didn't quite fit inside her, but Bandit knew well enough not to press all the way into her womb. Instead, letting his crown lovingly smooch the opening of her cervix with every thrust, Bandit rocked back and started pumping in and out of Kara's body. In moments they were fucking in earnest, mostly dressed like young lovers with barely a moment to spare.

Kara dropped back, laying under Bandit's dominant weight. She grabbed him by the wrist and transferred one of his hands possessively groping her lovely curves and wrapped it gently around her throat. The touch alone was enough to set Kara off, the snow leopard mewling sweetly as her whole body shook with pleasure.

She loved being dominated. She wanted him to hold her down, ravaging the depths of her pussy, claiming her for himself.

Purrs turned to moans, which quickly turned to mindless screams of orgasmic passion. The pressure inside her built to breaking point. Kara thought she was going to explode, so much pent up energy bubbling all around the enormous cock stuffing her body.

One thrust later, Kara couldn't hold it in anymore. A breath exploded from her lungs in the form of a mindless cry. Her eyes rolled back, drool dribbling from the corner of her mouth as her flexible spine curled off the console and her legs shook involuntarily. A hot, wet orgasm squirted from Kara's yoni, drenching the fur on Bandit's balls as they continued to repeatedly slap her ass.

It was only several thrusts later, as Kara finally stopped shuddering and spurting that Bandit finally came with her. The tip of his cock set against her cervix one more time, oddly more gentle than before. And with long, warm spurts, torrents of cum irrigated her depths. She could feel her womb fill, bit by bit, her body eagerly sucking in as much of Bandit's warm cum as it could.

She'd never felt like a more complete woman than in that instance, coming down from her orgasmic high with Bandit's massive cock throbbing inside her, his comforting weight holding her down and his seed sloshing about in her belly. But even with all that, still something was missing.

The scientist in her reminded her of canine physiology. The one gorgeous surprise of a canine cock she'd only felt once before with another partner, and yearned to feel again with Bandit. That big, hot bulb of a knot that had swelled up at the base as he ejaculated, and was grinding against her sensitive clit. She wanted the mouth of her pussy to be stretched over that big thing, lodging all he had deep inside her as he filled her to the brim with his fertile cream. She wanted to be bound to him like property; shuddering, mewling little cock warmer.

At the same time she could feel Bandit shaking, desperately holding back that one final violent thrust that would have forced the knot into her. He was making a conscious effort to hold back, eyes shut in concentration and a determined expression on his face.

With a sigh, she gently eased his hand off her throat and sat up, tenderly locking her lips against his. His broad tongue slipped past her full lips, wrestling with her rough tongue for a moment. She understand why he'd held back, despite obvious desperation to slide all he had to give inside her. He was thinking tactically. He'd be stuck in her for a long time, which would be a problem if Trusk came knocking in the meantime. And Kara agreed.

However, when Bandit slipped out of her, his seed bubbling from her pussy and dribbling down the side of the console she was perched on, Kara smiled deviously. "I get it. We don't really have time to indulge right now." She licked her lips and added, "But don't think you're off the hook, marine. When this is all over, you're going to owe me a nice long knotting. Agreed?"

Bandit chuckled, then with a defeated smile, gave her an affirmative little salute.

He slid out of her and pretty much immediately Kara dropped to her knees. Bandit was still hard, he probably could have gone another round, if only they had the time. She looked forward to testing the limits of his endurance later. For now she opened wide and slid his cock back into her mouth, purring at the salty tang of his cum mixed with the sweetness of her own juices.

Bandit clearly didn't expect her to go down on him so immediately and gasped with surprise. Hell, the motions took even Kara by surprise. Her body was engaging before her brain could even catch up to what it was she was doing.

Gosh, Kara, she thought to herself as she licked him clean. You're such a shameless slut!

Even as she berated herself, her large blue eyes opened to look up at the effect she was having on Bandit. His eyes were wide in stunned silence, mouth opened just a little as he drew short, ragged breaths while her tongue worked up and down the shaft, lapping up every last dreg of that delicious seed.

She slid her mouth down over the member and smiled with her lips pursed over the shaft.

So worth it.

When her new favourite toy was all clean, Kara gave the tip one last kiss so affectionate Bandit was pretty sure he saw a little cartoon heart spring from the smooch, then helped the marine pack his junk away again. She zipped him up, then secured the buckle of his belt again, straightening up to put a playful little lick on his nose for good measure.

No sooner had they finished however, Kara tying up her shirt again and straightening out the ruffles in her skirt, there was a dread crash of fists on steel. Bandit whipped around in time to see the pressure doors buckle inward, before another crash split the seam that ran down the middle.

Stubby, scaled claws pried through the tiny gap, then bit by bit, as if the hefty doors were made of naught but tinfoil, Trusk tore them apart and ducked through the doorway, stomping noisily towards the duo with an eerily casual strut.

So much for the afterglow; Bandit whipped up his assault rifle, but by the time he was ready to fire Trusk simply back handed the marine off his feet. He slammed into a wall with a crash, then slumped limply to the floor, his rifle clattering by his side. Kara ran to him but was plucked up mid-gait by Trusk.

He slammed her into the console Bandit had fucked her on only moments earlier, towering over her in his menacing, gargantuan presence. She cried out and kicked angrily, but just as effortlessly as before, Trusk caught her by the ankle and forced her legs apart. Then stooping low, took a long, savouring breath of the musk between her thighs. His nose pressed to the soft mound of flesh behind her damp, sticky panties, nostrils flaring as he drank in the scent of Kara's arousal... mingled with Bandit's seed.

Trusk snarled venomously as he straightened up. His cock swelled on command, despite Kara's kicking and clawing, his eyes seemingly fixed on the region between her legs soiled by another male.

"Puny mutt take Trusk's slut! Stupid cuck can't fuck whore good. She still able to stand after." Trusk gave a hearty chuckle, licking his lips. "Trusk show kitty slut proper fuck now."

Kara tried to pull away as the hefty, half hardened cock slapped down between her thighs, the ridged shaft rubbing roughly across the outside of her panties. The friction against her clit did send electric shivers throughout her loins, but it was almost immediately cancelled out by Kara's realisation she was about to be brutally and lovelessly spitted and turned into a whorish trophy.

Trusk thankfully didn't get to claim his prize though. Before he was even at half mast, a bulk of muscle and armour leapt up on his back, clinging to the stubby spines protruding from his hefty cowl of scales. In a bout of surprise, Trusk dropped Kara and jumped back, swinging from side to side as the point of Bandit's bayonet jammed repeatedly into his scales, searching for a chink in the natural armour.

There was none, but so long as Trusk had dropped Kara, the marine was happy enough. The leopard rolled aside as Trusk stomped this way and that, trying but failing to reach back and grab a hold of Bandit, or at the very least buck him off. The marine knew full well his time was limited until the lizardman figured out he could just flop onto his back, crushing and impaling Bandit all at the same time. So, the marine adapted quickly.

Sliding an arm around Trusk's throat, Bandit twirled his knife into a different grip then went for the coup-de-grâce. As Trusk was flailing about, a small, previously overlooked target presented itself. Bandit slid the blade into the lizardman's eye socket without thinking. Sharpened metal passed through the soft flesh with ease and with blood spilling from the ruined eye, Trusk managed to grab Bandit by the wrist.

With one massive swing, he threw the wolf into the ground, but as he clumsily tried to stomp on Bandit, he left only a dent in the floor as the marine rolled away. Howling in a mixture of rage and pain, Trusk ripped the blade from his eye and snarled, the remaining eye watching as Bandit whipped around with his rifle sliding off his back.

Weapon on full-automatic, Bandit pressed forward, pumping round after round into the lizardman. Trusk, already off-balance lifted a hand to shield his face, but was rocked onto his heels and thrown back by Bandit's advance until with a crackle of bone on glass, he crashed into the panoramic window.

Bandit fully intended to shove his rifle down the lizardman's throat and let loose the rest of his ammo... if he had any left. The rifle clicked, bolt locked open, and as Bandit rotated the weapon as part of a habitual check, Trusk hit him with a riposte.

Leaning heavily on the window for support, Trusk lifted a foot and hit Bandit in the chest with a mighty kick. The blow threw him off his feet and the marine crashed to the floor on his back. But either Bandit's armour had absorbed the blow, or he was just too stubborn to stay down, the wolf ignored the dull pain throbbing throughout every inch of his body, quickly sat up and shouldered his empty rifle. The sights were squarely set on Trusk's roaring face for a moment.

Then he shifted right and down, aiming out into space just a heartbeat before triggering the under-barrel grenade launcher.

Bandit's last concussion grenade left the barrel of the forty-millimetre launcher and slammed into the window. In an instant before the explosion, the sheer force of the blow was enough to split the pressure tested glass. The explosive force that followed blew the window out into space, shimmering daggers of glass spiralling around Trusk as he sat there, half-in, half-out for a stunned moment.

The next thing he knew the lizardman was sucked out into space, and all the air in station followed. The sudden thrust of the atmosphere being sucked out into the void of space was enough to drag Trusk flailing out into orbit, so it was no surprise the force tore Kara off her feet.

She didn't even touch the deck, flying head over heels across the room, directly out into the sucking void. Kara would have followed Trusk's fate too, were it not for a familiarly strong hand snatching her by the wrist.

Leaving his rifle to be consumed by the universe, Bandit dug his fingers between two deck-plates and caught Kara as she passed. She jerked to a halt in an instant, almost tearing his shoulder from its socket. And thankfully she only dangled off the deck for a few seconds before the Think-Tank resident systems noted the sudden drop in pressure.

Sensors identified the blown-out window and emergency shutters slammed shut, allowing the engineering deck to quickly re-pressurise. The howling wind was cut out in an instant, and both the snow leopard and wolf flopped weakly to the deck.

Taking a few fresh breaths as pressure equalised with a hiss and a pop in Bandit's ears, he very slowly lifted his head and looked down. He was laying on his back, Kara having landed on top of him with her face in his crotch.

She frowned for a moment, taking stock of her position, then flashed the marine a saucy smirk.

There was barely a moment to celebrate however as Trusk's impromptu exit from Think-Tank was followed by an echoing howl of nearly a hundred voices. All the frustrated moans of Trusk's Brides rose as one as a large horde of women came searching for their favourite cock.

Bandit and Kara looked out the door Trusk had ripped open, the moans of the approaching Brides growing louder with each passing moment.

They looked at each other then at the progress bar on the screen. In the time they had been fucking and fighting, progress of the backfill had moved on to ninety-nine-percent, with just a few more seconds to completion. But in those seconds Trusk's furious Brides would be on them. And they weren't going to take kindly to the news of Bandit blowing their beloved overlord out into space.

Kara leapt to her feet and dashed towards the workstation while Bandit rolled up into a kneeling position and yanked his blaster from its holster. With barely a moment to spare, as soon as he took aim and flicked the stun-setting on, the horde of bare female bodies flowed into the room like a howling tidal wave. Their eyes were wide with panic, darting about in search of Trusk. And when they spotted Bandit, their expressions of slutty desperation turned to absolute fury.

They rushed him and all Bandit could do was defend himself. He wasn't even thinking of keeping them off Kara any more, so hard were they focused on rushing him.

First wave fell shuddering, some howling in impromptu orgasms as Bandit accidentally put shots into sensitive nerve clusters. Others simply fell over unconscious. But the lines behind them just scrambled over the still or squirming, squirting bodies to clamber at Bandit. The second wave was merely slowed down, and Bandit was flat on his back struggling to slide a fresh battery pack into his blaster by the time the third wave scrambled over the second.

They were on him, raining kicks and punches. Hands pulled at his limbs. His blaster was torn away by a grasping hand and Bandit flailed defensively. It was like trying to swim in molasses as the bodies fell on him. The fact all of them were naked was no longer exciting, considering a few fists and knees bashed him in the face, drawing blood on his lip.

He gritted his teeth through the pain and kicked, trying to fight his way back. But the world became a soft, claustrophobic mass of fur. Another punch to the fist. Something heavy slammed into his torso armour. It sounded metal, like a wrench or some kind of tool easily used as a bludgeoning implement. Another blow, more painful this time cracked his chest-plate. It was working it's way higher, and soon enough someone would cave his face in...

This was it... this was the end... survive an alien lizardman twice his size only to be overrun and torn apart by a hundred women who were just looking to get laid...

"Backfill complete. Initiating emergency dispersal."

The robotic announcement was punctuated by a deafening hiss. A thick vapour shot from every ventilation shaft all across Think-Tank station. Everyone breathed it, Bandit included. It smelled a little like gym sweat, and was a bit salty where he breathed in through his open mouth. He tried desperately to block the knowledge that Trusk's semen was the secret ingredient of Kara's cure.

The women on him stiffened however. Their moans fell silent. A few gagged and coughed. But as one they went slack and fell as if suddenly rendered unconscious. All across the station the Brides of Trusk stopped what they were doing, halted their hunt and merely flopped to the ground.

Back in life support, the pile of bodies shifted as Bandit broke out of the dog-pile and scrambled away from the hands still draped all over him. Some blood trickled from his lip and one of his teeth felt loose. There were cracks in his armour from the bludgeoning he'd received, but on the whole he was still breathing.

Despite having almost been clubbed to death though, Bandit held a concerned expression, spotting some familiar marines among the limp bodies.

"They're fine," Kara assured him, lowering herself to check a pulse. It took Bandit a moment to recognise the naked silver furred fox as Lieutenant Ripley. She really was as hot under her armour as Bandit had often imagined.

Satisfied all was in order Kara gave a nod. "They're going to wake up hornier than they've ever been in their lives, but they'll be fine."

He chuckled, not taking her as seriously as he ought to have and slumped against the nearest wall before sliding down into a sitting position. The past twelve hours had been straight hell. Bandit took a well-deserved breath... then another, for good measure.

Kara sauntered over and sat next to him, although her position was arguably sexier than his. Whereas Bandit was just sprawled out there, his arms limply along his sides and his legs parted just a little, Kara curled her legs under her, sitting on her hip close enough to Bandit so her breasts were pressing against his armoured arm. She hooked one slender leg over his, a hand boldly sliding down across his abdominal armour and firmly cupping his groin.

"Now, if I'm not mistaken," she cooed naughtily, "someone promised me a good knotting."

Bandit smiled. That did sound rather lovely. Except another voice butted rudely into the conversation.

"Oooooh~! I hear talk of knotting."

Bandit blinked blankly for a second, then recognising the voice of Lieutenant Ripley, swivelled his gaze. The vixen was up. She looked just a little worse for wear, her fur was crusty and bedraggled, with a fresh glisten of moisture running down her inner thigh. Her gaze held that spark of intelligence Bandit was more familiar with than the absent-minded look of whorish intent Trusk's influence had given her.

But all the same, Ripley was on hands and knees, crawling with an exaggerated slink to her athletic hips. She settled close on Bandit's opposite flank, her leg hooked over his lap and her hands joining Kara's on the now rapidly hardening bulge in his groin.

Her face was so close to his he felt the comforting warmth of her breath as she whispered seductively in his ear, "You'll be sure to save a nice big knot for your commanding officer, won't you Bandit?"

Bandit swallowed, looking desperately to Kara. She wasn't any help, smirking in a way that said she had no problem sharing. Before he could say anything, Ripley's intrigued exclamation was joined by other voices. More women were waking up know, having heard the mention of a 'knotting' and were desperately looking around.

"Knotting? Who's talking about knotting?" one woman asked, stretching her long graceful limbs as if waking up from a good night's rest.

"Oh, I want a knot!" another bounced excitedly, sitting up beside her.

One by one, the others were starting to get up.

"A knot in my pussy would feel soooooo~ good right now."

"Fuck, I'm hungry for being stretched around a knot now."

"Knotting? What's this talk about knotting? I want a knotting!"

One after another their gazes fell upon Bandit, who was essentially surrounded by heated, half-lidded gazes and sumptuous female figures seductively crawling closer. Some of them fellow marines he knew well enough. Others were complete strangers he'd never seen in his life.

As it turned out, Kara's comments about the former Brides waking up horny as hell had been deadly serious. And upon the realisation he was the only man on a space station home to at least a hundred horny women all looking for a bit of cock, there was only one thing Bandit could say.

"Ah, fuck..."

---

V

The noises of the jungle had all vanished in this area since the Gods had seen fit to strike the land with their wrath. But as if either defiant against the cosmos, or plain old nosy, Rizk explored closer.

The young reptilian woman was mere days into womanhood, and the patriarchs hunting her were all hungry for her fresh virginal pussy. In the back of her mind, pure instinct nagged at her to give over, to embrace the sheer pleasure they could offer her nubile body. But at the same time she didn't want to give over so easily. A part of her wanted only the strongest and most fearless patriarch to wrap her about his stem and add her to his harem.

As such she delved curiously closer to the crater the Gods had left in the world. Only a truly brave and powerful patriarch would follow her this close to the site of holy fury. So, burying the fear pumping her heart faster than ever, she sniffed around the crater's edge, the warmth of glassed earth beating her lean, naked body like a radiating wave.

Without warning, a charred and bloody claw snapped out over the edge of the crater, snatching Rizk around her throat and lifting her clean off her feet. The hand did not squeeze, merely holding her in place, and no matter how she kicked and punched, raking her nails through the bare flesh as burnt scales were sloughed away, the hand remain strong and firm around her slender neck.

Bit by bit the owner of the claw rose from the rubble, blackened by the heat and broken from the impact. Some of his scales still glowed like hot steel. Spines were snapped away. One eye-hole was a knot of ruined gore. Blood trickled from the maw and other open wounds. Teeth were missing. On the whole, the patriarch looked as if he should have been dead. And yet the lizardman stood, tall and strong.

Rizk should have been impressed with the patriarch's toughness. But despite it all, his blood had been shed. He had been shamed, and not just a little either. She saw no way this patriarch would every earn redemption.

"I, Trusk," the lizardman introduced roughly, bile and blood spilling down his chin as he spoke. "You my slut now."

Rizk kicked again, this time scoffing haughtily. "Trusk bleeds. Trusk full of shame! Not worth wet comfort of Rizk's pussy!" She hawked and spat across his chest to punctuate the point.

Trusk's remaining eye narrowed, and despite her offence, he agreed with a nod. "Rizk slut right."

Without ceremony, he flipped Rizk over and slammed her down on the ground. Then both hands prying open her mouth, he knelt down and slid his erection, still firm and throbbing despite all the damage his landing had inflicted, into her maw. With a squelch, Risk's throat bulged and she retched and gasped, screams muffled by the cock stuffing her gullet. She clawed and kicked feebly against Trusk's firm grip, to no avail.

Trusk just held her down and fucked her face in earnest. As he did, Rizk's struggling demeanour seemed to change. Almost as if the nerve endings between her thighs and her throat were connected, her lower body shuddered and the reptilian woman squirted ferociously.

The sight normally would have amused him, but Trusk didn't see. He didn't even bask in the tight pleasure of her throat. Instead of watching the gorgeous woman trembling as she gagged on his cock, Trusk's eyes were drawn upward; glaring at the sky he fell from with absolute disdain...

LAST MAN STANDING

###

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