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The truck rumbled to a stop on the outskirts of the silent, desolate town. Combat boots thudding to the road as the squadron jumped out to take position finally broke the eerie silence holding sway over the abandoned burg. The captain, Zach Fried--a broad-shouldered wolf that stood a head above most of the other men in the company--was the last to climb out; and as he surveyed the town, he unclipped the walkie from his belt. "Alpha Squadron in position. Ready to begin initial sweep. Over." He waited, ear cocked, for confirmation to come through the crackling static, and then hefted his firearm onto his shoulder. "Look alive, boys! We're going hunting!"

"Oorah!"

The squad broke into three teams, which split up to sweep over the town; Jenson--a bear that stood head and shoulders even above the captain--taking downtown, Smith--a heavyset boar that could probably bench-press a truck if he put his mind to it--and his boys on the outskirts, and Zach himself taking his team through the residential district. The walkie crackled and spat with their reports to each other. Cars still sat in the middle of the road, their idling engines long-dead from guzzling up the last of the gas in the tank. Homes stood like mausoleums, emptied of their inhabitants, and looted and burned-out storefronts lined the streets of downtown. And everywhere they went, the pavement was broken up with deep cracks that occasionally opened into yawning chasms; tracks from the invading creatures travelling around underground to stalk their prey.

Ever since the meteorite fell, they'd seen all too many towns just like this one become abandoned seemingly overnight. Something--multiple somethings--had been in that meteorite, had survived the fall, and were now spreading out from the crater to infest the land all around. Reports varied on what the creatures looked like, but they all had a few common threads; the things were massive, swallowed their victims in one gulp, and popped out of the ground with the only warning being an earthquake-like rumble and the tracks they left in their wake.

Strangely enough, all of the reported victims had been men; women were either spat back out, trembling and traumatized, or ignored entirely. Zach knew that was why their squad was all-male--they were just glorified bait to draw the creatures out--but he didn't care; 'theirs was not to reason why' and all that shit. And as long as he and his boys got to blow a few nice, fat holes in the things doing this, he'd be happy as a goddamn clam.

The wolf was broken out of his thoughts by a rumbling in the earth.

A few moments later, his walkie crackled to life. "Contact! Contact!" That was Jenson, and the sheer panic in the bear's voice sent a shard of ice sliding down Zach's spine. "For the love'a God anyone that can hear me, get your fuckin' tails ov-!" A scream. Static. The walkie clicked off.

"Move, move, move!" The next few minutes were a rush of chaos. Once more, their boots pounded the pavement as his squad rushed down the main avenue towards Jenson's location. The rising sound of panicked yelling, gunfire, and deep, bassy roars filled the air. As Zach and his team rounded a corner, the sight laid out before them made more than a few soldiers pull their ears tight against their skulls under their helmets.

It looked like Jenson had stumbled onto a goddamn nest of the things. The ground was completely torn up, cracked pavement tossed aside and scattered around to let the massive forms underground move about freely. Only a few of the bear's team were left in a huddled group at the center of the street, firing wildly as the occasional mass of soft, smooth flesh broke through like a breaching whale in water; Jenson himself was nowhere to be found. Another rumble in the earth sent armored forms staggering, and then scattering and flying through the air as the ground exploded underneath them. Like a massive tree growing in fast-forward, one of the creatures they'd been sent to exterminate rose high into the air with a bellow.

A worm, massive and writhing as it surged out of the ground. Its body was both smooth--as the glimpses of it as it breached suggested--and ridged in wide rings that extended down its length. Its 'head' was merely a set of many-segmented jaws that opened into a wide, gaping, hungry maw. Thick, wriggling tendrils--tongues? Tentacles?--extended out of the thing's mouth, lashing through the air.

"Open fire!" The order that Zach roared out almost wasn't needed; his team was already peppering the worm's squirming body with gunfire. However, the bullets only seemed to sink a few inches into the thing's leathery flesh, and the wounds only seemed to piss the creature off; it bellowed again, and then descended back into the earth. Then the ground beneath Zach and his team exploded as well, and the wolf was sent flying.

Zach rolled to a stop against an abandoned car, letting out a grunt as his body armor took the brunt of the force. Though his ears rung and his head swam, he could still hear both the clattering of his gun as it slid away and the screaming of his men as they, too, were picked off one by one. A shadow fell over Zach, blocking out the midday sun, and his eyes cracked open to gaze up at the worm looming over him. Its maw gaped wide, and drool dribbled out to splatter on his prone body from the thing's inner jaws and the tentacles that were already reaching out towards him. The wolf didn't have time to cry out before those jaws fell onto him, engulfing him in a hot, slick embrace.

He felt himself being lifted up. Felt the tentacles wrapping around his limbs, and the jaws scraping his sides and hips clutching at his own squirming, struggling body. Felt the muscular tube of the worm's throat close down around him as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the thing's gullet. He thrashed and beat at the tentacles holding him, but quickly found his arms forced tight against his sides. Humid darkness closed in around him, and the wolf could only let out a low groan as he felt the creature's jaws push against his legs. The worm swallowed him.

Strangely, it wasn't a struggle to breathe in his fleshy prison; the air was heavy and pungent, the scent strong but--oddly enough--not unpleasantly so. He blinked--once, twice, three times--and looked around as his eyes started adjusting to the darkness; no, were the inner walls surrounding him glowing? It was faint, but just enough to allow Zach to see his predicament--wrapped tight in fleshy tendrils that were already squirming into any gap in his body armor they could find--and the long slide down the pulsing passage of the worm's gullet ahead of him. He struggled, cursed, kicked at the walls of his prison and the tentacles entrapping him, but that just wore down his already-sore body and filled his lungs with the heady smell hanging in the air. He growled; there was nothing he could do.

And the damned tendrils were starting to tug at his body armor. Slithering into the gaps at his shoulders and waist. Tugging at his heavy combat boots. Sliding over his legs and thighs. He grunted, ears pulling flat against his skull when he felt a particularly adventurous tentacle cup his crotch; and his face burst into a burning flush when he felt an answering pulse from his groin against the writhing thing. He was hard; or getting there, at least. Why the fuck was he getting hard?

No matter the reason, that single twitch from his traitorous crotch seemed to be all the encouragement the tendrils ensnaring him needed. They pulled, tugged, yanked; and with a crack, Zach's body armor came apart around him. The ripped Kevlar was tossed aside with apparent disdain, sinking further into the passage of the worm's throat while the tentacles returned to make short work of the rest of the wolf's clothing. His helmet, his camo jacket and pants, his undershirt and boots and socks; all were torn off of him to expose the supple muscle and thick, coarse fur underneath. Even as the wolf continued his struggles, panting and groaning at every touch of the moist flesh against him, the tentacles ensnaring him gripped and stroked and teased his bared body.

Zach shut his eyes tight against the assault. Like this, he could almost pretend that he was being held in the arms of the ladies at the club he'd often visit when off-duty. Their hands stroking over his chest and sides, fingers twirling around his nipples and brushing through the tuft of fur between his pecs. The soft puffs of their breath tickling his flicking ears as they moved downward to cup his bulge and tug at the waistband of his underwear. Their exploratory touches growing more focused as his body responded with eager arousal. The fantasy was almost believable save for one small, but all-important detail; the smell. The air around him was thick and cloying with a spicy, musky odor that reminded him of the locker room in the barracks; the scent of sweaty male bodies, ripe with testosterone. It was a scent he was well-acquainted with, one that burned his nostrils as it curled into his sensitive nose and settled into his lungs, and may have been comforting--far from pleasant, but strangely comforting--if it weren't for the tendrils teasing and gripping and rubbing against his crotch.

The wolf groaned, screwing his eyes shut all the tighter as his underwear was finally torn away as well. There he was, completely naked in some damned worm-monster's gullet, being molested--by tongues? Tentacles? Some kind of weird, fleshy tendrils, either way--and his traitorous cock seemed to only care about the attention it was getting. It pulsed and throbbed to erection with every touch against it, and his knot was already inflating in his sheath as a tentacle wrapped around it; a few more of the things seemed intent on tracing around the tip and up and down the shaft to draw out more and more droplets of his precum. He tried to change tactics, striving to resist giving the damned creature what it seemed to want from him. If he could get himself soft, maybe the worm would spit him out? It was a desperate plan, but it was the only one the wolf had in that moment. As the heady, overpowering scent filled his lungs, he tried to think back to the locker rooms. Men; his cock spasmed as the tendril wrapped around its base squeezed. Naked men; the tendrils stroking his chest swirled around his bare, pert nipples, and a shiver of reluctant pleasure shot down his spine to the base of his tail. Naked men soaked with sweat from a long day of training exercises; one slick tentacle traced its own dribbling tip along his lips, and then pushed forward past the wolf's slack jaws into his mouth.

Zach gagged, and his eyes flew open in surprise. He could feel the thing squirming against his tongue and taste the thick, goopy slime coating it; was that where the almost-rank smell filling the air came from? The flavor of ripe armpit and dank male crotch and sweaty ass assaulted his tongue, making his eyes water as he bit down on the tendril. However, like the bullets his squad had shot at the worm's outside, his sharp teeth only barely made a dent in the thick, muscular tendril no matter how he strained his jaws. There wasn't even a hint that the trapped wolf had injured the tentacle or the worm that was controlling it; no frantic movement in his mouth of it trying to escape his bite, nor any roar of pain from the creature that had swallowed him. His stomach roiled as the taste seeped into him, and his jaws slackened once more to let the tendril slide down and tease the opening of his throat.

And still his traitorous cock pulsed and throbbed in the grip of the tendrils stroking and squeezing it.

It had to just be the stimulation; there was no way that he was actually enjoying this. Zach clutched onto that one thought, a single ember glowing through the fog clouding his mind. The taste. The smell. The thick, musk-coated length sliding in and out of his mouth. None of them were a factor in the slowly-tightening spring-coil in his crotch; the twitching, itching, burning pleasure gathering in his dribbling cock and slowly-drawing-up balls.

Then his thoughts scattered and his eyes widened when Zach felt a wet, slick prod under his tail. The tentacle quickly homed in on the clenched pucker hidden between the wolf's firm asscheeks, almost like it was sniffing the virginal flesh out. Zach squirmed and struggled in the tentacles' grip as that slippery tip slid over and around and across his flexing, winking rim. Good. It felt good. Every touch sent sparks shooting through the sensitive ring and deep into his groin to join the maelstrom of pleasure roiling within him.

Even still, the wolf squeezed his back passage shut tight to keep the probing thing out as it tried to push into him. He'd never even been touched back there before, and he'd be damned if this creature thought it'd get into there that easy. He growled, unable to give voice to the curses running through his mind with the girthy shaft sitting in his throat; if these tentacles wanted him to cum, as they seemed to, they'd have to work a hell of a lot harder than that.

The tendrils holding the stripped, bound wolf in their tight, slimy embrace were all-too eager to oblige.

Zach gagged as that heady, ripe scent grew stronger. It burned in his nostrils while settling heavily into his lungs, and he could practically taste it tingling on his tongue; it was like a few of the men--no, an entire fucking platoon of them--were gathered around him, pressing their naked, raunchy, sweat-soaked bodies against his own. Letting him breathe in the musk of their armpits, their hindpaws, their sheaths and balls and asses. It was choking. It was cloying. And for some goddamn reason, it made Zach's fur stand on end as his cock erupted in a fountain of precum all over himself and the tentacles holding him.

The tentacles, of course, took this as the signal to go harder on the wolf. To slide in and out of his mouth and throat faster, staining his tongue with the flavor of male crotch and leaking thick, sticky fluid down into his gullet. To twine around his cock, encasing it in an almost-crushing grip, and begin to rhythmically squeeze around the pulsing flesh in a merciless milking motion. And of course, as soon as he let his guard down, to sink slowly and insistently into his back passage.

The initial penetration sent sharp pain shooting up his spine as Zach's tender inner walls were stretched in ways they never had been before. Then came the pleasure like a punch to his gut when the wriggling tip touched over a spot within him that made supernovas flash before his eyes. The wolf would have bit back the whimper that rumbled out of him if his jaws weren't similarly stretched by the dribbling, pulsing length prying them open. As it was, all he could do was squirm and clamp down as the slimy tendril surged through his defenses again and again.

The slick, moist, dribbling tip touching his inner walls, stroking over the aching flesh in almost-soothing motions and then pulling free to 'lap' over the broken ring of his pucker. The girth of it feeling almost--definitely, he realized--good as it stretched him; opened him up for the tendril to probe even deeper into him. The power behind every thrust and slam making him wince as his prostate was mercilessly milked. Zach clenched his eyes tight, but he couldn't escape it; getting penetrated--fucked--like this felt amazing. It made him hard. It made his cock throb in the tight grip around it, and his balls churn as that so-familiar pressure brewed within them. The spring winding tighter and tighter, ready to snap. He was going to cum.

Zach's eyes screwed shut tighter as the tendrils seemed to realize what they were doing to him. They began to go even faster. Harder. Fucking both his throat and his ass with wild abandon while pumping his cock. With the heady scent--the ripe aroma of sweaty, aroused male bodies--filling his lungs, Zach couldn't stop his swimming thoughts from turning to the men in his squad once more. For a moment, it was their mingling musks the wolf was inhaling; their crotches being shoved in his face to let the spice of their masculinity burn his sensitive canine nose. It was their slick paws grasping him, groping him, squeezing and jacking him off enthusiastically. It was their twitching, virile erection plunging into his throat and bowels, filling him from both ends. Even as his stomach roiled at the idea of it, another punch--of shame this time--rocked him as his own shaft only throbbed all the harder.

Then he gasped--as much as he could with the tentacle roughly shoving itself past his tonsils and deep into his gullet--and convulsed in the slimy, wriggling tentacles' grip. His hips rocked, pushing his cock up into their grasp and then ramming himself down onto the length filling his ass. His hole slammed down around the length stretching him open in a vice grip as he was finally driven--dragged kicking and screaming--over the edge of orgasm. Zach came.

Again and again. Pulse after pulse of hot pleasure sparked up and down his spine and gathered in his balls, only to join the sticky eruption shooting out of his shaft. His mind blanked out; it was the best nut of his life, and only a small, distant shard at the back of his shattered mind snarled about it being caused by the goddamned worm that had swallowed him. Finally, the wolf collapsed into the tentacles' embrace in a shivering, moaning heap. They caressed him, stroked his shaking body and 'lapped' with tender affection over his dribbling, softening cock. And Zach accepted every touch; what else could the wolf do?

Slowly, ever so slowly, the thick lengths pulled out of him. They wriggled on his tongue--smeared it with thick, briny fluids that felt and tasted all too much like cum--and brushed over the sore inner walls of his back passage before tracing around his gaping, no-longer-virginal rim. He felt a wet touch on his cheek as the slime-and-saliva-soaked tentacle that had been in his throat smeared itself over his face. The wolf couldn't stop his reeling thoughts from conjuring a scene straight out of a porno; a big, strong, sexy male rubbing his cock on the actress'--no, his fellow actor's--snout after a long, messy blowjob.

The wolf's mouth opened again. His tongue moved to give the firm, twitching length a tentative lick. It actually tasted pretty good, all things considered; the realization made his slime-smeared cheeks flush with embarrassment, even as his traitorous crotch pulsed at the pungent flavor on his tongue. When he wrapped his lips around it once more, giving the leaking tip a sharp suckle, he felt a convulsion through the walls of the fleshy passage surrounding him; was the beast that had swallowed him enjoying this in some way as well?

He didn't have long to consider that possibility; the tendril that had pushed deep into his backside to fuck him thoroughly was raised up to his snout when the other pulled away. He could smell his own scent on the slick length; just-this-side-of-raunchy musk and the smell of male ass mixing with the heady aroma of the thick fluids it had spurted inside him. He groaned when the tentacle caressed his snout as well, further soiling his fur before pushing into his mouth. The wolf expected to retch from the taste, but just as with the other tendril it wasn't really all that bad.

Finally, he was forced to clean his own seed off the tentacle that had jerked him off. The flavor was strong and masculine; if he closed his eyes, he could easily imagine that it was an actual cock being shoved in his face. That it was twitching with returning arousal as his tongue slurped up and down its shaft and swirled over its tip. That the cum he was tasting was another male's, salty and potent and virile. That he was suckling on it after it had blown a fat, sticky load down his throat, or maybe up his ass, or even all over his body.

Cocks. Big, thick cocks being shoved in his face and humping against him. The squad stripping out of their body armor after a long training session and surrounding him in a wall of sweaty, musky males. His tongue moving out to lick and lap over their pungent-smelling balls and sheaths, and then swirl around their hard, dribbling lengths. His mouth and throat opening wide to welcome them in turn, hungry for the virile flesh and the thick, sticky loads that would fill his stomach. Bending and hiking his tail up high to feel that fullness deep within him once more.

What the fuck was he thinking!?

Before the wolf's reeling mind could process the thoughts dancing and flittering through it, the tendrils finally released his body. Now he was embraced from all sides by the fleshy walls of the worm's own working throat. Squeezing. Convulsing. Pulling him in deeper. And as his thoroughly-soaked form slid ever further into the passage, Zach realized that he couldn't muster up the will to struggle anymore. This would probably be the end for him, but for some reason that fact wouldn't penetrate the fog clouding his brain. He felt warm. At peace. The soft flesh closing in around him, pulsing in rhythmic contractions, actually felt good on his spent body. He closed his eyes and waited for whatever would happen to him.

And waited.

And waited.

When he didn't feel the sting of stomach acid beginning to work away at him, the wolf opened his eyes once more. In the dim glow coming from the lining of the worm's esophagus, he could faintly see the passage opening up before him into a wide 'room'. A push from the walls behind him, and his head and shoulders popped into the open space. Another push, and his arms and torso were squeezed out like toothpaste from a tube to dangle wildly. A final push, and Zach let out a yelp as he dropped onto the soft, squishy floor below.

The wolf grunted, groaned, and shook his head; for a second, the sound seemed to come out of him in stereo. Then, another low, deep, rumbling moan sounded through the 'room'; what Zach could only assume was the beast's stomach. His ears perked up and he peered around him; was there someone else in here with him? No tentacles shot out to restrain him in another tight, molesting grip, and no pools of digestive juices waited to eat away at his body. The wolf was free to move around at least a little bit in this fleshy prison in which he'd found himself. Inching forward slowly, brushing his hands against the slick 'floor' and straining his adjusting eyes against the darkness, Zach began to seek out the source of that voice.

When his paws touched fur, thick and course and matted with various fluids, Zach let out another grunt--he didn't yelp or scream--and jerked backwards. There was another groan in the darkness, and even hoarse and muffled the familiarity of that voice pricked at the wolf's brain and stirred his memory; he definitely knew the man trapped with him. Zach reached out again to trace over the form of the body before him as he squinted and tried to make it out. Large and muscular, and enclosed in a tight wrapping of tentacles similar to the ones in the worm's throat. A built chest, large biceps, and strong thighs; and a plump, fat package between the other male's legs that the wolf couldn't help feeling up before yanking his hand away. A bear. One of his squad.

"...Jenson?"