FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*Daedelus *

**********

Disclaimer:

Ingredients : Male-on-Male sex (M/M-69), Muscle Growth (MG-MAX), Transformation (TF-88), Tentacles (BLAME-JAP), Anthropomorphic Creatures (IBLAMEDISNEY-CANINE, IBLAMEDISNEY-LUPINE), Semi-Cockvore (WHUT) and Penis (TESTOS).

Side effects may include: Copious amounts of semen, loss of pants and underwear, increase in body temperature, sweating, panting, sexual appreciation of a muscular male form, the scent of sex in the air, 'strange new feelings' and an uncontrollable urge to have one's hand over one's genitalia to bring forth sexual stimulation.

This product was not meant for the consumption of peoples under the age of 18/21 depending on your country/state. If the above symptoms occur and are undesirable or if consumption by an underage recipient occurs, please immediately do any of the following:

• Close this product immediately

• Delete your browser history

• Delete all traces of this product from your computer/laptop

• Wash out your eyes with soap

• Sit in the corner of a dark room rocking back and forth slowly while trying not to think of the sexually arousing circumstances that may ensue from being raped and consequently transformed by monstrous, muscular canine/lupine aliens somewhere in the near future or in the void of space.

If any of these symptoms persist, please contact your closest physician and inform them you have the 'I have been a naughty (boy/girl), spank me' syndrome.

They will know what to do.

[NOTE: Please do not actually go up to your physician and tell them you've been naughty and to spank you]

**********

---New Opposition---

ISMMP Corona

01:02:00:00

Pirates.

Of all the people to come on board the Corona it just had to be pirates.

Mauler took some comfort in knowing that he hadn't heard of this 'Captain Blackstar'. That meant either this guy was seriously small time or he was just that good that he caused mayhem and havoc all across the system and somehow managed to keep his name in obscurity. Whoever this Blackstar was, however, he had no idea what he was getting into.

"You've got to listen to me!" Mauler shouted, trying to pull himself free of the two burly pirates that kept his hands pinned behind his back. "There is a seriously fucked up experiment running loose on this ship! It's contagious and has already claimed the lives of this ship's crew! You have got to get out of here!"

The blonde, bearded pirate regarded Mauler with lazy confidence. "Really sir, is that the best you can come up with?" Blackstar nodded at Crossfire. "Your young private over there proved to convey a more convincing warning than yourself. We would have stayed away if not for that second transmission."

Mauler hadn't heard a second transmission. A quick glance in Crossfire's direction showed that the young private had nothing to do with it. Another member of his team must have sent out another distress call.

"I can see why you grew desperate," Blackstar continued, regarding the wreckage of the Perdition. "Your pilot must not have been very skilled if he crashed so badly."

"Bee is an amazing pilot," Mauler snarled. "The Canimorphs got him."

The pirate gave him a cocked eyebrow. "The what now?"

"The Canimorphs," Mauler repeated. "They're the experiment gone wrong down here. Super-intelligent nanobots merged with the cold virus merged and canine DNA and spread like a virus. It's infected the crew, they're loose on the ship and if you stay here any longer, you'll be dead or worse."

Blackstar turned to the rest of his crew. "Oh, in that case we had better flee then, shouldn't we men? Wouldn't want these 'Canimorphs' to get us." He shook his hands in the air tauntingly, his expression one of mock fear. The pirates around him shared in his laughter, making jibes at Mauler and crossfire.

"A fine story, Captain," the pirate said, stroking his beard absently. "Sadly, I am not a collector of stories. I am after riches and treasure. So if you will excuse me, I will lead my men to plunder this wreckage of a ship and have you and your comrade confined to the brig of the Blackstar where you will await the eventual ransom trade that will net us even more wealth." Blackstar nodded to his men. "Take them away."

"You're regret this," Mauler warned ominously. "You'll all regret this!"

"I won't let you bastards spread this any further," Crossfire whispered softly.

Mauler spun to his private. "What are you saying, son?"

Crossfire's blue eyes were afire with an intense ferocity. "Captain, they'll spread the infection." He jerked his head towards Blackstar who had started swaggering towards the hanger observation deck. "We have to stop them."

A rising sense of dread began to bubble in Mauler's stomach. "Crossfire... don't... No!"

Before he could say any more, Crossfire slammed his shoulder into the pirate to his right. The one on his left stared in shock before he got a face full of the private's skull. Crossfire instantly spun, snatched a pair of guns from the fallen pirates and unleashed a withering hailstorm of laser fire across the entire hanger.

Blackstar lazily lifted his hand... and let it drop.

The air sizzled with laser fire.

Crossfire gave a cry...

... and went down.

"I suggest not trying to be a hero, Captain," Blackstar said, stifling a yawn. "Heroism just gets you killed."

---Ominous News---

ISMMP Corona

01:01:54:00

Those eggheads that created the Canimorphs accidentally apparently did something right.

They called it the 'Antimatter Rifle'. A weapon designed to completely disintegrate an opponent using a high-powered, mini-particle collider that emitted an antimatter blast capable of ripping anything to nothingness... even the Canimorphs. The self-regenerating, horny dogs stood no chance against the weapon.

Sadly, Bivouac found himself on a precarious situation.

The reason the scientists of the Darwin Research Lab kept the rifle so secret was because of the Canimorph's high-adaptability and intelligence ensured that if they ever got their paws on it, they could deconstruct the technology behind it and then reverse-engineer it.

Bivouac didn't need a conspiracy nerd like Crossfire to know what that would mean.

His problem, however, lay with the fact that there was already a Canimorph in possession of the rifle.

Him.

His eyes fell onto the rifle which he clutched in his right hand. 'Hand' being a subjective term. In the past few hours alone, he had watched and itched in horror as the lines between his hand and the rifle blurred more and more with a thick carpet of dark brown fur. He could actually feel and even flex some parts of the machine that had their interior completely merged with the weapon. In some parts, the metal pulsed with his heartbeat.

What was worse, it felt good.

For him, it felt like having a cock on his arm ready to explode. Some primal part of him was just bursting to fire off something from his barrel. The rest screamed at him to resist. Knowing what the feeling was akin to and knowing Hamel's explanation as to how the infection spread, he couldn't take the risk.

That said, it was his only defence and apparently the only weapon capable of defeating the Canimorphs.

Bivouac pored over the functioning console, trying to find some way out of his problem. The more he thought about it, the more suicide seemed plausible. Get someone on his team to kill him so that they can pull off the rifle, bring it to the military so they could stop the Canimorph infection before it got any worse.

"Fuck..." he swore. "Fuck!" He slammed his hand and half-fused gun into the console.

Panic began setting in. His options were limited but the last thing he wanted to do - or become - was a Canimorph.

"Okay, okay, King..." he whispered to himself. "Okay... First off, get the fuck out of this hell hole and back to the rest of the team." He nodded to himself. "Yeah... that sounds good."

Straightening, he turned and bolted out of the research lab, practically crawling with the muscle-like growths all over the walls known as the Pack. His boots stuck to the substance and he was having a hard time trudging through the terrain. Every time he lifted his legs, the muscle seemed eager to wrap its tendrils around him and drag him down.

A soft bark made him freeze in position.

He spun around.

Nothing.

There was always nothing.

Bivouac wasn't taking any chances and bolted. The bark came again but he didn't waste any more time looking back at whatever Canimorph was hiding behind him. He just kept running. His legs began to burn and his feet ached from the constant exertion of yanking his heavy boots off the sticky Pack.

The barks grew louder and louder.

And he didn't even know where he was going.

"That's it!" he bellowed, spinning around. "Take this you motehrfuckers!" He lifted the rifle and fired.

Three quick shots.

Searing bolts of energy blasted out of the tip of the rifle's barrel, sending waves up indescribable pleasure rocketing up his arms. His entire body shuddered, slammed with the might of three simultaneous orgasms. Bivouac fell to his knees, sweat rolling of his ebony flesh and his breathing ragged. A soft groan escaped him as the flesh around his body burned and prickled slightly.

The blood in his feet throbbed painfully and with a mounting groan, he felt his toes burst out of the metal plating of his military-grade boots. He wiggled his toes, temporarily lost in the hazy afterglow of his shots. The Pack between his toes felt so warm, so strong and so right. A growl rolled out of his throat as the leather of his shoes were quickly absorbed into his expanding feet, quickly being reconfigured and fused with his flesh to form leather padding at the base of his feet. Thick fur began sprouting all over his feet, covering his ebony flesh.

Bivouac wearily regained his senses.

Standing above him where two Canimorphs, both of them with enormous arms. If it weren't for their distinct canine features, they would have appeared like gorillas. Both were grinning at him. One raised one of its oversized paws, waving at him and showing off huge scythe-like claws.

Bivouac grinned and waved back.

"Gotcha, asshole."

That hand he waved... it was the Antimatter Rifle.

He fired twice.

The blasts of energy struck the Canimorphs at point blank range. Both creatures had a look of shock on their face. Their features blackened before they disintegrated into dust. Bivouac barely had enough time to celebrate his victory as he toppled over, face pressed against the Pack. Soft cries of mixed pleasure and frustration ripped from his lips and dispensed between heavy gasps. His calves burst out from his camouflage pants, the muscle pushing his skin to its tautest while veins wormed their way across them. A thin dusting of dark brown fur began to crawl against his legs, sneaking up from the mat at his feet and slowly losing momentum as they moved upwards.

They ended just below his knee.

"F...f... fuck..." he whispered, taking a few moments to rest and gather his breath.

With supreme effort, he pulled himself up from the Pack, grunted as the sticky tendrils of the corruption seemed reluctant to let him go. He managed to straighten and looked down at the 'damage'.

"Fuck," he repeated. "I look like a fuckin' hobbit."

His feet were simply enormous, almost as big as his head. Thick, brown fur covered them entirely while his nails had blackened and started to curl into claws.

Hope seemed lost... until he looked up.

The initial three shots he had used to draw out the Canimorphs had created a rather big hole down the hallway.

But beyond that hole was what made him grin.

It was a drill.

In fact, the drill that started this whole mess.

"Fuck yeah."

---Enemies Corrupt Allies ---

ISMMP Corona

01:01:07:13

Pirates... It just had to be pirates, didn't it?

Once, his name had been Shane 'Sandman' Putz. But now, he was just Shane... the Hulk.

Hulks... A Canimorph designed for brute force and strength. Shane absently lifted his to left bicep, flexing it and watching the veins tense over his enormous muscle. It made him hard, the rocket-like 16 inch cock with a visible knot tensing up further as the Stimulator attached to him sucked him off. His lower arms gripped the smaller, slimmer Canimorph around the waist, grunting softly as the creature designed to specially simulate prey into becoming mindless, sex-crazes beasts did its work on him.

A pair of canine lips curled around his own, an expert, long tongue slipping and sliding around in his muzzle filled with a venom that would lower all inhibitions and fill his mind with a blissful, lustful glaze. A cock longer but thinner than his own curled and twisted like a snake, wrapping around his own and flexing, pumping his own impressive member and causing him to moan softly. Four tentacles that sprouted from the Stimulator's back pressed up against various parts of his body. Two were latched tightly onto his bright, pink nipples, standing erect through his thick, grey fur. They sucked hard, making him moan all the more. The other two teased his ass, slipping and sliding into the tight hole and making him moan in pleasure.

Shane pulled his lips away from the Stimulator, gasping for breath and arching his back.

His body felt so good.

His mind would be gone in the sexual haze soon enough.

But his heart...

He closed his eyes, grunting softly as the pleasure all over his body mounted to volcanic levels.

"Aw fuck!" he shouted in the barking language of the Canimorphs. The dogtags that hung tightly around his neck like a pair of steel chokers jingled softly as his cock erupted into a mighty blast of his corrupted seed. A warm ocean wrapped him and the Stimulator, coating them both in its sticky, slimy embrace.

Shane collapsed against the Pack, letting the weird but strangely welcoming corruption move and curl around them to form a tight, comfortable 'nest'. Panting, he looked down at the Stimulator and slowly detached himself.

"That'll be sixty bucks," the creature jokes, his tentacles curling around his body to form a brace of sorts.

It surprised him the beast could actually make a joke. Was it... sentient?

"Yes, fucktard," the Stimulator answered. "We're sentient." He jabbed at his head with a claw, grimacing. "Fuck... I forgot how sharp these things were." Soft, blue eyes regarded Shane. "Look, we may be fucked-up self-regenerating, psychic aliens with doggie cocks as our predominant design but we're still human." He pressed a paw against his chest. "Deep down, we are."

"Tell that to the assholes who attacked me," Shane muttered. "And my whole team..."

"That's because you guys came in here, guns blazing and if we didn't do anything, you were going to kill us all."

"No we wouldn't!"

The Stimulator was suddenly nose to nose with him. "Oh yeah? You know what those assholes did when the first Canimorph was made? Jeff was sentient just like you and me! He gave himself up, asking for a cure! You know what those executives did? They ordered him to be fucking dissected! What's worse, because Jeff could regenerate, they just kept doing it over and over again!"

Shane winced. "But we -"

"You would've done exactly the same thing," the Stimulator grunted, straightening and folding his arms. "You would have brought us to your military, said that we'd be nice and cured and then rip us apart to see if you can use us for warfare against the Terran Empire."

"You don't know that."

"No?" The Stimulator gave him a narrowed gaze. "My name is Adrian Kelt. I was a scientist here. I was also an undercover military agent sent to spy on this research facility. I made reports back to the higher ups about what was going on here. You want to know what they asked me the first instance I told them about the Canimorphs?"

Shane didn't get a chance to reply.

"'Can they be used against the Empire?'" Adrian scoffed. "Fuck them... Fuck them all." Then a wicked grin crossed his features. "And we might just get the chance."

Shane rose to his feet, towering over the Stimulator at his titanic ten foot height. "The military isn't all bad."

"Oh yeah? Then answer me this, smart guy. The military knew what they were up against and they still send only a small six man team here. Why?"

"Because -"

Shane had no answer for that.

"That's right," Adrian grunted, turning his back to the Hulk. "You're fodder. They wanted you to come here, confirm the Canimorphs are still functioning and then they'd send in the big guns. I'm willing to wager that even one of you guys is a military spy."

"No!"

"All advance teams have at least one guy who answers to the top dogs. Not any field grunts. The generals and the politicians. The guys who make the call." He turned towards Shane, eyes narrowed. "Just ask yourself this, Shane: How well do you know your team?"

Shane's lips quivered.

But before he could answer -

Thwack!

Adrian convulsed and fell to the ground, blood exploded from his temple. Pain exploded from his chest and he looked down, deep laser burns against his perfect set of four pectorals. His eyes focused in the distance at the group of pirates who stood there, awed and shocked.

"You fuckers!" he roared but it all came out in a ferocious bark.

Instinct completely took over and Shane was suddenly bounding down the hallway, lasers slamming into his flesh, beestings against thick armour. He bowled over two of the four pirates, sending them slamming hard against the far wall. With his lower paws, he peeled them off the wall, seizing them by their legs. He swung them both to his sides, knocking the other two to the ground. His reflexes were faster than any ordinary human's and the free pirates flew through the air at a snail's pace. With his upper paws, he snatched them from the air.

The rage that built in him pumped all the way down to his enormous cock. Adrian's venom finally took its effect. All Shane could think was 'Fuck'.

"Fuck!" he growled, desperately trying to seize control of himself. "Fuck!"

His legs gave out from underneath him and he came crashing on his tight, muscle butt.

"FUCK!" he howled.

His cock convulsed. His corrupt semen shot into the air like a gooey, white geyser and then came crashing back down, showering him and the captured pirates in his sticky seed.

But he was far from done.

"FUCK!"

He could feel a second orgasm rapidly approaching. He had to stop himself. He didn't want to become a full, sex-crazed beast. Desperate, he plugged his cock with the only thing he had in paw.

A pirate.

The pirate screamed as Shane's huge, bright red rocket of a cock pierced his pants and penetrated his virgin ass. Shane's entire body shook and he screamed another 'fuck'. The pirate's own scream became a fit of moans that quickly devolved into a series of gurgles. Shane's potent semen began seeping out of the man's lips and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. A hairy belly burst out of his shirt, jiggling with Canimorph semen.

Gasping for breath, Shane released the pirate and the man slipped off, twitching in a mix of pain and pleasure as cum dripped out of his ass and mouth.

"Oh fuck... Fuck no..." Shane moaned.

Another orgasm was crawling up his cock, building from his balls, stiffening his knot and rising inch by inch until it almost reached the tip of his tampered member. Instincts took over once more and he plunged the next pirate head fire into his waiting member.

"FUCK!"

Semen exploded, spilling around the pirate's neck and coating the man completely. An unstoppable flood poured out of him but quickly abated. His cock continued to twitch violently and to his horror, he watched the pirate's belly start to expand.

"Fuck... please no..."

The pirate pulled his head out of Shane's cock, revealing a broad, canine grin staring back at him, long, flat tongue licking his muzzle in delight.

"Fuck!" He pushed the developing Canimorph aside.

Then another orgasm hit him. Cum exploded out of his cock with enough force that it slammed into the pirate to his left and pushed the man out of his strong paws. The pirate fell on the ground cocooned in white.

"Fuck..." Shane moaned, falling onto his back. His grip loosened on the last pirate, the last vestiges of his balls' load seeping into his fur and dribbling into the crevices of pure muscle on chest. He was panting hard, his mind hazed and his cock throbbing for more.

The former marine closed his eyes, succumbing to his fate.

He had just turned three humans into Canimorphs... He was one of them now... and there was no escape... He tried to fight but there was no fighting this. In the end, he had willingly accepted Adrian's advances and on some primal level, he had willingly transformed those men. Pirates or not, he had taken their humanity from them.

He was a Canimorph.

Sandman was dead.

Now he was just Shane... the Hulk.

Click-click.

He opened his eyes.

Standing beside him, gun in hand, was the last pirate, eyes afire with hatred and fear.

"Go ahead," Shane rumbled, "kill me. I deserve it."

The pirate lifted his handgun -

Then went abruptly stiff. A tentacle swerved around his neck and he stared at it in horror. A choking gasp escaped him. Adrian stepped in behind the man, two of his tentacles twirling and plunging deep into the pirate's ass. As the man turned to scream, he was quickly silenced by Adrian's muzzle.

For two second, the pirate resisted.

Then his boner pressed up against his pants...

... and he was gone.

Adrian and the pirate fell to the ground, a curling mass of fur, sweat, semen and sex.

Shane lay back on the cum-covered ground.

"Fuck..."

---Next to the Heart ---

ISMMP Corona

01:00:42:13

The bad guys always left dead bodies around. Regardless of their profession, dead bodies would always remain unburied, untouched and undisturbed unless they rose from the grave.

It was one of the basic tenants of horror movies.

It ensured that when people returned to the area - heroes or villains - they would pause and either remember their fallen comrades or the battle that they fought in the hellish room... or stop to wonder why there were no bodies anywhere.

This, Crossfire had been hoping for and he got his wish.

Marines were usually equipped with thick armour, enough to take a few laser blasts dead on. And, as always, bad guys had terrible aim. Reality, of course, was different from TV so as Crossfire lay on the hanger floor, playing dead, he was holding back whimpers of pain as his skin burned from the laser fire he had sustained.

It was, of course, not fatal and if someone took off his armour, he would probably have a few nasty, red welts and maybe a blister or two but nothing fatal.

But thankfully, some part of TV logic sustained him that day.

The pirates assumed he was dead.

When the last of them had either filtered into the Corona or back into the Blackstar, he cautiously began to drag himself across the floor. When he was sure no one was looking, he jumped to his feet and bolted straight for the nearest exit. He was grateful that laser blasts often cauterised wounds meaning that blood loss was generally at a minimum. If he had shot someone with a traditional weapon, he would have looked for blood.

Panting hard, Crossfire ducked back into the Corona determined more than ever to find a way to destroy the blasted ship. Only this time, he was eager to see Blackstar and the rest of his pirate crew taken with the ship.

"Oh now, don't do that."

He froze.

"Hamel," he whispered.

"Really, doesn't this get your blood pumping, Colin? Isn't this something that you've wanted_all along? The thrill of living in an action movie?"_

"It's more like horror your fuckhead," he sneered, slowly making his way through the mess of the Corona. The Pack seemed to have expanded rapidly, spreading over the walls and ceilings at an alarming rate. A scream exploded from somewhere down the hallway and he couldn't find the pity in himself to pray for that unfortunate soul.

"Even better wouldn't you say? Tell me, Private, why did you join the marines?"

"To find and kill assholes like you." Crossfire's eyes narrowed slightly, filled with determination and dread at the same time. "It's what Captain Mauler would've wanted."

"Oh trust me. What your Captain wants is far from what you_think. Did you know that he and his son are estranged?"_

This was the part where Hamel tried to get into his head, played mind tricks with him and converted him to make him a willing pawn in his game against humanity.

"Not gonna work asshole," Crossfire said sternly. He bolted down the Pack-covered hallways, searching for any sort of weapon. A tremendous roar echoed across the vast emptiness, ringing in his ears.

It almost sounded like... 'You fuckers'.

"Let's be honest with one another, Private, I'm already in_your head. Right now, you might as well imagine me tapping a folder with your name on it. This folder contains the primal, sex-crazed beast that lies in you."_

Crossfire tried not to think about it. He didn't want to imagine the scenario. It was what Hamel wanted. Instead, he tried to keep his eyes focused, peering through the darkness for some source of defence.

Another roar rippled through the air. For some reason, it registered simply as 'fuck' in his mind.

"You keep telling yourself that you hate those horror movies. That you're afraid about how they turn out and that you're scared you'd wake up trapped in some cocoon, slowly being eaten away as you transform into a horrible mutant that is bound to a single entity.

"But let's face it, Private. There is nothing_more you want than for that to happen. You act scared as shit but you get_ off_on watching those aliens burst from those cocoons. You_ love_the idea of losing your humanity to something more primal. You've even philosophised that alien life might be simpler simply because they all have a single goal - reproduction. For humans, it's always politics and whatever else. Aliens... it's so simple._

"Isn't that what you want, Private? Simplicity?"

"Yeah that's what I want," Crossfire growled amidst another roar. "And you know what would really be simple? If you shut the fuck up!"

"Ah Colin, you know it isn't that simple. What are you even doing? Planning to destroy this ship and the Blackstar_using the_ Corona's_self-destruct mechanism? You know as well as I do that there would_ always_be at least_ one_fragment of the alien to survive, right? That's how those movies_ always_have sequels, terrible as they are."_

Rage built in Crossfire and he turned towards the wall, yanking a pipe right out of its supports and swinging it wildly into the air. "Yeah? Well this isn't a movie, fucktard!"

Hamel just laughed at him. "Oh my, it seems we have come full circle. Learned that from your Captain, did you? Well, did you know right now, he is being ass-raped by a pair of horny pirates who are similarly banging their own cabin boy? These male-only pirates can be rather frisky, don't you think?"

"That's a lie!"

More maniacal laughter. "Your Captain is a very strong man. He sees everyone under his command as his own children. Now that cabin boy... well... In the hour or so since you've been separated, he's bonded quite well with the young lad. Even vowed to help the little man escape. And seeing the kid get his ass pounded by two, filthy pirates is just making him angry_. Ever seen your Captain angry, Private?"_

Crossfire grinned darkly. "Never. He never gets angry."

"Oh but you should see him now. I wonder... Would he trade his body and indeed his allegiance to save this boy? Would he become a Canimorph just so he can keep his promise?"

A retort built in Crossfire's throat but he held it down. If anything, Mauler was a man of his word. If what he said was true...

"He'd never do that..." he whispered weakly.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Another deafening roar, closer this time. Some screams and whimpers could be heard in the undertones of the cry.

"Let's turn our attention to 'Sandman' shall we. He has such an active libido, doesn't he? Makes a few lewd jokes often, correct? We both know he thinks more with his cock than his head, doesn't he? He's your sniper. Likes to look people down his barrel and shoot_them."_

"If you think you're being funny, think again," Crossfire muttered, storming down the hallway. "Sandman is as asshole but he's a soldier. He'd never willingly turn."

"Willingly? Oh no. He put up one hell of a fight but he's one of us now. Enjoying it in fact."

"That's a lie!"

"Think so? Turn right here."

Crossfire froze and followed the instructions with fierce determination. What met him disgusted him but at the same time caused his balls of churn. Lying in a pool of semen that would have reached up to Crossfire's ankles was a huge four-armed Canimorph with so much muscle definition that bodybuilders would cry like little girls at the mere sight of him. Five others lay around him. One was an athletic Canimorph that had a pirate wrapped around him, tentacles penetrating the poor man. A third was half-transformed and sucking off another pirate who was thrusting wildly into the air. The last was jacking off wildly, eyes glazed over and simply covered in semen that the Pack was greedily absorbing and quickly returning as a fleshy cocoon.

"Go over to the big one."

Despite knowing it was a trap, Crossfire trudged through the slime. The Canimorphs and the would-be-beasts eyed him once before quickly diving back into their activities. He came up to the enormous Canimorph who seemed to be slumbering, lower paws wrapped around his enormous 16-inch cock.

"Look around his neck."

Grunting, he leaned down and spied a pair of dogtags around the Canimorph's neck, wrapped so tightly that it looked on the verge of snapping. His heart began beating hard in his chest as he slowly turned them around.

One word caught his eye.

'Sandman'.

A pair of yellow eyes were suddenly staring at him.

"Shit."

---Everyone Always gets Raped ---

The Blackstar

**_01:00:40:43

_**

His name was Patrick.

The crew called him 'Pussy'. Why? Because his ass was their pussy.

A crew of all-male pirates meant that there would be a lot of tension in the air and with all of the machismo floating between each of them, it mean none of them would willingly admit they were gay. Even as one of the hairy, smelly assholes plugged Mauler's ass with his moderately sized cock, the fucker trashed talked and swore, trying to be the big man as if that'd compensate for his own homosexuality.

"Yeah!" the pirate grunted. "Take it, fucker! Take it - oooh!"

Mauler didn't give him the pleasure of hearing him squeal. Struck up like a new year's ham, he had his wrists raised above his head and his legs lifted into the air, bound by chaffing ropes. He was given the dignity of at least having his upper torso covered but his entire lower half was left exposed to the ravages of the pirate.

"Urgh! Yeah... yeah... yeah!"

"Shut the fuck up, Buck!" the other pirate growled, baring his blackened teeth. He leaned forward and kissed Patrick's soft, supple skin. At the same time, he shoved his monster of a cock deep into the cabin boy, making Patrick scream. "Yeah... I love it when you scream like a little girl."

"Hey, keep to your own bitch, Zane!" Buck snarled.

Mauler took the reprieve to look around, searching for some way to escape his fate. Something... anything. In the brig of the Blackstar, there was little light and all he could see were metal crates and other bits of storage equipment. He could try wiggling out of the ropes but he was tied up well...

Pain blasted up his ass once more as Buck's dick prodded his prostate. The Canimorph infection was begging him to just let go and love the experience. Some primal sense of pleasure budded from him, filling his cock slightly with blood. But his willpower was stronger than that.

He recalled his wife... How she loved him... How he held her... and how she died in his arms as she shot herself, unable to cope with the constant separation. His military career had gotten in the way of their love and unable to deal with his absence, she ended it, leaving him with her son. Her son... not his.

Henry...

Mauler was a military man. He knew nothing about raising a kids or having a family. He was content to just have his wife. But she wasn't. Her affair was what had pushed her guilt over the edge. No one knew who the other man was but it was clear Henry as not Mauler's son.

But if anything, Mauler was a man of his word.

He had promised her that he would take care of Henry.

It and killed him now that he had made essentially the same promise to Patrick but couldn't keep it.

"How can you expect to take care of your son when you cannot even take care of this cabin boy you barely met? How can you take care of them when your team_is falling apart around you?"_

"H - H - Hamel!?"

A dirty hand was shoved in his face, pressing his cheek against the cold steel of the brig's walls. A dick was shoved hard into his ass making him gasp in agony. "It's Buck, military man. It's because I -" He the pirate thrust hard in rapid succession, making Mauler grunt. His ass felt sore, almost lulling him into a dull throbbing pain.

"Wouldn't you like some way to save him? Some way to save your team?"

Mauler mentally screamed at Hamel, warning him not to try anything. He wasn't going to let himself get turned into a Canimorph. No way. What use was a promise when you weren't even human to see it through?

"But humanity is a subjective term. Were we 'human' when we delved into this research? Were we human when we tried to exterminate what we had essentially created? Is that not like killing your own child soon after it is born?"

He didn't care. Humans would never try to turn other humans into monsters.

"Ah but that exactly what humans do. They attempt to convert others to their cause either through subliminal messaging, education or war. History is taught by the winners. Profit is earned from control of the consumer. Resistance is crushed by those with the biggest guns. Humanity is all about control, conversion and self-preservation.

"The Canimorphs simply want the same."

Fingers painfully gripped the strands of grey hair that were laced with sweat that lay matted against Mauler's head. His head was yanked forward and a pair of lips were forced into his, a tongue lashing into his own. Mauler pulled away, spitting to the side.

"Look at me, fuckhead," Buck snarled, yanking his head around. "I want to see you love this!"

"You see? He wants nothing more than control over you. He wants to 'convert' you. Deep down, he's just lonely. He's jealous. He thinks he has power over you. Now look over to your dear Patrick."

Mauler spared a glance.

Patrick was whimpering. The other pirate, Zane, pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot and drew it painfully across Pat's back, blood sliding down the smooth, supple skin.

"Control."

His eyes were pulled painfully back to face Buck's and their lips were forced together once more, Buck ravaging his tongue. Mauler allowed himself a faint whimper but not because his ass felt like it was on fire but because he was forced to watch as Patrick's back was torn to shreds by the brutal Zane.

"Now consider this, Captain... What is more important to you? Your promise or your humanity? Or does your promise make_you human? In which case, regardless of your body and your appearance, so long as you keep your promise, won't you still be human?"_

Mauler mentally screamed, unable to form words. Buck pulled their lips away and bit down on his neck. His back arched at the sudden blast of pain and he gave a loud, pained cry, hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to hear," Buck growled, lathering his tongue with his sloppy tongue. "Squeal for me, bitch."

"F - f - fuck you!" Mauler cried both to Hamel and Buck.

"Maybe one day, handsome," Buck whispered softly, running a finger down Mauler's thick, chest covered in grey hair. "Be a good -" He thrust hard, making Mauler grunt. " - bitch and maybe -" Another thrust and one that hurt like hell. " - the Captain will fuck you himself!"

"They want to break you. Make you forget your promise and make you inhuman. Look at Patrick."

He dared to follow Hamel's instruction and his eyes boggled as he watched Zane press that blade against Patrick's neck. The cabin boy's eyes were closed, tears of pain rolling down his cheeks but his eyes were shut tight, his cock erect and his unrestrained body merely succumbing to his fate.

"That boy is already broken. Barely twenty and he's already their bitch. Do you consider him human? Or is he simply their sex slave? Do you want to share the same fate?"

Mauler shut his eyes, emitting a soft growl.

No...

Hamel chuckled softly. "I hear you."

The path he was taking was becoming increasing clear and he wasn't at all that surprised to be able to suddenly communicate with Hamel. Peering over his shoulder, he could see traces of the Pack already creeping into the brig. Buck and Zane were too preoccupied in their lust to notice. Mauler strained against his restraints, reaching for the small spot of veined, red infection.

"So what do you want, Captain?"

You know what I want.

Buck arched his back. "Oh fuck you're tight..."

The pain became a dull throbbing in Mauler's ass. His muscles suddenly felt like they were being massaged gently from the inside. Most of the warmth seeped into his ass. His finger pressed against the small patch of the Pack. Like a thousand, warm worms crawling under his skin, his veins popped up across his finger and travelled down his hand. He held back his moan. As his veins pressed against his skin, bulging past their limits, his flesh greedily consumed them once more, muscle growing to reabsorb the veins and his skin stretching to wrap around the collective mass.

"I'm going to trust you, Captain. You have to understand that the Canimorphs just want to survive. None of us had plans of invasion. Why do you think we shut off the distress signal? Why do you think we let the Corona_go dark? None of us wanted anyone else to share our fate. We didn't want to infect others. But you came along. The pirates soon followed afterwards."_

I don't care about your reasons,_Mauler thought savagely. _Just... Just let me save my team!

"Fuck!" Buck cried, his thrusts becoming wild. "I'm gonna fucking cum!"

The veins rolls down Mauler's forearm, straining the ropes that chafed his flesh. They crawled onto his bicep, causing them to bulge out and brush against his cheek. A drop of hot sweat slid down from his brow and onto the huge mound of muscle that had formed. Sweat gathered against his chest as his pecs expanded further with each breath he took. The thick bush of grey chest hair that he sported grew in density, crawling down towards his belly to form a pronounced treasure trail. His cock stood painfully erect at last, his pubic hair becoming thicker and thicker and even crawling up to cover the skin of his member.

"Oh fuck!" Buck screamed.

The pirate's whole body shuddered and his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. His entire body shook violently like he was hit by a sudden, severe seizure. Mauler felt his ass fill with a sudden wash of molten seed, soothing the burning already in his ass. The monstrous stick up his ass soon began to ease but not because Buck was softening. The pirate was still hard, he could smell it. It was just that Mauler felt his ass expanding, his tight glutes tightening and his hole growing to accommodate better men.

A faint itch formed at the base of his spine and there were a faint, pinprick of pain like someone had stuck a syringe into his spine. He kept his growing tail curled away from Buck to keep the fool from noticing.

"You will_care, Captain,"_ Hamel insisted. "I don't want you seeking revenge for revenge's sake. I don't want you pursuing a vendetta against the pirates and the rest of their kind just because you were wronged or Patrick. You will_listen or I will leave you a slavering mess lusting only for sex."_

You've never done that. You may act tough, Hamel, but you're just like me. The reason you were up there in that communications tower is because like me, you had a promise to keep. You wanted to make sure no one else arrived and disturbed your 'peoples'' sleep.

There was silence on the other end and for a moment, Mauler felt his entire body unclench, the transformation's grip relaxing around him. There was a heavy whump on his chest, Buck resting on his chiselled chest with a sigh.

"Fuck... I'm gonna enjoy having you around..." the pirate muttered. His hand closed around Mauler's cock, a grin on his face. "You enjoyed yourself, didn't you bitch?" He gave it a hard squeeze, making Mauler gasp.

The transformation redoubled in effort, Mauler's thighs exploding outwards with the sound of tearing flesh. Mauler clenched his teeth together, feeling them twist and warp as they grew sharper and longer.

"You and I are indeed the same, Captain. And you are right. I would not rob anyone of their humanity. Not even these pirates."

You want to control and convert them as much as anyone else!

"And like anyone else, that makes us human."

Suddenly, Mauler found himself at an impasse. Hamel... Hamel really was just a human trapped in a monster's body. All of this... it was just self-preservation.

"Fuck you're big..." Buck grunted. "Can't wait to have that cock all to myself one day."

"Captain..."

What?

"I'll make you a deal. 12 hours. I'll give you 12 hours before I take away what makes Captain Matthew 'Mauler' Delacruz forever and leave behind a true Canimorph. In that time, you may do what you wish. Kill the pirates if you wish but know that every part of your new body is designed for infection. Destroy their ship. Take it and find your son, start a new infection elsewhere if you wish. But if you are so bent on revenge and your promise, know this: I do not_want anything to do with you. You will leave this place, leave us to our own devices and in peace. You may start your own war but we will disappear._

"Understood?"

Mauler felt pressure building in his body like someone was pumping his veins and arteries full of blood. He felt the heat rising in his face and he could barely breathe. All his muscles tensed and his body quaked softly.

"Eh?" Buck asked, sniggered. "What? You about to blow, old man?"

Deal.

Mauler suddenly arched his back, letting out a deafening roar. His cock erupted, shooting upwards to an impressive 14 inch length and jabbing Buck's left eye. The pirate reeled back in shock and pain. Mauler's entire body just exploded, his muscles stretching beyond that of an average human's. His spine lengthened, vertebrae popping into existence between existing ones. His feet twisted and twitched, obtaining a distinct digitigrade stance as claws jutted out of his toes.

He roared, fangs bursting out of his lips as the grey fur that started on his chest spread all over his body like silvery grass. His shoulders broadened while his arms lengthened, almost stretching down to the point where his fingers could reach his knees. His calves tore right through the ropes and he kicked Buck off him.

Mauler sat up, staring at the pirate with feral yellow eyes. He yanked his wrists free of the ropes and stood to his full 10 foot height, glowering with his newly acquire muzzle.

"What the fuck!?" Buck cried, scrambling back, his dick flopping around in fear.

"You got that right!" Mauler barked, literally.

He seized thet back of Buck's head and shoved his cock straight into the pirate's open mouth, Buck's chocked and scrambled desperately for breath as his airways were blocked by the thick, canine sausage. Mauler thrust wildly into the pirate, all that pressure in his body rippling down to his balls where they just -

SPLAT!

Burst, sending Buck sailing halfway across the brig on a wave of cum. The pirate hit the ground hard, quaking and barely breathing.

"Shit!"

Mauler spun, facing the other pirate, Zane.

The coward yanked up Patrick whose eyes were wide but were just as dead as before. Pat had given up. He recognised those eyes. They were the same eyes Henry gave him whenever they met. Dead eyes. Eyes that had given up hope.

"I'm going to save you," Mauler whispered, his words a soft mess of barks and growls.

He wasn't sure whether or not Pat understood but the cabin boy smiled softly, nodded and closed his eyes.

"Stay back!" Zane warned, levelling his knife at Pat's throat. "I'll kill him! I swear!"

Mauler felt something twitch in his arms and he lifted them to his sides, regarding his paws.

Ssshing! Shssing!

Huge metal blades like enormous, metal talons erupted from his wrist just where his palm met his forearm. Wicked, serrated edges with tiny, poison barbs designed for war and infection flashed against their edges. Each blade was long enough to cover the last distance between his knees and his footpaws, making them almost a foot and a half long.

He grinned at Zane.

"You're fucked."

---You're Okay ---

ISMMP Corona

01:00:30:11

It was noisy as hell. Though that was to be expected from a massive, high-powered drill. Bivouac clung on gingerly with one hand to the drill's manual control cage.

All drills from Mobile Mining Platforms had small cages attached near the head that allowed a crew to ride with the drill as it went down or up the drilling path. This allowed them to do a quick survey or maintenance if they ever hit anything of importance. Maintenance was also a good reason for these cages in case the drill malfunctioned.

Bivouac's only problem was that the entire panel wasn't completely working. It looked like it had been damaged by events in the Laboratory and it could only retract the drill. The soundproof walls had been heavily damaged and Bivouac could only grit his teeth as drill roared in his ears.

He kept thinking just how screwed up this was and then noticed the irony of using the word 'screwed'.

Mentally kicking himself for that, he looked up and wondered how much longer it would be until he reached the top.

"Just hope nothing comes down and tries to stop me," he muttered, barely able to hear himself. "That's always how these scenes play out to make them more exciting." He shook his head. "Fuck. Now I'm thinking like Crossfire."

Boom!

The drill stopped.

"Fuck... What now?"

He dared to stand up and peeked out of one of the many holes in the flanks of the large cage.

A Canimorph roared, crawling down the corruption which was the Pack down onto the drill. A huge, bulbous growth blocked the drill's progress.

"Fuck..." Bivouac muttered. He turned his gaze upwards. "It's always like this, isn't it? I bet I have to kill them all and then the drill will start moving again, right?"

He growled and lifted his Antimatter Rifle reluctantly. As much as he was loathed to use the weapon, he had no choice. Nothing else would work against the Canimorphs. He braced himself...

... and fired.

The bulbous growth exploded.

The drill instantly began spinning again. The monsters crawling on its surface were instantly thrown off and crushed against the spinning blades. Bivouac was knocked off his feet by the sheer might of the 'orgasm-shot' as he came to know it. He lay on his back, shuddering, eyes rolled into the back of his eyes as he writhed in pleasure.

"Ssssshiiieeeet..." he hissed through clenched teeth. His pants came away in tatters, leaving him in his military grade white boxers. His thighs had grown so thick that it became hard to walk. They rubbed against each other, muscle against muscle, as he tried desperately to uncurl himself. The black fur that was rapidly occupying his legs spread up past his knees but just stopped before his thighs.

Panting, he slammed the Antimatter Rifle against the floor in frustration, gasping in pain as he hit the fleshy part of the partially fused weapon.

A heavy creaking hit his ears.

The drill came to a stop.

"What? Again!?"

He pulled himself to his feet and saw the bulb. Several Canimorphs were dropping onto the drill, making their way straight towards him.

"Fat chance, fuckers!" he shouted and fired.

The bulb exploded and once again, Bivouac fell onto his back, twitching as his entire body rang out in blissful pleasure. It was his entire right arm tingled with the pleasure of afterglow. His breathing became laboured as his chest tightened. The dogtags around his neck became tighter and tighter, almost choking him.

As he lay there, shivering in his own transformation, he realised something was wrong.

The drill still wasn't moving.

A roar broke him out of his bewilderment.

A Canimorph burst into the cage, claws outstretched.

"Fuck!"

He acted on instinct and lifted his huge, muscular legs up, catching the creature on his partially-mutated feet. He hurled the creature back through the hole in the cage's wall and scrambled to his feet. Desperate, he caught sight of another growth blocking the drill's progress.

"Shit!"

Lifting the Rifle, he braced himself one more time and -

... fired!

Bivouac didn't let himself collapse this time, simply falling to his knees as he fought off the transformation. His whole body shivered with a cold sweat as the drill began to continue its ascent. The fur itched like hell as it crawled up his legs. His claws tapped against the floor with every slight twitch his toes underwent. There was a faint pressure at the base of his spine and he just knew that a tail was about to come out.

He couldn't let the others see him like this...

Slowly, he got to his feet and staggered over to the nearby supply closet, his legs feeing ungainly and odd. His head brushed against the top of the closet and he knew he had grown taller.

Upon opening the closet, he saw the multitude of spacewalk suits sitting there. Drilling into an asteroid meant that there would be little to no oxygen down the shaft. These suits were important to maintain oxygen levels outside of the cage. He quickly discarded the rest of his military uniform, wincing when he saw his ripped body and especially the eight-pack that presented itself to him. Ordinarily, he would be stoked to see the muscles pressing up against the ebony skin.

But knowing what it heralded... he was afraid.

Thankfully, there was a suit that just barely fit him. Most of the suits were designed to be loose fitting to allow for maximum mobility but this suit hugged his frame to the point where his bulge and indeed his muscles were clearly visible from the suit's exterior.

Creeeeek!

The drill stopped again.

"Fuck! And I just got a fucking new suit!" he cursed. "This always happens!"

He stormed back out into the cage, lifting the rifle which he managed to partially conceal with the suit's arm. It looked like the rifle was growing out of the suit's arm. In a sense... it was.

Three growths were stopping the drill this time.

"Fuck it..." he muttered, lifting the Rifle. "Where the fuck are you guys even coming from!?"

Booom!

Fire suddenly exploded around the first growth, sending it splattering across the drill. The converging Canimorphs spun. Bivouac followed their feral, yellow eyes.

A tiny figure abseiled down the drill's shaft.

He landed front of Bivouac just on the balcony of the cage, an assault laser under one arm... and an Repeater Rocket Propelled Grenade Launcher over another shoulder.

"Take this, assholes!"

Solder.

---Understanding Stalker---

ISMMP Corona

01:00:16:18

Shane couldn't believe what he was seeing... He must have been dreaming. Some hallucination brought on by his own guilt.

_Crossfire_of all people stood above him, fingering his dogtags and eyes wide.

Unable to lock gazes with his teammate, hallucination or not, Shane turned his gaze away, his cheek landing softly against the thick sea of semen that he had so generously provided. He smelled his own sex in the air, feeling his stomach churn in disgust.

At the same time, he smelled the others in the hallway. Aiden was having fun with one of the pirates who was already on his way to transforming. The others were well on their way as well. Even that guy farthest from him who had fallen asleep covered in his own cum smelled of the transformation. The Pack was greedily consuming him, slowly encasing him in one of the cock cocoons.

But at the same time... he also smelled...

Crossfire.

He spun back to his team mate.

"You're infected," he whispered in a series of barks.

Slowly... Crossfire nodded.

"Fuck..."

Shane gingerly got to his feet. Crossfire dropped his metal pole, his head barely coming to level with Shane's balls.

"You've grown," the young private chuckled.

"Tell me about it," Shane muttered with a faint chortle. His humour faded immediately. "Sorry..."

"For what?"

"For being 'that guy'. I 'died' first."

"Doesn't the black guy die first?" Crossfire answered with a chuckle. "As far as I know, Bivouac is still alive."

Shane wiggled his toes into the Pack, sickened how it felt so right to have his feet encased in the thick, veined corruption. He could send his consciousness through the Pack itself, weaving through the veins like it was a network of optical cables. He could see Mauler turning into a vicious Ripper. Several pirates were falling at the paws of the Canimorphs. Hamel sat on the bridge, tentacles infused with the Pack and watching, waiting. At the same time, he could see Bivouac on the Corona's drill, partially fused with a fearsome weapon, the Antimatter Rifle, that the Canimorphs feared. Solder just saved him. There was a bit of hope with the Rifle but that quickly faded when he realised just how far Bivouac was on the transformation.

"He's still alive," Shane murmured softly.

"How do you know that?"

He stamped his foot a few times against the Pack. "This stuff. It lets us see wherever it's around. Also lets us communicate with the other Canimorphs." He lowered his eyes slightly. "Just like you."

Crossfire's fists tightened. "I'm not a Canimorph yet..." His blue eyes flicked towards Shane, filled with determination and naive idealism. "And neither are you! You're still a marine, Sandman!"

"I'm not Sandman anymore," Shane grunted, taking a step away from him. "I'm just Shane now. Shane the Hulk. A Canimorph. Now get the fuck out of here." He reached down and yanked one of the half-transformed Canimorphs off the ground. The guy looked surprised then upon seeing Shane's gargantuan cock, licked his lips and greedily reached for it. "I've got some pirates to fuck. After that, I'm coming after you."

A hand closed around his tail.

"You're not one of them!" Crossfire bellowed. "Don't be 'that guy'!"

"I already am that guy!" he roared. He grunted softly as he let the forming Canimorph jump on his cock, licking his slit which was pouring precum by the gallons onto the little pirate's face.

"Not that guy!" Crossfire protested. "I meant the other guy! The one that accepts the transformation! You may have turned first but you're still you!"

"We're all still us!" Shane spun, almost knocking Crossfire down which his gargantuan cock. "You think we just lose ourselves in this body? Fuck, Colin, you're just as much a kid as you always were! Yeah, our libido has gone through the roof but who the fuck wouldn't with a cock this big!?" He pointed at his own engorged member. "We're still in here." He jabbed at his impressive chest. "But you know what? We're doomed like this! We can't change it!"

He spun back around, turning his back to Crossfire. "We might as well make the best of it..."

"But - Urk!"

Without turning around, Shane knew that Crossfire had just been captured by the other half-Canimorph pirate. He wasn't sure what that pirate would turn into. Hamel, as the Mastermind, allocated the forms to the transformees. He couldn't control their minds. He could suggest but not control. But he gave them form and shape.

Shane wasn't sure what Crossfire would turn into either and some part of him was curious to find out but he wanted no part in it. He wasn't going to play a part in a teammate's transformation. That was the last part of his marine's honour he could keep, at least.

"Sandman! Help! Ack!"

There was some wet, sloshing noises. Probably a tongue being shoved down a throat.

"Just accept it... Colin," he answered, finding it hard to use Crossfire's real name. "It's better this way. The military invaded their home. The pirates did the same. We kicked the ants' nest. They're only defending themselves. As would anyone else."

"Please! I don't - ulp! I don't want this!"

He tried focusing on the Canimorph wrapped around his cock but he just couldn't find the pleasure in it. His entire body just didn't respond to the semi-human's advances and he was finding himself go flaccid.

"Sand - urgh - man!"

With a tremendous roar, he yanked the transforming pirate off his cock and spun back around. Crossfire was pinned to the ground by another transforming pirate. He threw he pirate in his paws straight at the other. The two went down in a crashing, sloshing mess of semen, fur and muscle.

Shane knelt down beside Crossfire and slowly scooped up the small private in his upper arms.

Crossfire was left gasping, his cock pressing up against his military pants and a few scratches across his chest. The blood seemed to crawl back into the wounds as the flesh wound back together. He was already well into the transformation. No outward signs were showing itself just yet.

"Thanks..." Crossfire whispered.

"Don't thank me just yet," Shane growled, storming through the Pack-infected hallways.

"What...? What do you mean?"

Gripping Crossfire tightly, he stormed into the very same room he had emerged from. The cock cocoon he had emerged from stood erect and ready once more, filled with the juices ready to transform a human into a Canimorph again.

"No..." Crossfire gasped. He kicked wildly but Shane, being so much bigger, held him down easily. "No! Sandman! Please! Don't!"

Shane spun Crossfire to face him, holding him up in the air like a baby. "I'm a Canimorph now, Colin. This is what I do."

"NO!"

Shane held Crossfire over the lip of the cock cocoon. He spun his former teammate around and shoved Crossfire's head violently into the throbbing mass. Crossfire's limbs flailed and he tried pushing his way out but Shane just shoved him straight in. Crossfire's shoulders slipped into the cocoon, precum spilling out like a crystal clear waterfall. He seized his teammate's arms and pushed them straight down into the cocoon.

Crossfire never stopped struggling.

Even up to the point when his feet were all that stuck out from the cocoon, he kicked and punched the interior of the cocoon.

Shane stepped back when there was nothing left of Crossfire hanging in the air.

"You'll thank me later," he grunted.

Turning around, he determined to find some other pirate to fuck.

That'd get his mind of things.

Yeah...

Then a voice made him freeze.

"Sandman!"

---Crying Rivers ---

ISMMP Corona

01:00:10:39

If Crossfire could compare the experience to being 'eaten by an alien cock cocoon', it was like being in the womb... at least as best he could imagine it. The 'cockoon' was strangely warm and it throbbed and pulsed in tandem with his heartbeat. As he floated in the salty brew, holding his breath, he pondered if he could keep himself sane and fight off the transformation long enough for someone to rescue him.

Of course, the guy that was 'saved' either had two options.

In the movies, he is either the secret mole that turned on the heroes at the very last moment or he was the one that understood them while maintained his humanity and sacrificed himself at the very end to save the remaining humans.

Then again... wasn't that Sandman?

"So what option does that leave you, Colin?"

Crossfire screamed 'Fuck you, Hamel' but what came out was a stream of bubbles and the last breaths of air he had. He dared a gasp. The salty stew streamed down his throat, making him gag and cough.

A tentacle rose from the base of the cock, rising up next to his to his lips, teasing him. He pulled away but it immediately plunged in between his lips, diving into his throat. A blast of cool, fresh air filled his lungs and he took a breath of relief.

"So let's count it off, shall we?"_Hamel teased. _"Who are 'the guys' that remain? You've got the guy that's transformed and maintains his humanity. That is Shane. Oh, I'm sorry. 'Sandman'. Then you've got the guy that willingly accepts the transformation, thinking it's some form of transcendence. He's got to be a religious nut. Or a scientist! Someone with a high intelligence. Hmmm... Your friend Solder seems quite the quiet intelligent one, yes?"

Crossfire let out another stream of bubbles.

"There is no escaping us. Perhaps he had avoided infection so far but this whole ship_is ours. We will turn him eventually. Now where were we? Ah yes, there is also the one that is taken and merges with an infected. You know, he'll be the one fighting with every last bit of his breath until he is fully consumed. The heroes will try to rescue him but will run into him at the final stages of his transformation where he will apologise before succumbing entirely."_

That wasn't going to happen. Bivouac was too strong for that.

"Oh, and how'd you come up with Bivouac, hmmm? Why not the Captain?"

The answer was simple... Because Mauler was too honourable. He would be the hero.

Hamel laughed at him. "Oh my dear Private. If only you can see your Captain now. Here, let me give you a glimpse."

No!

But his mind was filled with an image... One of a towering, athletically built Canimorph with twin blades sticking out of his palms. The creature's mighty 14 inch, red canine cock dripped cum enthusiastically. Beside him was a pirate who was writhing, moaning and twitching as his body contorted into the shape of a Canimorph. In front of the bladed Canimorph was a naked young man probably about 20 years of age, hairless and with the face of an angel. His golden hair was tousled and matted with sweat, emerald eyes dead and hopeless. A blade was pressed against his neck, held by a grimy, fearful pirate who had his dick stuck up the young man's ass.

Around the fully-formed Canimorph's neck were a pair of dogtags.

That's a lie!

"Your dear Captain has come to realise that humanity is not defined by one's shape but by one's actions."_Hamel paused and Crossfire sensed a degree of worry from the Mastermind. _"I pray that he will realise the same is for these pirates and not get lost in his rage. A man who rarely experiences rage is the most likely to succumb to its vices."

Crossfire felt something wiggle up his ass. Thick, fleshy tentacles lashed out, seizing his wrist and ankles, keeping him from moving. A tentacle pushed itself slowly into his ass, splitting him open but with the rush of warm precum flooding him, it was almost like a soothing, warm massage like he was just stretching old, unused muscles.

A soft moan escaped him.

Stop it...

"We never wanted to hurt anyone. We don't want to invade. We just want to survive. We were victims of circumstance and greed. We were made this way through no fault of our own. Do you honestly believe that we can trust you, any of you, to just leave here without saying a word to anyone after what authority did to us? Did you know that there were spies from the government in our very branches ordered to eliminate anyone should we discover something life-changing? The only thing that stopped them was the infection."

I don't care... I don't want to become one of you.

"What are we, Private? Monsters? Aliens? Gay_?"_

For some reason, that last word was what struck the loudest chord in Crossfire's heart.

"I know your feelings. I am a Mastermind. I can hear your thoughts and read your heart. What attracted you first to him?"

Crossfire pursed his lips, letting the cum spray from the tentacle in his mouth fill his stomach as another blast of air followed.

I hated him at first... He was horrible. Rough on me. He always pointed out my flaws and made it hard for me to feel good about myself. When I did excel, he never gave me so much as a sign of acknowledgement.

"But...?"

But then... When I look back, if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be as strong as I am now.

"I haven't told him."

Thanks... I guess...

Several tentacles wrapped around Crossfire, providing a warm if slimy blanket.

"You and he can be together, if you want."

I guess... I guess that's sort of what I've been afraid off. I was scared that I'd be so far away from him if I get turned. But since he's already one...

Crossfire chuckled softly.

Is that why you led me straight to him?

"I cannot control Canimorphs, Private. I can suggest and most times, Canimorphs obey but that is because of their own choice. In our little society, it is my lot in life to observe and issue suggestions. Each Canimorph has their own template, their own set tasks to fulfil but in the gaps between those tasks, they are free to do what they please. They can even outright refuse if they want.

"We have the organised hierarchy of canines, the adaptability of a virus, the determined functioning of nanobots but the hearts of humans."

How do I know you're not just trying to convert me?

"If it were any other way, if I could convert you and rob you of your mind, why would I bother?"

_Because I'm more valuable as a willing pawn?_Crossfire offered meekly.

Hamel laughed. "A willing pawn is still a pawn. Pawns are good cannon fodder but other than that, they can only turn into other pieces. I need rooks, bishops, knights... queens."

I take it that last bit was for my benefit?

"Well... I guess that's up to you. Are you a queen, Private Colin 'Crossfire' Cox?"

Crossfire smiled softly.

Yeah... Yeah I am...

"Then call out for him, Colin. He's waiting for someone to give him purpose again."

Colin closed his eyes... took a breath... and at the top of his mental voice, shouted the name of the man he first hated, then befriended, admired and eventually...

... loved.

"Sandman!"

---Escape ---

Blackstar

01:00:07:28

Mauler stood over the fallen Zane. The pirate stared up at him, eyes wide, blood seeping from the vicious wounds that crisscrossed his arms and legs. That was alright, the asshole wouldn't need them as a Producer. Fully aware, Zane was sandwiched between the throes of lust and agony of pain. His wounds made the transformation unbearable but his grossly enlarged balls that was in a state of perpetual orgasm made it a warped pleasurable pain.

Soon, the pirate would lose his mind, thinking of nothing but cumming everywhere. He would be immobile. Producers were just designed to literally lie on the ground, their car-shaped balls and truck-long cocks doing nothing more than spreading their seed which would in turn spread the Pack. Their bodies would eat away at the metal around them, providing the supply for the Pack and soon, they'd merge with the Pack itself. Maybe they'd be converted into something else but none of the Producers had fully consumed a ship yet.

Knowing Hamel though, he wouldn't let a good, insane Canimorph go to waste.

"Awww... This is seriously fucked up..." Buck gurgled.

He was a Liquidator. A Canimorph made completely out of cum. He held no true shape and was instead a semi-solid mass of silvery liquid that flowed and moved with the vague shape of an athletic 7 foot tall Canimorph. Despite the lack of bones or true muscles, he clearly enjoyed himself as he curled around Mauler's body, letting himself soak into Mauler's fur and slipping and sliding down Mauler's throat.

He rose up to come level with Mauler, peering down at Patrick who lay bleeding in the big Blade's arms.

"What're you going to do with him?"

Mauler heard the roars rippling through the Blackstar. The Canimorphs had started their invasion of the pirate ship and the pirates were quickly succumbing to the infection.

"I need to patch him up," he said. "Apart from another member of my team, he is the only one left uninfected that I trust. The plan is to get him fit for transport, get him to an escape pod and get him the fuck off this place."

"Then what?"

"Then..." Mauler's eyes narrowed, a fierce growl rippling from his throat. "Then we go fuck someone up. I'm thinking Blackstar. The asshole didn't listen to me so I'm going to get his asshole."

For emphasis, his blades jutted out of his paws.

"I like them with fire," Buck chuckled, licking Mauler's cheek. "Well, lead on, hot stuff. Oh, and by the way, thanks."

"For what?"

Buck grinned at him, his 'paws' rolling down to Mauler's exposed, pink nipples and pushing themselves into his pecs, making the Blade moan softly. "For a fucking good time and plenty more to come!"

There, Mauler couldn't help but agree.

"You know, I might just become my own space pirate," he said, grinning broadly. "Making my 'crew' along the way."

"Vigilante justice? Fuck dude, just as long as I get to fuck some guy's ass, count me in!"

---All Men ---

ISMMP Corona

01:00:01:41

They hugged and immediately pulled away from each other, collapsing in exhaustion.

A mass of Canimorphs lay around them, far from dead but disabled for the moment being. The drill had a clear shot upwards and was spinning away towards the Corona. Bivouac turned to Solder who still looked completely human. The lieutenant wiped his brow, panting softly and giving him a shaky grin.

"Fancy meeting you down here."

"How'd you find me?" Bivouac asked, his voice altered by the space suit he wore. He was grateful for the slightly tinted faceplate of the helmet. He could already see his own nose stretching out in front of his eyes and hoped that Solder didn't see.

"The drill makes one hell of a noise," Solder laughed, pointing upwards. "I just followed the racket and I saw those impressive blasts you were firing." He nodded at the weapon. "What kind of gun is that?"

Staring at the Antimatter Rifle, Bivouac was grateful he only had to fire the gun once since Solder arrived. For an engineer, the guy had wicked combat skills. No wonder he was a marine. "An experimental weapon. An 'Antimatter Rifle' they called it. The only thing that can kill the Canimorphs. About fucking time those eggheads thought of something."

There was a glint of hope in Solder's eyes. "Can I see it?"

Bivouac shook his head and used the excuse that he had been concocting the entire fight. "Can't. It's merged with the suit. The suit comes with it and the suit is sort of bound to me at the moment. Sort of a 'bio-signature' thing. Also, if it's the same with you, I prefer to be in here where I can't get infected by this airborne shit."

Solder's eyes boggled and he covered his mouth in horror.

Bivouac just laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Hey man, don't sweat it. They made a weapon to finally put these dogs down. They probably got a cure somewhere. And if not..." He levelled the Rifle right at Solder. "I got your cure right here."

The engineer laughed and pushed the barrel away. "Asshole." He leaned back, staring up at the blackness of the Corona's drill room. "What's the plan?"

"Where's Bee and the Perdition at?"

Solder shook his head sadly. "The Perdition crashed. No sign of Bee."

"Fuck."

"Did you hear about the pirates?"

Bivouac nodded. "Yeah. Some of the speakers down there were still working. Got the whole thing. They landed?"

"Yep."

Bivouac was nearly panicking but he let off an air of cool. He decided that if he couldn't get the infection off and find a cure, he would have to do something drastic. The pirates were onboard as well. He had just jumped from the frying pan and into the fire.

There had to be a reason to destroy both the Canimorphs and the pirates while getting Solder off the ship.

"Self-destruct."

Solder gave him a wary gaze. "That's what I was thinking. But the bridge is overrun. I had to leave that place because that Hamel asshole barged in on me. The only way to set off a self-destruct would be to head to the reactor, overload it and run as fast as we can."

"Run where?"

"The Blackstar, the pirate ship." Solder nodded grimly. "I've mapped a route. If we're fast, it won't change. We get on the ship, hijack it and make for the nearest space station. But first, we set this baby to blow." He lifted his hand. "You in?"

It was risky... The reactor was halfway across the ship and they would have to run pretty fast. Not to mention hope no one would cool off the reactor while they were running.

But still...

Hope was hope, right?

Bivouac seized his teammate's hand, shaking it vigorously. "I'm in."

The drill stopped, heralding their last stop.

The two marines stood.

Just as the lights flickered on in the vast chamber.

Both of their hearts stopped for the briefest of seconds.

High above them, suspended upside down... were hundreds if not thousands of the cockoons.

Solder's jaw dropped as one suddenly tensed and erupted in a shower of sticky white liquid. The Canimorph born from the cockoon somersaulted in the air and landed heavily on the gangway connecting the control cage to the rest of the room.

Covered in cum, the Canimorph stood and glared at them with yellow eyes.

Bivouac watched in horror as many more of them began to emerge, slowly positioning themselves to block their exit.

"Well..." he muttered softly. "Now we know where they were coming from!"