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Survivor - PERM Edition - Episode 3

*****

Last time, on Survivor PERM Edition...

The 12 survivors were quickly coming to grips with their situation, maximizing the tools that they had to optimise their defences, giving them the confidence they needed to survive another day.

The reward challenge had each survivor match their wit and speed against one another. Monroe sacrificed the opportunity for the reward to help out fellow survivor, Jack. Ultimately, Shady won the challenge and was given the choice to one of three rewards. He chose to go on a cleansing spa with Monroe which rid him of the taint Rammer, a High Horn, gave him on the first night.

Unfortunately, the survivors let their guard down and that spa date didn't clean Shady of his greed. Desiring power over all else, Shady willingly gave himself to the High Horns, becoming one of the biggest to date and systematically forcing most of them to submission. This gave the remaining survivors a moment to breathe but the next night would not be so calm.

In today's episode, anyone below the age of 18 or 21 should turn away immediately. Explicit scenes of male-on-male sexual interactions mixed with muscle growth, weight loss, transformation of human to another species, muscle worship and tentacle rape are abound.

Lawyers at NexWorks Studios advise us to add that if any viewers feel the undeniable compulsion to stimulate themselves to orgasm that you kindly sign the release and waver form sitting next to you before orgasm. The following blackout period is perfectly normal. Please do not worry. We will take care of you.

*****

Day 5 6:00 AM - Colin

No one had slept easy that night despite the distinct lack of an attack. Only halfway through the night did Craig permit anyone to go back to rotating shifts of sleep. Colin barely slept at all and when the sun began rising, he was lying in bed, shaky and exhausted. Every noise that came from the forest made him jump even if it was just the sound of one of the other survivors strolling along the balcony.

The trucker grunted and headed down to the first floor. The electrical fencing was still functioning and off in the distance, he could see that none of the mines had been disturbed. He would have been lying if he said he wasn't worried. His pronounced belly rumbled at being empty. Trudging through the ruined kitchen, he began fishing out some of the supplies from the freezer and the pantry.

Within half an hour, he had a heaping pile of bacon, lots of scrambled eggs and some sausages ready for everyone to eat. Looking at the food told him it was far too good. Something about it all just seemed... off. He would have thought the producers of this twisted show would force them to scavenge for their own food or win them in rewards but here, they were just dropping supplies. Despite his grumbling stomach, he worried that there was something far more sinister about the situation.

Weiss stepped out from the gymnasium, dripping wet. He clearly had a shower since he wore nothing but a towel around his waist. The sun glistened off his impressive, wet muscles. "That smells good."

Colin took a moment to compose himself and repress his disgust at the man's copious amounts of exposed flesh. "Help yourself," he said, forcing a smile and stepping back. "I've already eaten."

"Cool. Thanks man."

Like moths to a flame, the other survivors began filtering in from the various facilities of the Safe House. Father Macarthur wasn't hard to spot and the moment he came into view, Colin excused himself and quickly put as much distance between himself and the 'priest'. While his stomach still rumbled in protest, he tried to push the sensation away with his distinct hatred for liberal priest... and to some degree, himself.

He found himself in the library and stared at the door that led into the private diary room. With a heavy sigh, he remembered he had to make a video diary of himself every day. He wondered if anyone else was maintaining that routine. Admittedly, he had skipped the past few days because of the panic of escaping the High Horns but after the previous night...

The booth was just a quiet, soundproof box with a black, one-way mirror facing a stool. Colin sat himself down and peered at his tired reflection.

"What do I say...?" he muttered softly. "This place is seriously fucked up... God... I swear, I'm scared shitless... Shady is gone and it's barely even the 5th day! What kind of sick people watch this sort of shit!?"

Naturally, there was no answer.

"Fuck..." he murmured, lowering his gaze. "I don't trust any of them... Especially not that jock and horny college student... What were their names? Weiss and the other one...? Owen. Yeah, that's him. Horny bastards... And MacArthur! What kind of 'priest' goes around like that? He should be making people adhere to the law of God!"

He sighed heavily and regarded his reflection again. "Shit I'm hungry..."

A loud gong-like noise made him jump out of his seat.

"Good morning, Survivors!" McManus' voice carried even into the room. "I hope you all had a restful night. Your next supply drop is located here. Good luck."

Then he was gone again.

Colin was too tired to go on another supply drop run but he as his rumbling stomach reminded him, he needed to do something. And he needed to be as far away from the food as possible or he'd be tempted to take of the forbidden fruit of this island. It made him wonder how exactly he was going to survive forty-two days without food. Then he decided that if he just took small bites here and there, he could probably survive. Besides... he might even lose some weight.

He gripped his large belly and let out a soft sigh.

When he met the other Survivors back in the living room, Craig was already allocating who would go where. Naturally, Terry and Dennis were back on defence maintenance duty. Some fencing still had to be set up and the more they had, the better. Colin volunteered for another supply run but Craig refused.

"You went on the last supply run. You need rest. I'll go with Monroe and Vincent. Everyone else, get some rest. You'll be on duty tonight."

Duncan looked on the verge of exploding again but he repressed his protested though his face was turning a very bright red. When the supply group was gone, Colin found himself with very little to do. Again, his rumbling stomach reminded him that he had yet to eat. To keep his mind off his empty gut, he started doing a few laps around the Safe House, just walking around the perimeter. He told himself it was to memorise the contours of the land but really, he was just trying to keep his mind occupied.

It worked... for a few laps. However, every time he passed the kitchen area, he could smell the trailing aroma of the food that he had cooked. His stomach rumbled in protest and demanded he eat something. Finally giving in to his instincts, he stomped into the kitchen, snatched one of the packets of salty chips and began shovelling it into his face. He was done within five minutes and his stomach was somewhat sated.

With that in mind, he went straight back to the library for some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, he took the route through the living quarters and had to pass Father Conrad preaching about tolerance and faith to Dennis, Owen, Weiss and Jack. The hypocrisy disgusted him.

Colin stormed straight into the library, slamming the door shut behind him. His eyes went to the vast quantities of books. One of them would certainly be a good source of distraction. None of the books had any actual labels or titles. He wouldn't have been surprised if they were empty. However, when he plucked one at random and pulled it open, the words on the front page made his heart stop.

'Diary of David Westmont - Survivor PERM Edition Season 6... apparently.'

"Holy shit..."

He leafed through the pages, finding more and more that his heart was rising up to his throat. To his horror, read as this 'David Westmont' was another survivor just like them. He went into detail about the description of the Safe House. It had three floors and a basement. Definitely a different Safe House to the current incarnation. He said it was located on the beach and had a clear view of the ocean. There was a broad river of fresh water that came in from the mountains and ran through the middle of the Safe House, cutting through a beautiful, garden.

Then the first attack came... a raid by massive shark-men and that garden wasn't so beautiful anymore. The survivors had attempted to keep the Beasts at bay but made the mistake of not barring off the river. The shark-men 'Fin Hunters' apparently, came shooting up the river, burst out of the waters and attacked them from behind... literally.

David went into great detail about how half of his team were fucked wildly and turned into this Fin Hunters within an hour. Former friends quickly turned into slavering, biting, muscular fish-men that stuck their dual cocks into other fish men. David managed to escape with a handful of others by barricading themselves in the basement.

Colin shut the book, eyes wide in horror.

"This isn't the first time this happened..." he whispered.

He tossed the book aside and yanked out another one.

Another diary... this one a transcript of another Survivor's video diary. They were located in a Safe House buried deep inside a mountain...

Searching another book, he found that the Survivor detailed a much more tropical island than the forest-covered one Colin found himself in. Another diary mentioned an archipelago where different Beasts occupied various islands and instead of having a solidary Safe House, the were forced to move from island to island, finding the 'Safe House' on that island before sunset or they would have Beasts upon them.

Colin's heart was racing in his chest as he took a step back.

His eyes took in the vast walls of books... and he realised...

These were all diaries of Survivors that had fallen... None of them seemed to have made it to the end. They all abruptly ended. If every season had twelve players... Well... Twelve out of thousands of books...

"Fuck..."

Day 5 3:00 PM - Craig

Everyone had secrets. That was a given in the military. However, Craig was no longer sure that the military he was used to was the same military that had protected Monroe and Vincent. For one thing, where he lived, there were no parks. None at all. 'Animals' were things kept in zoos and museums. Those that couldn't afford to live on the space stations or nomad ships lived on the scorched planet's surface beneath bio-domes that maintained liveable conditions.

But greenery was a thing of the long, distant past.

Craig had maintained his awe of the forest in check for his entire stay. Now, alone with three others, he allowed himself a faint degree of wonder as he brushed a hand against a tree trunk. The gnarled surface was odd against his skin.

His eyes went towards Vincent. The 'park ranger' was certainly a secretive fellow but he had not lied about his occupation. In fact, he doubted the quiet man had lied at all during their stay.

So what was going on here...?

Keeping his thoughts to himself, Craig watched the two start heading up towards the Safe House with the two crates that had been supplied to them. He wondered about the contents of the boxes especially since there had previously been three crates in previous drops. One of the crated rattled loudly, leading him to suspect more armaments or weapons. Tearing himself from his wonder, he followed them towards Safe House and announced their arrival with a shout.

The other Survivors gathered around the living area where they dropped the crates.

Craig quietly opened the first of the crates and was not surprised to find clothes above all else. More of the strange, latex-like body suits were provided as well as some shoes. Oddly enough, there was also some metal vests that looked like armour. Strange, bluish discs were planted on the vests. The moment Craig touched one of them, he felt a faint buzzing ripple up his arm.

"They're meant to be 'Force Vests'," Terry read, picking up one of the manuals. "It says here that they kind of act like the fencing except they have a set charge. You get three moments of physical contact with a Beast that will incapacitate them with a powerful electrical charge and then it shuts down for the night. It charges with sunlight."

"Fuckin'-A," rumbled Duncan, seizing one of the larger vests. "About time we had some protection."

Every Survivor plucked a vest each but when there was one left, they all exchanged glances. Craig could see a dark depression falling upon them. He mustered up his command instincts -

"We'll get them back for Shady," said, Monroe loudly. He picked up the vest and took one of Terry's katanas to the nearby wall. With the blade, he carved out the name 'Shady' on the plaster before pinning the vest onto the wall with the weapon.

Courage welled up in each of the Survivors, their eyes sparking with life. Craig wanted to point out what a colossal waste of a vest and a weapon that gesture was but knew better than to dishearten his team. He kept his opinion to himself and moved to the second crate. Slowly, he pulled it open and had to crack a smile.

"Wonderful," he said with no degree of sarcasm.

Inside were what appeared to be the parts of an automate turret. There were only four sets but it was enough. Terry read the instructions, calling them 'Automatic Battery-powered Turrets' or ABTs. He said that they had an independent power source that charged in sunlight much like everything else but could only really be active for the first half of the night. Unlike the Rioter or the Force Pistols, they fired a 'shock shot' that blasted foes with a powerful electrical shock, enough to knockout any Beast. They could be automated or manually driven.

Automatic defences were a good boost to their defences.

He assigned Dennis and Terry to immediately set them up, one on the south, east and north walls. The west wall was not necessary as there was no real point of entry from that side except through the gymnasium and the door into the living quarters. Both were already defended by fencing. The last turret they positioned at the top of the stairs leading to the second floor.

6 PM came sooner than they had expected and the sun was suddenly dipping below the horizon. Craig ushered everyone to the second floor after a very quick dinner. Everyone was feeling safer with the ABTs but Craig told them not to let their guard down. Again, he had everyone on rotation for the night, with him taking the first watch. From the past few attacks, he knew the High Horns tended to throw all of their strength into the first few hours before tiring out throughout the night. They were just like real rhinoceroses - charging head on will little regard for tactics.

He stood on the north wall watching the power generator. Owen and Terry had done a good job of rearranging some of the mines to sit close to the generator's power switch and had surrounded it with some solid fencing. It would be impenetrable.

His instincts warned him of impending danger at about 6:30 but not from the forests. He turned to his right and found the trucker - Colin was his name - striding up to him with a book in his hands.

"What do you have there?" Craig asked gruffly.

"Something that might help us," the trucker responded, setting the small book on the railings and opening it. "This is a diary of one of the previous survivors."

"There were previous survivors?"

Colin's eyes were wide in fear. "Thousands. Apparently, this game has been going on for a very long time. Check this out..." He ran a finger over one particular sentence. "This is an account from this guy, Tomas Ogden, on the High Horn's behaviour. Right after they took one of the Survivors, the High Horns didn't attack again until the elimination challenge."

"When was this written?"

Colin shook his head sadly. "It doesn't say. None of these diaries seem to have any conclusive evidence on dates. Some say the year is 1959, others as far back as the 1800' or even into the middle ages! There are some absurd ones saying that they came from 2012."

Craig inclined his head to the side curiously. "What was the year you were born?"

"1959."

"And how old are you?"

"I don't know how that's any of your business but... I'm 42 in March."

That made the year... 2001...

"I'm twenty-seven," Craig muttered, a rising amount of dread rising from his chest.

"Nice to know. So?"

"I was born in 3043."

Colin looked surprised then he began laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

They shared a horrified glance and quickly bolted towards where the other Survivors were gathered, just waiting for the next attack.

"Everyone!" Craig shouted. "What year is this?"

He got a few 'is this really the time?' looks but when Jack spoke, those looks were gone.

"2013."

"What? It's only 1999!"

"No! It's 19_89_!"

"Fuck that! It's 2114!"

For the first time, Craig found his knees giving up on him. What strength he had began to fail him. It dawned on him that his military training did not prepare him for something like this. Just what was this game? How did they get people from various periods in time into the one place? What was the actual year?

The noise of arguments and panic rose through the air... to be interrupted by a trumpeting roar.

All the Survivors turned towards the south wall.

A lone High Horn stood at the edge of the forest, grinning from ear to ear with his cock fully erect. He looked like the biggest of them all.

The leader?

"Listen up, survivors," bellowed the High Horn, "we're not going to attack you tonight!"

"Why...?" Craig whispered softly.

Colin lifted the book towards the soldier, quietly whispering, "Apparently it's a pattern. Whenever one species takes a survivor or many survivors, they don't attack until the next elimination challenge is over. After that... a new species of Beasts comes in and the attacks begin anew... with more of them."

"But I've got a message for you!" the High Horn shouted. "Monroe, you know your kids back at your high school? They're probably all dead by now! You know what year it is?"

No answer.

"It's fuckin' 2114!"

Craig wasn't sure what reason he had to believe this High Horn but the mention of the coach's surname... it occurred to him. He bowled through the other Survivors, his mask of command shattering. "Shady!?"

"Hell yeah, Craigy-boy!" shouted the High Horn with a laugh.

All the Survivors seemed to collapse into themselves, horror crossing their features. They knew this would happen but just having the reality fall upon them... It was just too much. Dennis broke out into tears and collapsed against Weiss who held him comfortingly. The reverend began murmuring a prayer, clutching his hands together.

Bam!

Shady didn't move even as the tranquiliser dart embedded itself into the ground beside his bare, left foot.

Vincent lowered his gun. "Damn... I missed."

The newly turned High Horn chuckled. "You can't beat the Nexus Conglomerate, buds! They're too powerful! Did you all realise you're all from different times now?"

No one spoke again.

"How about different timelines?"

Craig shot a glance at the other Survivors. He wanted to ask about major historical events that he could remember... but then he lived in world where their recent history was ancient history. Similar glances were being exchanged and more fear began to crawl under their skin.

"Are ya gunna tell us ta give up, ya cocksucker!?" Duncan suddenly bellowed, shaking a fist through the air.

Shady threw his head back, letting out a thunderous laugh. "You kidding? If I did that, then there wouldn't be any fun!" His voice grew low and dangerous. "No. We're going to draw this out. We're going to enjoy coming to you every night after this one, fucking your brains out and dragging you kicking and screaming and shoving our dicks up your ass until you beg for more! And you'll want it. Trust me, you'll want it!"

To emphasise his point, hundreds of glowing, yellow eyes began shining through the darkness of the forest. Craig swallowed loudly. Spying so many High Horns... it gripped his heart with fear. They could attack. They could tear down their defences. Shady knew where everything was placed. He knew about the generator and he knew about the limitations of the fencing. Hell, if they just formed a ladder with their enormous bodies, they could probably leap over the fencing entirely and deactivate the power...

... and then they'd be fucked... literally.

They could do that...

... but they weren't going to.

They were going to make this a long, drawn out battle... a battle none of the survivors had a chance to win.

"Enjoy your night, kids!" Shady shouted, turning his back to them and waving over his shoulder. "I know I am."

BAM!

Shady's head snapped forward. Then, the High Horn toppled over into the arms of another of the Beasts. Even from the distance Craig could see the dart from Vincent's rifle protruding from the base of the High Horn's neck. The other Beasts let out a bellowing shout but the one that had caught Shady murmured something to them. With great reluctance, the Beasts began slinking back into the shadows, dragging their fallen comrade with them.

Vincent lowered his rifle, his features still and emotionless. "I don't miss twice."

Day 6 8:00 AM - Jack

Spirits were at an all-time low.

As the Survivors trudged through the forest towards their 'elimination challenge', the thought of giving up was on everyone's mind. Jack was no exception. His sons were just ten at 2013... Now, if Shady was to be believed, it was 2114 and that would mean that they had to be 111 years old. If they somehow survived that long, Jack would've missed the majority of their life.

What was the point of surviving when the reason he was fighting was probably dead by now?

Only a few of the others seemed to be unaffected by the news. Amongst them was Weiss, Owen, Father MacArthur, Duncan and Vincent. Even the normally immovable Craig looked visibly shaken by the news though why he was so horrified, Jack could only guess. Girlfriend back at home? Who cared?

They were damned if they won and damned if they lost.

When they arrived at the chosen location, they found the holographic McManus standing behind a podium, smiling as always. There was a large amount of rope tangled in front of him arranged in a star-shaped formation with eleven ends.

"Good morning, Survivors," McManus said through a grin. "Are you ready to begin the first Elimination Challenge?"

"What's the point?" sighed Dennis. "Even if we win this game, we'll wind up somewhere we have no reason to be..."

McManus inclined his head slightly, the first sign of human emotion he had. "Ah, you are speaking of the High Horns' declaration last night. You are wondering what possible reward you will have after completing the game when you are in a different time and timeline, correct?"

No one spoke.

"Rest assured, we will return you to your respective timelines and times. You are merely in the year 2114 on a different timeline because that is where this show for this season takes place."

That didn't offer anyone any real hope.

"Has anyone ever won this fucked up game?" growled Duncan.

"Multiple times. Almost every season has had a winner."

"Are you bullshitting me?"

"I assure you, I am not. One reoccurring pattern amongst winners is that they know when to make friends and maintain them even after their friends have fallen into hands of the Beasts. They must also be willing to make harsh decisions or play underhanded tricks when necessary. This world has no reward for the noble, gives no quarter for the meek and offers no mercy to the dirty."

He said all this with that creepy smile of his.

Jack wasn't sure whether he believed that or not but he was the first to peel away from the rest of the group and stand in front of one of the ropes. He didn't care if McManus was lying. He was going to grab onto that fragment of hope, no matter how faint it was, and get back to his sons. If anything, he'd have one hell of a story to tell them when he got back.

The others followed his lead and stood at each of the corners of the ropes.

"The game is simple," McManus said brightly. "This is a game of tug-of-war. Each player with tug at their ropes. The first person to fall will be eliminated. The last person standing will be the winner and will be granted immunity to the attacks for a whole twenty-four hours upon activation of the immunity beacon. Survivors ready?"

Jack nodded.

"Go!"

He pulled at the rope with all his might. It didn't take him long to realise just what an enormous time sink this was. There were eleven of them with the edges of the rope evenly distributed amongst them in a circle. At any one time, one person was fighting against ten other people. It would've been difficult enough if they were divided into teams but when there was no one direction they were pulling...

Wait...

An idea struck him and he glanced to his left and right. He saw Monroe to his right, face and neck already red from exertion. To his left was Dennis, pulling with all his might but already looking about ready to drop from a shattered hope. Beyond Dennis was Craig and beside Monroe was Terry.

A thought crossed his mind.

They could sit here and tug until they were exhausted and the sun set. Even if one of them won, they'd have to make the dangerous trek through the dark and through the Beasts back to their ill-prepared Safe House.

His eyes flicked towards McManus who seemed to read his mind. The holographic image smirked - at least he thought he smirked.

The bastard.

Jack quickly took three steps towards Monroe, the coach giving him a startled look. "Move towards Terry," he instructed.

"What...?"

"Trust me."

Monroe shakily began moving towards Terry. To his surprise the length of mass of the rope began tugging towards them. Dennis saw what was happening and followed suit. Craig nodded at Jack's ingenuity and did the same. Suddenly, all five of them were using their strength to pull in one direction.

"Pull!" Jack shouted. "Pull now!"

He gave the rope one, mighty tug. Those around him let out a heavy grunt and -

Whump!

Someone fell.

And that someone...

... was Colin.

The dark-skinned trucker sat up, desperately looking left and right in search for anyone else who had fallen. No such luck. Jack felt a pang of guilt shoot through his chest. He hadn't intended it to be so but his manoeuvre had positioned them directly opposite to Colin... and that made him the victim.

"That's bullshit!" shouted the trucker. "You can't do that! They teamed up on me!"

McManus shrugged. "There were no rules against that. I am sorry, Colin, you were eliminated. For the rest of the day, you will be stranded outside of your team's Safe House."

Colin sat on his haunches and looked crushed, broken. Everyone around him instantly moved away like he was already infected by the Beasts. Jack kicked himself for realising that Colin had effectively divided the remaining Survivors into two teams. Duncan, Vincent and Father MacArthur were on one side of Colin while Weiss and Owen were on another. Knowing Duncan would never willingly side with Craig, Jack nudged Monroe towards Weiss.

The coach took his meaning easily and when the next round began, they quickly repositioned themselves towards the big jock and the arts student. Duncan's eyes were practically on fire with incredulity as it suddenly became a battle of three men against seven. Despite the odds, the trio put up one hell of a fight before Father MacArthur fell. Duncan was the last of his side to remain standing with Vincent toppling shortly after the priest.

They were suddenly forced to divide themselves. The original five stuck together against Weiss and Owen. Even with Weiss' bulk, he went down quicker than Owen when the five gave the rope one, mighty tug.

On some unspoken command, all five of the remaining Survivors split themselves up evenly across the rope. Duncan muttered about 'now playing fair' but Jack ignored him. Though one of them would win, this was the start of an alliance... a very important one. Jack gave the fight his all and was a little disappointed to see Dennis to be the first to fall. The kid had so much potential. Terry was next to topple and then, it was just the three men.

Jack expected to fall next but Monroe gave a loud grunt and collapsed after two seconds into the fight.

Suddenly, it was himself against Craig. Looking at the intimidating body of the soldier, Jack couldn't help but realise this was exactly where the challenge would end. The future was very clear and he wondered why he shouldn't just drop the rope and surrender.

He was glad he didn't.

Craig dropped the rope and gave Jack a sharp salute. "All yours, sir."

Jack's jaw dropped.

"And the winner of today's challenge," McManus announced, "Jack Riley!"

The holograph suddenly appeared beside Jack and wrapped a band around his wrist. The cool metal made him shiver. There was a single, red button on the band. "From now until the next elimination challenge, that immunity band is yours. At any time between then and now, you can press the button and no Beast will attack you for the next twenty-four hours. This band is non-transferrable."

Jack was more stunned than he was relieved. His eyes never left Craig who joined the 'losers'. Even when McManus gave him a sealed folder telling him it was the instructions on how to get the first component to building the ship that would get them off the island, he was still staring at Craig.

For some reason, wearing the band felt like he had just been crowned.

And it felt like a very heavy crown.

Day 6 4:00 PM - Dennis

Dennis never wanted any of this.

Who could want any of this?

He was utterly perplexed how anyone - especially someone like Shady - could want the grotesque form of the High Horns? It made him cry inside knowing that Colin was effectively damned to the same fate. The young engineering student couldn't bring himself to even walk beside the portly trucker to comfort him.

When they arrived back at the Safe House, he lingered at the edge of the threshold onto the House.

Colin stood at the base of the steps, staring at them like they were the most alien thing he had ever seen.

"Maybe he's just messing with you?" offer Dennis meekly.

"Maybe..." Colin murmured. When he took a step forward, there was a loud, electrical buzzing and the step he was about to land on flashed bright blue. Colin retreated. He tentatively reached for the nearby wall. The wall sizzled around where his hand approached.

Definitely not messing with him.

Colin pulled his hand away and let out a very heavy sigh. "Hey kid..."

"Yeah?" Dennis replied softly.

"I need you to do me a favour." The trucker's dark brown eyes locked with Dennis'. "In the library, there's a book I left near the door into the video room. It's got a red cover. Inside, it's a diary by David Westmont. Can you grab it for me?"

A last request for someone who knew he was going to die? Maybe Colin was going to read away the hours before he became a Beast. How could he refuse that?

"Okay."

Dennis went straight into the Safe House, walking around the lower balcony to reach the library quicker. He heard the other Survivors already talking about their plans for the evening. Craig was allocation rotations again. Father MacArthur was quietly praying for Colin's safety in the courtyard and Vincent took up his quiet vigil on the rooftops. Even from a distance, Dennis could see how closely Jack stood next to Craig, Monroe and Terry. They were becoming a powerful group and one Dennis was glad to be a part of. He wanted Weiss and Owen there too. They were really good friends. Duncan he just didn't like. The guy was way too brash and too eager to stir up trouble.

Teamwork and cooperation. That was what was going to save them. No one man was going to build that ship and Jack was the one with the plans.

He entered the library quickly and found the book Colin mentioned. Just to be sure, he flipped it open.

'Diary of David Westmont - Survivor PERM Edition Season 6... apparently.'

Curious, he began flicking through the pages.

In less than a minute, he realised what Colin was after.

Hope blossoming in his chest, he snapped the book shut and bolted out of the library, making for where Colin stood waiting. He thrust the book into the trucker's hands and gave the man a firm nod.

"I hope you find it."

Colin nodded in return. "Yeah. Me too. Tell them I hope they make it out of this alive. I'll see you all tomorrow... I hope."

Dennis watched the man disappear into the forests, the book open as his guide. When Colin was gone, he returned to where the others were gathered. He was on the first watch this evening and he was fine with that. With their automated turrets, mines and fencing, the High Horns would be hard pressed to burst through their defences. He was confident tonight wouldn't be too difficult.

Dinner was served quickly and it was already 6 PM by the time they finished. The late watches scrambled to bed on the second floor for their rest while the first watch stood at their chosen locations, Rioters or Force Pistols in hand. This evening, it was meant to be Dennis, Jack, Terry and Owen on patrol. Vincent was taken out of the roster. He was never on the roster. Everyone knew he was out and watching for trouble.

With their newly acquired vests and guns at the ready, the Survivors slowly patrolled the upper balconies of the house, waiting... watching. Dennis didn't notice he was patrolling a little too slowly until Jack caught up with him. They shared a brief nod.

Then he spotted the orange envelope that was sticking out from Jack's breast pocket.

"Is that the instructions McManus gave you?"

The father of two regarded the envelope in surprise and nodded. "Oh yeah..." He pulled it out and held it in front of him. "I wonder what it is."

"Open it," Dennis urged.

"Maybe we should wait for everyone else..."

Curiosity overwrote fear and anticipation. "It'll still be there tomorrow when everyone else sees it. Besides, it's safest with you. If the High Horns attack, you can just activate your band and they can't touch you."

Jack lifted his eyebrows briefly. "I guess you're right..." A soft ripping noise broke the silence of the night. Jack pulled out an envelope. "It's just instructions... It says here that the first component is, surprise-surprise, some blueprints."

"Where is it hidden?"

Jack turned the page so that Dennis could see as well. A whole mess of scribbles surrounded the sentence that told them they were looking for blueprints. More scribbles were scrawled on the back of the page but none of it made sense.

A loud roar pulled them from their musings.

"Here they come!" Jack said, shoving the page back into his pocket. "Get to the south. I've got the north!"

Dennis bolted towards the southern balcony, sticking nice and close to the ABT that stood there. Rioter lifted, he peered into the deep, dark forest. The High Horn's bright, yellow eyes reflected the lights from the Safe House. Massive, muscular figures slowly emerged from the shadows, grinning and striding forward in perfect formation. Their cocks were erect, as they always were, and Dennis fought down the urge to fire a warning shot at them.

A lout shout came from somewhere to the north. He guessed one of the High Horns had just stumbled into the fencing around the generator. No way the same trick would work twice. The High Horns marched up to the line of mines, just waiting for the power to go out. They began jibing one another, roaring at the Survivors and taunting them. Crude and vulgar comments were shouted across the vast distance but Dennis kept himself calm.

At least as much as he could.

His hands were shaking and his legs were constantly begging him to turn around and flee in the opposite direction. But through it all, he thought about Colin. Didn't he say that if someone was caught, the Beasts wouldn't attack again? The fact that the High Horns were still here gave Dennis a lot of hope. That meant Colin hadn't been caught.

That meant there was hope for them yet.

Boom!

He straightened, tearing his gaze from the sights of the Rioter.

That wasn't right.

Not right at all...

That sounded like a mine going off.

He did a quick scan of the minefield in front of him. Not a single one had gone off. He glanced to his right and left, looking for the tell-tale blue electric field that was the mark of a stun mine going off. Nothing. That could only mean the explosion had come from the north.

The north...

Where the generator was located?

No... The fencing around the generator prevented the High Horns from charging in. Yes, they had planted mines within the fencing just in case but...

Boom!

Panic suddenly bolted through his body and Dennis quickly switched on the ABT before bolting straight for the northern wall. He ran past a surprised Owen and came to a skidding halt beside Jack. The father had his jaw wide open and his hands shaking.

"What's going on?" Dennis asked.

"The mines... beside the generator..."

Dennis spun...

Boom!

Another explosion rang out from deep inside the fencing around the generator... followed by another... and another... and another. Did the High Horns find some way to work their way around the fencing? Did they cut down a tree and use that to climb over the fencing?

What...?

Then he saw it.

There was a shape that shot out from the shadows of the forest and landed next to the generator.

Boom!

There was the bluish flash of light from a stun mine. Dennis caught a glimpse of fur.

"That's not a High Horn," Jack murmured. "Wake the others... Wake the others!" He spun around. "Wake up! Wake up everyone!"

At that moment, the lights went out.

Day 6 7:30 PM - Colin

They were called 'Sky Roos' and for a good reason.

The massive, eight-foot tall kangaroos marched up from their cave near the shore, laughing and jostling one another's impressive packages as they headed towards the Safe House... at least, the current Survivors' Safe House. Their torsos and upper bodies were nowhere as big as the High Horns' but they were still impressive in terms of muscle. It was their legs that really defined them. Thick, muscular thighs carried their forms across the grass, bulging calves and massive feet clearly their defining features. They were in no way disproportionate just that Colin couldn't help but notice their legs.

From his perch on the third floor of a former Safe House, Colin peered through a telescope at the Sky Roos. His heart was pounding constantly. The second type of Beasts were a good distance away. Without the telescope, they were just a trail of ants but Colin still felt nervous about being alone in a shattered and practically dilapidated former Safe House.

Still, it was his greatest chance of survival.

No one would come looking for him here.

The glass windows were shattered and being so close to the shore, it was bitingly cold. However, the beds were all intact if covered in thick foliage. The entire Safe House was overrun with local flora. Vines were growing all over the walls and shrubbery and burst through the floor tiles. There was a tree that had burst its way through the side of the Safe House. It looked like some of the Survivors had attempted to grow their own food in this Safe House's incarnation of the greenhouse and the plants there had overrun the place.

With a heavy sigh, Colin quietly made his way to one of the mostly intact beds and sat down on the oddly soft bed. With David's diary in his hands, he turned towards the shattered window and pulled it open.

He found an entry on the Sky Roos.

Apparently, where the High Horns were shock troops, the Sky Roos were like paratroopers. They had a habit of leaping incredible heights, even leaping to the top of the three-storey Safe House without assistance. They would then make their way in through windows and attack from inside. David observed that it was a risky strategy and though they were caught off guard for the first night and one of their own was taken, the next time the Roos attacked, they were ready. They were predictable and highly vulnerable as they were making their leap. In close quarters combat, they were also surprisingly slow and had a short reach. Their kicks could knock a man out easily, though. That was how David's teammate was taken.

Colin nodded and continued to sift through David's diary.

There were other species being noted; wolves that were more like an organised specialist squad than the brutish High Horns or risqué Sky Roos. Then there were reptiles of the crocodilian nature that were few but notoriously hard to take down, practically living tanks. Equines that were blindingly fast also made an appearance beside various types of rodent that blended in the shadows and struck when least expected.

Colin found himself growing sleepy and hungry as he lay down on the bed. There were some of those heart-shaped fruits hanging above his head. The same kind of fruits that Weiss and Owen had taken to eating. Resolving to maintain his 'just a little' resolution, he plucked a fruit from the vine above him and quietly devoured it.

In the distance, there was gunfire and the roars of countless Beasts as the war began.

It was almost ironic that he - the eliminated - was much safer here than those who stood in the Safe House... well, except perhaps Jack. Colin wondered if he should go back there or just wait until Jack was picked apart by the Beasts before he embarked on a solo mission to try and save himself from the island.

He was still debating this when he finished the fruit and tossed the pulp aside.

The trucker lay on the bad, staring up at the vine-covered ceiling and sighed. His eyes turned towards David's diary. The poor guy had ended up being the last of his team for six whole days, somehow managing to use the tools he had acquired to barricade himself in the Safe House, never leaving the Safe House even during the day. He missed Elimination and Reward Challenges on purpose.

When day 42 came... all his defences just shut down...

And the Beasts came...

Colin vowed not to be like that.

He would make it out of here.

Somehow, he'd make it out of here.

He closed his eyes and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Unbeknownst to him, the vines around the Safe House took notice of the human lying in their midst.

Slowly, very slowly, they began wriggling towards the man.

Day 7 6:30 AM - Jack

It was hell.

These mutant kangaroos leapt easily over the fencing around the generator and switched off the power, killing all the fencing around the Safe House. The High Horns sacrificed a large number of their number to break through the mine field and the moment they were, the significantly fewer roos began leaping over them and onto the roof of the Safe House.

Big mistake.

The ABTs instantly swivelled around and sent them falling off the roof and either onto the courtyard or back to the ground. The High Horns managed to get into the Safe House again but the tried and true tactic of covering the stairs kept them at bay.

Again, the Survivors had a sleepless night as they watched for High Horn tactics punctured only by the risky roos striking from nowhere. They were kept on their toes and when the ABTs went down, they had to maintain that.

When dawn finally came, everyone collapsed to the floor, utterly exhausted.

"What the fuck was that!?" Duncan shouted, sweat dripping off his brow.

"Sky Roos, apparently," Craig replied in his usual, emotionless drawl. He was peering at the monitors which - like the High Horns - began displaying information about their new adversary. "Apparently, after every six days, we get assaulted by a fresh batch of Beasts."

"You knew about this!?" bellowed the fireman but he was too weak to get up and beat the soldier.

"Colin implied it..."

"Colin!" All eyes went to Dennis. The young student wearily got to his feet, shaking a little. "The Sky Roos and the High Horns still attacked tonight. That means they didn't get him!"

"That's impossible," Craig growled. "He was out there all on his own. There's no point in mourning for the lost. If he's not taken, then he's infected. Let's just move on."

Showing unnatural stamina, the soldier marched down the stairs, and began surveying the damage. Jack collapsed on the floor and just closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how long he was out but by the time he was aware again, the sun was in the middle of the sky and he was feeling the faint prickle of sunburn.

With a wince, he got up and staggered through the Safe House. Some of the Survivors had gone into the recreation room and began sleeping and someone had draped a blanket over him. Father MacArthur was in the kitchen, preparing lunch. He reported that Duncan, Craig and Owen had gone out on the fresh supply run. Everyone else was resting.

Jack nodded numbly and entered the showers.

A cold shower was welcome and it washed away some bits of the weariness that still stuck to his bones and skin. After a good soak, he made to head back to the kitchen. He paused when he spied the gym equipment. Despite all the strength he felt returning to his body, he felt powerless. He had his immunity band but to use it so soon...

To survive this, he needed more than just allies.

He needed to get stronger.

Jack pulled up one of the treadmills and switched it back on. It was only after five minutes into his run did he feel the weariness of the past week come crashing on him. It angered him that he felt so weak. If the Beasts weren't coming to screw them, they were slowly winning a war of attrition. The Survivors would be driven to the ground in exhaustion and by this time next week, they wouldn't even be able to lift their weapons to fight.

They needed another strategy.

Something that would let them survive.

He almost considered sacrificing someone to give them a fighting chance.

Then he glanced at his immunity band.

Sacrifice...

"Jack!"

His eyes sprang up at Dennis who stuck his head out from the kitchen.

"What is it?"

"It's Colin! He's back!"

Jack's heart leapt to his throat and he hurried towards the living room. Colin stood at the centre of several awed Survivors. The trucker looked utterly unharmed and he looked proud of it too. But appearances could be deceiving and given Shady's transformation...

"How did you survive?" came the questions.

Colin was noncommittal on that and just said that the Beasts were so focused on the Safe House they didn't notice him slip away. He mentioned that he read some of the books in the library, recounting how all of them were diaries of former Survivors. There was a common trap that Survivors that were 'eliminated' would stick around the Safe House thinking that their friends would save them when in reality, they were the first to go.

Jack made a note to look at those books.

"Glad to have you back," Jack said, clapping the man on the shoulder. Colin gave him a foul look, clearly still sore about the elimination challenge. Feeling the Colin's malice was spreading to the rest of the team, Jack reached into his pocket and revealed the message he had received. "Did your books say anything about these messages?"

Colin's eyes broke through their hatred and he nodded. "They're clues as to where to find the tools and components to build whatever thing will get us off this place. Apparently, it's different with each season of this fucked up TV show."

"Does it say how we can unravel the clue? This thing just says we're looking for blueprints."

Colin offered a vague shake of his head. "Sorry. Each clue is different."

That shot down any hopes Jack may have had of getting off the island very quickly but getting Colin back did offer hope of another kind; the hope that the Beasts were escapable.

"Why don't get some rest?" Jack offered. "Running around like that last night must've been crazy." Colin actually looked rather well-rested but Jack was not about to mention that when everyone else was dead tired. Thankfully, the trucker did not oppose his offer and went upstairs to rest. He had a bit of a following with some of the others eager to know how he survived.

Only Father MacArthur and Vincent remained downstairs with Jack.

"I don't trust that guy," Vincent murmured.

MacArthur gave a begrudging agreement. "I would normally take the survival of one of our own after an attack like last night as a blessing but..."

"I know how to survive in the wild. But he doesn't seem the type to scavenge for food, build a shelter out of leaves and hide his trail. No... He knows something. Something he's not telling us."

Jack turned towards the library. "Let him keep his secrets for now. Another man with a gun is another man we can use to fight those High Horns and the Sky Roos."

Just like Colin, he had his own trail of followers in MacArthur and Vincent. They both knew what he intended and the moment they entered the library, they began poring over the books, searching for anything that could help them.

Everything was a diary of some Survivor of one season or another. He wasn't sure how any of them had found the time to record their all their thoughts on paper. Then again, he guessed that for people from eras without television, the Safe Houses were probably geared to force people to keep diaries instead of chatting to an invisible producer through a recording camera.

Speaking of which...

"I have to keep that bloody diary, don't I?" he murmured.

"I'm not bothering," Vincent whispered. "We're meant to suffer consequences if we don't keep one but I have never stepped into that room."

"One mustn't tempt fate," warned MacArthur.

"Fate was cruel enough to drop us here. Tempting her any further might just be salvation."

A grim thought but Jack was inclined to lean towards MacArthur's opinion. Getting out of here and back to his sons was his first priority. He took one of the books he held and shut himself in the video diary room. Part of him expected something much more... high-tech. But the soundproof roof preventing anything he said from getting out and the one-way mirror was a little... disappointing.

He sat on the stool and stared at his ragged expression.

A sigh escaped him.

"What should I say...?" he murmured. "Whoever is watching this... you're a sick fuck. I don't know what you want or why you'd watch this sort of thing but these are human lives you're toying with..." He sighed and rubbed his temples. "God... I'm so tired... I can't even be bothered to get angry..."

"Would it help if I talked back?"

Jack sat up, staring at the mirror in horror. The voice that spoke back was masculine, refined, articulating every word with precision.

"What...?"

"I'll take that as a 'yes'."

Jack was halfway off his seat. "Who are you?"

"Hmmm... Good question... I go by many names. I'm the head of the Nexus Conglomerate. You can call me the 'Owner', 'Producer', 'Grand Puba', 'Mastermind', 'Big Bad' or, if you're feeling dramatic, 'God'."

He was silent, staring at the mirror with incredulity.

"You think I'm being an arrogant sonofabitch, don't you? Calling myself 'God'. Well, I don't blame you. I play with lives. I mess with people. I take from them what they hold dearest to them, twist it and give it back to them after I've chewed on it, shit it out of my ass and probably fucked it a couple of times if I'm feeling particularly sadistic."

"What?"

"Long story short, I'm evil. Get used to it. In fact, that's the motto of the Conglomerate. 'We're Evil. Get used to it.'."

Jack shook his head. "What kind of company are you?"

The Producer clucked his tongue loudly. "No, no, no. We're not a company. We're multiple companies. Headed by different people, we come together using our various resources to reach into the vast recesses of the universe and beyond to do one thing and one thing alone."

There was a pause. Jack inadvertently found himself leaning forward to get the answer.

"To fuck people over."

He reeled back in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. Hell, we've got a whole R&D division dedicated to finding out new and effective ways of being evil."

"Why not just kill us and be done with it!?"

"Because that's not evil. That's just sloppy. No, true evil makes people suffer for no other reason than to make them suffer."

"And you transform people into massive, slavering, horny beasts because that makes them suffer? Shady looks like he's enjoying himself!"

A laugh was his response. "Oh you may thing so but that's being short sighted." The Producer paused for a moment. "Let me tell you a story, Jack Riley. The Conglomerate started out as a simple company. Do you know what we did?"

"Sell shoes?"

"Actually, a little bit. But what we did was we took someone who hated their lives and gave them a new one. It was gradual, of course. Sometimes, they would willingly embrace the change. They'd get a new life, new bodies, new bank accounts, whatever. But you know what ended up happening in the end?"

"What?" Jack muttered venomously.

"They always came back to us in the end. The grass is always greener on the other side, Jack. When people get the change they always craved, there's nothing left for them to achieve. So they will want more. They come back to us, they give us a shit tonne of money and we build them a new life again, and again and again_. Needless to say, we 'procure' all their previous life's assets and sell it. Can't have evidence of that previous life hanging around or it'd just ruin the illusion._

"That is what's going to happen with Shady and the rest of you once you change. You get all this power, all this strength and all this freedom but you know what? You're going to want more. You always want more."

Jack slumped back, his jaw half-open in shock. "So what? There's no way of escaping?"

"I never said that. Of course there's a way to escape. I'll even drop a nice big, ten million dollars in your bank account for the trouble if you make it. But those that get left here... Well, they get to play the game over and over again only this time, they're the Beasts and you know what the best part about their side of the game is?"

Jack was afraid to ask but he said, "You mean apart from the fucking? What?"

The Producer laughed. "You're catching on! No, the Beasts get their own version of the game. Beasts that manage to successfully convert three Survivors across multiple seasons and this doesn't even have to be in a row, they get to be turned back into a human, we drop them back in their own timelines like nothing ever happened. We only give them a million dollars though. They did technically lose."

Livid and in shock, Jack leaned forward again, almost nose to nose with his reflection. "Are you serious? We can escape even if we turn into Beasts!?"

"Of course."

There was a catch. There was always a catch.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch. Just basic, human nature. The grass is always greener, Jack, always_."_

He didn't understand what that meant but it offered him hope. Jack was rising out of his seat, grinning maniacally. "You just made sure, this season, you're going to get someone off this island."

"Of that I have no doubt. Come back and see me if you want any tips, Jack. Oh, and here's your daily clue: origami."

"Ori...?" He cut himself off as he heard someone shouting from outside. He glanced back at the mirror, pointing at his reflection. "To be continued."

"If I'm not here, just call for me. I've got billions of lives to screw with. I'm actually about to destroy a whole planet so it might take a while. I'm probably not going to be here tomorrow. Day after?"

"You're going to destroy a planet? Why?"

"I'm bored. I won't kill them, of course. That'd be a waste of assets. Don't worry. I'm not a murderer."

Somehow, that didn't make Jack feel any better. He left the video room and hurried to the source of the disturbance. Back at the living room, Vincent and Father MacArthur had joined a crowd around Colin. Duncan and his team had returned, looming over the trucker. It was clear the fireman did not like Colin's return and for once, Craig seemed to agree with him.

"How do we know you aren't some Beast spy now!?" bellowed the fireman.

"Do I look like one of those fuckin' rhinos or roos!?" returned Colin. "You look more like one of them!"

"I'm fit! You're just a fatass!"

Monroe suddenly stepped in between them, pushing them aside. "Look! Colin coming back means there's someplace to hide out there! Even if we get eliminated in the challenge, that means we can actually survive." He turned towards Colin. "If you tell us how you escaped the Beasts, we'll get one of the guys to accompany you tonight so we can be sure it's safe. Then, we'll be comfortable with what you say."

Duncan shoved the coach aside. "Are you kidding me!? We need every man we can get defending this place! What if it's just a trap and he ends up taking down one of us!? We'll be two men down!"

"Or we could have some place to hide. Maybe we can even just set up the ABTs here, hide out where Colin is hiding and get a good night's sleep for once!"

That was a tempting offer but Jack stood by his distrust of Colin. Just the way the trucker stood, it was clear he had no intention of revealing his secret.

"I'm not going to tell you how I escaped if you don't trust me," Colin said, stepping away from a surprised Monroe. "You know what? I can survive out there by myself. If any of you want to come with me, I'll be coming back here every day when the sun is up. Otherwise, I'm out of here."

"Colin..." began the coach but the trucker was already storming out of the Safe House.

No one moved.

Craig grunted and pushed one of the three big crates they had towards them. "Okay, let's get this shit set up."

---

Day 7 5:30 PM - Dennis

Unlike everyone else, Dennis knew exactly what Colin had done to escape the Sky Roos and the High Horns. He had found one of the other Safe Houses and stayed there. Maybe the old Safe House still had its defences. Or maybe, the Beasts were just so preoccupied with the current Safe House they didn't bother to check the old ones.

Either way, he knew what Colin was up to.

And he wanted in.

Only... he was scared.

There was no way to be sure that what Colin said was true.

Dennis swore to himself that if Colin survived the night again, it was a sure sign he could be trusted. But first, he had to survive this night.

An additional six ABTs had been graciously provided to them. Terry was correct in setting four of them up on the four corners of the roof. That way, any Roos that tried to attack them could be shot down from where they jumped. As for the other two, it was clear that the generator was vulnerable once more so they had to defend it again. The two ABTs were positioned strategically within the fencing of the generator and surrounded by more mines.

More fencing was provided to them and Dennis had worked tirelessly with Terry and Weiss to erect them in a solid perimeter around the hill. Now, they actually had a perimeter and didn't have to rely on the patchy fencing that replaced the broken walls around the Safe House.

Still, with the appearance of the Sky Roos, he was very wary of what would come next.

When the sun began to set, he scrambled back up to the second floor with the rest of the Survivors. There were no rosters this time around. Everyone had to be awake. That was what Craig said and Duncan surprisingly agreed as well though it visible killed him to say so.

Dennis found himself gravitating towards Jack who stood grimly on the north wall, facing the generator again. His mind spun with Colin out there alone again in the abandoned Safe House. It killed him that he couldn't tell anyone. Above all else, he wanted to at least tell Jack. The guy seemed fair until the commanding Craig or the brash Duncan. He was a leader that he wanted to follow. A guy that cared for the people beneath him.

"You okay, kid?"

Dennis forced a small smile and nodded. "Yeah... I... Uh..." He took a deep breath and regarded Jack's breast pocket. "Did you figure out the clue?"

Jack lowered his Rioter and pulled the clue from his breast pocket. "No... Hmmm... Origami..."

"Origami...?" Suddenly an idea came into Dennis' head. "Can I see that for a second?"

"Sure..."

He took the paper in his hands. Slowly, he began folding the paper. First the four corners towards the centre... and then the resulting diamond's corners again towards the centre...

His eyes widened.

"Wow... Brilliant, kid!" Jack exclaimed.

All the scribbles on both sides of the page actually formed a map of some sort. It clearly marked the location of the Safe House and in relation to that, a tree with an arrow pointing towards the hole where the blueprints must be hidden!

"First thing in the morning, we're getting this sucker!" Jack exclaimed, clapping Dennis' shoulder encouragingly. "You just made my night, kid!"

Then the roaring started...

The night was just beginning.

Day 7 7:30 PM - Monroe

The Sky Roos were fewer in number than the High Horns but they were still pretty dangerous. Standing on the roof with Vincent and Duncan, Monroe had his Rioter raised and ready for any Roos that the ABTs may have missed.

The assault begun with the High Horns trying to plough their way through the minefield as usual. He almost laughed when he saw the Sky Roos trying to get to the generator again but the ABTs there were keeping them at bay. The Survivors knew the ABTs would only last for half the night and the other half, they'd have to go on without power as the Roos shut down the power. However, by then, they'd have a large number of the Beasts stunned or running with their tails between their legs.

It wasn't the most fool proof plan but Monroe was confident it would win them the night.

Unlike the High Horns, the Roos didn't roar. They let out very-human cry, shouting 'Yippie-kai-yay!' or 'here I come, fuckers!' and even a few 'look out belows'. Once the High Horns had carved through the minefields, the Roos got close enough to make their first leaps.

That's when the ABTs came to life.

Bolts of blue lightning shot out from the barrels of the automated turrets, striking the Roos that got close. High Horns threw themselves in from of some of the Roos, showing surprising teamwork. Those that managed to use those powerful legs to leap into the air and make for the courtyard were immediately cut down by the ABTs on the roof.

Monroe almost felt pity for the bastards as they were stunned in midair and crashed into the courtyard. They didn't appear harmed though. It surprised him that after a two storey drop, no bones were broken. They just hit the ground with a loud whump. One or two fell in the Jacuzzi but nothing serious. A few hit the roof before rolling off.

A Roo hit the roof, somehow bypassing the barrage of fire from the ABTs.

BANG!

A bolt of pure force hit its chest and it was sent flying through the air, soaring hundreds of metres from the roof and disappearing into the forest. Duncan flipped his Force Pistol cockily in his hands before switching to his Rioter.

"Nice shot," Monroe grunted, lifting his weapon and firing at the descending Roos. They were like dark, furry ninjas with tails coming down from the sky. But even ninjas had to come down and in the time they took to fall, the ABTs and Survivors picked them off.

"Better shot than you," Duncan laughed, striking another Roo with his Rioter. The Beast crashed to the roof, slamming its chin on the corner and falling down onto the balcony below. The other Survivors worked hard to throw him off the second floor.

"Can't you just take a fuckin' compliment without insulting someone?"

"Ain't an insult if it's true."

"What is your problem?" barked Monroe, spinning around to face the fireman. "God! We're stuck here together all trying to survive and it's like you're actively trying to break us apart! What the fuck is that about!?"

"You want to know what the fuck I'm about?" Duncan spun around and fire another shot into the air. Somehow, he hit a Roo and the poor bastard hit the courtyard beneath them. "I gots lots of problems with the bastards I'm 'teamed up' with. Craig is an uber-macho muscle head that thinks he's the 'general' around here. Weiss is as dumb as brick. Dennis is a fuckin' sissy. Owen thinks with his pants off and is likely to throw himself off to the High Horns before any of us can blink. MacArthur still believes in God after all this. Terry can't fight for shit and Vincent looks like he's a bloody vampire! Jack won't stop talking about his kids and don't even get me started on you!"

Monroe was not about to mention that everyone could hear the loud-mouthed asshole... at least not yet. He stormed over to where Duncan stood. Though shorter, he puffed out his chest and snarled. "Start," he challenged.

The fireman laughed, throwing his head back and letting loose a barrage wildly into the sky. A Roo fell and dropped to the courtyard. There was a pile of them starting. "You think you're the big man here when really, you're a washed up college coach with a bum leg. You're just a tiny man, compensating for a tiny dick!"

That just sparked a fire in Monroe's mind.

He seized Duncan's broader shoulders and shoved him away.

"Oh! You wanna start!? Fine!"

Duncan gave him a push back.

Monroe let out a vicious roar and charged.

Bad idea to charge while standing on a roof.

Duncan just side stepped and gave him a small push. Monroe was suddenly off balance and flailing in the air with one foot on the slopping edge of the roof.

"Shit!"

The fireman didn't even help and just grinned viciously.

Monroe was suddenly hurtling through the air, arms flailing and desperation flooding through his veins. Some part of him though it wasn't such a bad way to go... After all, dying from a snapped neck was better than being turned into a Beast, right?

Whump!

Strong, furry, arms suddenly wrapped around his waist. Huge feet hit the ground and Monroe found himself looking up the deep, brown, furry chest of one of the Sky Roos, cheek pressed up against the Roo's chiselled chest. The Roo looked back down at him with bright green eyes, a grin crossed his muzzle. Monroe could feel the Roo's cock pressing up against the small of his back.

"I -" Monroe began but suddenly, the Roo was bolting away. There was a faint thwap and he caught sight of one of Vincent's red darts bury itself into the ground beside him.

"Not falling for that again, mate!" shouted the Roo, laughing as he ducked inside the greenhouse.

He threw Monroe down to the ground, thick, throbbing 14 inch cock dripping with copious amounts of precum. Monroe desperately tried searching for a weapon but found himself completely unarmed.

"Listen!" shouted the coach, holding up his hands. "You don't have to do this!"

"Don't have to. But fuck, I want to."

Without warning, the Roo was suddenly on him, shoving his thick, pulsating dick against Monroe's... forehead? Before Monroe could even figure out what was happening, the Beast's piss slit opened up and spewed a hell of a lot of precum all over his face. The coach spluttered and coughed, trying to fend off the much bigger Beast. Despite the Roo's leaner frame than a High Horn, he was still stronger than Monroe. The invasive cock seemed to growl and grow. Monroe's eyes boggled when he felt the massive member wrap its lip around the crown of his head. Muscles along the massive shaft pulled at him, those large paws seizing Monroe's shoulders and pulling him closer.

He suddenly found his head up to his eyebrows shoved into the Roo's cock. A waterfall of precum was pouring down face, filling his nostrils with the heady musk of animal sex. Monroe beat the Roo's massive thighs with his fists and even tried to punch the big, furry sacs that held the bulbous balls but every strike only seemed to make them grow even bigger.

"Help!" he cried. "Fuck! H...H... help... me..."

It was strange. All the weariness of the past week was suddenly catching up with him and his arms were growing heavy. His struggling died and his fists loosened. His eyelids closed shut just as the Roo's titanic cock wrapped around them and slipped over his nose. Hot, kangaroo pheromones and musk filled his nostrils, drowning out what little resistance was left. His entire body became paralysed with lust, his own cock pressing up against the fabric of his Survivor-issue clothing.

Monroe was left murmuring for help as the Roo's cock slipped all over his head and widened even more to consume the coach's broad shoulders. Slick precum lathered the coach's entire body, making the transition even easier. The Beast fell back on his haunches, his cock growing to a monstrous length as it hungrily dragged more and more of Monroe into its length like a snake greedily devouring its prey.

All the while, the Roo was panting loudly, eyes half-closed in lust with its tail thrashing wildly. It no longer needed to grip its cock or Monroe as its body went into autopilot, thick muscles clenching and unclenching with every inch that his cock grew and every inch that Monroe slipped deeper into his cock. His huge feet curled in pleasure, toes curling as unbelievable waves of pure ecstasy emanated from his cock, radiating into his balls and then spreading into his body. The sensations went into his brain, begging him for more.

Monroe had some semblance of consciousness left when he was halfway down into the Roo's growing cock. He managed to open his eyes. A faint stinging came from the precum slipping into his eyes but his entire body was still too paralysed to move. The lining of the Roo's cock kept him from moving and some part of him was incredibly aroused at the sensation of being inside the warming embrace of such a mighty creature.

He could feel his legs slipping further and further inside. A loud sloshing met his ears and he knew he was close to his destination... the Roo's balls. He wondered what was inside. He could feel his head starting to push against the muscular divide that separated cock from scrotum. The stifling, humid, musky air was temporarily relieved as he drew closer. One part of him wanted to pull away, to tear himself free... but the other part wanted to go deeper inside... He knew whatever was in there... it was where he had to be...

Suddenly, the Roo went rigid. His journey came to a halt.

He felt someone grip his ankles.

Suddenly, he was being yanked back away from his goal. Some primal part of his mind screamed in protest. Another heavy yank. More of his conscious mind slipped in and he was screaming for another read.

"Get me out of here!" he shouted.

One more powerful yank and with a loud plop he breathed fresh air again.

His limbs were his again and he reached up to wipe away the precum from his face. "Fuck!"

Jack seized his shoulders with Craig right beside him. He was pulled to his feet and half-carried, half pushed towards the exit of the courtyard. The further away he was torn from the Roo, the more his senses returned to him. Disgust bubbled up in his chest... disgust at having wanted to go deeper into that Roo's cock... Disgust and fear...

The High Horns hadn't breached the fencing yet and as far as Monroe could tell, he was still safe. He was carried up the steps and plopped heavily on one of the mattresses in the recreation room.

"Are you alright?" asked Jack, looming over him.

"Fuck no!" Monroe shouted. "I was just eaten by a massive kangaroo's cock!" He yanked Jack's Rioter from him. "I'm going to kill that fucker!"

"No, stay down," Craig said. "Just stay here and rest."

"But -"

Jack took his Rioter back, offering him a consoling smile. "Hey, just promise me you won't Roo-out on us, okay?"

Monroe pursed his lips. A mistake. He pushed some of the precum onto his tongue. It was salty. Warm. And it felt good to have it inside of him. He never gave his answer. A shout came from the other defenders, calling Jack and Craig away.

The coach collapsed onto the mattress, eyes wide.

He couldn't believe what had almost happened... and he was grateful for Jack and Craig saving him. From this point on, he owed them his loyalty. But how long that would last... he wasn't sure. Without him knowing, his hand had migrated down towards his crotch. With a slight press, he became aware of a wetness inside his underwear... and of his still-hard cock.

"Fuck..."