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I had intended to keep to my schedule of a release a week, but recent world events, and the year itself, left me with very little motivation. Normally I can just push through a block, or move onto a different story, but not this time.\n\nHowever I think the creative bug is back, and I'll be doing my best to keep to one release a week. I'm abandoning the plan for the demon story, as I just couldn't get it to work, but here's something that I have been playing with on and off, based off a very dramatic skirmish game I played. Yes, those are my mini's, no I still haven't painted the snakes (armour is hard, okay?). I really wanted to play with sound in this, not sure if the ratio of sex to story is right. Doom music is not required, but it was what I was listening to.\n\nThe mission had been for the soldiers to get in, retrieve a black-box, and evacuate. Meanwhile the xenos' had to down, and capture, as many soldiers as possible to use for bio-material. It was a bloodbath, leaving just the queen, and the veteran commander standing in a one on one. The captain almost won, but the queen finally managed to get into close combat, and that was the end of it.\n\nThe models used are Madsmini's Daumandrs, and Papsikels Gigarian succubi (the Queen's \"Weapon\" is my own addition, and is magnetised as an option extra). \nAs always, if you have enjoyed, please consider leaving a tip with my [url=https://ko-fi.com/guiltyworkshop]Ko-fi[/url] link. Or commission me if you'd like a story of your own. Feedback appreciated", "description_bbcode_parsed": "I am very sorry for my long absense. I had intended to keep to my schedule of a release a week, but recent world events, and the year itself, left me with very little motivation. Normally I can just push through a block, or move onto a different story, but not this time.

However I think the creative bug is back, and I'll be doing my best to keep to one release a week. I'm abandoning the plan for the demon story, as I just couldn't get it to work, but here's something that I have been playing with on and off, based off a very dramatic skirmish game I played. Yes, those are my mini's, no I still haven't painted the snakes (armour is hard, okay?). I really wanted to play with sound in this, not sure if the ratio of sex to story is right. Doom music is not required, but it was what I was listening to.

The mission had been for the soldiers to get in, retrieve a black-box, and evacuate. Meanwhile the xenos' had to down, and capture, as many soldiers as possible to use for bio-material. It was a bloodbath, leaving just the queen, and the veteran commander standing in a one on one. The captain almost won, but the queen finally managed to get into close combat, and that was the end of it.

The models used are Madsmini's Daumandrs, and Papsikels Gigarian succubi (the Queen's "Weapon" is my own addition, and is magnetised as an option extra).
As always, if you have enjoyed, please consider leaving a tip with my Ko-fi link. Or commission me if you'd like a story of your own. Feedback appreciated", "writing": "File: 225-L13\nClearance level: Green\nDate: REDACTED\nLocation: REDACTED\nActing government: 3rd United Imperial, late stage\nCompany chair: REDACTED\n\nDocument 1, begin playback:\n\n***\n\nFirst Strike Captain Lena O'Nul, shut off the green on black text log, the analogue monitor winking into blank grey with a fuzz of static. She stretched, scales creaking, large eyes squinching shut around their present rimming of sleep crystals.\n\nHyposleep always left her feeling cold, more than just her exothermic genetic legacy entailed. She believed it would be the last feeling she ever knew, a small taste of what death in the line of duty would bring. She was a career snake, you didn't sign up to the Service gene-mod program if you were not dedicated, and unlike her squad she intended to see bars on her breast before she ever considered retirement.\n\nSo she was the first kicked out of the cocoon when they approached their destination, and she was the one expected to filter the unintelligible, and minimal, Post-Light quantum-gram to her squad, rather than trust the rank and file to interpret the documents on their own. Not that the mission briefing was complicated, just a swift little milking run before they continued their journey onto outer-colony policing.\n\nSighing, Captain O'Nul squeezed the last of the tube of “Insto'Zam(C) coffee substitute” into her snout, and swaggered her way into the cramped low-berths. Her wide, ophidian hips making her tail kiss each wall of the narrow corridor in turn, a by-product of the cobra based gene-mod, or so the company said. Given how her grunts acted, it seemed just as likely it was for the Brass to have something to ogle during parades.\n\nA quick tug on the mechanical release, and a shiver of vapour poured out from the six sarcophagi, hatches unlatched, and long limbs rose to greet an artificial morning.\n\n\"Rise and shine ladies! Corps and Company need some bug hunting, and your fat-arses just got volunteered!\"\n\nHissing, Corporal Odyn, cracked a scaly eyelid. \"Bugs again? You'd think Gen-Syn would learn their lesson by now.\"\n\nSimilar sentiment went up about the serpent sisters. They had a history of successful specimen hunts, as did most All-Women elite units near company space. Vulyk hive strains were common test subjects for the gene-morph laboratories, and strict control policies meant that the company only kept female specimens, cloned stock from some secure location no one was supposed to know of, to prevent the rapidly propagated xeno-forms from causing a serious issue. The malleability of Vulyk genetics was what made them so useful, Squad Naga's mods having only been possible with Vulyk base material, but it also made the 'bugs' dangerous should they entered a population with mixed sexes. One Vulyk queen with a male donor of a compatible species (such as, say, one who happened to be using Vulyk based genetic modifications) could found a hive of thousands in a month. Thus, a bug hunt was an all woman affair, and something the company did their best to keep off the newscasts.\n\n\"Hmm,\" Private Duva shimmied her way out next, giving a hand to her sister across from her, Tray. They all called themselves sister, although not born to the same family, they all had the same gene-mods, so by technicality, they did all share a \"Parent\" of a sort. \"I hope it's another cargo ship. Those technicians were so, eager, to show a little appreciation after we rescued them.\"\n\n\"Skank,\" Shist spanked the reminiscing sibling's arse, and a hissing fit of laughter went up from the squad, \"you'll jump any man with muscles.\"\n\nCaptain O'Nul tossed out drinkable rations, watching each of her girls limber up and stretch their frost-rimmed bodysuits. Slender muscles under latex sleeves creaked, and imposing hoods inflated and flexed about permanently smiling snouts. \"No such luck this time, it's a failed mining moon, collapsed nineteen years ago, just a small colony for seventy-nine settlers and staff. Atmos' should still be running, but pack your tanks just in case.\"\n\n***\n\nThe heavy shutters crunched as their housings clamped them down. A heavy inrush of air did its best to bow Naga squad, industrial fans building from a muted '[i]Thump[/i]' in the near vacuum, to a deafening roar as pressure equalized.\n\n\"Least that's something,\" O'Nul unclasped her respirator, letting her forked tongue taste the stale, but breathable atmosphere of the old complex. Rock salts, mineral dust, and something fungal, all a breath of fresh air after so long cooped up on their automated, company Far-skipper. The inner air-lock cycled on automatic, just as it would have done for the Vulyk, who's crashed escape pod they'd landed right besides, the bugs having been obscenely lucky in their method of escape. Not to be caught unawares, Odyn, Duva and Tray flanked left, while Choty, Pyat and Shist took right, everyone keeping well clear of Pyat's bulky, rocket-grenade rifle, well remembering her track record for \"Accidental Discharges\".\n\n\"Clear left.\"\n\n\"Clear right.\"\n\nO'Nul hissed a quiet breath she'd been holding, stepping forward last out of the kill-box of the air-lock, and into the broader atrium of the underground facility. It was utilitarian, bare rock meeting metal and plastic tiles, pre-fabricated furnishings found the galaxy over, left to collect dust beneath the dim emergency lighting, everything becoming amber and black in the power-saving glow. A beam of light from one of her squad played over an old facility map, showing five stories digging downward, from simple habitation to drone made tunnels. They'd have to sweep every one, in near pitch black.\n\n\"Shit!\"\n\nDuva broke the tense state the seven serpentine soldiers had entered. The rust red snake was hopping back, her torchlight shining on her left foot, and a puddle of oily slick she'd clearly stepped in. The viscous, pale, gunk, had a blue-ish sheen, and steamed where it had contacted the skin tight protection of her suit, rapidly bubbling through till scales and toes were desperately flexing in the seven torch beams.\n\nChoty broke out her medical kit, speedily snatching the foot, and spraying salve all over, but soon saw that the appendage was unharmed, only the suit was eaten away.\n\n\"She's clean, Cap'. Looks something like Acetone, a plastic eater, attacked her suit, but the skin's fine.\"\n\nThe wrong footed soldier tugged her naked digits away, wincing as her toes hit cold tiles, and clearly humiliated by the ordeal. \"What fuck-wit spilled that all over the floor, huh? Industrial solvent, if I did that then command would whoop my arse.\"\n\n\"Who said it was the miners that did it,\" O'Nul murmured, kneeling down to examine the puddle of goop. \"The bugs probably mutated in captivity, that'd be how they escaped. Best everyone keep their eyes out for-\"\n\n'[i]Drip[/i].'\n\nA blue ripple formed right into the centre of the puddle, falling from above. She just had enough time to shine her light, before her motion sensing camera went berserk, and a slick black carapace full of teeth and tongue, launched itself from the ruptured air-duct over their heads.\n\n\"Contact!\" the word ripped from her throat, just as hell tore free from the air. All at once the corridor was full of the '[i]Tchunk, Tchunk, Tchunk[/i],' of magnetic rifles cycling reaction fire. The lithe worker-drone's body was riddled with tungsten needles before it even connected with Naga squad. The sleek predator shape, with its elongated cranium, eyeless features, and drooling maw, squealing and thrashing as it tumbled across the floor. But there was no such thing, as a single drone, and swiftly a dozen like bodies boiled from the hole.\n\nThe small rounds of the mag-rifles were barely enough to bring down the coursing black predators, but massed fire caused spider-webs of cracks to form across the chitin, which in turn would blossom into fluorescent pink roses once the shells cracked. The weight of fire bought the serpentine sisters a chance to back off, as the horrors flowed into the corridors to sighing and shrieking, making it seem discipline and skill would win out over animal instinct and numbers, until a cry from behind.\n\n\"Whu- Agh! Fuc-mpphh!\"\n\nAt the rear of their tight firing line, a larger, leaner, and subtler xeno-form had wrapped its long, whip-like tail, tight about Private Tray's neck and snout, tugging her sharply back into a welcoming embrace of claws and swiftly into the unlit corridors.\n\nCaptain O'Nul was quick to react, snapping up her rifle to fire on the fleeing kidnapper, but her shots went wide as it leapt into darkness, dragging its prize with it. \"Naga Squad, we've got Snatchers! Team one face rear, team two-\"\n\nBut her commands were cut off, as that split moment of attention was all that was needed for the drone forms to make headway, and now the remaining soldiers were surrounded on all fronts.\n\n\"They're in the walls!\" A panicked shout came over the comms, and a cry of \"It's got me! It's got me!\" came shortly after. But it was what came next that made Lena O'Nul's blood freeze.\n\n\"Fuck this! Fire in the hole!\" Specialist Pyat aimed the terrible, wide tube of her grenade rifle up at the ceiling breach, and before O'Nul could manage more than a \"Wait!\" the percussive 'Tunk' of the rocket propelled explosive cut her off, as her eyes widened in fear. The micro-missile struck true, buried right into the tight press of sleek bodies, before detonating in a flash of blinding white, and a deafening peal of thunder. Everything was fire, squeals, screams, and then, darkness...\n\n***\n\nShe was aware of motion, of friction, and of a searing pain in the back of her head.\n\nCaptain O'Nul blinked her eyes several times, wondering if the light at the end of the black tunnel was heaven, before enough brain-cells recovered for her to realise it was just the narrow beam of her torch-light. It took a moment more to connect the moving image in front of her, with the realisation that she was being dragged on her back down a rough cut passage.\n\nLithe as a snake can be, hood flaring, she reared upwards, seeing the startled \"Snatcher\" form with its four arms twist to subdue her again. But her combat knife came up first, and a quick thrust had the heavy body collapsing atop her, pink goo leaking over her suit. Catching her breath, the captain found her gun strap still tangled about her, and her headset still mostly intact. The timer showed she'd missed almost a full hour and, just as disturbing, she could see no sign of her squad.\n\n\"Naga, come in,\" she stood, adjusting the communicator with one hand, while checking over her mag-rifle with the other, a quiet robotic voice issuing a calming report of magazine and battery capacity. What she got back from the comms however, left her anything but calm.\n\n\"...I can't, wait, no! Sto- Ughh...\"\n\n[Single fire]\n\n\"Get away from me! Get back yo- Gahh aha!\"\n\n[Burst fire]\n\n\"Nooo, no more, I, can't...\"\n\n[Full auto]\n\n\"Cap... please... don't... it's... Oh, comi- Gha!\"\n\n[Shotgun]\n\n\"What are you doing to her!? What are you. Oh god, oh not me, nooo!\"\n\n[Shotgun, Rapid, Narrow]\n\nLena hissed, settling the purring weapon into a comfortable grip, eyes narrowed as she heard her sister's screams and pleas one by one. That they'd all been taken first, and that only a single Vulyk had been moving her, made her hopeful they'd already thinned the nest, and the direction she was being taken would be where she'd find the others. \"Hold on girls, I'm coming for you,\" she told them, not sure if they'd receive, before double timing down the unfinished mining shaft.\n\nShe couldn't trust her hearing, the echoes rippling back distortedly, and her eyes could only see what her torch caught, so it was by taste she knew to whirl about. Her forked tongue licked the air, and she pivoted hard at the waist, catching the leaping drone as it dropped from the ceiling, and bringing it to the floor in a merciless storm of needles. The world filled briefly with the satisfying '[i]Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk[/i]', of high cycled fire, before all that could be heard again were her echoing footsteps.\n\nShe felt something give way within her, a breaking point, as the fear and stress of the mission finally boiled over, and a rage ignited in her heart. Her siblings, who'd all come from the same batch, all trained together, travelled together, and been promised a life in the frontier together, and here they were about to be bug-fodder. Not on her watch, not while she still stood. She rounded a corner.\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nThe waiting Snatcher collapsed, head case cracked.\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nA pair of drones fell back, bodies split down the middle.\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nO'Nul marched forward, a grim serpentine stalker, her rifle at hip height, finger never far from the trigger, as the space began to widen, the taste on her tongue becoming thicker with Vulyk spore, and the tell-tale traces of her people. It was hotter, more humid, the atmospherics of the dead moon base having condensed closer to its core, and making the walls sweat with moisture.\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nA drone tried to ambush her, but she didn't even look back, just firing from the hip, shards of metal leaving a glittering trail in her wake, as the way before her yawned into darkness. The room opened up into a vast cavern, a natural hollow smoothed by the precipitation, and warmed by the dormant facility above. Escaped nutra-fungal growths dotted the walls and pools, adding a soft, phosphorescent, light that outlined the blackness in green, and made an oil-slick corona on the room's true occupant.\n\nThe Vulyk queen was still in her Nymph stage, a mere three metres tall, her frontal feed-sacks still a modest head span each, and not yet producing. Her cranial plate arched back further than her kin, splayed wide in a ribbed shield above her permanently smiling mouth. Lithe, and lean, yet sculpted in an undeniably feminine form, curved thighs, shining purplish carapace, and a long, segmented, tail, tipped with a wicked looking sting. But what caught the rage filled captain's eyes the most, was the thing the xeno-queen held clutched to her waist.\n\n\"C-cap...\" Odyn's croaky voice hung in the humid air, her eyes glassy and unfocussed, \"t-told you, not to... come...\"\n\nA glutton disturbed during its meal, the queen dropped the exhausted snake-woman in an unceremonious heap, her rear up and on display, a thick blue mess pooling around her knees. All around the room, in similar states of disarray, their uniforms torn and melted, the women of Naga squad moaned, whimpered, and struggled to move, each in their own puddle of sticky cyan, their bellies bloated.\n\nWhen the beast reared back, O'Nul saw the \"Weapon\" that had made short work of her girls. The length of an arm, ribbed, flexing with a life of its own, flesh almost glowing as it faded from the dark, purplish black of the surrounding carapace, to a near neon pink at its hooked head. The mutant queen's \"Plasm-spitter\", seemed to leer at the only remaining woman it hadn't touched.\n\n\"Step away from her, bitch!\" O'Nul's hood was up, her tail lashing, and her fangs out, as she sighted down on her target, adrenaline burning away rationality, her heart a drumbeat, her pulse a rising score.\n\nThe Vulyk queen, licked shining teeth with a long, glossy tongue, and charged.\n\n[i]'Tchunk'[/i]\n\nO'Nul, ready for the animal act, got off one volley as the bug closed, but the tungsten needles were useless against the queen's thicker armour, doing nothing to dissuade her bulrush. At the final second, she dived, receiving a whipping blow across her cheek from the beast's tail, and in return delivering a parting kick to open the gap again.\n\nRolling, a bloody line down her face, the snake came up first, firing, finger screaming with the pressure on the trigger. The magnetic accelerated whirred into full auto, sending a shower of needles into the queen's chest. It was enough to stagger the Vulyk, and let the serpent-soldier press her advantage.\n\n\"Suck!\"\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nSheer physics kept the queen from recovering, an endless swarm of metal darts impacting, pinging, and sometime lodging across her body.\n\n\"My!\"\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nIt backed off, shielding itself with arms and tail, suddenly appearing small and vulnerable under the onslaught.\n\n\"Metal!\"\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'[/i]\n\nShe stood over it now, the alien's armour was cracking, finger length fractures marring the formerly pristine carapace, the first hints of pink meat becoming visible, as death spat into it at point-blank.\n\n\"Di-\"\n\n[i]'Tchunk-Clk-Clk-Clk-Clk'[/i]\n\n[Ammunition, Depleted]\n\nO'Nul had one second to realise what had happened, and in that time, a long, armoured tail, coiled around her ankle, and wrenched her legs out from under her. She went down, falling backwards onto her rump, and was immediately grabbed by four, clawed, hands, and lifted into the air, her arms pinned by the queen's many limbs, her legs held wide apart. Her mind screamed, thinking of the knife at her belt, but it may as well have been back on the ship for all she could reach it. She watched the mutated phallus rise up, the living, throbbing, tool, aimed squarely between her legs, a visible bulge growing at the base, and engorging each ring as it came, till finally it spat a glob of brilliant blue across her front. The thick lather of bubbling spunk, rose from her crotch to her breast, and boiled wherever it landed, eating away at her suit, and leaving her bare beneath the wounded monster's eyeless gaze.\n\n\"Oh fuck, no...\"\n\nThe tip of the monstrous member looked almost armoured, a sharp, angular, beak of meat with a narrow opening, perfect for chiselling open even the most stubborn of labia. It wormed itself against her tightly shut lips, the soft outer scales offering no protection from the intruder, and Lena could feel the hot, viscous slime of its secretions, coating her thighs, and lubricating her sex.\n\n\"Fuck, fuck, fuck...\" she thrashed, kicking and flailing, her legs trying to close, her fists pounding uselessly against the queen's arms. The alien only seemed to grin, and coo, as it drew back its hips a moment, and then, thrust. At the same time, the captured snake was dragged inwards, her split legs slammed down, ensuring that not just the head found itself a home, but the first four rings of the ribbing that coated the alien cock, each breaching her with a soft, wet ‘[i]Plp[/i]’ of stretching lips.\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'[/i]\n\nEach hard bump that passed through her walls sent resonating waves of uncomfortable overstimulation up her spine, stealing her breath, as the perfect orgasm was forced on her. Her body, already so tense, went rigid, as the Vulyk queen drove her member up and through, the bands along its length striking every pleasure nerve on its entrance, and its exit.\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'[/i]\n\n\"Oh fuck stop!\" her body, a traitor after so long in hibernation, with nothing to satisfy it, reacted with shameful eagerness, her insides squelched messily, as alien sludge quickly replaced her own natural lubricants. Each micro-spurt of material made the xeno-cock pulse, and each pulse made her walls instinctively squeeze. \"No-no-no-no!\"\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'[/i]\n\nHer pleas fell on deaf ears, the queen only hissing back, smirking, and chittering in her own delight, as all four arms ensured her latest breeding partner had no choice but to take her. Deeper, with each, thrust. Harder, with every, shove. Stretching tight, muscular walls, like a snake-skin sock.\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'[/i]\n\nLena moaned, just like all her siblings, as each medial ring popped in, and out, re-forming her flesh to be nothing more than a snug tube about the invader. She flopped and jerked, growing limper with every forced climax, her mouth forming a permanent \"O\" of shock and disbelief.\n\n\"No, no, no...\"\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'[/i]\n\n\"Please... no, I'm not ready for...\"\n\n[i]'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Thd!'[/i]\n\nO'Nul's eyes rolled as the queen's hips gave one more, sharp, buck, and her crotch became flush with hers, the entire length firmly buried, and the squirrelling tip, lodged neatly inside her womb. She was held like that, for a long, terrifying, breathless moment, as the Vulyk's tail shivered and twitched, before it came. A torrent of boiling blue, gushing from the nozzle, and flooding her deepest recesses. It bubbled against her walls, a fizzing, tingling, tickling, torture from her innards, that made O'Nul hiccup and hiss, as her womanhood convulsed, squeezed, and capitulated. Her ventral scales creaked, as a visible bulge took shape, a promise of the inevitable future she could expect.\n\nCooing delightedly, the Vulyk queen pawed at her latest plaything, before adding her to the collection. It would take the seven snakes of Naga squad some time to make up for the damage they'd done to her hive, but the queen had no intention of stopping there.\n\n***\n\nDocument 2, begin playback:\n\n***\n\nThe headlight bobbed with each step, the view from the helmet camera shaky as the wearer ducked through a narrow opening. Their arm went out to help part the organic barrier of thin resin, the interior of the old mining colony completely unrecognisable. On their sleeve could be seen a company logo, as the harvest team stepped into the thick mist of the interior chamber, tranquillizing gas escaping past them into the less pressurised environment of the tunnels.\n\nThere was a hiss, and a clatter of tools, as the team proceeded deeper, the view panning about slowly, showing the various members, clad head-to-toe in protective gear, and with large tanks on their backs. Most moved furtively, hesitating before each step, and the headlamps showed why. The floor was a nest of sleeping, dark, chitin, covered in a fine sheen of moisture.\n\nThe view spun back around, as the camera operator made their way gingerly forward, occasionally pulling out a hand-held tracker, and following the ‘Blip’ of the indicator towards their target. The organic shapes of the far wall curved and swept, harder and denser resin shaped as much by gravity as by the swarm of drones that sculpted it. Seven thickenings could be seen, lined side by side, clusters of nodules that protruded clean of the tar-like matter, a great swell, capped by two more in a horizontal line, and above them an angular projection. The organic fresco grew closer, and the air clearer, and a tremble of motion could be seen in that set of seven figures.\n\nGlued firm, with their knees up and spread, naked and shining, the swollen, heavy bodies, of seven gene-morphed women moaned. Breasts bared and milky, dripping xeno-feed over their rotund, egg filled bellies, each looked on sightlessly as the harvest team approached. The angle of the camera tilted down, showing spreading, ruined orifice of a sex, as one of the captives gave a great sigh of relief, and a rubbery shell, slid down to join the pile at the foot of the wall. The figure twitched and moaned, their face barely recognizable beneath the layers of thin, breathable bio-matter, but the headlamp caught a hint of a pink scar down one cheek.\n\nThe agent behind the camera reached up, and almost tenderly cupped that cheek. \"Hi grandma,\" came a quiet whisper, clearly not intended to be caught by the microphone, before the hand dropped. \"Alright, check their vitals and top them off, I'll start collecting.\"\n\nThey bent down, unslung their tank, and began placing one leathery sack into it after another, bantering as if was just another day at the office. The camera turned away for a moment, as the driver of the perspective shared a joke with their colleague, who was busy feeding Gen-Syn brand “Vito-mix” to the next Vulyk brood-slave in the line. Then the camera swiftly jerked back down, the gloved hand holding the egg coming up sticky, and frothing, a quick look at the egg showing a small tear, just in time, for a snake like face to emerge, and launch itself into the lens, teeth and tongue out.\n\nThe camera cut off.\n\n***\n\nEnd of File: 225-L13\n\nGen-Syn would like to take this moment to remind you, the viewing of records for personal entertainment is strongly discouraged.\n\nRecommended supplemental material:\n225-A01: Nursery security failure\n225-K23: Employee family recruitment drive\n225-O99: Cross-breed Stamina trials\n\n***", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "File: 225-L13
Clearance level: Green
Date: REDACTED
Location: REDACTED
Acting government: 3rd United Imperial, late stage
Company chair: REDACTED

Document 1, begin playback:

***

First Strike Captain Lena O'Nul, shut off the green on black text log, the analogue monitor winking into blank grey with a fuzz of static. She stretched, scales creaking, large eyes squinching shut around their present rimming of sleep crystals.

Hyposleep always left her feeling cold, more than just her exothermic genetic legacy entailed. She believed it would be the last feeling she ever knew, a small taste of what death in the line of duty would bring. She was a career snake, you didn't sign up to the Service gene-mod program if you were not dedicated, and unlike her squad she intended to see bars on her breast before she ever considered retirement.

So she was the first kicked out of the cocoon when they approached their destination, and she was the one expected to filter the unintelligible, and minimal, Post-Light quantum-gram to her squad, rather than trust the rank and file to interpret the documents on their own. Not that the mission briefing was complicated, just a swift little milking run before they continued their journey onto outer-colony policing.

Sighing, Captain O'Nul squeezed the last of the tube of “Insto'Zam(C) coffee substitute” into her snout, and swaggered her way into the cramped low-berths. Her wide, ophidian hips making her tail kiss each wall of the narrow corridor in turn, a by-product of the cobra based gene-mod, or so the company said. Given how her grunts acted, it seemed just as likely it was for the Brass to have something to ogle during parades.

A quick tug on the mechanical release, and a shiver of vapour poured out from the six sarcophagi, hatches unlatched, and long limbs rose to greet an artificial morning.

"Rise and shine ladies! Corps and Company need some bug hunting, and your fat-arses just got volunteered!"

Hissing, Corporal Odyn, cracked a scaly eyelid. "Bugs again? You'd think Gen-Syn would learn their lesson by now."

Similar sentiment went up about the serpent sisters. They had a history of successful specimen hunts, as did most All-Women elite units near company space. Vulyk hive strains were common test subjects for the gene-morph laboratories, and strict control policies meant that the company only kept female specimens, cloned stock from some secure location no one was supposed to know of, to prevent the rapidly propagated xeno-forms from causing a serious issue. The malleability of Vulyk genetics was what made them so useful, Squad Naga's mods having only been possible with Vulyk base material, but it also made the 'bugs' dangerous should they entered a population with mixed sexes. One Vulyk queen with a male donor of a compatible species (such as, say, one who happened to be using Vulyk based genetic modifications) could found a hive of thousands in a month. Thus, a bug hunt was an all woman affair, and something the company did their best to keep off the newscasts.

"Hmm," Private Duva shimmied her way out next, giving a hand to her sister across from her, Tray. They all called themselves sister, although not born to the same family, they all had the same gene-mods, so by technicality, they did all share a "Parent" of a sort. "I hope it's another cargo ship. Those technicians were so, eager, to show a little appreciation after we rescued them."

"Skank," Shist spanked the reminiscing sibling's arse, and a hissing fit of laughter went up from the squad, "you'll jump any man with muscles."

Captain O'Nul tossed out drinkable rations, watching each of her girls limber up and stretch their frost-rimmed bodysuits. Slender muscles under latex sleeves creaked, and imposing hoods inflated and flexed about permanently smiling snouts. "No such luck this time, it's a failed mining moon, collapsed nineteen years ago, just a small colony for seventy-nine settlers and staff. Atmos' should still be running, but pack your tanks just in case."

***

The heavy shutters crunched as their housings clamped them down. A heavy inrush of air did its best to bow Naga squad, industrial fans building from a muted 'Thump' in the near vacuum, to a deafening roar as pressure equalized.

"Least that's something," O'Nul unclasped her respirator, letting her forked tongue taste the stale, but breathable atmosphere of the old complex. Rock salts, mineral dust, and something fungal, all a breath of fresh air after so long cooped up on their automated, company Far-skipper. The inner air-lock cycled on automatic, just as it would have done for the Vulyk, who's crashed escape pod they'd landed right besides, the bugs having been obscenely lucky in their method of escape. Not to be caught unawares, Odyn, Duva and Tray flanked left, while Choty, Pyat and Shist took right, everyone keeping well clear of Pyat's bulky, rocket-grenade rifle, well remembering her track record for "Accidental Discharges".

"Clear left."

"Clear right."

O'Nul hissed a quiet breath she'd been holding, stepping forward last out of the kill-box of the air-lock, and into the broader atrium of the underground facility. It was utilitarian, bare rock meeting metal and plastic tiles, pre-fabricated furnishings found the galaxy over, left to collect dust beneath the dim emergency lighting, everything becoming amber and black in the power-saving glow. A beam of light from one of her squad played over an old facility map, showing five stories digging downward, from simple habitation to drone made tunnels. They'd have to sweep every one, in near pitch black.

"Shit!"

Duva broke the tense state the seven serpentine soldiers had entered. The rust red snake was hopping back, her torchlight shining on her left foot, and a puddle of oily slick she'd clearly stepped in. The viscous, pale, gunk, had a blue-ish sheen, and steamed where it had contacted the skin tight protection of her suit, rapidly bubbling through till scales and toes were desperately flexing in the seven torch beams.

Choty broke out her medical kit, speedily snatching the foot, and spraying salve all over, but soon saw that the appendage was unharmed, only the suit was eaten away.

"She's clean, Cap'. Looks something like Acetone, a plastic eater, attacked her suit, but the skin's fine."

The wrong footed soldier tugged her naked digits away, wincing as her toes hit cold tiles, and clearly humiliated by the ordeal. "What fuck-wit spilled that all over the floor, huh? Industrial solvent, if I did that then command would whoop my arse."

"Who said it was the miners that did it," O'Nul murmured, kneeling down to examine the puddle of goop. "The bugs probably mutated in captivity, that'd be how they escaped. Best everyone keep their eyes out for-"

'Drip.'

A blue ripple formed right into the centre of the puddle, falling from above. She just had enough time to shine her light, before her motion sensing camera went berserk, and a slick black carapace full of teeth and tongue, launched itself from the ruptured air-duct over their heads.

"Contact!" the word ripped from her throat, just as hell tore free from the air. All at once the corridor was full of the 'Tchunk, Tchunk, Tchunk,' of magnetic rifles cycling reaction fire. The lithe worker-drone's body was riddled with tungsten needles before it even connected with Naga squad. The sleek predator shape, with its elongated cranium, eyeless features, and drooling maw, squealing and thrashing as it tumbled across the floor. But there was no such thing, as a single drone, and swiftly a dozen like bodies boiled from the hole.

The small rounds of the mag-rifles were barely enough to bring down the coursing black predators, but massed fire caused spider-webs of cracks to form across the chitin, which in turn would blossom into fluorescent pink roses once the shells cracked. The weight of fire bought the serpentine sisters a chance to back off, as the horrors flowed into the corridors to sighing and shrieking, making it seem discipline and skill would win out over animal instinct and numbers, until a cry from behind.

"Whu- Agh! Fuc-mpphh!"

At the rear of their tight firing line, a larger, leaner, and subtler xeno-form had wrapped its long, whip-like tail, tight about Private Tray's neck and snout, tugging her sharply back into a welcoming embrace of claws and swiftly into the unlit corridors.

Captain O'Nul was quick to react, snapping up her rifle to fire on the fleeing kidnapper, but her shots went wide as it leapt into darkness, dragging its prize with it. "Naga Squad, we've got Snatchers! Team one face rear, team two-"

But her commands were cut off, as that split moment of attention was all that was needed for the drone forms to make headway, and now the remaining soldiers were surrounded on all fronts.

"They're in the walls!" A panicked shout came over the comms, and a cry of "It's got me! It's got me!" came shortly after. But it was what came next that made Lena O'Nul's blood freeze.

"Fuck this! Fire in the hole!" Specialist Pyat aimed the terrible, wide tube of her grenade rifle up at the ceiling breach, and before O'Nul could manage more than a "Wait!" the percussive 'Tunk' of the rocket propelled explosive cut her off, as her eyes widened in fear. The micro-missile struck true, buried right into the tight press of sleek bodies, before detonating in a flash of blinding white, and a deafening peal of thunder. Everything was fire, squeals, screams, and then, darkness...

***

She was aware of motion, of friction, and of a searing pain in the back of her head.

Captain O'Nul blinked her eyes several times, wondering if the light at the end of the black tunnel was heaven, before enough brain-cells recovered for her to realise it was just the narrow beam of her torch-light. It took a moment more to connect the moving image in front of her, with the realisation that she was being dragged on her back down a rough cut passage.

Lithe as a snake can be, hood flaring, she reared upwards, seeing the startled "Snatcher" form with its four arms twist to subdue her again. But her combat knife came up first, and a quick thrust had the heavy body collapsing atop her, pink goo leaking over her suit. Catching her breath, the captain found her gun strap still tangled about her, and her headset still mostly intact. The timer showed she'd missed almost a full hour and, just as disturbing, she could see no sign of her squad.

"Naga, come in," she stood, adjusting the communicator with one hand, while checking over her mag-rifle with the other, a quiet robotic voice issuing a calming report of magazine and battery capacity. What she got back from the comms however, left her anything but calm.

"...I can't, wait, no! Sto- Ughh..."

[Single fire]

"Get away from me! Get back yo- Gahh aha!"

[Burst fire]

"Nooo, no more, I, can't..."

[Full auto]

"Cap... please... don't... it's... Oh, comi- Gha!"

[Shotgun]

"What are you doing to her!? What are you. Oh god, oh not me, nooo!"

[Shotgun, Rapid, Narrow]

Lena hissed, settling the purring weapon into a comfortable grip, eyes narrowed as she heard her sister's screams and pleas one by one. That they'd all been taken first, and that only a single Vulyk had been moving her, made her hopeful they'd already thinned the nest, and the direction she was being taken would be where she'd find the others. "Hold on girls, I'm coming for you," she told them, not sure if they'd receive, before double timing down the unfinished mining shaft.

She couldn't trust her hearing, the echoes rippling back distortedly, and her eyes could only see what her torch caught, so it was by taste she knew to whirl about. Her forked tongue licked the air, and she pivoted hard at the waist, catching the leaping drone as it dropped from the ceiling, and bringing it to the floor in a merciless storm of needles. The world filled briefly with the satisfying 'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk', of high cycled fire, before all that could be heard again were her echoing footsteps.

She felt something give way within her, a breaking point, as the fear and stress of the mission finally boiled over, and a rage ignited in her heart. Her siblings, who'd all come from the same batch, all trained together, travelled together, and been promised a life in the frontier together, and here they were about to be bug-fodder. Not on her watch, not while she still stood. She rounded a corner.

'Tchunk-Tchunk'

The waiting Snatcher collapsed, head case cracked.

'Tchunk-Tchunk'

A pair of drones fell back, bodies split down the middle.

'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'

O'Nul marched forward, a grim serpentine stalker, her rifle at hip height, finger never far from the trigger, as the space began to widen, the taste on her tongue becoming thicker with Vulyk spore, and the tell-tale traces of her people. It was hotter, more humid, the atmospherics of the dead moon base having condensed closer to its core, and making the walls sweat with moisture.

'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'

A drone tried to ambush her, but she didn't even look back, just firing from the hip, shards of metal leaving a glittering trail in her wake, as the way before her yawned into darkness. The room opened up into a vast cavern, a natural hollow smoothed by the precipitation, and warmed by the dormant facility above. Escaped nutra-fungal growths dotted the walls and pools, adding a soft, phosphorescent, light that outlined the blackness in green, and made an oil-slick corona on the room's true occupant.

The Vulyk queen was still in her Nymph stage, a mere three metres tall, her frontal feed-sacks still a modest head span each, and not yet producing. Her cranial plate arched back further than her kin, splayed wide in a ribbed shield above her permanently smiling mouth. Lithe, and lean, yet sculpted in an undeniably feminine form, curved thighs, shining purplish carapace, and a long, segmented, tail, tipped with a wicked looking sting. But what caught the rage filled captain's eyes the most, was the thing the xeno-queen held clutched to her waist.

"C-cap..." Odyn's croaky voice hung in the humid air, her eyes glassy and unfocussed, "t-told you, not to... come..."

A glutton disturbed during its meal, the queen dropped the exhausted snake-woman in an unceremonious heap, her rear up and on display, a thick blue mess pooling around her knees. All around the room, in similar states of disarray, their uniforms torn and melted, the women of Naga squad moaned, whimpered, and struggled to move, each in their own puddle of sticky cyan, their bellies bloated.

When the beast reared back, O'Nul saw the "Weapon" that had made short work of her girls. The length of an arm, ribbed, flexing with a life of its own, flesh almost glowing as it faded from the dark, purplish black of the surrounding carapace, to a near neon pink at its hooked head. The mutant queen's "Plasm-spitter", seemed to leer at the only remaining woman it hadn't touched.

"Step away from her, bitch!" O'Nul's hood was up, her tail lashing, and her fangs out, as she sighted down on her target, adrenaline burning away rationality, her heart a drumbeat, her pulse a rising score.

The Vulyk queen, licked shining teeth with a long, glossy tongue, and charged.

'Tchunk'

O'Nul, ready for the animal act, got off one volley as the bug closed, but the tungsten needles were useless against the queen's thicker armour, doing nothing to dissuade her bulrush. At the final second, she dived, receiving a whipping blow across her cheek from the beast's tail, and in return delivering a parting kick to open the gap again.

Rolling, a bloody line down her face, the snake came up first, firing, finger screaming with the pressure on the trigger. The magnetic accelerated whirred into full auto, sending a shower of needles into the queen's chest. It was enough to stagger the Vulyk, and let the serpent-soldier press her advantage.

"Suck!"

'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'

Sheer physics kept the queen from recovering, an endless swarm of metal darts impacting, pinging, and sometime lodging across her body.

"My!"

'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'

It backed off, shielding itself with arms and tail, suddenly appearing small and vulnerable under the onslaught.

"Metal!"

'Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk-Tchunk'

She stood over it now, the alien's armour was cracking, finger length fractures marring the formerly pristine carapace, the first hints of pink meat becoming visible, as death spat into it at point-blank.

"Di-"

'Tchunk-Clk-Clk-Clk-Clk'

[Ammunition, Depleted]

O'Nul had one second to realise what had happened, and in that time, a long, armoured tail, coiled around her ankle, and wrenched her legs out from under her. She went down, falling backwards onto her rump, and was immediately grabbed by four, clawed, hands, and lifted into the air, her arms pinned by the queen's many limbs, her legs held wide apart. Her mind screamed, thinking of the knife at her belt, but it may as well have been back on the ship for all she could reach it. She watched the mutated phallus rise up, the living, throbbing, tool, aimed squarely between her legs, a visible bulge growing at the base, and engorging each ring as it came, till finally it spat a glob of brilliant blue across her front. The thick lather of bubbling spunk, rose from her crotch to her breast, and boiled wherever it landed, eating away at her suit, and leaving her bare beneath the wounded monster's eyeless gaze.

"Oh fuck, no..."

The tip of the monstrous member looked almost armoured, a sharp, angular, beak of meat with a narrow opening, perfect for chiselling open even the most stubborn of labia. It wormed itself against her tightly shut lips, the soft outer scales offering no protection from the intruder, and Lena could feel the hot, viscous slime of its secretions, coating her thighs, and lubricating her sex.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." she thrashed, kicking and flailing, her legs trying to close, her fists pounding uselessly against the queen's arms. The alien only seemed to grin, and coo, as it drew back its hips a moment, and then, thrust. At the same time, the captured snake was dragged inwards, her split legs slammed down, ensuring that not just the head found itself a home, but the first four rings of the ribbing that coated the alien cock, each breaching her with a soft, wet ‘Plp’ of stretching lips.

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'

Each hard bump that passed through her walls sent resonating waves of uncomfortable overstimulation up her spine, stealing her breath, as the perfect orgasm was forced on her. Her body, already so tense, went rigid, as the Vulyk queen drove her member up and through, the bands along its length striking every pleasure nerve on its entrance, and its exit.

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'

"Oh fuck stop!" her body, a traitor after so long in hibernation, with nothing to satisfy it, reacted with shameful eagerness, her insides squelched messily, as alien sludge quickly replaced her own natural lubricants. Each micro-spurt of material made the xeno-cock pulse, and each pulse made her walls instinctively squeeze. "No-no-no-no!"

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, the queen only hissing back, smirking, and chittering in her own delight, as all four arms ensured her latest breeding partner had no choice but to take her. Deeper, with each, thrust. Harder, with every, shove. Stretching tight, muscular walls, like a snake-skin sock.

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'

Lena moaned, just like all her siblings, as each medial ring popped in, and out, re-forming her flesh to be nothing more than a snug tube about the invader. She flopped and jerked, growing limper with every forced climax, her mouth forming a permanent "O" of shock and disbelief.

"No, no, no..."

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp'

"Please... no, I'm not ready for..."

'Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Plp-Thd!'

O'Nul's eyes rolled as the queen's hips gave one more, sharp, buck, and her crotch became flush with hers, the entire length firmly buried, and the squirrelling tip, lodged neatly inside her womb. She was held like that, for a long, terrifying, breathless moment, as the Vulyk's tail shivered and twitched, before it came. A torrent of boiling blue, gushing from the nozzle, and flooding her deepest recesses. It bubbled against her walls, a fizzing, tingling, tickling, torture from her innards, that made O'Nul hiccup and hiss, as her womanhood convulsed, squeezed, and capitulated. Her ventral scales creaked, as a visible bulge took shape, a promise of the inevitable future she could expect.

Cooing delightedly, the Vulyk queen pawed at her latest plaything, before adding her to the collection. It would take the seven snakes of Naga squad some time to make up for the damage they'd done to her hive, but the queen had no intention of stopping there.

***

Document 2, begin playback:

***

The headlight bobbed with each step, the view from the helmet camera shaky as the wearer ducked through a narrow opening. Their arm went out to help part the organic barrier of thin resin, the interior of the old mining colony completely unrecognisable. On their sleeve could be seen a company logo, as the harvest team stepped into the thick mist of the interior chamber, tranquillizing gas escaping past them into the less pressurised environment of the tunnels.

There was a hiss, and a clatter of tools, as the team proceeded deeper, the view panning about slowly, showing the various members, clad head-to-toe in protective gear, and with large tanks on their backs. Most moved furtively, hesitating before each step, and the headlamps showed why. The floor was a nest of sleeping, dark, chitin, covered in a fine sheen of moisture.

The view spun back around, as the camera operator made their way gingerly forward, occasionally pulling out a hand-held tracker, and following the ‘Blip’ of the indicator towards their target. The organic shapes of the far wall curved and swept, harder and denser resin shaped as much by gravity as by the swarm of drones that sculpted it. Seven thickenings could be seen, lined side by side, clusters of nodules that protruded clean of the tar-like matter, a great swell, capped by two more in a horizontal line, and above them an angular projection. The organic fresco grew closer, and the air clearer, and a tremble of motion could be seen in that set of seven figures.

Glued firm, with their knees up and spread, naked and shining, the swollen, heavy bodies, of seven gene-morphed women moaned. Breasts bared and milky, dripping xeno-feed over their rotund, egg filled bellies, each looked on sightlessly as the harvest team approached. The angle of the camera tilted down, showing spreading, ruined orifice of a sex, as one of the captives gave a great sigh of relief, and a rubbery shell, slid down to join the pile at the foot of the wall. The figure twitched and moaned, their face barely recognizable beneath the layers of thin, breathable bio-matter, but the headlamp caught a hint of a pink scar down one cheek.

The agent behind the camera reached up, and almost tenderly cupped that cheek. "Hi grandma," came a quiet whisper, clearly not intended to be caught by the microphone, before the hand dropped. "Alright, check their vitals and top them off, I'll start collecting."

They bent down, unslung their tank, and began placing one leathery sack into it after another, bantering as if was just another day at the office. The camera turned away for a moment, as the driver of the perspective shared a joke with their colleague, who was busy feeding Gen-Syn brand “Vito-mix” to the next Vulyk brood-slave in the line. Then the camera swiftly jerked back down, the gloved hand holding the egg coming up sticky, and frothing, a quick look at the egg showing a small tear, just in time, for a snake like face to emerge, and launch itself into the lens, teeth and tongue out.

The camera cut off.

***

End of File: 225-L13

Gen-Syn would like to take this moment to remind you, the viewing of records for personal entertainment is strongly discouraged.

Recommended supplemental material:
225-A01: Nursery security failure
225-K23: Employee family recruitment drive
225-O99: Cross-breed Stamina trials

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