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Spoiler Alert: Does not involve ACTUAL Cosplayers. The title is a means of having an all-inclusive mutliverse of characters to choose from. Some of you may remember my VGBabes vs. The Legions of the Undead series. This is the reboot of that. If you'd like to help choose who shows up in it and get other bonus goodies, feel free to check out my Patreon page: Beyond that, enjoy the mayhem!

CosplayBabes vs. The Legions of the Undead

By Deathstalker

Chapter One: Hermoine Granger

The sprawling city had been a bustling hive of vibrant life once upon a time. That all ended with a single snap of the Omni’s fingers. Over eight million people died in an instant. In another instant, a vast majority of them came back, possessed by an ancient evil. All memories of their former lives vanished, replaced by the primal urges to feed and mate. The Omni looked upon the newly formed Necropolis and smiled, knowing it would make a perfect arena for countless playthings to amuse him. As the hordes of living dead shuffled their way through the city’s streets, eagerly seeking out anything they might be able to fuck or feed on, the Omni turned its attention away from its playground and focused on the limitless choice of potential toys to be broken and devoured for its amusement.

The sheer number of options would have left a lesser being reeling with nausea, but the Omni craved the freedom of ultimate power. It had long ago learned to let its mind wander aimlessly, operating largely on whims and instincts instead of conscious choice. The Omni’s choice may not have been truly random, but it might as well have been. A swirling mass of a million different forms formed within its consciousness, gradually filtering down to a single entity. She was young, but possessed an impressive intelligence. The magical blood flowing through her veins gave her strength enough to not be utterly helpless against the Legions of the Undead. The Omni learned every detail of Hermoine Granger’s life in a single instant. And in another instant, it plucked the young woman out of her reality and dumped her into the Necropolis.


Hermoine’s brow furrowed as she looked out onto the hellish landscape before her. Her gut stirred with unease both from the sudden teleportation and the distinct stench of rotten meat. Her thoughts immediately turned to Voldemort. It had been nearly a year since the dark wizard had been vanquished once and for all, but he still haunted Hermoine’s dreams. It would explain the sudden, unnatural abduction, but the venue felt more like a nightmare than reality. Even at a glance, she could tell the city she’d appeared in was huge and sprawling, but there were no signs of life. No activity on the streets. Everything about the area felt wrong. Sliding her wand free, the young witch darted into an alleyway to avoid being seen, desperately needing a moment to gather her bearings and try to figure out what had happened.

The first thing to strike Hermoine as she entered the alley was the stench. She’d noticed it out on the street, but it was so much worse in the closed in space. Rancid, putrid meat left out to rot mixed with something else. Hermoine’s brilliant mind had no trouble linking it to the lingering aroma left in the air in the wake of her and Ron making love, but she desperately did not want to accept the disturbing connection. In her shocked disorientation, it took a moment for her to notice the soft guttural yet feminine grunting coming from deeper in the alleyway. Wet, fleshy slapping accompanied the grunts. As much as Hermoine did not want to interrupt the act she was so certain was taking place just behind the nearby dumpster, she needed to find out where she was. She moved towards the sound of passionate rutting, clutching her wand tightly in her hand, feeling equal parts embarrassment, worry, and disgust.

Hermoine stopped short as her eyes full upon the couple working out their physical urges in the alley. The scene looked fundamentally wrong. The woman – lying on the ground with her legs splayed wide – appeared to be wearing what had once been a nurse’s uniform. The front of it had been ripped open, allowing her full breasts to spill free. The pliant flesh – dirty and discolored – jiggled with each thrust the man gave his lover. The man’s clothing was in just as much disarray, but it looked like the traditional garb of a priest. The bizarre pairing was only the first thing to strike Hermoine as wrong. Their skin was a greyish-green color, dry and cracked in some places and gooey and oozing in others. She caught the woman’s eyes and saw a milky haze over them. The stench of death and decay wafted off of them in heavy waves, forcing the young witch to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from puking.

Knowing with utter certainty that she would get no help from the couple, Hermoine stumbled back from them towards the opening of the alley. She let out a sharp shriek as her back connected with something solid and spun around. A more distinct scream passed her lips as she found herself looking up into the half-rotten face of another of the living corpses. Wiggling maggots dribbled from the thing’s sunken nostrils. The dead man showed her his yellowed teeth as he grinned down at her and lunged forward. Hermoine brought her wand up instinctively and pressed the tip of it against his skinny chest, muttering a magical word that sent the zombie shooting away from her. The corpse’s compromised physical stability caused his spine to shatter as it connected with a nearby lamp post, sending him crumbling to the ground. The man didn’t seem to mind the paralyzing damage, stretching his arms out in front of him to crawl his way back towards the young witch.

Hermoine ran. As far as plans went, she knew it wasn’t a good one. The disturbing reality she’d been transported to helped to prove that point as another of the undead creatures sprang out of a shadowy corner beside her. She tried to twist away from it, but only managed to get her feet tangled together. “No!” she screamed as she fell, wide eyes fixed on the lecherous gaze of the zombie reaching for her. Air rushed from her lungs as her back it the hard ground. The clatter of her wand skittering across the cement rang in her ears. She turned towards her lost wand, knowing it was the only weapon she had against the unnatural monsters. Rolling onto her side, she stretched her arm towards her salvation, curling her fingers to regain her grip on it.

Hermoine’s fingers lightly brushed against the vine wood before a pair of rough hands clamped down on her slender hips. She shrieked as the hands yanked her away from the wand, tears stinging her eyes as she twisted her head around to look up at the zombie looming over her. The thing slipped his fingers into the waistband of her skirt and yanked downwards roughly. The skirt slid over her perky rear, exposing her white cotton panties, before bunching up around her knees. The zombie dropped onto the backs of Hermoine’s legs, keeping her effectively pinned as he brought one hand down to the crotch of his soiled pants. He clawed at the fabric until the button popped open and the zipper crept down. Hermoine’s sobs intensified as her eyes bulged with sickened horror, watching as the dead man’s throbbing member sprang free of his pants.

The zombie ripped through the seat of the young witch’s panties, exposing the smooth, flawless flesh of her buttocks to the cold light of the streetlamp overhead. Hermoine squirmed and flailed as best she could, trying to get out from under the monster before he did what he so clearly wanted to. The frigid, hard slab of cock-meat slid against her warm flesh as the zombie scooted over her, taking up position atop her. His hands came down on her shoulders, shoving Hermoine against the ground and further pinning her as his hips began to lightly grind against her. Hermoine stretched her left arm out towards her wand, straining her fingers and nearly popping her shoulder out of its socket in an attempt to reach far enough to save herself from the macabre assault.

After a few humps, the tip of the zombie’s cock mashed against the dry lips of Hermoine’s cunt. The heat of her sex against the coldness of his dead dick contrasted greatly and told the zombie he had found his target. Tightening his grip on the girl’s shoulders, the dead man slammed his hips forward. Hermoine screamed through clenched teeth, fresh tears gushing from her bulging eyes as she felt several stiff inches of zombie cock slam into her unwilling sex. Her clever mind had no trouble determining that the undead monster violating her was significantly larger – both in length and girth – than Ron. It was yet another comparison she desperately wished she hadn’t made. The pain radiating up from her crotch wasn’t quite the distraction she wanted from her analytical mind, but it was the only thing she had. Her left hand continued to slap at the ground, fingernails scrapping against the rough cement as the zombie’s thrusts picked up speed, urgently hoping she could somehow reach her wand and save herself.

The pleasure of Hermoine’s tight snatch clinging to his prick like a second skin was exactly the sort of stimulation the undead man had been searching for since he’d been returned to his shell of un-life. Her warm flesh felt like a drug to him, encouraging him to ravage her – first sexually and then in other ways. But the young woman’s single flailing arm managed to stir his attention, despite his muddied yet focused instincts. The zombie’s hips continued to pump away at the girl, feeling her gripping hole slowly slicken as her body responded to his rough penetration, but his eyes roamed up the length of Hermoine’s arm to the tips of her fingers and beyond, spotting a slender length of wood just over ten inches in length. The zombie tilted his head, perplexed by the object. He had no way to comprehend what it was or what it could do, but the young witch’s interest in it stirred the last vestiges of his survival instincts. If his prey desired the object, he needed to ensure she could not obtain it.

Hermoine let out a pathetic wail as the undead monster raping her from behind leaned across her. She shook her head, blinking the tears from her eyes and letting out fresh sobs as she watched with sinking dread as the creature used his greater arm length to reach past her outstretched hand and scoop up her wand. “No, please,” she whimpered. “Give it back!” She cried out as the zombie cock speared into her again, rubbing against her aching inner cunt walls. Her hope of escaping faded, leaving behind the terrible near certainty that she most likely would never discover who or what had transporter her to the hellish city. That she would never see Ron or Harry or any of her other friends again. That the remainder of her life would be as a rape-puppet for the grotesque monstrosities inhabiting the city. The innocent young witch – as clever as she was – could not comprehend the true horror that awaited her.

The zombie continued to pump his prick into Hermoine’s pussy, examining the wand with dull, milky eyes. His curiosity led to him not pinning the witch quite as effectively. She managed to lift her upper body and twist to the side, making a frantic grab for her wand. Her fingers came within an inch of her target, but the zombie instinctively yanked its newly discovered toy away from his slightly not-so-new toy. The undead man’s annoyance grew as the girl kept trying to grab the wand. Unable to figure out what was so important about the slender length of hard wood, he let out an angry snarl and decided to return it to her.

The zombie dropped one hand down on top of Hermoine’s head, digging his fingers into her scalp firmly. The girl continued to writhe and flail beneath him, jerking her arms back to grab at her wand. The zombie growled with annoyance, forced to slow his thrusts as he shifted the limited resources of his putrid brain towards doing something beyond plundering the depths of the young witch’s lightly pulsing cunt. He brought the thin tip of Hermoine’s wand down to her head, managing to slip it into the canal of her ear. Hermoine’s struggles faltered as she felt the wand touching against the side of her head. She didn’t know what the creature was doing, but she refused to believe the horrible monstrosity actually possessed any form of magical ability. She was right, but the zombie hardly needed magical powers or the knowledge of spells to use the wand against its owner.

With a heavy grunt, the living corpse shoved Hermoine’s wand into and through her earhole. The young woman’s eyes widened with sudden horror, realizing what the creature was going to do to her a fraction of a second before her eardrum ruptured. She let out a sharp scream that abruptly transformed into dulled groan. Hermoine Granger’s trusty wand skewered her brilliant brain, transforming her into nearly as much of a brainless dullard as the dead man fucking her from behind. The wand was more than long enough to impale Hermoine’s head, the base of it extending from her right ear while the bloody tip emerged from her left. The girl’s mouth dropped slack, eyelids drooping as muscle spasms crept across her face. Her arms flopped back to the ground. As the zombie picked up the speed of his thrusts again, she released an awkward moan. The zombie fucking Hermoine from behind took hold of either end of the girl’s wand, using it for leverage as he hammered into her snatch, finding the penetration further eased as her bladder drained.

The zombie priest – having left the undead nurse with a cunt packed full of his jizz – shambled out of the alleyway, drawn by the source of the commotion he’d heard. His dull eyes fell upon Hermoine’s slackened face – still alive, but brutally brain damaged. Even more alluring was her mouth, hanging open, grunting, groaning, and letting out the occasional little squeak. The zombie’s cock – in a state of perpetual half-stiffness – twitched and rose back to full attention as he moved towards the doomed young witch. He guided the bulbous tip of his erection to her gaping mouth and pushed into the warm dampness, feeling her slightly twitching tongue wiggle against the underside of his dick. The zombie priest took over holding onto the ends of Hermoine’s wand, yanking on the thin piece of vine wood to pull her face against his crotch.

The pair of zombies enjoyed double-teaming the twitching teenager between them, ravaging her holes. Hermoine remained trapped, both physically and mentally. Her skewered mind occasionally managed to work well enough to deliver a shocking dose of reality upon her, but for the most part, she was left in a near vegetative state, drooling around her mouthful of zombie cock-meat and lightly grinding her perky butt against the dead man behind her. Blood dribbled freely from her ears and oozed from her nostrils as her eyes lazily swayed and crossed. The young woman’s bright future was a thing of the past now that she’d been transformed into a husk nearly as mindless as the things raping her.

As the zombie priest neared his climax, he yanked harder on the two sides of Hermoine’s wand. Tears dampened the girl’s flushed cheeks as she reflexively gagged around the rancid prick plugging her throat. She managed to get a brief taste of the undead spunk as it blasted across the back of her tongue. The zombie priest groaned loudly, tightening his grip on the wand and giving it one last yank. The thin wood could take no more. It snapped in half, severing the dragon heartstring within it and unleashing the magic infused within it. In an open environment, there would have been impressive bit of fireworks. Trapped within Hermoine’s brain, the result was a good deal more graphic. The girl’s head seamed to expand outwards like a balloon being inflated. Her features took on an almost comical exaggeration as the soft creaks and strain of her bone and skin crept out of her. Hermoine’s eyes bulged, tears staining red as heavier globs of blood sneezed from her nostrils and ears. And then – roughly half a second after the wand snapped – Hermoine’s head exploded.

The zombie priest stumbled back, the upper half of his cock ripped away, and landed hard on his ass. The remaining stump continued to pump bloody cum out onto the street. Hermoine’s headless corpse slumped forward, the zombie behind her hammering into her sweet young snatch harder until he shot his own load deep into her convulsing cunt. Death spams rocked through the young witch, causing her arms and legs to flop about wildly for nearly a minute before starting to fade off. The zombie priest – seemingly unbothered by the loss of most of his dick – leaned forward to scoop up a few chunks of Hermoine’s steaming, half-scorched brain matter and shoveled it into his waiting mouth. The rest of her young flesh would soon be devoured as well, leaving behind little more than a few broken bones and bloody smears to signal the remains of the Necropolis’s first unfortunate visitor.
84 posts omitted. [View All]


The large group of survivors didn’t trust the apparent safety of the building they’d taken refuge in, but they’d needed someplace to rest and regroup from the frantic battle. They’d barely been out of the Bunker and had already lost a chunk of their numbers. Azula hoped that the group that had been split away and chased off by the Man-Horse and Hell Flyers would find a way to survive, but she doubted it. The only solace she took from the event was that it had given her enough time to get the bulk of the others away. It wasn’t much of a victory, and it wouldn’t mean anything if she didn’t come up with a plan to escape the horrors of the Necropolis.

Letting the others rest – or at least attempt to – Azula pulled aside the Baroness and several others she trusted. She needed a sounding board, but not one that would potential raise the level of panic in the general masses. She was the only Bunker Commander left. The others were looking to her for leadership. Given the stakes, she didn’t much care for the responsibility, but she wasn’t about to pass it off to someone else. Still, she needed some help in figuring out what to do next. One wrong move could get a lot of people killed. Maybe all of them.

“Well, we’ve successfully escaped the frying pan,” Baroness pointed out. “Now we just have to douse the fire we find ourselves in.”

Azula wasn’t familiar with the expression, but she got the gist of it. “Going back to the Bunker isn’t an option. Alice’s team found a bridge, but there was something keeping them from crossing it. Staying here is suicide. And there’s too many of use to rely on staying hidden for every long. If at all. Am I missing anything?”

“Supplies and weaponry,” Peggy Carter pointed out. “Specifically, we’re low on both. We’ve also got wounded. Nothing life threatening, but it’s enough to slow us down.”

“We’ll be slow enough as it is with such a large group,” Balalaika muttered.

No one disagreed.

There were close to fifty survivors in their party. Even if everyone had been in perfect health, organizing and moving with speed would not have been possible. “We need a way out of the city,” Azula said, knowing they needed a plan of action before she could focus on the problems. “Something Alice’s team overlooked, or something we dismissed.”

“What about the airport?” Baroness suggested. “It was ruled out before because there were too many of us, but now.” She looked over the remaining survivors. “This many could fit on a single plane. Take to the skies, try to fly out. The worst monsters we’ve seen capable of flight are the Hell Flyers. And I doubt they can fly high enough to catch us if we get up to a decent altitude.”

There’d been a general map of the Necropolis in the Bunker. In the panic, no one had thought to copy it before evacuating the place, but Azula had examined it enough times to have a decent memory of the layout. She asked her small group of advisors for a bit of paper and something to write with. Crouching, she sketched out a crude map, filling out as much as she could recall. “Alright,” she said, looking it over. “The airport’s not exactly close, but from where we are, we can take a fairly direct path to it. Can anyone fly a plane, though?”

“I can,” Baroness volunteered.

“As can I,” Peggy nodded.

“We should see if anyone else can,” Azula said. “Just in case.” She didn’t need to expand on her reasoning. They all knew just how likely it was that there would be losses during the trip. “But it sounds like our best option.” She indicated where they were on her scrawled map, drawing her finger from that point to the airport. “The next problem is, the most direct path. It’ll be the fastest way to get there, but Alice’s team never made it out that way. We don’t know what’s waiting for us.”

“Perhaps we could take a better scouted route,” Peggy offered. “It would be slower, but we’d have the benefit of intelligence on our side.”

Balalaika shook her head. “A slower route would only give those monsters more time to catch up to us.”

“Perhaps,” Peggy conceded. “But a less direct route would also prevent them from predicting our destination. It would hardly matter if we kept them from nipping at our heels if we arrived to find the airport crawling with enemy forces.”

“It might be crawling with enemy forces regardless,” Baroness pointed out. She looked to Azula. “You’re in charge,” she said. She even managed to keep the condescending tone of her voice mostly at bay. “Ultimately, it’s your call.”


The music radiating from the Symphogear was necessary to keep Chris Yukine alive, but she’d soon realized making so much noise probably wasn’t the best of things as more and more of the shambling undead forces were drawn towards her. It was a vicious, unsustainable cycle. The more noise she made, the more enemies she drew. The more enemies she drew, the more noise she needed to make to defend herself. The walking dead went down easily enough, but the Hellhounds were tougher, faster, even smarter.

As a freshly initiated victim of the Necropolis, Chris didn’t know all the horrors the city had. She’d been driven into reactive defense so fast that she’d not had a chance to survey her surroundings or construct even a rudimentary plan. That reaction had clued her into one of the Necropolis’s more devious elements pretty quick, though. Her Symphogear wasn’t at full power. While she didn’t seem to have much problem conjuring forth as much ammo for her laser crossbows as she needed, Chris struggled and failed to manifest any of her heavier hitting weaponry. And even the limited capacity of her Symphogear’s abilities took far more effort than it should have, steadily sapping her energy.

Chris managed to hold the small horde at bay for a time, but as her strength waned, she was forced to pull back. The city street was littered in rubble and unfamiliar to her. With the monstrosities closing in on her, her options for escape grew limited fast. Focusing more on killing as many of the creatures as she could made it nearly impossible for her to plan an effective route. By the time she realized she’d backed herself into a corner, there were too many monsters to break through. Could really use a hand about now, she thought bitterly, unsure if there were even any others capable or willing to save her. She certainly saw no friendly faces amongst the decaying zombies or the slobbering Hellhounds.

The back of Chris’s left foot knocked against a chunk of broken asphalt. She let out a startled yell as her balance shifted and she dropped hard onto her ass. From the ground, the looming blend of zombies and demon beasts seemed a good deal more terrifying. She scrambled for her dropped crossbow as one of the Hellhounds charged towards her, leaping into the air. The creature’s big maw stretched open, fangs glistening with saliva. If she didn’t act fast, they’d soon be glistening with her blood.

Pure instinct saved Chris. She gave up on trying to grab her weapon and rolled onto her back. Her legs came up between her and the Hellhound just in time to become an effective blockade. The beast’s big head stretched towards her face, teeth snapping inches from her. Chris jerked her head back as far as she could to avoid having her face ripped away. The Hellhound’s paws clawed towards her, attempting to shred through her breasts, but the Symphogear armor managed to hold up against the assault. With a hard grunt, Chris kicked against the Hellhound, flinging it away from her. She rolled to the side, snatched up her crossbow, and fired several laser bolts through the beast’s head before it could recover.

The close encounter with the Hellhound had only taken a handful of heart-pounding seconds, but it had been more than enough time for the rest of the monstrosities to close in around Chris. She scrambled to her feet, searching for a way out or a way through. With the wall of an office building behind her, there was nowhere for her to go. She was too tired to kill her way through the problem with the crossbow. Desperation inspired a last-ditch plan that, not-so-deep down, she knew was insane. But she needed to do something – anything – to save herself. No one else was going to do it.

Chris activated her Symphogear’s Armor Purger attack. A radiance flowed across the protective suit as the armor reverted into a form of pure energy. Chris momentarily became a beacon not of sound, but of light. And then, with a sudden flash, the Symphogear exploded away from her body. The oncoming death of zombies and Hellhounds became a crimson mist as they were shredded by the powerful attack, saving Chris’s life. At least momentarily.

Gasping for air and feeling even more exhausted, Chris slumped against the wall. The rough cement pressed against her bare backside and she let out a groan as she lifted her arms to conceal her naked breasts and exposed crotch. She’d known exactly what the Armor Purge would leave her with, but in her panic, she’d not truly thought it out. It was – hopefully – only a temporary thing, but judging by the fatigue in her muscles, and the partially crippled abilities of her Symphogear, she knew it would be at least a few minutes before she could reactivate it. Until then, she’d have to deal with being utterly naked – in more ways than one – in the hostile environment. At least all the monsters are dead, she thought hopefully, moving forward to check through the pile of corpses to see if she could find something remotely intact enough – and not disgusting enough – to wear while she waited for her armor to recharge.

The Gulper looked a fair bit like the Blow Hunters. Appropriate, considering the nightmare creature was a mutated variant of the Hunters. It lacked the former’s impressive jumping ability, as well as its thorny self-destruct sequence. But it had a few of its own unique, terrible abilities. Drawn to the commotion Chris had caused, it crept out of a nearby alleyway to see the young woman’s perky posterior raised towards it as she leaned over a zombie corpse, attempting to tug free a mostly intact shirt. The Gulper’s lust stirred alongside its hunger. The creature prepared to strike.

Chris tugged the shirt free and let out a groan of disgust as she saw just how much blood had soaked into the fabric. She let the garment drop, silently urging her Symphogear to recover so she didn’t have to stand around in the buff much longer. The Gulper’s greasy tongue smacked across her back, leaving behind a sticky wad of slime. Chris cried out, stumbling forward from the impact before cocking her head to the side to locate her attacker. Turning her back to potential threats had been a dumb move. Thankfully, she’d only gotten another reminder of how disgusting her new environment was. With no weapons and no way of defending herself, her options were ridiculously simple. Flee.

Chris made it only a few feet before the tingling permeating her slime-coated skin seeped deeper into her. Her face filled with horrified confusion as her spine began to numb. Her legs stuttered, nearly pulling her back to the ground. She managed to keep herself upright by twisting to the side and flopping against the building wall beside her. She gasped, full breasts pressing against the rough surface as she realized the slime wasn’t just gross, it was weaponized. The paralyzing neurotoxin worked steadily, crippling her without doing the slightest damage to her immaculate flesh. Chris slumped to her knees against the building, gritting her teeth as she tried to force feeling back into her heavy legs. Her efforts doubled – but remained equally unsuccessful – as she heard the Gulper trudging towards her.

The Gulper clamped a hand down around Chris’s head, clutching her white hair and pulling her partially paralyzed body up. It twisted her around and shoved her back against the wall. Her purple eyes widened with sickened horror as she took in the gruesome, wide-mouthed creature’s appearance in far closer detail than she would have ever cared to. She wanted to lash out at the thing, to beat it back with her fists, but her arms were already feeling like a couple of limp noodles draped at her sides. She managed to lift them only an inch or so before they slumped back. If not for the Gulper’s bulk keeping her pinned to the wall, she would have collapsed completely.

The Gulper’s lust outpaced its hunger. With the young woman’s soft body mashed up against its slick flesh, the tingles of ecstasy that rushed through it could not be denied. A thick, bulbed prick slid free from between the Gulper’s legs, pushing between Chris’s thighs. The white-haired woman let out a yell of disgust as she felt the oddly shaped phallus drag across her helpless cunt lips. The thing’s bulbous lumps pressed hard against her folds, mashing against her clitoris and sending jolts of sickening, unwanted pleasure shooting through her loins. Chris strained even harder to get her muscles to work, tears stinging her eyes as horrid flashbacks to her childhood filled her mind. “P-please,” she whimpered out. “Not again!”

The Gulper could not comprehend Chris’s words. It had no knowledge of her previous molestation. Even if it was capable of such things, it would not have stopped the monster. The frog-like nightmare adjust itself, mashing the tip of its misshapen prick against her sex. Its hips thrust, skewering several of the thick bulbs into Chris’s cunt. The young woman shrieked, less from physical pain and more from mental torment. Her purple eyes bulged, gushing tears as her body trembled against her attacker. The Gulper took only ecstasy from the way the girl’s hot pussy convulsed around his pumping member. The creature fucked her harder, sandwiching her against the wall.

The Symphogear should have been recharged enough to activate her armor. Chris hoped it would be. The defensive shell would not only save her life, it could put an appropriately cruel end to her rape. The fact that she couldn’t really feel the big, bulbed dick pounding into her very well clued her in to just how paralyzed she was, but as she tried to sing out for the Symphogear to activate, she realized it was even worse than she’d feared. The squeaks that crept up her throat weren’t even close to the song she’d intended to sing. The neurotoxin had reached her lungs. As she struggled to suck in air, Chris whined with rising horror as she realized her only chance of defending herself was impossible to activate.

Chris didn’t need to feel the Gulper’s cock. Even with her cunt muscles paralyzed, the warm sheath was quite pleasant to thrust into. The monster hammered into her faster, fucking its way closer to its inevitable climax. As the urge to blow its load into the young woman built, so did its hunger. Its wide lips peeled open, stretching wide to reveal its glistening maw to Chris. She stared down the Gulper’s gullet and let out a weak, half-strangled scream. She wiggled between her rapist and the wall, the most movement she could muster with the neurotoxin continuing to work its way through her muscles, transforming them into limp, inert jelly.

The Gulper stretched its head forward, easily moving its lips over Chris’s head. The young woman’s world became humid darkness as the monster’s lips smacked closed around her throat. She sobbed within the claustrophobic environment of the Gulper’s mouth, mind revolting from the combination of old traumas and new ones. The creature’s tongue slathered her face in more of its slime, leaving her skin tingling. The Gulper arched its head forward, sliding its lips over Chris’s shoulders as it humped harder into her unfeeling sex.

The Gulper closed its hands around Chris’s sides, pulling her further into its mouth. The creature’s bottom lip crept over the curves of the woman’s plump tits, tickling her nipples – one of the few parts of her still capable of feeling anything. The Gulper’s humping sped up as the gooey bulbs of its cock slowly pulled free from Chris’s snatch, forced to drive into her with shallower strokes as it consumed its barely squirming meal. The lips of Chris’s cunt dragged across the sensitive tip of the Gulper’s cock, unwillingly – and unknowingly – teasing the monster to the point of release as her paralyzed bladder drained warm piss down its shaft.

The head of the Gulper’s prick popped free of Chris’s pussy. The length of glistening, bulbed flesh pulsed before spraying out a creamy load of pale green spunk across the young woman’s violated sex. It pumped over her folds and flowed along the insides of her thighs. As the Gulper’s throat muscles tugged Chris deeper, her body shifted and her belly received the final few spurts of the creature’s orgasm. The Gulper’s member drooped, gradually drawing back into its body, much like Chris was being gradually dragged into it. With its lust satiated, the Gulper focused fully on devouring its post-sex meal.

Tilting its head back, the Gulper made good on its namesake, gulping at Chris’s limp form. Her perky ass raised towards the air, legs dangling against the creature’s torso. The smooth cheeks of her rear vanished into the Gulper’s maw as its tongue slithered up between her thighs, hooking against her to help pull her down. Chris’s legs disappeared bit by bit into the monster, until only her feet remained, pressed close together. Her toes, still resisting the neurotoxin and wiggling wildly, were the last to go, vanishing into the Gulper with a wet slurp. The creature jerked its head, swallowing hard several more times to work the massive lump of young woman fully down into its stomach. The monster’s skin stretched, offering the vague outline of its victim pressed against it.

Digestion was a guarantee. Trapped within the Gulper’s gut, Chris’s body was already being basted in stomach juices. The process would be slow and, if she’d been unlucky enough to live through even some of it, excruciating. But Chris had far more immediate problems. Her paralyzed lungs, specifically. Frozen within her chest, Chris strained to suck in even the fetid air within the Gulper’s body. Her lips smacked against the pool of juices gathering at the bottom of the monster’s stomach, face darkening and eyes bulging as she suffocated. The neurotoxin was saving her from hours of painfully slow digestion. In her panic, Chris did not see it that way. She struggled and suffered, trying desperately to breathe, until her brain began to shut down. With the paralytic affecting her so strongly, there wasn’t even much of an indication of Chris’s death. She went from a limp, helpless lump of meat waiting to be broken down to a dead, useless lump of meat waiting to be broken down with only the subtlest of shudders to indicate the transition.

Satisfied with its conquest and its meal, the Gulper crept back towards the alley it had been lurking in. Its movements were a good deal slower with Chris’s added body weight and the awkward lump of her corpse distending the creature’s gut. But the Gulper had nothing to fear. With the girl dead and consumed, there was nothing left to threaten the monster. It disappeared back down the alley and settled in to digest its big meal.


“The music’s stopped,” Kay-Em announced to the rest of the scouts. She didn’t need to elaborate on the statement for the others to understand what it meant. Whoever had been making all the noise was almost certainly dead.

Alice glanced to Fuuka, seeing her own guilt mirrored on the young woman’s face.

“We should have tried to help them,” Izumi muttered, voicing her own regret. “I know we’re dealing with a lot, but no one deserves what this place does.”

Renamon said nothing. Her animal face was hard to read, but Alice was pretty sure she wasn’t particularly bothered by the loss of life.

Homura was more vocal about reinforcing the choice they’d made. “You’re not wrong, but we can’t save everyone. And not everyone who’s brought into this nightmare is worthy of saving.” She looked to Izumi. “You weren’t around for the crazy Japanese bitch with the mace. And anyone making that much noise in this place is, at the very least, crazy.” She shrugged. “Or they were, anyway.”

“That’s cold,” Izumi shot back, glaring over at Homura.

“Enough,” Alice barked. “I made the call. I’ll take the guilt. Whether it was a smart choice or not, I guess we might never know.” Speaking of choices, she thought as she eyed the looming Sports Arena ahead. They’d spotted the building before, but had chosen to go around it to avoid the potential of an ambush in such a confined space. Previously, they’d not had to worry much about time constraints. Now, they did. And going through the Arena would save them a good deal of time. But it was unscouted and still just as potentially dangerous as it had been the first time they’d come to the place. It was another potentially damning choice. This time, Alice decided to keep it to herself, pondering the pros and cons in her head.


Jack didn’t want to be in charge. Being in charge meant responsibility. But looking over the assortment of other survivors who’d made it into the sewer, they either didn’t want the job or were in no shape to take it. As much as she didn’t like Supergirl’s goody-two-shoes attitude – it reminded her too much of Miranda’s cheerleader ass – Jack felt like the blonde would have made a better leader. But her Kryptonian powers had been corrupted by the Necropolis’s aura, the way it obscured the yellow sun and interrupted the radiation it sent out before it reached Kara’s body. Beyond that, spending an extended period of time within the Bunker and now the sewer had left her weak. She was still strong enough to do some damage, but Jack was pretty sure a particularly beefy chick could have given her a run for her money.

So Kara was out. And no one else was capable or willing to do it. Aside from Joy. And Jack wasn’t about to let the white trash bitch take over. She’s lucky my first act as Defacto Bitch in Charge wasn’t to shove her back up onto the street, Jack thought as she led the group deeper into the sewers. Going down had seemed like a possible risk, considering they had no idea what kind of fresh horrors waited for them in the sewers, but getting further away from the chaos up above had seemed like the best course of action. So down they’d gone. And so far, so good, Jack thought.

The good soon became a bit better, at least in terms of potential benefit. The generator room was quiet, dark, clearly powered down, but the equipment still looked intact. She directed Ada and Quorra to spread out, check the rooms corners. She kept Parasoul close, both to maintain the light to see as well as to be an obvious target for anything that might be lurking in the room. Kara and Taki took up the rear, guarding them from any surprise attacks as well as keeping the less combat-experienced members of their party relatively safe.

Jack and Parasoul were halfway through the center of the generator room when the light of the glowing umbrella drew the attention of a pack of zombies from an adjacent break room. The moans, growls, and hisses clued Jack in to the oncoming attack. “Contact!” she yelled to the others. “Twelve o’clock!” She’d barely gotten the words past her lips before the undead began spilling in towards her and the others.

The usual bags of pus and meat were plentiful. And even though it was safe to say they were the least threatening thing the Necropolis had to offer, they were far from being safe. Amongst the regular dead heads, Jack spotted a couple of Deathscythes in the mix. They were properly dangerous. One proved as much by nearly decapitating Ada. The woman dodged the strike, but earn a shallow gash across one collar bone. She responded to the attack by blasting several holes through the Deathsycthe’s bone-bladed arm. Not enough to destroy it, but enough to weaken it and force the creature to pull back.

Jack called back to the rear guard to come forward and help. If they got ambushed from behind, they’d have big problems regardless of how everyone was positioned. Better to deal with the current threat as quickly as possible. Her shotgun made mush out of one zombie’s head. As the corpse dropped, she spotted the obese form of a Big Man lumbering into the room. The hulking zombie’s gut split open, spilling his living innards free. Parasoul let out a shriek as one length of intestine looped around her waist and yanked her towards the waiting maw of the Big Man’s belly. Jack rushed forward, firing her shotgun repeatedly until she shredded through the tough length of gut. Parasoul rolled free, shrieking as a few spatters of digestive juices landed on her arm. She pawed at it, trying to wipe the burning fluid free but only managing to burn her fingertips in the process. Jack grabbed her by the back of her shirt and yanked her away from the chaos.

Hastily shoving fresh shells into her weapon, Jack caught sight of another of the Big Man’s intestines launching towards her. A quick flash cut across the grotesque tentacle of tissue, severing it neatly. She spotted the glowing disc whip around the room before returning to Quorra. The pale-skinned woman twisted with her unique weapon to shave a nearby zombie’s face off. Before the Big Man could recover from his second length of gut getting sliced off, Taki dropped in from the side. Her sword cut smoothly through the large zombie’s head, bisecting it from his left temple down to his right cheek. The upper half of the Big Man’s head slid away to reveal his putrid brains before he collapsed heavily to the ground.

The Deathscythe with the shot-up bone-blade made an attempt to gut Kara. Showing she still had a fair bit of her strength left, she caught the blade in her hands. With a grunt of far more strain than she should’ve had to exert, she shattered the bone-blade, wincing as the jagged shards left more than a few cuts across her palms. She ignored the pain and cocked her fist back, slamming it through the Deathscythe’s face and out the back of his head. Kara stumbled as the creature fell, nearly dragging her to the floor with him. As she struggled to pull her arm free, Joy showed she wasn’t completely self-centered and useless, moving forward to smash the frying pans he held across the head of an advancing zombie with his dead, milky eyes fixed on Supergirl.

“Us blondes gotta stick together,” Joy remarked to Kara with a cocky smirk.

With two of the big hitters already down and the bulk of the average zombies reduced to proper corpses, there were more than enough able bodies with capable weaponry to handle the remaining Deathscythe. Jack almost felt bad for the thing as they tore it to pieces under the onslaught of their attack. But mostly, she just felt satisfied. “Payback’s a fuckin’ cunt, ain’t it, boys?” she growled to the pile of stinking corpses at her feet as she reloaded her shotgun.

Given the unexpected nature of the assault, they’d come through it more or less alright. Not completely unscathed, but the wounds were minimal. Dot Everest volunteered to do what she could to patch people up. Tron Bonne offered up the first aid supplies she’d looted from Anna’s shop before she’d made it out of the Bunker. Jack gave the go ahead, silently wishing they’d found Dot before Bathory had claimed her spot as the Bunker’s head doctor. The young blonde may have lacked extensive surgical knowledge or experience, but she had a steadfast approach and a sense of genuine care for what she did. Plus, I’ve gotta feeling she could be a bit of a badass if she let her freak flag fly, Jack thought as she turned her attention to cleaning up the pile of corpses they’d created.

The cause of so many zombies grouped together was discovered in the break room they’d been congregating in. The corpse was still fresh. Fresh enough that Jack wondered how soon the woman had been brought into the Necropolis. If they’d been a bit faster, they may have even been able to save her. Now, there wasn’t anything to save. The woman’s head was a tangle of vibrant red hair and thoroughly chewed face tissue, making it impossible to identify her. Tattered strips of a ruby red dress still clung to some parts of her thoroughly fucked body, jizz leaking steadily from her cunt and ass. One plump, pale tit had been left virtually undamaged, only a few light nibbles taken from it, but the other hand been devoured completely. Ada popped a round into the unfortunate redhead’s skull, just to be safe.

After looting the snack machines in the break room and confirming there was no way out other than the one door, Jack figured it was as good a place as any to dump all the dead zombies. Once the door was sealed, the stench in the generator room improved. Not by much. But it was something.

While Dot patched up those in need of it, Ellie Langford and Tron looked over the generator.

“What’s the deal?” Jack asked as she finished up with the cleanup. “You know what this thing does? If it even works?”

Ellie shrugged. “The only way to know exactly what the generator powers would be to repair it.”

“So it’s busted?” Jack asked.

“Only a little,” Tron answered. “We have the basic tools to repair it and restart it.”

Jack sighed, looking the generator over. “You’ve gotta give me more than that before we waste time and resources fixing the fucking thing.”

“There’s a computer terminal on the far side of the room,” Ellie said. “It’s a safe bet the generator will get it back on. Of course, there’s no telling if there’ll be anything of use on the terminal. Other than that, we’ll likely get power to the immediate area. Lights. Maybe unlock some doors.”

“Being able to see where we’re going would be nice,” Jack said. “But it might also put a big damn target on us.” She sighed. This is why I don’t wanna be in charge…


“We have too many people to risk taking an un-scouted path,” Azula decided. “Even if it’s slower, it’s bound to be safer. Even so, we should try to find the most direct scenic route possible.” She looked over the map she’d scrawled out. “We should take a little time to hammer out a proper path, along with backup options in case we run into something we don’t want to deal with.” She glanced towards Baroness. “And we’ll need to do something about staying ahead of the Legions at our back.”

Azula had no need to expand on what she meant. Baroness knew. She suspected some of the others in the woman’s little party of advisors knew, too. No one wanted to talk about the cold reality of what was required to survive. Baroness was fine with that. She far preferred being a woman of action, not words. She left Azula to finish planning their slower route, making her way back to the bulk of the Bunker survivors. Just as Azula had recruited her own band of helpers, Baroness had her own. Granted, Baroness’s helpers were less for planning things and more for carrying out whatever less-than-moral acts needed doing.

Baroness found her minions near the outskirts of the group of survivors, performing their assigned duty of protection with a clear sense of boredom. Nena Trinity and Lola made for an interesting pair. Nena was shorter than Lola, with some of her red hair pulled up into ponytails while the rest was left to flow over the backs of her shoulders. Her golden eyes and freckled cheeks gave her a far friendlier appearance than her demeanor. Lola appeared more hostile, even without trying. Tall and lithe with her bleach blonde hair cropped short and styled. Nena’s two-piece tight-fitting bodysuit was alluring, but practical. Lola’s attire amounted to the equivalent of lingerie with a lab coat pulled over her skinny shoulders. The dark mascara under her blue eyes gave her a dangerously seductive appearance that contrasted with her resting bitch face. But despite their visual differences, the pair had a similar smattering of freckles across their cheeks. They also shared a nonchalant and – especially in Lola’s case – gleeful interest in doing bad things.

Pulling her henchwomen aside, making sure they were well out of range of anyone hearing them, Baroness dispensed her orders. “Azula’s decided that slow and steady is the answer,” she relayed. “She thinks it’s the safest choice for the majority of the group. Too bad for the individuals. Find a non-combatant, discreetly. Preferably one that won’t be missed. If the group is to survive, we’ll need a way to keep the horrors at our heels at bay. A well-baited distraction should do nicely.”

The pair nodded their understanding and moved out. Baroness returned to Azula, to see where they were going.


Minako Aino made her way through the group of survivors, slowly, checking faces. She’d been so relieved when she’d been briefly reunited with Makoto, happy to see a familiar face even if neither of them had retained their Sailor Scout abilities. But she’d not seen Makoto since before the Bunker attack. There’d been too much chaos to say for sure that her friend hadn’t made it, but she didn’t like the odds. Still, she kept on searching, hoping that Makoto had just been separated enough that they’d simply not spotted each other yet.

“Looking for someone?”

Minako turned to see Nena and her tall counterpart. She’d seen the pair around the Bunker before, always on the move. She didn’t like the blonde much – something creepy in her eyes – but Nena had seemed friendly enough in passing. “My friend, Makoto,” she answered. “I haven’t seen her since the Bunker.”

Nena shared a look with Lola. The women knew exactly what had happened to Makoto. They’d been the ones tasked with making sure she got to Bathory’s lab without incident. Passing that information along to Minako didn’t seem like a wise choice, so Nena spun up a lie. “You know, I think I actually saw her a little while ago.”

“Really?” Minako said, hope in her eyes.

Nena nodded. “Isn’t that right, Lola?”

“Yep,” she agreed, offering Minako the friendliest smile she could manage. It still looked pretty predatory, but Minako was too distracted by the possibility of finding Makoto to notice.

“Can you take me to her?” the neutered Sailor Scout asked.

“Of course,” Nena said with a smile, sidling up next to Minako and hooking an arm through hers. “We’re here to help.”


The moment they were far enough away from the rest of the survivors, Lola cracked the butt of her machine pistol across the back of Minako’s head. The long-haired blonde let out a yelp of pain, collapsing into Nena’s waiting arms. Scooping her up, Nena slung the young woman over her shoulder. “This one’s as naïve as her friend was,” she muttered as she continued along.

“Hey, she was right to trust us,” Lola shot back. “We are technically going to reunite her with the other one. In death.”

The pair shared a laugh, making their way further from the group. They started out in the direction of the Bunker before cutting into a parallel route, moving to avoid any notice from the city’s myriad of monsters. When they got far enough out that Minako would work effectively as a means of leading the horde away from the others, they went to work setting up their bait.

Dumping Minako onto the street, Nena and Lola quickly stripped the young woman down to nothing. As Nena shredded Minako’s clothes, fashioning them into makeshift bindings, Lola eyed the naked flesh before her. She dragged her tongue across the bottom of her teeth, resisting the urge – for the moment – to reach out and tickle her fingers through the wild patch of blonde pubes just above Minako’s slit. Nena finished with the bindings and they pulled their victim up, carrying her to a nearby bench. Minako groaned as they pulled her arms and legs apart, stretching her as they tied her down to the bench in about as vulnerable a pose as possible.

Lola shoved the tattered remnants of Minako’s panties into the girl’s mouth. Nena tore off a few strips of duct tape and pressed them across Minako’s lips, trapping the gag in her mouth. Minako gagged on the fabric hard enough to rouse herself back to consciousness. Her eyes snapped open, confused at first but quickly shifting to terror as she looked up at her abductors. She whined into her gag, tugging at the shredded lengths of her clothing. Minako’s minimal muscles flexed, trying to squirm free of her bondage but finding the knots too tight and her range of movement too limited to make any real progress.

Watching the young woman struggling only stirred Lola’s lust more. “We should make sure this bait is nice and juicy,” she purred, moving closer to Minako. Crouching in front of her, she stared into the girl’s wide eyes, drinking in her fear. Her hands moved to Minako’s chest, clutching at her pert breasts. Her thumbs rolled across the girl’s pink nipples, teasing them to stiffness. “Bad news, baby,” she told Minako, letting one hand drop down to her crotch. She tickled the girl’s pubic hair, making good on her initial urge, before moving lower to feel the folds of her cunt. “We finally found a perfect use for you.” She shoved her middle finger up Minako’s snatch, drawing a muffled whine from her.

Lola lowered her head to Minako’s chest, sucking a nipple into her mouth before closing her teeth around the nub. She bit down hard enough to draw an almost impressive yelp from her. Adding a second finger into the girl’s pussy, she pumped her digits swiftly. Looking back into Minako’s tear-filled eyes, Lola moved in closer. “Oh, and about your friend, Makkie,” she purred, leaning in to drag her tongue slowly up Minako’s cheek. “She was dead before those dead fucks even started their attack.” She made sure to catch the look on the blonde’s face as she heard her friend was dead. Her eyes lit up, predatory smile firmly in place as her hand worked harder at Minako’s cunt, getting her wet despite the horrified sadness overwhelming her.

“C’mon, Lola,” Nena pressed. “We can’t hang around here all night.”

“Just a sec,” Lola countered as she remembered what the girl had claimed she’d been back in her real world. “I’ve just gotta finish conquering Venus’s mound over here.” She moved down, burying her face against Minako’s snatch. Her tongue dove deep into her folds, lapping at her juices before moving up to lock her lips around her clit. She gave it a hard suck, flapping her tongue across the bundle of sensitive nerves until Minako was quivering through an unwanted climax. Leaning back, Lola licked her lips clean and got to her feet. “Your sacrifice is appreciated, honey,” she remarked, wiping her sticky fingers clean on Minako’s hair.

Nena fired off a round from her weapon into the air. The gunshot echoed off the walls of the nearby buildings, ensuring that the undead would be drawn to the location. With their task completed, the pair hurried back the way they’d come, not wanting to stick around and risk becoming part of the distraction.

Tears flowed freely down Minako’s cheeks. Her life had been far from pleasant since arriving in the Necropolis, but it had taken so many terrible turns so quickly that her mind struggled to process it all. The pounding in her head from the blow she’d taken didn’t help. Makoto was dead. She’d been sacrificed and trussed up as bait. Sexually assaulted. Left to be zombie chow. She resumed her struggles, desperately trying to work her way free of the bindings Nena had used to tie her to the bench. Her legs ached from the extreme split they’d been forced to maintain. The panties stuffing her mouth became a soggy, saliva-soaked lump of fabric. She wanted to push it free, but the tape kept the underwear in place. She let out a miserable whine as she heard the moan of the first zombie. Turning her head, she saw a sizable group of the things shuffling down the street towards her.

Without the Child’s psychic link, the zombies thought nothing of the convenience of the treat that had been left for them. The first undead man that reached her was drawn to her wet cunt, sheathing his rotting prick inside of the girl. Minako screamed into her gag as she was violated, jerking from side to side but remaining trapped. Her perky breasts jiggled, providing an entertaining show for the dead man raping her. As more of the zombies converged on her, the young blonde found herself the target of even more rancid cocks. They dragged across her flesh, smacked at her flexing fingers, prodded at her tits. One zombie grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as he looped the hair around his erection, using it as a makeshift masturbatory aid.

Minako’s pussy grew more slick as the undead came into her, leaving her leaking their gooey deposits onto the bench. She shrieked into her gag as one of the living dead sank his teeth into her forearm, ripping away a bloody chunk of meat. Another buried his face against her chest, chomping down on the same nipple Lola had bitten. The zombie chewed with a good deal more enthusiasm, ripping the nub away and swallowing it down. The zombies consumed Minako in small pieces, far more focused on raping the young woman.

With a sharp rip, an undead man managed to peel away the tape covering Minako’s mouth. Before she could shove the wadded up panties out and let loose with a proper scream, the zombie wedged his cock past her lips. The blonde’s eyes bulged as he fucked against her face, forcing the gag further down her throat. The drool-soaked fabric became lodged halfway down her esophagus. She strained to swallow it, but it was too thick and too sticky to manage it. Her eyes bulged, bloodshot and filled with horror, as she stared up at the zombie fucking her face. Her partially eaten and thoroughly fucked body flailed as wildly as it could within her bondage as she choked on her panties.

Minako’s face shifted to a deep red, sweat pouring out of her. Her eyes rolled back, struggles slackening into spastic shudders. As the darkness of death consumed her, she felt the teeth of a zombie start to chew at her cum-stuffed cunt, tearing chunks of sensitive flesh away. The zombie was undeterred by the sudden burst of piss that sprayed across his face as he dined on the young woman’s sex, moving in to chew free a bigger bite to satisfy his hunger. The zombie fucking Minako’s face clutched her head close against his crotch as he came down her clogged throat, leaving the wadded-up panties even more soaked in fluids.


Nena and Lola made it back to the group, making their way to where Azula was finishing up the route they’d be taking. Nena gave Baroness a subtle nod, unseen by the others, that told their commander that the task had been completed.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Nena shared. “We just double-backed to check and the horde’s headed this way.” The lie passed smoothly from her lips. The Baroness had made sure to impart the importance of getting the group moving after Minako’s sacrifice. They couldn’t afford letting anyone notice the girl’s absence too soon.

“We’re as ready as we’ll ever be,” Azula decided, turning to the others. “Get everyone ready to move.”


Rumors of the horde’s pursuit kept the sizeable group of survivors moving quickly. Even those that hadn’t been on the frontline of the Bunker assault were terrified of the prospect of being caught out in the open by the creatures actively hunting them. The panic only grew stronger when Minako’s disappearance was discovered. Whether the girl had simply wandered off or been picked off by one of the hellish monsters infesting the Necropolis, it didn’t matter. It was just another reminder that death could come for them at any moment. Fear was an excellent motivator. The group stuck close to one another as they made their way towards the shopping mall. No one dared to raise the concern of their lack of supplies.

But the panicked haste came at a cost. It was ironic, given that Azula had chosen the slower, less direct path to the airport. When the group came upon the large pack of zombies in their way, they lacked any cohesion. Chaos erupted. Lives were lost.

The revelation that they faced not only zombies, but some of the Necropolis’s deadlier creations became evident before Azula could rally any form of defense.

Given that the world she’d come from had also been infested with the living dead, the zombies didn’t bother Slack much. She’d gotten rather good at killing them even before being snatched into the Necropolis. As the survivors around her struggled to come up with a plan of action, she drew her pistol and started popping the zombies, blasting their rotting brains from their skulls. She stepped forward, out of the group, advancing on the nightmare creatures and unintentionally making herself a prime target.

The Head Snatcher’s pointed tongue punched through Slack’s temple, erupting from the opposite side of her head. Her finger twitched around the trigger of her pistol, firing off one more shot that plopped pointlessly into a zombie’s chest. Her eyes crossed, mouth falling slack. The gun dropped from her hand, hitting the ground and going off. The wild shot put a hole through Lucy Heartfilia’s thigh. Tendons and bones snapped as the Head Snatcher retracted its tongue, tearing Slack’s head away. Piss gushed into the crotch of her black leather shorts and flowed along her fishnet-clad thighs. Her body dropped forward, landing hard on her full breasts as her arms jerked about, clawing at the air and digging her fingernails against the asphalt.

Letty Ortiz let out an angry yell as a Blow Hunter dropped in front of her and pulled her into his deadly embrace. She beat her fists against the thing as he tore his way through the crotch of her jeans and buried his members into her cunt and ass. Her tough edge cracked as she was rapidly violated, calling out for help. The survivors nearest to her were already backing away. Even with only rumors to enlighten them to the nature of the Blow Hunters, they knew to put distance between themselves and the creature assaulting Letty. Her clenched fists pounded against the Blow Hunter’s fleshy exterior as the monster’s cocks pounded into her loins. She reflexively clenched around the probing phalluses, unwillingly assisting the creature’s approach to a deadly climax.

“Get this thing the fuck off of – “ Letty’s final plea for assistance cut off as the Blow Hunter came. Spikes ripped through the Latina’s body, piercing the soft flesh of her breasts and crunching through her ribs. One spike rammed its way into her throat, barely avoiding her spine as it made its way through her. Her kicking legs became pinned against the bloating monster’s flesh. One spike managed to meet Letty’s last punch, spearing through her knuckles and emerging from her wrist. She was left choking on her hot blood for only a few moments before the Blow Hunter concluded his life, ripping himself and Letty apart in a violent explosion of cum and blood.

Azula and Baroness managed to shift the group’s formation, creating a defensive front. The horde was smaller than the one pursuing them, but it was still big enough to be a danger – Slack and Letty’s deaths being two prime pieces of evidence to that. Thankfully, the group of monsters wasn’t blocking their path to the hopeful safety of the mall. Azula made it clear that they weren’t going to engage in a standup fight. They only had to keep the mini-horde at bay while the bulk of the survivors made it to the mall. The panic faded – but only slightly – as the group fell into line and responded to their loss by taking out as many of the monsters as they could.

Sonya Blade and Sharon Carter led the group towards the mall, clearing out the handful of zombies in their way. Saeko Busujima and Setsuka were put in charge of covering the group’s rear, holding off the mini-horde while the others could make their escape. It was just the sort of action Saeko had been looking forward to for what felt like months. Her muramasa felt light in her hands, growing lighter with each undead form she cleaved through. Her breath quickened with each successful strike. The blood, the carnage, the death. It gave her a very special kind of thrill. The kind that dampened her panties. And as Saeko slashed and sliced her way through one zombie after the next, her panties were soaked in no time.

Setsuka did her best to lend as much assistance as she could, both in terms of killing monsters as well as in keeping Saeko focused. But as the purple-haired young woman’s bloodlust grew, even Setsuka’s rational words couldn’t get through. Saeko panted openly, sweat dribbling from her brow as she advanced into the diminishing ranks of the undead. Each cut of her sword felt like a direct jolt of ecstasy right to her clit. The sensation was dangerously addictive. She didn’t want it to stop. Her interests shifted to carving as many zombies as she could as quickly as she could, neglecting to confirm each one was dead before moving on to the next.

The woman’s forward momentum came to a momentary stop as she faced down a particular large cluster of zombies. One of Saeko’s undead victims – cleaved in half at the waist – had been pulling himself along towards the woman. The pause in her movement was long enough for him to catch up to her. His rotten fingers closed around her calf, tugging himself forward just far enough to bury his teeth in her ankle. Saeko cried out – a blend of orgasmic release and shocked pain. She yanked her leg away from the half-zombie and brought her sword down into the thing’s head. Her attacker was dead – properly so – but the hot blood flowing down Saeko’s ankle told her that she’d soon be, too.

Setsuka moved forward fast, taking out another zombie as she reached Saeko. She silently cursed herself for not spotting the crawler in time. “Maybe we can amputate it,” she suggested. “Before the infection spreads.”

“No,” Saeko panted, feeling a fresh surge of arousal now that she knew she’d soon be gone. “Get back to the group.” She tightened her grip on her weapon. “I’ll hold them back as long as I can.” There was little nobility in her choice. She’d only just gotten to start enjoying herself. She’d be damned if she was going to let the warm, blissful feelings go. The survivors would not allow her to live if she returned to them. A quick shot to the head would have minimized the pain of death, but it would steal the thrill of it from her. And Saeko wanted that thrill more than anything else.

Setsuka nodded her apparent understanding, although the words that followed made it clear that she didn’t. “Thank you for your sacrifice,” she told Saeko. “You are a true warrior.” She turned and hurried back towards the retreating group, leaving Saeko to her fate.

Saeko turned to face the oncoming undead. She let out a yell of challenge, drawing the attention of the zombies to her, and charged into them. Her sword moved with blinding speed, dicing up the living corpses with shocking efficiency. Saeko moaned with each swipe, her lust fueling her actions. The ecstasy built within her, aided by the infection that would claim her life. Her flesh flushed, unashamed of her arousal, but surprised by the apparent lack of limit it had. Her sloppy cunt burned, aching to be filled with something. Perhaps it was the erotic frenzy of her mind, or maybe just the infection taking hold of her, but Saeko suddenly realized that she wanted to do something else to the zombies besides slaughtering them.

Yanking the blade free from her latest conquest’s chest, she shoved the undead man to the ground. His brain was still intact, leaving him alive, but – more importantly – so was his cock. Dropping onto him, Saeko pulled up the flap of her apron and tugged aside the crotch of her soaked panties. She gripped the dead man’s shaft, holding it steady as she rammed her burning snatch onto him. She cried out, finally finding a small amount of relief as she was filled. The first orgasm was nice, but Saeko was more interested in seeing just how many she could achieve before death claimed her. She slammed her crotch against the zombie, riding him with wild energy. Her hands moved to her chest, yanking open her shirt. Buttons went flying as her breasts spilled free.

Saeko pushed one hand against her undead lover’s shoulder, holding his gnashing teeth at bay as she shook her tits at him. Her other hand moved downwards, slipping under the front of her panties to wiggle her clit. A second zombie took notice of the change in Saeko’s attitude. He lumbered up behind the young woman, tearing away the rear portion of her apron like pealing off a sticky note. Saeko’s jiggling buttocks – flesh rippling with each downward stroke she made onto her zombie lover’s prick – mesmerized the second zombie. He crouched in close behind her, tearing through her panties so he could take aim at her tight asshole.

Saeko whimpered as the undead cock pressed against her sphincter, groaned as the zombie plunged up her rear. She shifted her movements, helping to work the anal invader deeper into her. Her cunt walls clenched and released around the prick buried so deep inside her. When the next pair of zombies approached, she reached out to pull their erections free, pumping along their shafts and leaning in so she could lap at their cockheads. When one of the zombies moved close enough, she allowed him to slide his member through her cleavage, pushing her milky mounds of flesh together around him.

If anything, Saeko made a better distraction after she’d given in to her sexual urges. The insatiable, infected sex addict drew the undead towards her, each of them eager to stuff the young woman’s holes before the warmth of life left them completely. Saeko gave herself freely to the bliss consuming her, hardly noticing as it became hard for her to breathe. The cascade of orgasms ripping through her kept her pleasantly distracted from the end of her life. When the infection finally claimed her, her gyrations only paused momentarily before her milky eyes snapped open with renewed, evil existence. She shoved her face onto another stiff prick, sucking at it until she got her first meal as a member of the undead.

Saeko’s zombie lovers found satisfaction long before she did. Gradually, the memory that they’d been pursuing a much larger group returned. With Saeko no longer a threat, they began to shuffle away from her, heading towards the mall. Quite dead but still achingly horny, Saeko let out a groan of dismay as the zombies left her. She awkwardly got to her feet, joining the ranks of the Undead. Only the briefest flickers of memory inspired her to reach down and grab her discarded sword.


It was a relief to find that the interior of the mall wasn’t as badly infested as the exterior. Sealing the entryway behind them, the survivors spread out to secure the ground floor. The unexpected ambush had everyone rattled. There’d been a sense – perhaps a desperate hope – that the majority of the city’s undead monster population had been present during the assault on the Bunker. The group of creatures they’d blundered into was big enough to instill fresh fear in the survivors.

Fear may have been an excellent motivator, but it was also capable of freezing the group in place. Azula couldn’t afford to allow that to happen. She gathered Baroness and went about setting up a party of forward scouts. A smaller party moving ahead of the main group would make it far easier to avoid future surprises. They’d drawn attention getting into the mall. The mini-horde they’d left behind had suffered losses, but they were still a threat – especially if reinforcements came. Still, the mall afforded them a unique opportunity to restock much needed supplies, both for the journey to the airport and potentially in the world beyond if they managed to make it that far.

The question was: Could they afford to spend the time exploring the mall?


The longer Jack remained in charge, the less she liked it. Case in point: While Ellie and Tron worked to fix the generator, it seemed like a logical thing to let the rest of the group get some much needed rest. But while the others managed to at least find someplace reasonably comfortable to sit or lay down – and a few even managed to nod off for some precious moments of sleep – Jack remained awake, alert, and pacing anxiously from one end of the generator room to the next. Self-preservation was only one of the things motivating her. The concern for her group – and keeping them safe – was even stronger.

It’s stupid, she told herself as she paced. I’m better off without them. They’re better off without me. I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.

Before Jack could convince herself to bolt and leave the group to whatever fate awaited them, Ellie came to inform her that they’d managed to get the generator operational.

“Should we turn it on?” Ellie asked.

“Let’s get everyone on their feet first,” Jack replied. That’s a good idea, right? That’s what a leader would say? She had no idea, but if the generator brought a mass of death down on their heads, it would be better to have everyone awake first. Making the rounds, she got her small party together. When they were as ready as they could be, Jack gave the order to flip the generator on.

The old machine rumbled to life. A moment later, the overhead lights clicked on. More than a few of the group jumped from the sudden illumination. Jack’s heart leapt halfway up her throat, but she managed to maintain a passive outward appearance. The nearby computer terminal clicked on, whirring its way through the bootup process. Jack directed Tron to the computer to see if it had any useful information. For some reason, Quorra had found a great deal of amusement in Tron’s name, but she’d not elaborated on what was so funny.

That’s a shame, Jack thought. We could all do with a good laugh right now.

The computer contained a vast array of maintenance reports, control systems for various points within the sewer – too complicated to dare mess with, and – like a glorious bounty – a detailed map of the sewer system’s layout. It was easy enough to see where they were in the maze of tunnels, and even where they’d come in, but as Jack stared at the overlay, she realized she had no idea where they should go. There were plenty of options for getting out of the sewer, but no guarantee that anywhere would be safe.

“Look,” Ada spoke up, pointing to one section of the map. “There’s an outlet near the bridge.”

“So?” Joy asked. The tone of her voice made Jack want to punch her. She resisted the urge.

“Just before everything went to hell at the Bunker, I heard a report from the scouts,” she elaborated. “I didn’t catch the whole thing, but I heard them mention the bridge. That it might be a way out of the city.”

Jack was more thankful for the information than she’d ever let on. She’d been a leader in search of a plan. Now she had one. “Then that’s where we’re going.” She looked from where they were to the outlet, the weaving path that would lead them there. “Uh… anyone got like a piece of paper or something? We’re gonna have to copy this down so we don’t get lost.”

“I have a better idea,” Quorra said, stepping forward and unclipping the disc from her back. She held the disc up to the computer’s monitor, the edges glowing a pale blue. The computer screen flickered, went off for an instant, then returned to normal. Quorra pulled her disc back and held it before her. The glowing ring brightened, broadcasting a holographic copy of the map they’d been looking at.

Jack briefly tried to comprehend what Quorra’s disc was and how it worked, but promptly decided that it didn’t matter. “Works for me. Let’s head out.”


The most direct path to the bridge led the survivors to a drainage basin. Before the generator had been restored, the sewage had been waist high. The water pump had come on with the power, draining away the majority of the sewage to be processed deeper within the sewer system. As the team opened the door and climbed down into the basin, they heard an echoey slap of meat against cement. It wasn’t rhythmic enough to be a machine. Jack took point, shotgun at the ready, as they made their way through the basin. A gentle curve led them towards the other side of the area where they’d be able to leave.

Just beyond the curve, they found the source of the sound.

“Is that a…” Dot started, too surprised to finish her sentence.

“A fucking mermaid,” Jack finished for her.

The half-woman, half-fish looked young. Her long red hair flowed down her smooth backside, pert breasts covered by a set of oversized sea shells. She lifted her head and let out an irate growl, revealing her zombified state. Ariel beat her long fish tail against the soggy floor, stretching her skinny arms out towards the survivors. She hissed and snapped her teeth at them, eager to sink into their warm, living flesh.

“This place just keeps getting worse,” Ellie muttered.

“Good thing we got that generator working,” Joy remarked. “Wouldn’t want to have run into this ugly bitch if she had water to swim in.”

“It’s not her fault,” Kara scorned, giving Joy a glare. “She didn’t ask to be here any more than we did.”

Jack didn’t want to compare herself to Joy in any respect, but she found herself siding more with the redneck. “Can’t do anything for her now,” she concluded. “Except put her out of her misery.” She nodded to Parasoul. “Fry her.”

Parasoul nodded and leveled her umbrella at Ariel’s flopping form. An eruption of fire shot forth from the unorthodox weapon, engulfing the mermaid. Her gyrations became wild, growling and hissing as her flesh charred. The pungent stench of burning sewage and overcooked fish filled the air, causing a number of the women to gag as they inched around the burning mermaid.

They’d gotten very lucky. Jack suspected that luck wouldn’t hold out forever.


The Bunker’s destruction had nearly brought a lethal dose of rubble down on Samus Aran’s head. Her hope that Bathory’s playthings hadn’t been so lucky was dashed almost immediately as she heard their incessant moans echoing up the tunnel behind her. Her body ached. She felt disgusting. But she was still alive. She intended to remain that way. Unarmed, partially disrobed, and lost in the depths of the tunnels, the odds weren’t in her favor. But she’d managed to escape the clutches of the undead once, reasonably no worse for wear. The prospect of fighting off the remainder of Bathory’s test subjects with only her fists didn’t appeal to her, but she’d do what was necessary.

That necessity nearly became a reality as Samus reached a sealed door. There’d been no offshoots in the tunnel, no alternate paths. She tried to force the door open only to find it sealed tight. She could hear the moans of the zombies closing in behind her. Turning to face her almost certain death, Samus caught sight of a glowing light. Inspecting it closer, she saw it was a panel for the door. She tapped at it, triggering the door to pop open. Thankful that whatever power system was in place underground still worked, she ducked through the door and smacked at the panel on the other side to close the threshold behind her.

Leaning back against the door, Samus held her face in her hands. She needed a moment to catch her breath, let the adrenaline rushing through her veins calm down. When she felt ready, she moved away from the door towards a nearby intersection of tunnels. The design looked different to the tunnels she’d been in previously. And the smell was far worse. The reeking aroma wasn’t death – or at least, not just death – but more like bodily waste. Some kind of sewer system perhaps.

Before Samus could investigate further, she reached the intersection. She let out a startled yelp as she suddenly found herself facing a ragtag group of survivors. Shock became relief as she recognized some of the faces before her. “Jack,” she gasped. “I never thought I’d be this happy to see you.” Her relief shifted to confused worry as she watched Jack, Ada, and Parasoul level their weapons at her. “I’m alive, dammit!”

Jack nodded towards the state of Samus’s clothing. “Looks like you’ve had a run in with something down here. And we’ve all seen what happens when some gets bit by one of those undead fucks.”

Samus’s jaw firmed. “Except I wasn’t,” she replied firmly. She extended her arms to her sides, turning in place. “Go on, inspect me. See for yourselves. If I’d been bitten, I’d have turned by now.”

Jack once again found herself irritated by her leadership role. She couldn’t see any signs of bites on Samus. And the undead weren’t prone to subterfuge. They weren’t clever enough for it. Still, the dried cum on Samus’s thighs was a clear indicator that she’d had some very intimate contact with something not so long ago. The choice rested on her shoulders whether or not to trust the bounty hunter.


Domino came tumbling into the Necropolis. The backs of her shoulders hit the ground at about the midpoint of the arena’s field before flipping backwards and landing far more gracefully than her entrance. She panted, glancing around to take in her new surroundings. The unexpected trip had caught her just as off guard as any of the other survivors that had been pulled into the nightmare, but Domino had grown accustomed to odd things happening to her. She’d learned to quite literally roll with the punches and let her innate luck help her out of situations.

Appearing from out of nowhere into what appeared to be an abandoned sports arena certainly ranked high on her list of weird shit that had happened to her. If she wanted to find out what was going on – and she did – she’d have to find someone with answers. Picking a direction at random, Domino made her way off the field. She found a hall leading into the arena and followed it to a nearby locker room. She slipped inside and let the door slide closed behind her. A wet chewing sound could be heard deeper into the locker room, drawing Domino closer to investigate.

A group of what looked like demonic football players were gathered around the corpse of a woman. Domino had no way of knowing the woman had been Sarah Connor, simply because she didn’t even know of her existence, but also because there wasn’t enough left of her to identify. The unexpected sight drew a surprised gasp from Domino’s lips. It was soft, but not soft enough. The Linebackers reacted to the presence of a new victim, turning their heads towards her. Their heads – and a portion of their chest – were made up almost entirely of hardened, off-white bone. Their beady eyes looked more like little black specks, but she figured they could see well enough. A set of two-pronged mandibles stretched from the sides of their faces across their mouths, giving their heads the appearance of some kind of sickening football helmet.

Domino picked up on the fact that she wasn’t all too welcome in the locker room. She backed slowly away from the Linebackers, planning on slipping back through the door and hoping it held up long enough for her to make a proper retreat. Her plan was almost immediately ruined as another Linebacker – one who’d not been a part of the main group – rammed his way into a row of lockers. Metal screeched as the lockers shot forward, blocking the door Domino had come through and effectively sealing her within the room. Drawing her sidearm, she took aim at the creature, but he ducked back behind another row of lockers before she could get a shot off.

The pale-skinned mutant spun back towards the rest of the Linebackers to see them darting away from the heavily chewed corpse, ducking behind lockers out of sight. The uneasiness she’d felt upon entering the world built. Her eyes darted from left to right, weapon at the ready. She knew when she was being hunted, and in that moment, she was very much being hunted. Maybe even toyed with. She’d never seen anything like the creatures before. She wasn’t sure if they were even human. Some kind of mutant. Something worse. Probably something worse. Regardless of what they were, Domino had no intention of winding up as their dessert.

The Linebackers occasionally darted back into her line of sight. Domino fired off a few rounds each time, groaning as the bullets chipped away at their heavily boned exterior but did little else. They forced her to move, repositioning to stay out of their clutches. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew the only reason they’d not caught her yet was because they were herding her. Whatever the things were, they had some degree of cleverness. Each shot she took, she hoped her luck would lend some assistance to her aim, find a way through their armored shells. Each time, her luck failed her. Her limited ammunition diminished further and further. Things were not looking good.

And suddenly they looked even worse as Domino found herself backed into a literal corner. She’d been aware of what the Linebackers were doing from the start, but it hadn’t stopped them from succeeding in their plans. She could see them closing in on her from both sides, moving slow, savoring their catch. She hoped that would be their downfall, firing off several more shots in either direction. She aimed – carefully even – but couldn’t find a soft enough spot to really do any damage. Her shots didn’t spur them to speed their movements. It was as if they knew she couldn’t hurt them. When her gun clicked empty, Domino realized they’d been right.

“Clever boys,” she muttered, not giving up but uncomfortably aware of her lack of options.

The Linebackers closed in, preparing to pounce and tear Domino to shreds. She was on the verge of believe that her luck had finally run out. Then the wall behind her swirled open. She let out a startled yelp as she fell back, narrowly avoiding the trajectory of the rocket shooting through the freshly made hole. The explosive nailed the lead Linebacker dead on, ripping through his tough exterior and blowing his charred chunks across the Linebacker just behind him. Domino didn’t question the unexpected and baffling good fortune – she’d given up on doing that years ago. She simply rolled to her feet and darted through the escape hatch that had formed in the wall.

Fuuka ushered the newcomer over, leading her back to Homura. The sullen-faced young woman didn’t seem nearly as happy to see Domino as Domino was her. Given the immediately hostile environment she’d entered, she was glad to see anyone who wasn’t trying to kill her. The Scout Party seemed experienced and capable. Good new friends to make. Domino could sort out the bizarre fact that one of them appeared to have the still-living severed head of a woman tied to her belt later. There were monsters to kill. Homura slid a sniper rifle free from her shield and tossed it to Domino. Domino accepted the weapon, filed yet another absurdity in the back of her head, and readied up.

With the death of their Alpha, the four remaining Linebackers lost some degree of cohesion. They charged through the hole in the wall, rushing down Domino and the scouts. It was a bold attack, reckless for sure, but still potentially lethal. But while the Linebackers lost their ability to work as a team, the survivors worked with near perfect unity.

As the first Linebacker closed in, Homura reached out to snare Izumi’s wrist. She exerted her ability to bring time itself to a stop around them. A simple nod was all Homura needed to give to spur Izumi to action. Reaching down, Izumi transmuted a chunk of floor, drawing a long, jagged length of it into her hand. She cocked the alchemically fashioned spear back, looked over the frozen Linebacker until she spotted a soft spot, and threw her weapon. Homura dropped her timestop the moment the spear left Izumi’s grip, letting the jagged length of cement fly. The Linebacker jumped forward, meeting the spear head on. The pointed tip struck true, ripping through the creature and leaving it stumbling into a dead heap before it even knew what happened.

Renamon launched into the air, unleashing a powerful wave of Diamond Storm into the backside of another Linebacker. The force of the attack wasn’t enough to break through the tough bone armor, but it did pin the creature to the ground. Alice yanked the pins free on a number of grenades and heaved them under the pinned Linebacker. The grenades blew, ripping out the guts of the monster and launching it several feet into the air. Its bloody, eviscerated carcass dropped back to the floor as a twitching corpse.

With a little bit of distance and a finely tuned weapon in her hands, Domino was able to line up a perfect shot at one of the two remaining Linebackers. She squeezed the trigger calmly, absorbing the recoil of the weapon as it bucked within her grip. The high velocity round nailed the Linebacker through one of its beady eyes, bouncing wildly within its heavily armored skull and turning its brain into mush. The creature’s legs gave out, dropping to the floor and skidding forward as a frantic series of death twitches ran through its nervous system.

The final Linebacker came to a skidding stop, realizing that the rest of its pack had been taken out with a speedy efficiency. Seeing that the odds were no longer in its favor, the monster turned and rushed back through the hole, perhaps hoping that the locker room would provide it some much needed safety. With her renewed faith in her inherit luck, Domino tracked the creature back through the hole in the wall and tried to predict where it was going. Just before she fired off a second shot, Fuuka reached down to adjust her aim slightly. She knew nothing of Fuuka’s ability to detect the creatures, but she trusted the young woman’s adjustment.

Domino fired. The armor-piercing round punched through the cinder block wall, a locker, and finally the remaining Linebacker’s torso. Only a thorough examination – or an X-ray machine – would reveal that the bullet had pierced the Linebacker’s black, rotten heart. The specifics of the perfect shot were unnecessary. The result was easy enough to observe as the creature slumped dead within the locker room. Not that Domino could see the result of her shot. She glanced to Fuuka. The woman gave her a nod of confirmation. Domino figured that was good enough.

Once the threat of the Linebackers was confirmed neutralized, Alice greeted Domino. She got the general update on what had happened to her and where she was. Even the broad strokes of her situation left her feeling nervous. She didn’t want to imagine what the detailed synopsis would lead to, but she figured she’d find out sooner than later. Once all of that was said and done, Alice extended an invitation to join her group.

“Oh, fuck yes, I want to do that,” Domino nodded. Her brain ached from the sheer nonsense she’d been forced into, but sticking with Alice and her crew felt right. She didn’t know if she could trust her luck in this bizarre new world, but she had no idea how to not go with her gut. And her gut said she needed to stay as close to Alice and the others as possible. She could only hope that it wouldn’t lead to having her guts ripped out.


The shuffling bags of rotting flesh that had been Bathory’s personal playthings weren’t capable of much in the way of thought, but they had enough working brain cells between them to think of Samus Aran as The Morsel That Kept Getting Away. Her initial escape from their clutches had been an annoyance. Her second escape sent them into a ravenous rage, growling and swiping at anything in their path. Each other, the apparent wall Samus had disappeared through, whatever they could get their curled fingers against.

Emily Kaldwin’s head twisted towards a glowing light. Her lips pulled back, baring her slightly parted teeth. She let out a wet growl, drawing forth a glob of bloody saliva that drizzled across her pale, perky tits. She stumbled towards the light, drawn to it like a moth. Her hands clamped against the sides of the control panel, staring at the array of glowing buttons before her. She leaned over, spattering more of her drool across the panel before stretching her mouth open wide to start chewing at the buttons protruding from it. The cold metal and plastic failed to satisfy the burning hunger in her gut. She bit harder on the buttons, trying to find the source of the radiance. When that didn’t work, she pulled her head back and butted her forehead into the panel with a frustrated hiss. Pure chance allowed her head to connect with the button that activated the door Samus had gone through.

The path into the sewers was open to Bathory’s toys.


A thousand things ran through Jack’s head. The pros, the cons, the risks. Executing Samus might have been the safest bet, but it felt like the fear response. Jack wasn’t a fan of letting fear dictate her actions. Thinking beyond the knee-jerk reaction brought up more pros than cons. It was clear she’d not been bitten. They needed all the help they could get, and Samus would make for some very valuable help. If she started to show signs of being sick, turning, they could always take her out later. In the end, Jack’s desperate selfishness tipped the scales. I never wanted to be in charge anyway, she thought. Samus could take over, if she lives long enough for the others to trust her.

Jack lowered her weapon, let out a sigh. “Put them down,” she ordered the others. “Shit’s bad, but we’re not gonna start wasting each other out of fear. Not on my watch.” Which’ll hopefully be over soon. She leveled a particularly nasty glare at Joy. And fuck, if we’re gonna start bumping people off, there’s far better targets to pick.

With the tense situation resolved, Tron knelt and started to rummage through the pack of supplies she’d been carrying. She’d picked up a few spare sets of clothing from Anna’s shop. Given the tendency towards aggressive wardrobe malfunctions within the Necropolis, it had seemed like a good idea. She came up with a vibrant orange sports bra with matching running shorts. She handed them over to Samus.

Samus took the clothes. She pulled the top over her head and went about the daunting task of squeezing her full breasts into the confining garment. “I remember seeing this outfit in Anna’s shop,” she remarked as she mashed her tits together and worked them up under the bottom of the sports bra. Her flesh compressed within the top, mounds held firmly in place.

Tron nodded. “You wouldn’t believe how cheap it was,” she remarked. A smug smirk filled her face as Samus worked to tug the shorts up her long legs. “I stole it.”

Samus wasn’t a fan of theft, as a rule, but she wasn’t about to turn down the clothing on principle. She pulled the running shorts into place, feeling some small comfort that her genitals were at least marginally protected – at least concealed – again. Granted, the tight-fitting outfit wasn’t leaving much to the imagination regardless. The tattered remnants of her zero suit covering the majority of her arms and legs made for an interesting contrast of colors. She could still feel the disgusting filth of her rape, but the clothing helped, as did finding allies.

“So,” she asked, looking to Jack. The tattooed woman hadn’t struck her as much of a leader, but it was clear she was in charge of the group. “What’s the plan?”

Before Jack could respond, she spotted movement from behind Samus. “Down!” she yelled, bringing her shotgun back up. Samus dropped into a crouch without hesitation, revealing the snarling face of Melissa Marr. The undead blonde lunged towards Samus. Jack fired her weapon, catching Melissa full in the face. Her head exploded, showering blood and chunks of brain across the walls as her nude form flipped backwards. Her legs kicked about wildly for a few moments before slumping apart. Samus rolled forward, entering the group of survivors and putting her out of range of the rest of Bathory’s playthings as they surged down the hall.

Melissa had been eager, slightly faster than the others. It had made her an easy target. The rest of Bathory’s toys came as a group. In the tight confines of the hall, things got hectic and far more dangerous. The group of survivors backed their way down the hall, keeping distance between themselves and the advancing undead. Taki snared Machete’s right arm and yanked the short Mexican away from the pack, giving Samus a clear shot at moving in to get some payback. Gripping the side of his neck firmly, she slammed his head into the wall hard enough to open up a gouge across his temple. The second slam cracked his skull and ended his undead life.

A blast of buckshot from Jack’s shotgun ripped up Rita Bennet’s guts and sent her down onto her hands and knees. Joy was quick to step forward and smash her frying pan across the back of the woman’s head. Jack resisted the urge to subtly shove the redneck into the remaining pack of zombies. Things weren’t nearly chaotic enough to get away with it. Plus, Jack wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to be that sort of asshole. After delivering a few more blows to the back of Rita’s head, turning into a gooey mush, Joy pulled back. Maybe she suspected Jack’s temptation.

Ada blasted a hole through Jughead Jones’ head without hesitation. The same could not be said for the next target she trained her pistol on. “Leon,” she gasped, startled both by the sudden familiarity of the face she was staring at, as well as the revelation that he’d become yet another of the ravenous living dead. The shock cost her dearly. Leon moved forward, clamping his hands around Ada’s arm and craning his neck towards her. His teeth sank into her forearm, chewing away a bloody chunk of flesh. The pain – and the death sentence – of the bite pushed aside Ada’s surprise. She yanked away from Leon, adjusted her aim, and fired. Leon had barely gotten to start chewing on the chunk of Ada he’d taken before his brains were sent spraying from the back of his head.

Ada stumbled back into the group, a hand clamped around her wound. The sound of gunfire and yelling dulled in her ears. The bite burned. It radiated up her arm, towards her chest, her heart. The virus or whatever it was that turned people into the living dead was inside her. They didn’t have a way to get it out. Bathory had been the one working on figuring those sorts of things out. If she’d made any progress on the problem, that research was destroyed. Her options weren’t limited, they were nonexistent. Panic rose up within her, but Ada took a firm hold of it and pushed it back down. She couldn’t do anything for herself, but she could still help the others.

In her moments of self-misery, the others had taken out Dan Cain and were putting the finishing touches on Tommy Doyle. Only Emily Kaldwin remained. She’d been the only one in the group of zombies that the rest knew. She charged into the group of survivors, growling and chomping. Jack cracked the butt of her shotgun across the side of Emily’s face, knocking her back. A hail of gunfire ripped into the woman, tossing her body from side to side. Her once pretty face vanished in a spatter of crimson as bullets tore through her skull. Her body slumped to the floor, bloody and twitching.

The assault was over. Bathory’s toys had been dealt with. But the death toll hadn’t reached its end. Ada saw the others take notice of her bite, the way they moved away from her. Whether they expected her to turn at a moment’s notice or try to kill them to go on living a little while longer, it didn’t much matter. Either way, they were scared of her, what she could do and what she could become. She lifted her hands, pointing her weapon up to show her lack of threat.

“I’ve been through too much to let myself become one of those things,” she said. She turned her pistol around, extending it butt first towards Samus. “You need a weapon.”

Samus took the gun and gave Ada a nod.

Ada took a deep breath, held it for a few moments, and then let it out. She turned away from the group, figuring it’d make it easier on them. She knew it’d make it easier for herself. “Make it quick,” she said, quiet resignation in her voice.

There was no discussion. Taki stepped up behind Ada, taking the burden of the mercy killing on herself. Her hands came around the bitten woman, taking a firm hold of her head. Ada’s body tensed, instinctively primed for self-defense. She resisted the temptation to fight, accepting her fate as bravely as she could. Taki did her a favor by not dragging it out. She twisted hard and fast, crying out as she did to do her best to muffle the snapping of Ada’s neck. She dropped her hands lower as soon as the dead was done, taking up the sudden heavy slackness of the body. She crouched, pulling Ada’s corpse with her and laying it out across the floor as gently as she could.

There was no time for mourning or a proper send off. Just because one threat had been dealt with didn’t mean there weren’t countless others waiting to come down on them. The gunfire could have been heard. Like the arrangement for Ada’s death, it all went unsaid, but the survivors knew it all the same. The only hope they had was to move on and maybe find a way through the sewers before any more of them suffered a similar fate. So that’s what they did.


Sometime after the group of survivors had left, a humanoid monstrosity found his way to the scene. He kicked his two-toed foot through the littered corpses, bulbous eyes scanning across the figures. The creature paused when he came to Ada’s nearly flawless corpse. Kneeling beside her, he moved his hands over her body, feeling her cooling flesh with his thick trio of fingers. Her head rolled loosely on her shoulders, staring blankly into the amphibian-like face of her admirer. Seemingly satisfied with his appraisal, the creature gripped one of Ada’s calves and dragged her inert husk back the way he’d come from.


Further into the sewers, the group of survivors came to a sort of crossroads. There was a choice of tunnels to trek through. One was noticeably narrower. The power from the generator didn’t seem to reach it, leaving the passage basked in darkness. The second tunnel was roomier. The lights were off only at the start of it, but resumed further down, albeit casting an eerie off-blue color. There was no sign of danger down either path, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any to be found.

Jack looked to Samus. It was too soon to put all the responsibility on the bounty hunter’s shoulders, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t start pathing the way to that goal. “Well,” she asked. “Any ideas?”


Lingering in the shopping mall may have been a risk, but it was a needed one. The supplies locked up within the various shops could mean the difference between success and failure. Azula made the call to divide their efforts between looting the mall and scouting out a safe path forward. She worked with Baroness to put together a number of paired groups to accomplish both tasks. Keeping the groups to only pairs would help to maintain a low profile. It would also ensure that if a group was lost, it wouldn’t damage the overall strength of the main group much. Selection of those taking part in the dual-pronged operation was just as important. Azula wanted capable but, ultimately, expendable.

The trouble was, with their numbers as they were, and the odds stacked so poorly in their favor, expendable and capable was a hard thing to come by. Still, Azula and Baroness made do.

Three groups were formed to conduct the scouting operation. They were comprised of Astrid Hofferson and Hinata Hyuuga, Stocking Anarchy and Mugino Shizuri, and Sharon Carter and C. Viper. They set out to find routes out of the mall and beyond, towards the airport.

Another three were formed to loot the potential treasures of the mall. Those three pairs were made up of Maddie Fenton and Kylie Griffin, Lola and Nena, and Black Cat and Lioness. They were tasked of finding anything of use. Medical supplies, food, bottled water, weapons. With their various tasks assigned, the groups headed out.


The bulk of the foodstuffs in the mall’s cafeteria was well past its best usage date, but Black Cat and Lioness managed to find a smaller café on the top floor that provided more luck. The leftover bagels and pastries were stale, but edible. The bags of chips were still good and the biggest problem with the bottled water they had was that it was absurdly overpriced. Thankfully, there was no on there to object to them simply taking the bottles. It wasn’t a proper banquet, but it would do wonders to stave off starvation.

Black Cat popped the lock on the door leading into the employee’s only section of the mall. She propped the door open, tugging a stool over to keep it that way. Ducking her head through the door, she checked up and down the hall on the other side. There was no sign of monsters, but she did see some lockers. She made her way over to them, working at cracking the locks. She’d gotten the first one open by the time Lioness caught up with her.

“You think that’s the best use of our time?” she asked as Black Cat looted the contents of a wallet and tucked the cash into her supply bag.

Black Cat shrugged and moved on to the next locker. “If this all goes according to plan, we’ll get out of the city. Maybe we’ll find a normal civilization out there. If so, they’re probably still going to use real money. I have no idea how to get back to my own home, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to start my life in this one flat broke. Call me an optimist.”

Lioness shook her head. She didn’t approve of Black Cat’s theft, or her time management skills, but she didn’t see the point in wasting even more time trying to convince the thief to stop. “I’m going to see if this hall leads to any other shops that have things we actually need,” she said, turning away and heading down the hall.

Black Cat rolled her eyes and popped the next locker. A smirk filled her face as she pulled the holstered revolver free. “Nothing useful to be found, huh,” she muttered as she pulled the weapon free and checked the cylinder to find it fully loaded. She dumped it into her supply bag and continued to look through the locker. Another wallet. More cash for her nest egg. Then she found the engagement ring. It was a nice one. Gold with a diamond larger than she’d have expected from a barista. The ring was valuable. And it wasn’t doing anyone any good in the locker. Still, Felicia found it impossible to take the thing. Grumbling with annoyance, she clicked the ring box shut and set it back where she’d found it.

Black Cat tensed as Lioness hurried back to her. “Look, I’m not taking the stupid ring, okay?” she snapped.

Confusion washed over Lioness’s concerned face. “Huh?” Whatever Felicia was talking about didn’t matter. “I heard someone calling for help.”

“What? In the mall?”

Lioness shook her head. “No, there’s an alley access door a little ways down the hall. They probably used it to take trash down there. There’s someone out there and she needs our help.”

“If she’s yelling for it, she’s going to be something’s meal pretty soon. Probably their date first. You really think it’s a smart idea going down there? We’re the loot squad, not the rescue squad.”

Lioness’s expression hardened. “Azula didn’t make a rescue squad, but isn’t saving someone technically a form of looting? We don’t even know who she is. She might be useful. Oh, and then there’s that other reason. Being a decent human being.”

Black Cat rolled her eyes. “That’s never gotten me anything but trouble.”

“I’m going,” Lioness said, turning back the way she’d come from. “Stay here and keep stealing from dead people, you selfish bitch.”

Black Cat was ready to move on to the next locker, but Lioness’s words nagged at her. More than that, she didn’t want to come up with a valid explanation was to why the girl had gotten herself killed when they were supposed to be watching each other’s backs. “Fine!” she called after the young woman, turning away and hurrying after her. “Let’s go save the stupid day!”


The woman in need was nude. That already set off a few warning bells at the back of Black Cat’s brain. Then again, if she’d been assaulted by something lurking within the Necropolis and survived, it explained why she might be stupid enough to call out for help. She was likely traumatized. Still, few got away from the Legions of the Undead untouched. Maybe she’d been brought into the world without clothes. That would have been a shitty bit of luck. Black Cat had committed to helping Lioness, but she still let the woman go ahead of her down the stairs into the alley.

The woman was also sticking to the shadows, half-hidden behind a dumpster. Sticking to a hiding spot was clever, but it wouldn’t do her much good if she kept calling out for assistance. So instead, Lioness decided to do something equally stupid. She called back to get the woman’s attention. “We’re here,” she said, at least keeping her voice low. “Are you injured?”

The woman heard Lioness’s call, turned her head towards it and stepped out from behind the dumpster. Her movements were slowly, unsure, more signs that she’d been through some trauma. The lighting in the alley wasn’t great, but Black Cat caught a good enough look at the woman’s face to notice she looked a lot like Kimberly Hart. Great, she thought. This place isn’t satisfied with killing us once. It has to pull in multiple versions of us for bonus fun times.

The woman was not Kimberly Hart. The shared likeness was pure coincidence. But the biggest mistake Lioness – and, by proxy, Black Cat – made was assuming she was a woman at all. Jules Callaghan had died not long after her skin had been peeled from her body. The Fleashweavers had carefully filled out the skin-suit left behind with their webbing, transforming her into a body of their own design. A few of the arachnids had burrowed into the webbing, puppeteering Jules’ tendons to make her move, her vocal chords to make her speak. She was the bait. And as Lioness and Black Cat moved off the stairs and into the alley, they blindly walked right into the hook.

In their defense, the threads of webbing were very hard to see.

Lioness let out a shriek as the strands stuck to her shoulders retracted, plucking her into the air. Black Cat stepped back, hoping to avoid whatever unseen snare the woman had walked into. The knowledge that she’d already walked into it came as she felt the tug on her black bodysuit. “Never do the right thing,” she hissed as she was yanked upwards. The webbing was strong enough to hoist the pair up to the edge of the mall rooftop where the rest of the Fleshweavers lurked. They’d fashioned a canopy of webbing for their prey. The women’s struggling bodies were laid out within it, arms and legs stretched apart. The powerful adhesive qualities of the webbing limited the women’s range of movement in moments, transforming them into squirming morsels.

Lioness was laid out face up and spread-eagle. The speed with which things had gone wrong had left her shocked, but the shock wore off as she caught sight of the oversized spiders crawling across the canopy, over her body. She managed only one terrified scream before her mouth was stuffed full of webbing. Her bulging eyes and muffled whines continued to showcase her fear as the Fleshweavers worked together to tear away her clothing. Mostly nude and helpless, Lioness could do nothing but squirm as the even larger Broodmother spider crawled into the canopy and over her body.

It was amazing how fast a phobia could develop. Lioness hadn’t been particularly bothered by spiders up until about thirty seconds before she’d become the unwilling companion to them. Her chest heaved, bare breasts jiggling from the rapid beat of her heart. The Broodmother’s mandibles clicked excitedly an inch or so away from Lioness’s gagged mouth, leaking thick saliva across the panicked girl’s face. The oversized spider’s abdomen bulged with eggs, a thick proboscis sliding free from the beneath the exoskeleton. Lioness’s legs were spread, her cunt was bare, she could do nothing to keep the proboscis from pushing into her sensitive folds.

The Broodmother’s proboscis was bulbed. The bulb at the tip was the smallest. It entered Lioness easily. Her cunt lips stretched around each of the bulbs beyond, straining more as their size grew. Lioness groaned into the webbing gag stuffing her mouth as the ache from her loins worsened. The tip of the proboscis mashed against the squirming young woman’s cervix. Once it encountered the resistance, the Broodmother stopped pushing. Its abdomen rose and fell, creating a light fucking rhythm as it worked its eggs down the length of the proboscis and into Lioness’s body.

The pain of having her cervix pried open by the insistent pressure of the spongy spider egg was great enough that – even with the web-gag – Lioness’s scream was impressive. Her eyes squeezed shut tight, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to escape the nightmare of her existence mentally. Physically escaping wasn’t an option. The web held her too tightly. Even if she could squirm free of it, the weight of the Broodmother pressing down on her would still have her pinned in place. Her slim belly began to distend as the eggs filled her uterus. Lioness’s sanity threatened to give out on her as she endured the forced monstrous pregnancy. The Broodmother continued to pump Lioness full of eggs until her body could take no more. Sliding free of her gaping pussy, one of the smaller Fleshweavers was quick to move in and spray a layer of webbing across her crotch to ensure none of the eggs would slip free.

Laid out face down within the canopy, Black Cat didn’t catch much of Lioness’s impregnation. But the way the Fleshweaver’s had stripped her, and the knowledge of what the Necropolis tended to do to its victims gave her a pretty good indication of what she might be in store for. The universe is a pretty fucked up place, she thought as she tried to work her arms free from the webbing. Just because I fantasized about mating with a particular Spider doesn’t mean I wanted this.

“Get off!” she yelled as the Broodmother climbed onto her back. “Get o – “ The dutiful Fleshweaver sprayed another dose of webbing into Black Cat’s mouth, silencing her as efficiently as Lioness. The proboscis slapped against the wiggling cheeks of Black Cat’s ass, leaving behind glistening layers of slime as the Broodmother worked the tip into her crack and against her clenched sphincter. Black Cat grunted, eyes bulging, as the first bulb popped into her ass. A flash of sudden, absurd regret shot through Felicia’s mind as the second bulb squeezed up her rear. Buy some anal beads, she thought, mocking herself as she cringed through the third bulb’s entrance. It’ll be a fun bit of experience for when I finally bag my Spider.

Felicia knew that her limited anal experimentation would not have saved her from the terrible fate, but the irony of it all infuriated her. She used that fury to lend her strength, pulling at the webbing harder. Her lithe muscles flexed, but whatever headway she might’ve managed vanished as she felt the first of the eggs slide into her guts. The feel of the egg inside her brought the whole situation to a sickening level of reality for her. Her struggles intensified, plump breasts straining against the front of her bodysuit and into the canopy of webbing beneath her. She tried to think if any of the other teams had been close enough to the café Lioness and she had looted before being lured into the alley. She doubted it would do her much good if there was. With their mouths gagged, neither of them could call out and it wasn’t as if any would-be rescuers would think to look up. If anything, their calls for rescue would only lure even more victims to their doom.

The noble sacrifice thing really isn’t my style, Felicia thought, fighting to hold down the bile burning at the back of her throat. Her belly expanded. Her smooth flesh became lumpy as the eggs piled up within her. With Black Cat’s stomach and intestines to fill, she was forced to take far more eggs than Lioness. Her skin stretched painfully, transforming her once slender physique into a grossly obese shape. When the Broodmother’s supply of eggs finally ran out, the large spider withdrew the spent proboscis from Felicia’s gaping asshole. More webbing sealed up the orifice. With its duty done, the Broodmother climbed up and out of the canopy, back onto the mall rooftop where it would find a place to die.

It wouldn’t be much longer before the Broodmother’s victims would be just as dead. Lioness’s muffled sobs rose into restrained shrieks as the eggs laid deep within her began to stir. The strained skin of her impregnated belly undulated as the spiders hatched within her, crawling free of their eggs and into the warm surroundings of Lioness’s quivering body. The tendons in her neck protruded distinctly as she screamed into her webbing gag, tears gushing from her eyes as the pain of dozens of hungry mouths began to shew into the walls of her uterus. Once they got through the tough tissue, they spilled deeper into her, crawling along her innards and biting away ravenous mouthfuls of organ.

Lioness’s suffering escalated as the freshly hatched Fleshweavers spread out through her body, consuming her from within. The bulge in her belly sank inwards, first back to its originally slim state before dipping further inwards. Lumps moved across the smooth flesh of her perky breasts as the mounds were devoured, leaving behind only loose flaps of skin. Her throat bulged as a couple of the spiders crawled their way up into her mouth, chewing away at the roof so they could squeeze into her sinus cavities and then her skull. The young woman’s bulging eyes tinged red as her brain was chewed away. Her body shuddered violently within the confines of the webbing, blood leaking steadily from her flared nostrils. The Fleshweavers were still dining on her when she finally slumped lifelessly in her bindings, not-so-gradually transforming into a loose sack of skin and bones.

There was no limit to the subtle ways the Necropolis could fuck with a person. What could only be attributed to bad luck and random chance seemed to pile into something that seemed to add a particular level of cruelty tailored to specific individuals. Black Cat had already endured one of those random chance cruelties due to her placement within the canopy. But she found herself cursing her innate talents as Lioness was devoured from within by the Fleshweavers. Her remarkable hearing had afforded her the ability to crack most safes without the need of any extra gear. Now it was allowing her to listen in on Lioness’s organs being torn apart.

Felicia couldn’t see much in the way of positives from the auditory experience, but it did encourage her to start fighting harder to get free. She didn’t have any kind of plan beyond that. Off-hand, getting back down to the alleyway was the next logical step. Then she’d have to figure out a way to get the eggs out of her before they hatched. With her body plugged at both ends with the webbing, even the humiliating efforts of potentially shitting or puking the eggs out didn’t seem likely to work. Still, Black Cat wasn’t about to lay back and allow herself to become a meal for the newborn monsters lurking within her.

The webbing was strong, but a few of the bricks the canopy had been attached to had endured enough weathering to have weakened. The canopy shifted suddenly as Black Cat’s struggles managed to wiggle one of the bricks loose. Lioness wasn’t weighing as much as she once had, but Black Cat had more than enough added mass to tug the loosened canopy downwards. The shift gave her some much needed leverage. She yanked at the webbing, managing to tear an arm free at the cost of a chunk of her bodysuit. The Fleshweavers took notice of Black Cat’s successes. They scurried their way towards the woman, trying to rebind her to the canopy and the canopy to the wall.

With only one arm free, Black Cat wasn’t much of a threat, but she was a good deal more able than she’d been only a few moments earlier. She knocked the spiders away as she twisted her body, managing to tear more of herself free. The front of her bodysuit was the next to suffer, peeling away and freeing her breasts. She ignored the exposure, taking advantage of her greater freedom to pull herself further out of the canopy. More of the Fleshweavers were converging on her. They’d have her webbed back up fast if she didn’t get free. Tearing a leg away from the web, she brought it up and planted her foot firmly against the wall, kicking out as hard as she could. The kick was strong enough to roll her up and out of the canopy.

Which presented a brand new problem for Black Cat.

The way she saw things, she had improved her situation somewhat. She had full range of motion in her arms and legs again and it seemed quite likely that she wouldn’t have to suffer through being eaten alive. That second point seemed particularly valuable considering she could feel the eggs stuffed inside her starting to move. The downside was that she was in a full free fall. She’d made drops from similar heights before without issue. Living up to the stereotype about cats always landing on their feet was one of her specialties. But the added weight of the dozens of eggs had her off balance. She barely had the chance to get her legs under her in even the best circumstances. With her bloated, lumpy belly weighing her down, she had no chance at all.

Black Cat hit the pavement with a shockingly graceful degree of gracelessness. She couldn’t have landed a better belly flop if she’d tried. The strained flesh of her abdomen ruptured on impact, spraying her guts out from under her and pulverizing the eggs stuffing her. The force of the impact managed to tear the layer of webbing sealing her asshole – taking a chunk of her ass with it – and sent a geyser of ruptured egg sacks rocketing from her rear. Her breasts ripped open, flinging chunks of fat and flesh across the road. Her ribs shattered, her spine snapped, but she managed to pull her head back far enough to avoid having her teeth shot through the back of her head. The instinctive act of self-preservation only helped Black Cat to suffer for a little longer as the extent of her injuries rapidly pulled her into death.


There was a lot to do and even more at stake, but that didn’t mean Baroness was slowing down on her plans to usurp Azula. She’d spent too long watching other leaders make stupid mistakes and – aside from her own desire for power – she genuinely felt that for the group of survivors to remain survivors they needed clear, decisive leadership. It was something she could provide. And she would not be squeamish about making the appropriate sacrifices when necessary. In her mind, Azula was one of those necessary sacrifices. But she lacked the manpower – or womanpower, as it was – to feel confident in making a move. Recruitment was needed, but it would have to be handled with discretion.

The Baroness was considering two potential recruits. The first was Azura. The woman was generally well regarded with everyone in the group. Even now, she was using what limited magic the Necropolis had left her with to help restore the vitality of some of the weakened survivors. Baroness watched the woman move from one woman to the next, doing what she could to help. Shantae moved along with her, making her own attempt to reduce the overwhelming stress placed on the group with a series of lively and seductive dance moves. Azura was doing some good in her efforts. Shantae, less so.

Michonne was also on Baroness’s short list. The katana-wielding black woman had certainly proven herself capable in the realm of slaying the undead. She’d been tasked with patrolling the ground floor and watching her slow, precise movements as she kept an eye out for anything out of place showcased just what kind of a predator she was. But Michonne was about as stoic as they came. Baroness hadn’t been able to get a proper feel for the woman’s nature, or if she’d be amenable to a change in the power structure. It might’ve been the right time to see which side of the equation she would be on.


What Erin Hannon lacked in street smarts and killer instinct, she made up for with cute naivety. Add in the red hair and Harley Quinn hadn’t been able to resist letting her tag along. She’d not been in the Necropolis long, but it hadn’t taken much for her to know that the place was about as dangerous as they came. Having a gullible meat-shield at her side seemed like a smart play, especially one that looked as deliciously fuckable as Erin.

Harley hadn’t gotten into the redhead’s pants yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time. With as many near death experiences as the Necropolis offered on a minute-to-minute basis, it would only take finding the right quiet moment to make her move. A little of the old, ‘Oh, Red, you look tense… Why don’t I give you a massage?’ and then the clothes would come off and the hands would go exploring. Harley suspected Erin might mutter out something to the effect of not being a lesbian, but she doubted the young woman would really put up any kind of resistance.

The apartment complex looked dead. Not the typical Necropolis brand of dead, but properly abandoned. It looked like the perfect place to shack up and play a fun game of doctor. Still, Harley’s desire to get laid and check out what Erin was hiding under her hood came in a close second to her desire to go on breathing. The apartment units might have supplied some coziness and the height advantage would provide them a clear view of anything coming to kill them, but if they were caught off-guard, they’d have no options beyond going further up. Jumping from rooftop to rooftop wasn’t really within Harley’s skill set. So instead of heading up, Harley led her companion down into the complex’s basement.


Bathory worked her fingers carefully around Nancy Callahan’s weakly beating heart. The blonde stripper was in bad shape. She’d kidnapped the woman from the Bunker with the intent of using her as the first of her new test subjects. But Nancy’s good looks had driven Bathory into a rage. She’d carved off the woman’s face, stapling it to the head of a mannequin she’d found. Nancy’s chest had endured a skinning and a relocation to the mannequin as well, before Bathory had cracked open her ribs and pulled them aside to reveal the stripper’s heart.

Lifting Nancy’s heart from her chest with one hand, Bathory worked the bloody knife she’d been using across her arteries. The spurting organ came free as Nancy fell into dying shudders on the table that had previously been used to fold laundry. Bathory hefted the heart up over her head, tilting her face back. She squeezed, forcing the hot blood to gush down over her face and down her chest. Thick lines of crimson drizzled into her deep cleavage. Bathory moaned deeply, tugging at the front of her top to let her breasts spill free. She rubbed the blood across her soft flesh. It wasn’t the quality of blood bath she’d grown accustomed to in the Bunker, but it was better than nothing.

“Hate to interrupt.”

The voice made Bathory jump more than she cared to admit, very nearly letting Nancy’s slippery heart fall from her fingers. She turned towards the intruders who’d wandered into her makeshift lab. Another blonde – her hair pulled into pigtails – who might’ve been a contender for Bathory in the good looks department if she’d not decided to dress up as some kind of Sex Jester. She looked far more at ease with the flesh stapled to the mannequin and the bloody carcass lying on the table than her redheaded friend did. The second woman’s red hair reminded Bathory of Rayne, which only further stirred her rage. Granted, this redhead looked a good deal more like an awkward secretary than she did a dhampir assassin.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” Harley remarked, reaching over to give one of Nancy’s dead nipples a tweak. “It’s got a very slaughterhouse vibe.”

“Harley, what the fudge are you doing?” Erin hissed, wide eyes darting from the gore to the woman responsible for it. “We need to get out of here.” She raised her voice as she addressed Bathory. “Sorry to bother you, ma’am. We’ll be leaving now.”

Harley’s desire to see Erin in her birthday suit wasn’t gone, but it had ticked down several notches as soon as they’d entered the basement. The psychotic bloodshed had been an unexpected discovery, but not an unpleasant one. She ignored her companion’s distress, keeping her focus on Bathory. She gave the blood-soaked woman a curious look, pointing a finger in her direction. “You some kinda doctor, honey?” She flashed her prettiest smile. “Y’know, I’m something of a doctor myself.”

Bathory gave Harley a scathing glare, eyes drifting up and down her unorthodox outfit. “What sort of cunt doctor dresses like that?”

“Language!” Erin snapped.

“Shut up,” Bathory and Harley responded in unison.

“Anyway,” Harley continued, motioning to Bathory’s exposed breasts. “I could ask you the same thing.” Her bottom lip curled into a mock pout. “And I ain’t an OBGYN, lady. I’m a brain doctor.” She flashed another proud grin. “A brainy brain doctor.”

Bathory’s ire was tempered with curiosity, and the possibility of the strangely dressed woman being more useful than she’d original suspected. “Neurologist?” she asked.

Harley shook her head. “Nah, the other kind. I put the criminal in criminal psychologist.”

Bathory was still intrigued, but unconvinced. “Prove it.”

“Oh, goodie,” Harley said, clapping her hands together. “A chance to show off.” She looked Bathory over, then Nancy’s corpse, then the flaps of skin attached to the mannequin. “She was pretty. Young. Prettier and younger than you. You took off her face first, that was the jealousy. Then you decided to have a bit of fun. Carve off her tits and tack them to the mannequin, too. Not that there wasn’t still jealousy. They were perkier than yours, after all. Bigger, too. This macabre display would make a good warning sign, but that’s not why you did it. You did it cuz you wanted to make her ugly.”

Taking Bathory’s silence – and her displeased look – to be a confirmation of her diagnosis so far, Harley continued. “Then you went for the heart. You could’ve done it just to drag her death out, make it hurt more, But that wasn’t the only reason. You ripped that blood-filled sucker out and squeezed it all over yourself like you were in a beer commercial and it was a sudsy sponge.” She laughed. “You’re a special kinda crazy, ain’t ya, doll? Bathing in the blood of pretty girls cuz you think it’ll keep you looking spry and sexy. I bet you’ve given yourself some kinda goofy name, too. Like the Countess, or Bathory, or something.”

Bathory’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “My name is Bathory.”

“Called it!” Harley cheered.

“It’s not some ridiculous nickname,” she growled. “I am Dr. Bathory Mengele. I am a direct descendant of the actual Erzsebet Bathory.”

“Oh, fun! Delusions of grandeur, too! I am so glad we met!”

“You won’t be very soon,” Bathory hissed, snatching up her knife and starting her way around the table towards Harley.

“No,” Harley barked, pulling a hand grenade free and lifting it up to her face. She pinched her teeth closed around the grenade’s pin, ready to tug it free. “Y’see,” she said, around the pin. “I’m a special kinda crazy, too. So why don’t you keep your distance? We’re not finished chatting yet.” Erin attempted to subtly back away towards the stairs. Harley reached out and snagged her by the arm. “Now’s not the time to run, Red. We got this crazy bitch right where we want her.”

Bathory paused. She was strong. Stronger than Harley knew. But even she wasn’t sure she could survive a grenade at close proximity. “What do you propose?” she asked. “Annoying me into the point of killing myself?”

Harley chuckled around the pin. She carefully removed it from her mouth to better talk, making sure to let Bathory see her thumb slipping into the ring. “Y’know, I actually did that once. It was this pizza delivery guy. Kept getting my orders wrong. Tied him up and talked to him for thirty-six straight hours. He was begging me for the gun he put in his mouth by the end of it. Best. Birthday. Ever.” Neither Bathory or Erin seemed as amused by the story as she was. She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m more interested in what your deal is. Are you just running around town pretending your Dracula’s slutty cousin or are you more interesting than that?”

Bathory’s jaw firmed as Harley continued to mock her. She tucked her blood-stained breasts back away, suddenly feeling the need to make herself look presentable. Jokes aside, Harley had proven her skills. If she could keep her desire to slaughter the annoying woman at bay for at least a little while, there might be something of value in them working together. “I was recently evicted from my previous lab. I was conducting experiments on the local abominations. My former benefactors believed it was to find a cure for the undead infection, but I was far more interested in finding a means of controlling them.”

“Wanna be Queen of the Zombies, huh?” Harley remarked with a nod. It wasn’t a terrible idea. “Any success?”

The smugness in Bathory’s face faded slightly. “Not nearly enough. Due to certain… handicaps… I could not be as bold in my experiments as I would have liked. And due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve lost my test subjects and all hard records of my research. Still, I was able to discern certain facts regarding the epidemic ravaging this city. It’s not a virus. Or at least, it’s like no virus I’ve seen before. Whatever it is, is capable of reanimating dead tissue. The infection can be transmitted via bite or particularly bad scratches. There’s a possibility that it might be capable of being sexually transmitted, but I’ve not been able to sufficiently explore that avenue. They’re driven by base instincts. Hunger. Mating. But they’re not entirely brainless. Something is directing them, whether it’s the virus itself or something greater. Either way, it shows clear signs of some form of intelligence, some degree of being controlled.”

“So you think that if you interrupt whatever it is controlling them, they’ll be putty for you to mold?” Harley finished for her.

“Precisely,” Bathory confirmed. “But I’ve only been able to experiment with zombies that have either already been killed, or have had the infection so deeply ingrained in them that whatever controlling force there is can’t be dislodged.”

Harley’s eyes lit up. “What you need is a living test subject.” Her fingers tightened around Erin’s arm. “C’mon, Red, time to do some science!”

“Quit joking around, Harley!” Erin yelled back, tugging to get free. “Let’s just leave the crazy lady to be crazy.”

Harley ignored Erin’s protests. She held the grenade up again. “Catch,” she called to Bathory, tossing it over. Bathory jumped, hands coming up to catch the grenade before it could hit the ground. Harley chuckled at the woman’s startled expression. “Relax,” she assured. “It’s only a model.” Her brow furrowed. “At least, I think it is. Y’know what, let’s be safe and say it’s not.” She tugged Erin over to the table where Nancy’s body lay. With her free hand, she loosened the straps holding the body down. She lifted a leg and planted it against the dead blonde’s hip, shoving the carcass off.

Erin twisted and pulled against Harley’s grip. “I don’t wanna be your damn test subject! Just let me go!”

“We gotta damn outta her,” Harley laughed, giving Erin a grin as she forced the redhead onto the table. “There’s the spunk I knew you had in you.”

“Fuck you,” Erin shot back, dropping her distaste for cursing in the face of certain tortured death.

Harley rolled her eyes. “Now she offers,” she grumbled as she helped Bathory hold Erin’s arms and legs down to secure her to the table. “It’s not too late, honey. I’m a whizz at multitasking.” She gave Erin a good example of her skills, feeling her up as she tied her down to the table.

Down on the floor, Nancy’s dead eyes sparked with a flash of unlife. Her lipless teeth parted to emit a growl as her hands pressed against the floor, starting to lift herself up. Bathory took notice and promptly rammed the tipped point of her heel into the undead stripper’s skull. Nancy’s body gave off a spastic jerk before slumping back to the floor, properly dead. The day had certainly taken a turn, but despite the annoying nature Harley possessed, Bathory saw the potential value she possessed. How long she’d keep the woman around depended solely on how well their little experiment went.

Once Erin was securely trussed up and left squirming on the table, Harley stepped back and admired her catch. “Looking good, Red,” she remarked. “Nothing sexier than a cutie like you in bondage.” She broke her eyes away from Erin and looked to Bathory. “Oh, we ain’t been officially introduced yet. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. But my friends call me Harley Quinn.” She extended her hand.

Bathory lifted an eyebrow at the woman, but accepted the handshake. “And you derided my name?”

Harley ignored the comment. “So whatever it is making these dead people wake up horny, it has to be in their brains. Destroy their brain and they’re just so much stinking flesh. But, maybe if we damage her pretty brain just enough before she dies, whatever it is that controls them won’t be able to make a proper connection.”

“A lobotomy?” Bathory suggested.

Harley considered it. “Haven’t seen too many of those, but back at Arkham – you’d love Arkham – they were fond of pumping some juice into the patients’ heads. Helped to keep em complacent. And by complacent, I mean drooling idiots.” She looked around the basement. “What do you have for operating tools in this dump, anyway?”


Erin really found a talent for cursing when Harley started to cut and shave away her hair. Nancy’s panties did a good job of muffling her crude remarks. “Guess I can’t call you Red anymore,” Harley remarked as Erin’s hair came away, leaving behind only stubble. The buzz of the clippers drowned out whatever muffled response Erin gave. When her hair was gone, Harley popped the cap off of a Sharpie and went about the task of marking a dotted line across the woman’s forehead and around the circumference of her skull. “Alright, Not-So-Red,” Harley said with a smirk as she hefted the circular saw into view. “This is gonna sting a little.”

Bathory helped hold Erin’s head steady. Harley made a mental note of how physically strong the woman was, despite appearances, but filed it away for later. The apartment complex hadn’t exactly been stocked with appropriate tools for brain surgery. She needed to maintain a steady hand and a firm focus as she carefully guided the circular saw’s blade into Erin’s forehead. Blood sprayed across her face, but she was no stranger to being doused in the fluid. She carefully worked her way around Erin’s head. It wasn’t the straightest line, but it got the job done without killing the young woman. Letting her finger come off the saw’s trigger, Harley set the tool aside and carefully popped the top of Erin’s skull cap off.

Setting the cap aside, Harley leaned in and took a deep whiff of Erin’s exposed brain. “Ah, I just love the smell of cerebral fluid in the whatever the hell time of day it is right now.” She moved forward, looking down into Erin’s terrified eyes. “Didn’t I promise you some sexy fun times?” she asked, tapping the young woman on the nose. “I think it’s time I made good on that.” She moved around the table, hands dropping back onto Erin’s chest. She felt the woman’s breasts through her top before gripping the neck of her shirt and tearing it away. Unclipping the bra beneath, Harley let the cups slide away from the fleshy mounds, giggling as she drank in the sight of Erin’s naked tits. They were pale, perky, tipped with rosy nipples with a splatter of freckles across them.

“We do not have time for these games,” Bathory growled as Harley leaned in to start sucking at one of Erin’s nipples.

Harley popped her lips free and gave the blonde an annoyed glare. “What? You’re a doctor, right? You know how a brain works.” She waved a hand nonchalantly towards Erin’s head. “Fry her frontal lobe. I’m busy.” She moved further down Erin’s body, unfastening her pants and tugging them far enough down her thighs to gain access to what lay beneath her light purple panties. She peeled the underwear to the side, revealing a tuft of fiery pubic hair and the crevasse of Erin’s cunt. “There’s that cherry pie I’ve been craving,” she said with a playful purr before diving face first into Erin’s snatch.

Bathory glowered at Harley, but it didn't seem to do much to deter the woman from lapping her tongue across Erin's slit. She moved around behind Erin's head, picking up the set of knitting needles they'd found. The fear in Erin's eyes was joined by the disgust of the unwanted pleasure Harley was inflicting on her. By the time Bathory finished with her, she'd feel no fear or disgust. She spun one of the needles between her fingers, tilting her head and looking closely at the wrinkled mass of Erin's mind. She selected her point of entry carefully, touching the tip of the needle against the gently pulsing brain tissue and slowly sliding it into place. Erin shuddered on the table, eyes bulging. Either it was from the needle being inserted or the orgasm Harley had forced her into.

The next three needles went in just as smoothly, each of them positioned at precise points in Erin's brain. Harley stared up the length of Erin's body as she wagged her tongue across the woman's clitoris, staring past her heaving breasts to her flushed face. She worked a hand down the front of her pants, rubbing at her cunt. Nothing turned her on quite like watching someone lose their mind. Bathory clipped connectors to the ends of the needles shoved into Erin's brain. From there, it was only a matter of completing the connection to the car battery they'd looted.

The first blast of electricity was enough to stun Erin's brain. Her body snapped stiff across the table. The juice shot through her and into Harley. Her lips tingled from the shock, but she was able to pull back. She stumbled and giggled, drawing her sticky fingers free from her pants. She gave them a suck. “Always a rush,” she muttered.

Erin slumped loosely as Bathory ended the first dose of electricity. She panted and whined, drool leaking from the edges of her lips. Her eyes darted about, confused and pained. The shock had left her disoriented, but still there. Bathory gave her another, longer one. Her teeth clenched, spraying saliva through them as her body vibrated against the table. Harley stared openly at Erin's rippling tit flesh while she gave her own a squeeze. She leaned forward, curiously examining the woman as Bathory cut the connection a second time.

“Hey there, honey,” she called to Erin. “Do you know your name?”

Erin's face constricted, straining to answer the question. When she couldn't, she burst into tears. Bathory interrupted them with a third jolt of electricity. The woman performed one more erotic dance of electrocution for the pair. By the time it came to an end, Erin had no more words, or tears. She stared vacantly up at her tormentors, drooling freely and blinking slowly. Harley leaned in closer and snapped her fingers in front of Erin's face. She offered no discernible reaction.

“Well, it's official,” Harley announced, leaning back and crossing her arms. “We have a vegetable.”

Bathory nodded. “Time to see if this little experiment of yours is going to work.” She yanked the cellophane sheet across Erin's face, holding it down firmly enough to mash her lips and nose against its clear surface. At first, Erin did not respond to the abrupt asphyxiation. Gradually, her body began to shift with more unease as her body's base instincts slowly took over. She worked herself up to a pretty lively bit of struggling, a performance erotic enough to lure Harley back in. The pigtailed blonde worked a couple fingers into Erin's clenching pussy, pumping steadily. She kept up the finger-fucking right through Erin's demise, unbothered by the sudden gush of piss that escaped her.

Bathory kept the cellophane in place for a few minutes longer before peeling it away from Erin's sweaty, discolored face. She slid the knitting needles free of the woman's partially ruined brain and worked the bloody skull cap into place. She was in the midst of stapling the top of her skull back down when whatever unholy corruption permeating the Necropolis took hold of her. Her eyes fluttered and she began to write on the table, moaning with a dullness that Bathory had not heard from previous zombies.

The fact that she hadn't come back immediately trying to chomp into her was also a good sign.

The next step of the experiment was the riskiest. Bathory sliced through the straps holding Erin down. The freshly zombified woman sat up, stretching her freed limbs. The reanimated muscles twitched as the new life within her got used to working her like a puppet. Then she turned towards Bathory, let out a low growl, and lunged towards her. Bathory jerked her knife up, ready to shove it through Erin's eye and finish destroying her brain.

“Red!” Harley snapped.

Erin froze, teeth bared, knife point less than an inch from her eye. Bathory resisted the urge to shove the knife the rest of the way. Erin's head twitched at the end of her twisting neck as she turned to look at Harley. Her aggression faded.

Harley grinned. “Good girl,” she said. “Now come over here and give mama a kiss.” She leaned forward, presenting her cheek to the zombie. Erin shuffled her way over, grunting and growling. Her face shifted from vacant to snarling as she neared Harley, but when she went for the woman's cheek, she didn't tear away a chunk of flesh. She planted her lips gently against Harley's skin before moving away.

“You're insane,” Bathory muttered.

Erin turned and snapped her teeth angrily at her.

“Bad pet zombie!” Harley yelled, reaching forward to flick Erin across the nose. “You do not eat mama's new partner!”

Erin let out a whimper of disappointment, but she settled down.

“Incredible,” Bathory said, continuing to look Erin over. “It appears our experiment has been a success.” Her wonderment hardened into murderous desire. She stared into Erin's dead eyes and aimed a finger at Harley. “Kill her.”

Several awkward moments of stillness later, Harley burst into laughter. “I admire the lack of loyalty. Looks like Red's not a fan of taking orders from you, though.” She turned her attention to her undead minion. “Alright, Dead Girl. Go watch the stairs. Mama's gotta discuss the details of her arrangement with Auntie Bathory.” Erin shuffled her way to the stairwell. Harley crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side, leveling a glare at Bathory. “So,” she said. “Are we gonna try to kill each other all night, or can we get down to the post-mad science sex?”


Fate Testerosa planted deep kisses against Nanoha Takamachi’s lips. Their tongues met, sliding against each other as their breath quickened, soft moans passing between them. Fate lay on top of Nanoha, her full breasts mashing against her lover’s smaller mounds. She worked a hand between them, cupping Nanoha’s right breast and giving it a firm squeeze. Nanoha whimpered against Fate’s lips, curling her legs around the backs of the blonde’s knees and grinding her bare crotch upwards. Fate broke free from the kissing, releasing a soft chuckle before craning her head downwards. She wrapped her lips around Nanoha’s nipple, giving the sensitive nub a hard suck. The girl beneath her writhed with rising passion. When she closed her teeth around the nipple and give it a firm nip, Nanoha went wild.

Nanoha’s hands slipped around Fate, gripping at the woman’s buttocks. Her fingers dug into the warm flesh, holding her lover tightly. Nanoha spread her legs, bent her knees, and angled her crotch upwards to rub her wet slit against Fate’s abdomen. Her panting grew heavier as her lust built. When Fate finally slid further down her body, it took everything she had not to give out an excited squeal. She couldn’t avoid doing a happy wiggle on the bed, though, drawing a giggle of amusement from Fate. Dropping low enough to get a full view of her girlfriend’s cunt, Fate admired it for a few moments – the deep crevasse hiding her folds and the small bump of skin where her clitoris was – before diving in.

Fate gave Nanoha’s pussy a long lick, from bottom to top. Her hands moved to her partner’s sex, thumbs prying her open for better access. She pressed her lips forward, extending her tongue to lap against Nanoha’s clit, feeling the nub stiffening under her touch. Nanoha moaned loudly, reaching down to grab the back of Fate’s head. She ground her crotch against her lover’s face, riding the high of her ecstasy-inducing touch. Her juices flowed from her. Fate eagerly lapped them up, shoving her tongue deep into her quivering orifice. The blonde stretched her arms upwards, cupping Nanoha’s breasts and tweaking her nipples.

Fate did her best to pace herself. It was going to be their last night together for a while. The next day, she’d be back on duty and she wasn’t sure when she’d get the chance to secure some time off to dispense the right amount of attention on her girlfriend. Still, while she had no time remaining focused, the self-control required to hold back was harder to keep hold of. Once they’d worked their way into a sixty-nine position, Fate gave up entirely on conserving her energy and instead relied solely on her stamina and sheer force of will to fill the night up with as much carnal lust as she could.

The sun was nearly up by the time the women could take no more. They lay across the bed, still entwined, drenched in sweat and cunt honey. Nanoha drifted off to sleep, but Fate fought off the fatigue she felt. She didn’t have time for the rest. She spent a while just looking at her girlfriend, memorizing as much of her flesh as she could, before carefully easing out of the bed to go shower off and get ready.

It was going to be a long day, but totally worth it.


Given the nature of the multiverse, it wasn’t shocking that there were two agencies in charge of policing the expanse of realities, but it did amuse Fate. Especially since she’d managed to find employment with both the TSAB and the MVA. Pulling double-duty kept her busier than she liked, but it also afforded her the opportunity to do twice as much good. Despite the long night she’d spent with Nanoha, she arrived at her pickup spot a few minutes early. She sent out the signal to her MVA contact, indicating that she was ready for pickup. She’d grown accustomed to the unnerving wavering in reality as the portal was created. She stepped through, giving herself over to the sensation of swift motion, vanishing from her world and entering the intake room at the MVA headquarters.

The place seemed more hectic than usual. Considering the MVA tended to handle dozens of imminent threats at a time, that was saying something. Fate was hurried along to MVA Director Samantha Carter’s office. The woman seemed noticeably on edge. Fate caught a quick glimpse of her private terminal, recognizing the imposing figure on display.

“What’s he done this time?” Fate asked, referred to Gogedheh. The Predator had been a thorn in the MVA’s side for a while now, at the top of their Most Wanted list.

Carter closed out the file. “Last sighting was in Gotham City. In his home universe. Presumed dead, but we were unable to locate a body. We suspect he might be involved in some recent disappearances.” She turned her attention to Fate. “But that’s not your mission.”

Fate suppressed the desire to curse. There’d been rumors that Carter was putting together a specialized Extermination Squad to deal with the Predator once and for all. She’d been hoping to get onto the team. She watched Carter open up another file on her terminal, noting the label as Dark Zone Event, with the distinction of Critical attached to it. A shiver ran down her spine, suddenly realizing why the MVA was in such a frantic state.

Dark Zone Events were defined as any irregular activity within a dimension involving multiverse travel but specifically managed to evade the MVA’s abilities to monitor. They were typically small, the byproduct of a high level of technological advancement or some form of magical talent. She’d never seen one labeled as Critical before. That designation meant that the Dark Zone area was of significant size, or that the multiverse interference was particularly large. As Fate soon learned as Carter caught her up to speed, this event was both quite large and had affected a vast number of universes.

“We’ve tracked hundreds of abductions of various persons from various points throughout space and a vast number of universes,” she explained. “We’ve also been detecting certain aberrations in the chronicles that indicates some of these individuals have been plucked from a different time. They vanish quickly and with no indication of where they’ve been taken. It’s taken us months to track down where they’re all going.” She pulled up an overlay of what looked like it could have been a vast city on the waterfront, but where the city should have been was simply a greyish smudge. “We believe we’ve finally found that location. There’s some kind of barrier encompassing the city. None of our surveillance tech can penetrate it and our attempt to port someone directly through the barrier was…” Carter’s face paled. “Let’s just say messy.”

Working for the MVA had a myriad number of risks. Fate, like all the others who worked for the agency, had accepted that. Still, she was quite thankful that she’d not been selected to try to go through the barrier. “What’s the plan?”

“You’ll be taking a ship and port in outside of the city,” Carter told her. “From there, you’ll attempt to breach the barrier. If you’re able to, report back what the hell’s going on down there.” She looked at the monitor showing the smudge of a city. “I’ve seen a lot of scary things since I started working here. This has made the top of the list. Whatever is powerful enough to do what it’s done is nothing to be underestimated. So engage only if it’s absolutely necessary. Once you’ve collected enough data for a full report, return here so we can figure out what to do next.”

Fate nodded. “Solo mission?”

“No,” Carter said. “You’ll have a small team. Gwen DeMarco to run comms, Susan Storm to assist in reconnaissance, Veronica Santangelo to cover whatever engineering problems might arise – plus, she’s been dying to punch something for a while now, Quiet will handle whatever combat is required, the goal being to keep it as subtle and long range as possible, and Rebecca Chambers will act as your field medic. Your team is being assembled now and the ship should be ready to leave within the hour.”


Rebecca Chambers had been ecstatic to learn of her involvement in the mission. Not simply because it would allow her the opportunity to see some proper action, but because it would place her in a very valuable position, one that could greatly assist her superiors in the Conglomeration of Eternal Disharmony. She’d had barely enough time to make contact with them before having to meet up with the rest of her team. Her special orders had been received and acknowledged. Observation of the situation and the MVA’s response to it was obvious. Beyond that, she’d been tasked with attempting to recruit any of the abductees they found to the CED. And, of course, if the opportunity presented itself, she was to stage some unfortunate accidents for her fellow teammates.

Rebecca groaned as she worked the butt plug back into place before tugging her pants up. The modified sex toy not only provided a pleasant bit of anal stimulation while she worked, it contained the communicator that allowed her to contact her Conglomeration contacts. She clenched her ass around the plug, re-adjusting to the feel of it, before heading out of her bunk. She quickened her pace, not wanting to be late for liftoff.


Domino had gotten used to her life being a strange myriad of being tossed into one batshit insane situation after the next. Her innate luck powers tended to keep her more or less intact, but that didn’t mean they kept her safe. Her current predicament was a prime example of that. On top of being very confused about how she’d even wound up in the Necropolis, Domino had received a clear sign from the very beginning that the new world was a hostile one. Still, her luck had blessed her with finding Alice and her ragtag group of scouts. As she’d been caught up on the situation as they knew it – lamenting the fact that despite their prolonged stay in the Necropolis, they still knew very little about why the place was the way it was or how they’d wound up there – she rationally acknowledged that heading back into the monster-infested city was probably a terrible idea. But her gut said it was the right thing to do, that staying with the group of survivors was the best course of action. And Domino always trusted her gut.

Which is why, when a tickle at the back of her brain encouraged her to ask Fuuka to use her abilities to scan ahead of them, she didn’t hesitate to voice her concerns.

Fuuka gave her a confused look. “This is the way we came,” she explained. “The monsters migrate pretty regularly, but we were just here and it was all clear.”

“Look, I may not be able to literally sense danger, but my feelings usually wind up being right,” Domino shot back, looking to Alice. “Look, just humor me on this one, okay? If I’m wrong, next dark hole we have to crawl through, I’ll go first.”

Alice shrugged. “Not gonna turn down a volunteer for taking point,” she said, looking to Fuuka. “Go ahead and scan.”

A little offended that her opinion wasn’t being given the trust she thought it disturbed, Fuuka reached out with her psychic feelers. She felt nothing at first, but she kept scanning, determined to do a thorough job so that when she turned to the grey-skinned woman she could proclaim ‘I told you so’ with supreme confidence. Fuuka’s bottom lip curled into a frown as she reached a little further down their path and felt something. It felt unlike any of the other monsters she’d detected previously, but it was definitely not friendly. “She’s right,” Fuuka admitted, not without a degree of annoyance. “There’s something waiting down there. Not sure what.”

“Good catch,” Alice told Domino. “Looks like you might be our good luck charm. Let’s find a way around it. I’d like to avoid getting into a fight, if we can help it. Fuuka, keep scanning. Let me know if you sense anything else, or our mystery guest starts moving. Everyone else, stay sharp.”


The journey from her home universe into the Necropolis did not affect Art3mis as strongly as it had previous victims. It helped that she was not only already experienced in living her life in a fictional reality, but that she’d been in the midst of exploring that fictional reality when she’d been taken. The world she’d been ported into looked nothing like any of the in-game cities she’d been too before, but she had no doubt that it was some new construct from James Halliday’s mind. Perhaps she’d bugged something out and found her way into an early access area. The place certainly looked desolate enough. A horror land, huh? That’s pretty cool, she thought. But he’s gonna have to do a whole lot better than this to scare me away from the Key Trials.

Art3mis had no clue that the world she was in was very much real and possessed a danger far greater than any she’d faced in OASIS. As her body had been plucked out of her reality, she’d been augmented and shifted to take on the visage of her in-game avatar, further pushing the narrative in her mind that she was still just in the game she’d enjoyed playing so much. That alone was enough to bolster her with confidence and bravery in spite of the strangeness surrounding her. If it’s early access, she thought. It doesn’t look like any NPCs or MOBs have been programmed in yet. But maybe there’s still loot around. Looks like it’s time for Art3mis to snag herself some fancy rares. The building she chose to start her loot hunt was at pure random, but it showed that she did not possess the same innate luck that Domino did, as the building was home to the very thing the mutant woman had gotten a bad feeling about.

The building looked like it had been a storage center before suffering some extensive fire damage. Art3mis disregarded the damage, attributing it to a mere cosmetic choice and not an indication that something violent had transpired there at a previous point. She could dig into the lore once the area was officially released. For now, she wanted the goodies. Moving past the destroyed front desk, Art3mis entered a long, narrow hall. It was pretty dark, but she could see a light at the opposite end of the hall, leading back outside. Based on the destruction lining the hall, it almost looked like some other group had already passed through it, securing the location as a hidden passage between two blocks. The only thing that didn’t line up with that notion was the large, slug-shaped mass of flesh about midway down the hall, practically blocking the way.

Looks like maybe I was wrong about no MOBs being spawned in, the red-skinned gamer girl thought, easily recognizing the giant slug as a threat. But it didn’t seem to be moving, leading her to believe that it was only a placeholder model. She didn’t have any interest in climbing over the thing to check the storage lockers behind it – it looked gooey as fuck – but she could easily clear the lockers in front of it. With her thoughts returned to all of the potential loot she could find ahead of every other OASIS player, Art3mis started her search, ducking into the first locker on the right. She didn’t find much beyond a stash of Christmas decorations, a milk crate full of old records – the vinyl kind, not the paper kind, and some clothes. For the most part, the clothes looked like generic cosmetic accessories, but she did find a pair of boots she liked. She got a crucial hint that she was no longer in the game after she replaced her footwear and realized she couldn’t store her old boots in her inventory. Art3mis passed it off as a bug, a by-product of glitching into the new area before it had been released, and left her old boots behind, confident that they’d respawn back in her inventory once she got back into the over world.

If not, I am so sending a ticket, she thought, crossing the hall to check the second locker, not even bothering to glance at the fleshy slug.

When Art3mis had stepped into the hall for the first time and observed the Fusion Slug, the Fusion Slug had observed her in return. She’d not noticed the way its thick eye stalks had swiveled to fix on her position, getting a general sense of her body and her distance from it. The creature’s bulbous body was a blend of light and dark browns, soaked in a thick gelatinous mucus. Its form was less solid than it appeared, capable of absorbing solid nutrients directly through its skin. It had found the passage through the storage center and had slithered into it, small brain recognizing that it was a prime position to capture prey. With no real means of defending itself, the Fusion Slug relied on other means of subterfuge to trap its victims. Each time Art3mis left the hall, the gooey monster moved with shocking speed, creeping forward down the hall a foot or so at a time. Each time she stepped back into the hall, the slug froze. The fact that she was largely ignoring the creature helped to keep her oblivious to its slow but steady approach.

Art3mis’s frustration was growing by the fifth locker. The place, so far, had been largely a bust. It was just the typical kind of dusty junk she’d have expected to find in a real storage center. Unused exercise machines and broken televisions and – holy shit – so many Christmas decorations. She was beginning to think that the whole area was so early access that nothing beyond a general framework, some base models, and a slew of garbage props had been all that had been designed into it so far. Still, she was determined to take full advantage of the glitch, to find something that she could take back and show off to her fellow gamers, really brag about her l33tness. Stepping out of another worthless locker, Art3mis turned to move further down the hall and nearly walked right into the Fusion Slug.

With the exaggerated features of her avatar, Art3mis’s look of surprise was comical. She let out a startled shriek, stumbling back a step. She was ashamed to admit just how much the thing had scared her, certain that it had been further down the hall when she’d first spotted it. Realization barely took hold before the slug launched itself towards her, rising up and curling the edges of its wide, flat foot around her. Art3mis let out a scream, managed to turn, taking only a single step back down the hall before the Fusion Slug dropped its considerable bulk onto her back. She collapsed beneath it, mashed hard into the ground as the thing’s goo soaked into her. She felt the cheeks of her ass and the curve of her back sink into the slug’s underside, its body forming against her as it secured a firm hold. As it reared up a second time, Art3mis found enough air to let out a second scream, arms and legs straining to pull free from the sticky mucus.

The caustic enzymes in the slug’s mucus ate away at Art3mis’s clothing. The half-dissolved fabric sloshed away from her squirming body, exposing nearly every inch of her pale-red skin. Her small breasts heaved, nipples rigid from the terror of what was happening to her. She cried out as her legs and arms bent backwards, slurped through the slug’s porous flesh and into the healthy supply of even more destructive fluids within it. Her oversized eyes bulged, howls of pain rocketing up her throat as she realized – finally – that she was not in some early access section of OASIS. She’d felt enough digital pain in the game to know the difference between the artificial construct and the real thing. Somehow, wherever she was, whatever had been done to change her body, it was all real. Her bravery and confidence were gone in an instant, sobbing pathetically as her pilfered boots melted away around her wiggling toes, followed shortly after by the toes themselves.

With its prey thoroughly snared and the absorption process started, the Fusion Slug proceeded to engage its unique form of breeding. The creature was a single-gendered organism, containing a highly adaptive seed to propagate its species. But there was no such thing as a Lady Fusion Slug. The creatures required a mate of a separate species to reproduce, using their uterus for its own purpose. Expanding its sides outwards to press against the sides of the hall and brace itself, the Fusion Slug extended its mating tendril. The slimy length slithered up the insides of Art3mis’s thighs and pushed its way into her hot cunt. The girl’s screams were unceasing and rising towards madness as she was violated deeply by the slug’s mating tool.

The burning agony of her limbs dissolving within the Fusion Slug was unlike anything Art3mis had experienced before. She heaved in air through her clenched teeth and let it out as fresh screams, hopelessly trapped as the creature raped her. She could feel the slime oozing through her short red hair, tickling her scalp. Fresh terror spiked through her, realizing that her head was being tugged back, into the terrible monster. The slippery lips of the slug’s parting skin crept over the top of Art3mis’s forehead and across her cheeks. She managed one last scream as the mating tendril pierced her cervix and invaded her uterus. The volume of the scream became muted as her head was slurped into the slug’s body, skin lips closing around her slender neck.

Only Art3mis’s torso was left protruding from the slug, limbs already eaten away and the stumps fused to its body. Her torso wiggled with agonized fear, perky tits jumping and jiggling as her stomach muscles clenched up. The muffled howling coming from her absorbed head became a wet series of gurgles as the destructive goo within the creature continued to break her down. Art3mis’s final moments of life were filled with a pure pain, a cruel and constant notice that she’d been incredibly wrong about where she’d been taken. Her eyes popped and her tongue swirled down the back of her throat, followed by the sizzling remnants of a few teeth. Her torso entered into a spastic shuddering as her brain dissolved, moments before her softened skull caved in on itself. The skin of her neck, irritated to a brighter shade of red by the digestive burning she was suffering through, became one with the slug’s skin lips. As her head finished wasting away into a nutritious slop for the Fusion Slug to absorb, the girl became a vestigial growth along the underside of the creature serving only a single reproductive purpose.

Art3mis’s headless, limbless torso sank a bit further into the slug’s underside, but not so deep to vanish completely. The mating tendril pumped into her dead snatch, the tip ticking along the walls of her uterus as it neared its release. The slime oozed into her flesh through her back, breaking down her bones and unnecessary organs. Her remaining skin flattened out across the slug’s massive foot, leaving behind only the vague protrusions of her breasts and the much more significant protrusion of her uterus as it was filled with the Fusion Slug’s potent, non-discriminatory seed. The creature eased back down, concealing all evidence of its latest victim. It would keep the impregnated womb hidden and safe while the gestation of a new life took place. When the new Fusion Slug was ready to be born, it would rise up again, expelling Art3mis’s stolen womb so that it could hatch.


Alice and the others successfully circumvented any chance of encountering the Fusion Slug, blissfully unaware at how easy it would have been for them to handle the creature, or how their deviation in path had led to Art3mis’s terrible fate. The deviation did mean they were dealing with a route that wasn’t nearly as well scouted or cleared out. Further choices had to be made to determine the best course of action. Domino suggested, largely on a whim, that they continue to use the city’s smaller streets to make their way back to the Bunker. Fuuka, even more committed to scanning their path for potential threats, countered – maybe just a little too smugly – that she could sense something else on the streets. She wasn’t sure exactly what it was, just that it felt ‘squiggly’ and reminded her on some level of the Helliphants. Renamon pointed out that they could use the highway as a viable route, citing the height advantage it would give them over potential threats lurking through the streets. It wasn’t a terrible idea, considering the highway was the most direct path towards the Bunker. Still, there wasn’t much in the way of cover up there. Homura voiced her vote that they take advantage of the most direct path, but Alice wasn’t so easily swayed.

It had been obvious that Fuuka’s ego had taken a hit when Domino had proved her wrong, but Alice doubted the girl would make up a threat just to get back at her. Still, Domino’s instincts seemed to be scary good. An unknown threat we know about, or the potential threat of something we don’t know anything about, she pondered. What the hell’s the best option?


Maybe it was due to their prolonged stay underground, but the lure of the illuminated tunnel was too strong to resist. It was easy for Jack to rationalize her decision. The presence of a light might mean some kind of trap, but it would be better to be able to see any potential threats than to blunder into the darkness where anything could be waiting. Not that she seemed to have need of that rationalization. The others were more than willing to take the light path and be thankful for it. After the disastrous assault on the Bunker and the frantic escape from it, everyone in the group was on edge. They needed some kind of relief, even if it came from something as stupid as a bit of extra light. They started down the tunnel, following the gentle bend, staying alert, despite the pleasant warmth of the glow emanating towards them.

The source of the light came into view as they trekked further along the bending tunnel. It appeared to be some kind of organic, oversized lightbulb, suspended down through an overhead tunnel. Whatever warm fuzzies Jack had been feeling about the light vanished. She had no reason to trust anything organic in the Necropolis, even as far as the occasional fellow survivor. The light pulsed faintly, producing a greater hypnotic effect to try to sooth any that looked upon it. Clearly, it was some kind of trap. But, just like she’d hoped, the presence of the light – even if it was for a dark purpose – allowed them to see the trap clearly for what it was. Only a fucking idiot would walk right up to that and start poking it, she thought. But despite its large, bulbous nature, there was enough room to slide past it and continue down the tunnel.

“Everybody steer clear of the flesh light,” Jack called to the others, cringing at her unintentional sex toy reference. A cruel smirk played across her face, glancing back to one of her group in particular. “Hey, Joy. Why don’t you go poke it?”

The blonde redneck gave her a glare and a middle finger but didn’t fall for the obvious bait.

Jack let it go, along with the urge to shove the woman into the thing. “Everybody just move slow. It’ll be fine.”

It didn’t take long before Jack was regretting those words. Either due to bad luck or sadistic strategy, the group was only halfway past the pulsing bulb when they were interrupted by a hungry pack of undead lumbering down a dark side tunnel towards them. Tense chaos erupted in the tunnel, the group of survivors dancing between avoiding the bulb and dispatching the zombies. Jack divided her focus, doing her best to guide the others past the obvious lure while keeping them from getting snagged by any of the zombies pouring out of the side tunnel. “Why the fuck can’t anything ever be simple?” she growled, emptying a load from her shotgun into the snarling, decayed face of a topless woman who’d once been ace reporter Lois Lane until she’d found herself teleported into the midst of an underground zombie gangbang. The only statements she’d managed to get from her unexpected interviewees was their cold, corrupt cum forced into her various orifices until she’d become one of them. Jack’s shot put an end to her unlife, splattering her previously pretty face across the tunnel wall.

Samus did her best to lend Jack some assistance in organizing the group and getting them through the ordeal, but the sight of a pack of ravenous living dead surging out of a dark tunnel stirred too many recent memories. Uneasiness stirred deep in her gut, remembering how the rigid lengths of undead flesh had felt as she’d been violated. She managed to fight off the memories, and the current threat, but her distraction came at a cost. One of the rotting bags of meat had managed to slip past her, advancing on Parasoul as she was trying to squeeze past the glowing bulb. Samus noticed her mistake, calling out to the woman to warn her. Parasoul turned to spot the zombie, pulling her weaponized umbrella up to deliver a powerful strike to the dead man’s chin that tore his head away from his neck. But in the process, she lost her balance and stumbled backwards, directly into the bulb.

The thin layer of adhesive sap coating the outer layer of the fleshy bulb clung to Parasoul’s backside. She tried to pull herself free, pulling Kreig up to get a shot at the bulb’s thick stem, but before she could fire off an attack, the bulb retracted with shocking swiftness. She let out a shriek as she was hoisted off her feet and up the overhead tunnel, her umbrella slipping from her fingers and dropping to the tunnel floor. The other survivors barely caught a glimpse of her kicking legs before she was dragged completely out of sight, leaving them one more member down and still finishing off the last of the tunnel zombies with significantly less light to aid them.

Parasoul’s squirming body bounced and scrapped against the wall of the tunnel as she was plucked upwards. Her clothing was filthy and tattered by the time she was pulled into the fleshy alcove where the Angler Grinder had grown. Technically, the cavity was inside the creature, but it served only as the preparation room for any unlucky victims it managed to snare with one of its glowing lures. While the others lost their source of light, Parasoul found herself with far too much of it. She had a clear view of the monster that she’d stumbled into the clutches of, the walls a blend of dark crimson and yellow sinew, stretched taut. Tendrils grew from the walls, tingled lines of thick flesh, some with large glow bulbs sprouting from the tips, others still developing their luminescent appendages, and still more lacking any source of illumination. At the uppermost part of the alcove was a single, small orifice, lined with thick, sharp teeth that fit poorly together but clicked with hungry excitement as she arrived.

The tendrils converged on Parasoul’s struggling form, working their way into her already tattered clothing. She tried to fight them off as they tore through the fabric, stripping her bare, but her lack of weapon made it difficult, as did her limited mobility due to still being glued to the glowing lure bulb. Her thoughts were too consumed with the horror that awaited her and the issue of trying to escape her almost certain death to spare any consideration for the others, or even to assign any of them any blame in her stumbling into the lure. Movement became more troublesome as the harder she struggled, the more she unintentionally pressed herself against the sticky sap, securing her in place even more. By the time she’d been reduced to wearing nothing more than her black loafers, Parasoul had no chance of offering even the most meager of resistance to the voracious and amorous Angler Grinder.

The young woman let out a squeal of dismay as the thick tip of one tentacle began to grind against the cleft of her cunt, forcefully stimulating her until her body responded. The growing dampness of her pussy brought a blush of shame to Parasoul’s cheeks, but the shame didn’t last long. As the tendril shoved its way into her tightly clenched snatch, she felt only pain. Her scream echoed off the fleshy walls of the alcove, driving the tentacles into a wild frenzy. They dragged across her body, smacking against her full breasts and tangling in her disheveled hair. The tendril driving its way into the warm, unwilling embrace of her pussy mashed hard against her cervix, creating a subtle bulge against the lowest point of her abdomen each time it rammed into her. Her bulging eyes gushed tears as her cervix gave way, allowing the tentacle to hammer deeper into her body. Her muscles – glistening from trickles of sap and the sweat creeping out of her – tensed, straining hard against the unbreakable hold the Angler Grinder had on her.

Parasoul’s screams choked off as a second tendril shoved its way into her open mouth, punching its way down her throat. She gagged around the girth and the taste of putrid earth and raw flesh. A spray of watery vomit escaped her stretched lips and squirted from her flared nostrils as the violent oral penetration got the better of her. Her abs clenched as she heaved, occasionally deformed by the tentacle wildly fucking her slippery cunt. Parasoul’s hands bent forward, fingers clawing at the air, the only real movement she could make. Her curling digits only encouraged another set of tendrils to slip into her grip. She clutched the girths as hard as she could, hoping to cause the creature some form of discomfort but only really managing to provide it a couple of tight handjobs as it dragged its tentacles back and forth against her soft palms.

Pinned to the glowing bulb and utterly helpless, Parasoul suffered the violent assault of the tentacles. She managed an agonized gurgle as a second vine-like appendage squeezed into her already widely stretched pussy. Another ropey length circled around the mounds of her tits, pulling them together so that it could slide the bulbous protrusion of its half-formed glow lure through her cleavage. Her suffering worsened as one managed to slide in between her and the lure bulb, wiggling its way through the crack of her ass and forcing its way into her ass. The tendril in her mouth pulled free, letting her gasp down air and released a horrified scream as her long legs were pried away from the bulb, leaving behind a few bloody patches of skin in their wake. Her legs, held securely by the tentacles looped around her ankles, were lifted upwards, held in a V-shape against her shoulders to allow easier access to her lower holes.

The hive of horny tentacles ravaged Parasoul’s defenseless body, plunging into her various orifices, rubbing across her soft flesh, leaving her coated in their excretions. She managed to tilt her head forward far enough to watch a thick, partially developed lure bulb take aim at her gaping asshole. Her head snapped back as a fresh tendril snaked its way into her mouth, but she had no trouble feeling the pain as her aching sphincter stretched slowly around the large bulb. Her eyes rolled back, choking on her scream as her anus tore. She felt overly fully as the bulb was driven deeper into her bowels. The rough face fucking ended with a quick spurt of sickly sweet sap down her gullet before her mouth was freed and she was able to look down at the destruction being done to her. She let out a pathetic half-wail, half-sob as she stared at her bulging gut, seeing the luminescence of the lure bulb shining through her tightly stretched skin.

As Parasoul’s holes grew looser and the Angler Grinder’s lust diminished, the creature’s hunger stirred. The woman had been thoroughly fucked into a daze by that point, but she was still aware enough to feel the pain of being peeled away from the lure bulb. She let out a hoarse scream as she was pulled free, held snugly in the grip of a number of the wicked tendrils. The Angler Grinder possessed no face to give Parasoul a hint of its amusement, but the excited chattering of its teeth gave her a pretty good idea of what was about to happen to her. It didn’t keep her from letting out a shocked cry as the tentacles twisted her upper and lower halves in opposite directions. Her spine snapped and her skin stretched before she was brutally ripped in half. The pair of tentacles looped around Parasoul’s ankles began a short game of tug of war with her lower half, ending in a sharp snap as her pelvis gave out and her limbs separated from one another. She managed a weak scream as her right arm was plucked from its socket and torn away. The scream rose in strength and volume as the remainder of her upper body was hoisted higher, up to the waiting maw above her. The teeth stretched open as wide as they could as the tentacle forced her screaming face between them. With a meaty crunch, Parasoul’s scream – and life – came to an end as the bulk of her head was bitten off.

The woman’s various gory remains were dropped to the floor of the Angler Grinder’s alcove. The tentacles continued to find ways to fuck her as the creature leisurely chewed at the mouthful of her head. One partially deflated eye was left impaled on a thin tooth. A tendril slithered across Parasoul’s flopping tongue before dipping into the bloody hole of esophagus. Another tightened around her left breast until the mound of fat and flesh tore away. The pilfered tit became the Angler Grinder’s next meal. When it finished with that tasty treat, the creature tore the woman’s right leg in half, pulling the bloody stump of her calf into its mouth. Sharp teeth shredded her flesh and crunched through her bone as the half-a-leg slowly sank into the maw. Her black loafer was pulled away from her foot to spare the monster the foul taste of the footwear. Her limp toes dangled as they crept further up, finally vanishing into the Angler Grinder’s mouth with a quick chomp.


The loss of light – as well as one of their own – had doused Jack and the rest of her group into a frightened state, but they managed to hold it together long enough to dispatch the last of the zombies. Softly whispered words of confusion and fear started to creep towards panic. Jack wasn’t feeling much better, but she’d been through too much shit to let them all fall apart now.

“Alright, cut the shit,” she snapped. “So it’s dark. So what?”

The guilt of having any part in Parasoul’s certain death spurred Samus into lending her own assistance. “We need to get another light source. Does anyone have anything?” She figured focusing on a simple, yet vitally important, task would give them all a much needed distraction.

“My disk,” Quora said, reaching to pull it from her back. Even in the dark, she had no trouble activating it. The neon blue glow that emanated from it didn’t provide nearly enough light as the lure bulb had, but they could at least see where they were going with it. It unfortunately also allowed them enough light to identify what the dripping sound they’d been hearing was. Thick droplets of blood spattered from the vertical tunnel Parasoul had been pulled into, creating a spreading pool on the floor. Almost as if whatever monster lurked up there could sense the new source of light, a chunk of what looked like a partially eaten kidney dropped from the hole and splattered into the pool. It effectively dashed any dwindling thoughts of perhaps Parasoul making it back to them, or the even more foolish concept of trying to rescue her. It also got the group highly motivated to keep moving down the tunnel.

The remainder of the trip down the now dark tunnel was thankfully uneventful. They reached an end point leading into an area that still retained power. The yellowed lightbulbs cast a sickly glow across the traumatized survivors, but at least they didn’t have to worry about any of the bulbs snaring them into the clutches of some nightmare creature. Jack kept everyone moving with Samus’s help, neither of them thinking a rest would be a good idea. Parasoul’s rapid abduction and death was still too fresh in everyone’s minds. If they slowed down to dwell on it now, they might never get moving again.

The next crossroads came far too soon, proving once again that the Necropolis was a son of a bitch fuckhead, as far as Jack was concerned. The path ahead had suffered some damage. They could make it through easily enough, but the tunnel had been opened up to the street above. She couldn’t see anything snooping around the opening, but that didn’t mean it would stay that way long enough for them to pass through the exposed section. A quick check of the area offered up only one alternative, and it wasn’t any better. The crawlspace was safe from whatever elements lurked on the street above, but it was tight enough that they’d have to shimmy their way from one end to the other. If something attacked them from behind, there wouldn’t be much they could do about it. The same went for if something came at them from the front.

Two shit choices, but Jack knew she had to make a decision fast, before stagnation led to their ultimate downfall.


Azura knew that the last few performances she gave to the injured and exhausted survivors had not been her best, but they still provided some degree of restorative aid. With her work done and her energy thoroughly sapped from the physical and magical exertion she’d expelled, she turned to her dancing companion. Shantae’s sensual movements had done little beyond afford the survivors something nice to look at, but Azura appreciated the young woman’s assistance all the same. As her fatigue had built, she’d found the strength to push on thanks to Shantae dancing just beside her. She could only hope the woman’s performances had been equally motivating to the others. Azura thanked Shantae for her help before breaking away from the main group.

Hiding the full extent of how drained she was had only further drained Azura. She didn’t want the others to see just how weak she was, but she needed rest. She found a small jewelry store that seemed vacant and slipped inside, ducking behind a display counter. Apparently safe from prying eyes, Azura let her exhaustion flow into her. She nearly collapsed onto her ass, leaning back against the counter and letting her head dip forward, eyes drifting closed. She could sense how easy it would be for her to sleep, but the persistent threat of the Necropolis kept her clinging to consciousness. Azura doubted she’d be able to keep the fight up for long. She also knew she would need to eat to really restore her energy, but she simply lacked the strength to get anything from their small cache of supplies.


The concerned voice roused the woman from her semi-sleeping state. She strained to open her eyes, looking up to see Baroness standing over her, energy bar in hand and extended towards her. “You look awful,” she said. “Come on, you need to eat.”

Azura accepted the gift. When she struggled to find the leverage to tear open the packaging, Baroness did it for her without comment. She nodded her thanks and started to nibble at the protein bar. The urge to cram the whole thing into her mouth was strong, but she knew it would only make her sick. They were far too low on supplies to waste precious food that way. She still wanted to be alone, but her secret was apparently out. It seemed rude to ask Baroness to leave after she’d offered the much needed assistance. So instead, she sat quietly, recovering her stamina as best she could as she enjoyed the small, simple meal.

“Why do you do it?” Baroness asked, finally breaking the thick silence between them but keeping her voice low. “Push yourself so hard?”

Azura responded with a meager shrug, chewing away another bite of protein bar. “I want to help, in any way I can. My healing abilities are limited, and they come at a cost, but it’s the right thing to do.”

Baroness considered her words, nodding slowly. “It’s very noble of you,” she concluded. She sat down beside Azura, turning to give her face a curious look. “In that case, I imagine you must hate Azula.”

The conclusion brought a frown of confusion to Azura’s face. She swallowed her bite of food and turned to look at the woman beside her. “What do you mean? I can hardly blame her for the situation we’re facing. She didn’t bring us here. She didn’t make these monsters. I suspect she’s doing the best she can to keep us all alive.”

Baroness tilted her head to the side, unconvinced. “Is she, though? Were any of the Bunker leaders? I mean, granted, this is an impossible situation. I don’t envy anyone put in charge of it. And maybe it’s just hindsight, but you really have to look at all they’ve done for us and wonder if they were ever the right people to lead us to any kind of survival, any kind of victory.” She lifted a hand, counting out her points on her fingers. “In all the time we were locked up in the Bunker, they made little if any progress in combating the monstrosities of this city, or finding a way out. They let that sadistic whore of a woman Bathory in, when any idiot could take one look at her and see that whatever benefits she might provide paled in comparison to the danger she represented. They even gave her a position of power. And it wasn’t long after that before the disappearances started happening. So many convenient excuses… but we both know how tightly they kept that place locked up, how important it was for them that no one went out unless directed. The only one I know of who broke those rules was Anna, and she wouldn’t have let anyone in on her secret passage. Trust me, I tried, more than once, to get her to tell me. Do you really think she would tell some homesick or suicidal survivor?”

Baroness’s points were valid, but not enough to sway Azura completely. “I don’t know what happened to the ones who went missing. But connecting them with Bathory’s arrival doesn’t mean she was necessarily guilty of whatever happened to them.”

“Perhaps not, but it is quite the coincidence,” Baroness pressed. “What about the mismanagement of the defense of the Bunker? They – Azula, in particular – were more than happy to allow a panic to break out. Rampant looting. An unsanctioned explosion in the Bunker, seemingly from Bathory’s private lab. Disposing of evidence, perhaps? And then there was the lynching. People driven into such a panic that they strung up one of our own with little hesitation.”

The mention of the lynching cut through Azura’s fatigue and doubt. She turned to look at Baroness. “I thought that was just a rumor. The fear talking.”

The dark-haired woman looked solemnly at Azura, shaking her head. “It happened. I was there. I’d arrived too late to stop it, to help, but I saw that poor girl’s life end. Saw the way the mob cheered it on.” She let the silence complete her argument, letting them both dwell in that dark thought. “That was the moment I realized just how badly we’d been misled. Just how badly the women we’d chosen to lead us, to keep us safe, had failed us.” She let Azura sit with that for a few more moments, seeing the leeway she was making. But her task was just as tactical as any battlefield. She needed to manage her potential recruit with care.

“I’m not saying they meant to,” Baroness insisted. “Or that they were bad from the start. They simply were not the right women for the job. Emily was quite adept at training people to defend themselves, in her own way. Satsuki had a harshness about her, but she was fair in her judgment. Elsa and Daenerys were too young and too inexperienced to be effective leaders, but they at least showed that, above all else, they did genuinely care about the greater good.” She let her voice drift off, leaving an obscenely pregnant pause in her words before continuing to her main selling point. “But Azula…” She shook her head, let out a sad sigh that she thought was quite convincing. “I have stood by her side, because I want her to do the right thing, to be the woman we all hope she is, but it’s only afforded me a front row seat to her actions. We’ve all trusted her perhaps a little too much, afforded her certain leeway because she was one of the first to find the Bunker. But I can tell you, with certainty, that she has taken advantage of the power she has, used it for her own means. I can’t say she won’t lead us somewhere safe, but I can guarantee you we will suffer far more losses than we need to along the way. Because, to her, we are all expendable, just a living shield to keep her safe.”

Azura was teetering on the edge, so close to agreeing with her. She just needed one more little push. One last reason to turn on their current leader. Baroness had just the sort of juicy nugget required. All it needed was a bit of reshaping. “When you were out there dancing for the others, did you notice anyone was missing?”

Azura thought about it, recalling the many faces she’d performed for, compared those faces to the ones she’d seen escaping the bunker with them. It was difficult. The escape had been so frantic and their group had been so big. But she did seem to recall seeing someone outside the Bunker but not in the mall. “Minako,” she gasped. “Did she fall behind? We should send someone to…”

Baroness cut her off, shaking her head. “No point. I’ve been keeping a close eye on Azula since leaving the Bunker. She relies on me for certain things, but I caught her sneaking away, arranging for Minako to be used as bait to get the horde off our scent. I couldn’t dare reveal what I knew then. She’d have had me used as bait alongside the poor girl. I tried to make a more direct interference, reach her before Azula’s pair of cohorts could, but by the time I could find where she was, it was already too late. She’s sacrificing us like pawns, Azura. If she’d seen how much you drained yourself helping the others, who knows what she might do about it? Do you see? Do you see why we need to get rid of her? Like I said, I do not envy the role of leadership, but I cannot stand idly by while she leads us into ruin.”

Azura nodded slowly, suddenly looking even more tired. “You’re right,” she agreed. “But we can’t just kill her. That would make us no better than she is. You have to promise me we’ll at least try to talk her into stepping down.”

Baroness made sure her smile was a strained, humorless one. “That is a I promise I can easily make,” she replied. “I just hope she sees things our way and doesn’t try to put up a fight. If she does… We might not have a choice.” Despite her assurances, Baroness had no intention of letting Azula live. If her coup was a success, she would need to make an example of the previous leadership, and ensure that she would not be overthrown by an enemy she’d already vanquished once before. “I still have arrangements to make. I need to see who else in the group feels the way we do. But you will know when the time has come. Be prepared. Until then, get your rest.”

Baroness left Azura and the jewelry shop with a fresh confidence in her swagger. She caught the eyes of Nena and Lola and gave them a nod, signaling that her little talk had been a success. Returning to Azula’s side, she offered no hint of her oncoming betrayal as she helped the woman organize the group of survivors and their supplies, planning the next stage of their journey to the airport. The scouting and looting pairs began to return. Their task seemed partially successful, although Lioness and Black Cat failed to come back. Astrid and Hinata seemed to have also met with an unfortunate end. The recon groups reported in that they’d managed to secure a clear path from the mall to the hospital, but they’d also spotted a sizable horde making their way towards the mall. They could not afford to wait around for the missing pairs to make their return. The group was advised of what was happening, mostly the broad strokes. Asuna Yuuki was sent to collect Azura from the jewelry store.

“Is she doing okay?” Azula asked Baroness. “I noticed you go in there after her. If there’s a problem, I need to know about it. Her abilities are too valuable.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Baroness assured her. “Azura will do what’s right. She understands everything that’s at stake.” She stifled the sly grin that ached beneath the surface of her face, far too amused by the double-meaning behind the seemingly innocent exchange.


Outside of orifices on her own body or on those of her lovers, Jack wasn’t a fan of cramped spaces. The natural light pouring in from the partially open tunnel also was a much needed escape from the darkness they’d been plunged into after Parasoul had been taken. She wasn’t sure how much ground they’d travelled since entering the sewer, but she knew it had to be enough that the monsters that had chased them underground had to be long gone. The possibility that there were other creatures waiting up above to tear them to pieces either before or after brutally raping them was strong, but every damn choice was a risk. With that in mind, Jack settled on the option that made her skin crawl the least. She passed her decision on to the others.

“Everyone keep your eyes open,” she told them. “We move slow so we don’t attract any attention, but the second anyone sees anything peeking its head into the tunnel, we haul ass.” It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was the best she could come up with. She glanced to Samus. “That sound good to you?” The second opinion wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to keep pushing the woman to just take charge already.

The problem was, although she was marginally less rough around the edges than Jack, Samus had about as much experience leading a group as the tattooed woman. She preferred working alone for the exact reason Jack didn’t want to remain in charge. Making choices that could – most likely would – get other people killed wasn’t something she regarded as fun. So she offered Jack a shrug and a simple, “Yep.” She had every intention of doing what she could to help, but she’d already barely gotten through a close encounter with the Legions. She wasn’t keen on repeating the experience to test her luck even further. She certainly didn’t want the responsibility of being held accountable for decisions when she might have to be a bit cold-hearted to ensure she stayed alive.

Thanks for the vote of confidence, bitch, Jack thought, rolling her eyes and moving into the damaged tunnel. Chunks of asphalt littered the tunnel floor. Thankfully, none of them were large enough to slow down their progress much, but there was no shortage of tripping hazards. The group’s focus largely fixed on the open air above them. After being underground for so long, the sight of the sky should have been soothing, but it only felt like a threat. With the stench of decay permeating the Necropolis, they weren’t even given the benefit of some fresh air. The sky looked clear, but each of the women knew that could change at any moment. The open top of the tunnel wasn’t large enough to allow some of the larger monsters to drop into the sewer with them, but a Hell Flyer or two would have no trouble swooping down and plucking them into their clutches.

The fleshy shuffling sound wasn’t very loud at first, but the survivors heard it. Eyes and weapons trained on the opening above them, shifting back and forth as they waited with rising tension for whatever the hell was coming towards them. A silent hope that whatever it was would simply pass them by without noticing the open tunnel permeated the group, along with a dreadful certainty that they weren’t that lucky. Their fears were proven accurate as the creature came into view, dragging itself forward towards the start of the tunnel behind them. Bringing up the rear, Supergirl was the first to spot the thing. The abomination of bulging, twisted flesh was enough to quicken her step and raise her pulse to alarming levels. She called out to the others, but they’d already seen what she’d seen.

The Doomgape wasn’t the largest of the Necropolis monsters, but it was big enough to be serious threat. But it was the creature’s grotesque design that was the most frightening. There wasn’t a nightmare in the Necropolis that wasn’t a fan of eating its prey in some fashion or another. The Doomgape seemed designed exclusively for eating. The majority of its body was dominated by a massive mouth, gnarled yellow teeth sprouting from its gums. The teeth were roughly the size of an average human’s forearm. A spear-like tongue whipped about from deep in the thing’s gullet, sweeping from side to side, tasting the air for fresh prey. Apart from the mouth, the Doomgape only grew more disturbing. Wrinkled, lumpy flesh – a sickly yellowish hue – made up the portion of its body that wasn’t used for eating. Dozens of scrawny, malformed arms grew from the thing’s sides and back, curling fingers stretching out to latch onto solid ground and drag its significant bulk along. There was no sign of eyes on the thing, but there was no doubt that it somehow could sense them.

Dragging itself over the open tunnel, the Doomgape lost its grip momentarily. Its fat bulk slid into the tunnel, blocking the way back. With a wall of gnashing teeth now behind them, none of the women had any desire to go that way. Despite the tight squeeze and the scrawny state of its arms, the Doomgape managed to keep dragging itself forward, closing the distance towards the group with gradual but persistent speed. The women with projectile weapons made their way to the rear, unloading into the thing’s gaping mouth. Despite its bulbous appearance, the Doomgape’s flesh was hardened, resisting their attacks and showing no signs of damage. Killing it might have been possible, but it wouldn’t be easy. Jack called off the attack. “Everybody move your asses!” she yelled to the others, leading by example as she pushed her way back to the front.

Outpacing the Doomgape wasn’t an issue, even with the rubble littering the tunnel floor. The problem came at the end of the open passage. The damaged tunnel terminated at a solid door, held shut by a mechanical lock. The control panel beside it had power, but it demanded an absurdly long keycode before it would allow them access further into the sewers. Jack snagged Ellie by the arm, tugging her towards the door.

“Open it,” she demanded.

Ellie gave the panel a look, frustration mixing with the fear already on her face. “I… can’t. It would take too long.”

Quorra moved in beside the pair, looking the mechanism over. “My disc,” she offered. “It should be able to brute force a solution.”

“How long?” Jack asked her.

Quorra didn’t have a real answer. “Hopefully, not long.”

Jack nodded. It was the best option they had. “Do it.” She turned back to the others. Everyone was crowded up at the tunnel’s exit. The Doomgape was still a good ways behind them, but growing closer with each passing moment. She looked over her choices, choosing fast, almost on a whim. “Taki, Supergirl, Samus,” she called to them. “Buy us some time.” She had no idea how they’d do it, but that wasn’t her problem anymore. It was theirs. Delegation, she thought. That’s what leaders do, right?

Of the three, only Samus had a gun, but that didn’t stop Supergirl or Taki from doing as they were told. The trio moved to the rear of the group, Samus staying the furthest back to resume shooting at the monster. Supergirl and Taki moved in closer, staying just out of range of the Doomgape’s swiping tongue. With nothing but their fists to fight with, Supergirl found a way to aid the distraction, scooping up a hefty chunk of asphalt and hurling it towards the creature. The Doomgape snapped its hungry jaws closed, crushing the piece of debris into pebbles. The taste didn’t seem to satisfy the creature, but it did slow its progress just a bit. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to encourage Taki to join in, grabbing up a piece of rubble and hurling it at the monster. Supergirl and Taki took turns grabbing and throwing, dancing from side to side, ducking under the long tongue as it strained to find them.

It took several long minutes for Quorra’s disc to crack through the door control’s security. The menu flashed green, confirming the code before allowing them to open the door. It slid to the side, revealing the passage beyond. Jack was very thankful that there hadn’t been a group of zombies or other creatures waiting for them on the other side. “Door’s open!” she yelled back before ushering Quorra through. She went in next, not wanting to leave the woman alone in an unexplored area. It looked safe enough, but there was no telling how long that would last. The group piled through the door one at a time. Supergirl, Samus, and Taki began to work their way back, half-focused on retreat, half-focused on keeping the Doomgape at bay. A soft dinging from the door was all the warning it gave before it began to slide closed again. “Hurry the fuck up!” Jack yelled at the three women still on the wrong side of the door.

The sight of their escape route sealing back up was more than enough motivation to get the women running. Samus reached the passage first, darting through without a second thought. Supergirl got there next. The door was already more than halfway closed, forcing her to turn to the side and slide through. She turned back, extending an arm through the shrinking passage towards Taki. “C’mon, you can make it!”

Taki reached the door, grabbing hold of Supergirl’s outstretched hand. She twisted to the side, knowing it was going to be a painful squeeze through the narrow gap but determined to make it. Her eyes lit up with horror as her progress stuttered to a stop. She looked down, letting out a groan of dismay as she saw the Doomgape’s slithering tongue looped tightly around her belly. Her hands shot out, one still gripping Supergirl’s while the other hooked around the side of the door, straining to pull herself free. The tongue tightened around her, securing its hold before yanking her backwards. Taki let out a scream as her hands slipped, legs kicking up in front of her as she was hauled towards the hungry creature. Her pleading face stared into Supergirl’s shocked eyes. The blonde heroine barely managed to yank her arm back through the closing door, saving her limb but losing sight of Taki.

Supergirl moved to the control panel on the other side, finding it locked again. She turned to Quorra. “Get it open again,” she insisted.

Quorra was just as distressed as Supergirl, but she hesitated, looking to Jack.

Jack shook her head. “We can’t,” she decided. “If that thing manages to follow us in here, we’re going to be in a much worse state.” She looked to Supergirl. “I’m sorry. I can’t let that happen.”

Supergirl looked from Jack to the door, face scrunching up with frustrated misery. “But… we’ve already lost so much.” She struggled to keep her tears in check, but it wasn’t a fight she was winning. “When does it stop? When do we make a stand?”

Jack sighed, stepped closer to the woman. I really hate this shit, she thought as she did her best to place a comforting hand on Supergirl’s shoulder. “We make a stand when it’s not guaranteed to get us all killed. Until then, all we can do is keep pushing forward. Try to make sure that none of their deaths were in vain.” The words felt clunky in Jack’s mouth, even clunkier passing her lips, but she realized something strange. She actually believed them. She’d been on the receiving end of a number of Commander Shepard’s pep talks before being snatched into the Necropolis. They’d always sounded like sappy bullshit. Now that she was the one spewing out the sappy bullshit, she realized that – sometimes – it was the only thing you could do.


In the time it had taken Jack to spew her sappy bullshit, the Doomgape had pulled Taki into its clutches. She still faced the sealed door, the shock of her failure to escape weighing down on her as her limbs were snared by several of the creature’s hands. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she stared hard at the closed door, hoping the others would come back for her. She wasn’t dead yet. They had to know that. Even if they didn’t, she believed they had to try to come back for her. She understood why they’d not attempted to rescue Parasoul. There’d been zombies. She’d been taken so fast, faster than she’d been taken. Getting up the vertical tunnel would have been next to impossible. But the only thing between her and potential salvation was a stupid door. And just like nearly every other creature in the Necropolis, the Doomgape seemed eager to play with its food. Which meant there was time. She could be rescued.

At least, that was the desperate hope Taki clung to, unaware that the others were already putting distance between themselves and the sealed door. The tongue loosened from around her waist, sliding along her body. She whimpered as the tip of the appendage reached her face, lapping up her tears and sweat. She gagged as it pushed into her mouth briefly, tasting the putrid flavor of its saliva on her tongue. The Doomgape sampled Taki’s flavor thoroughly, finding it enjoyed her bare flesh significantly more than the skin-tight bodysuit she wore. Sharp barbs protruded from the tip of the creature’s tongue, snagging the fabric and tearing through it. Being blind, the Doomgape wasn’t skillful in its disrobing of the woman, but it didn’t have to be. The bulk of her outfit was reduced to tatters, shallow scratches etched across the tops of her breasts and along her thighs. The barbs retracted to prevent any further damage to her body as the Doomgape resumed licking Taki’s body. It slid through her cleavage and under the mounds of her heaving breasts, enjoying the sweat it found there. It dipped into her shallow bellybutton, finding a tasty nugget of lint. But then the tongue slipped between Taki’s parted thighs and the Doomgape found the woman’s true flavor.

The tip of the monster’s tongue nuzzled into the cleft of Taki’s cunt lips, dragging back and forth with growing force. Strain crept across the woman’s face as she struggled against the unwanted pleasure of the stimulation, but she could do nothing to keep the flow of her juices from leaking out onto the waiting tongue. The taste of her cunt honey excited the Doomgape, encouraging the thing to lap across her folds with quicker strokes. Taki panted and whined, limbs straining against the grip of the hands holding her up. She gasped as the slender end of the tongue wiggled its way into her snatch, curling about to explore every inch of her tight, shuddering pussy. Taki’s nipples stiffened with arousal. Her head rolled back, eyes squeezing shut as she fought back the oncoming orgasm tightening in her loins, barely aware of the thin line of drool leaking from the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, horrified at just how good the thorough exploration of her cunt felt. Taki opened her eyes, staring at the door, seeing it was still shut. They had to hurry. They had to rescue her before the monster made her cum. She didn’t want to experience such an embarrassing fate. It would have been better to be eaten outright. At least there would have been some dignity in that. Not much, but certainly more than being forced to cum over the creature’s probing tongue.

But the others were long gone, already certain that Taki was dead. The woman shuddered in the Doomgape’s grip, breath quickening as her pleasure edged dangerously close to orgasm. She kept fighting right until the end. The tidal wave of ecstasy that finally ripped through her was all the more powerful because of how badly she’d fought to resist it. Taki’s mouth gaped open, howling out her release as her cunt gushed fluids across the squirming tongue. Her muscles snapped tense, breasts jiggling from the rapid thudding of her heart. Her buttocks tightened, hips jerking against the tongue fucking her snatch with animalistic motions. When the orgasm finally passed, Taki’s head drooped forward, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. She’d been beaten into a humiliating defeat, left feeling filthy and hopeless.

Taki released a weak groan as the tongue slithered free of her quivering cunt. She was still recovering from the powerful release when the hands holding her flung her backwards, into the Doomgape’s waiting mouth. She gasped, sucking in enough air to scream, but her pleasure-dulled mind reacted too slowly to release the shriek. The massive mouth snapped shut around her, teeth tearing through her soft meat and crunching through her bones. A couple of long teeth pushed through her brown hair and punched through her skull, impaling her brain before driving her pathetic face into a lower set of teeth, destroying her head completely. One outstretched arm – the same one that had been holding onto Supergirl’s hand – was severed and flung free of the gnashing teeth. Her breasts exploded under the force of the bite, spewing blood and fat onto the creature’s wildly wagging tongue. Her thick thighs were diced to gory ribbons, twitching toes sliding down the Doomgape’s gullet. Tangles of the woman’s steaming viscera became trapped between the chomping teeth, chewed into more manageable lengths before being slurped down like thick, bloody lengths of spaghetti. It took only three big bites to reduce Taki from a fully intact woman down to thoroughly masticated slop.

Swallowing down the bulk of Taki’s tasty body, the Doomgape turned its attention to the messy spatter of blood that had leaked out onto the floor. Its tongue extending, lapping through the wet pool. Finding her severed arm, it curled around the limb and tossed it into its mouth, swallowing it whole. Taki’s dead hand flopped as it sank down the Doomgape’s throat, offering a post-mortem wave to the sealed door and the survivors who’d abandoned her. With the last solid morsel of the woman consumed, the creature continued to lick away her blood from the tunnel floor, too busy enjoying the leftovers of its tasty meal to consider pursuing the rest of the women.


Being trapped on a space station with no discernible means of escape and almost as few avenues for communication with the outside world, Kaya didn’t have much in the way of keeping herself occupied. Still, she had no intention of simply sitting back and doing nothing while there were others out there who needed her. She had to assume that the camera feeds meant something. Someone – or something – had installed them throughout the Necropolis. It was possible they’d been part of some kind of top-secret Big Brother operation. Spying on the people of the city and transmitting all of the footage up to a remote – a very remote – location for analysis. The space station was small enough that it wouldn’t house more than a couple of people comfortably. And it all seemed too elaborate for what amounted to a bunch of webcam feeds. A direct connection between the cameras and the station seemed like a stretch. More likely, the cameras had been in place before whatever had happened, along with the station. Each of them had been meant for a separate purpose. Then whatever had happened in the city had happened, and somehow the station had started receiving the transmissions.

How that had happened was just as much of a mystery as how she’d gotten into the station in the first place. Kaya doubted she’d ever find those answers. But the purpose of the video feeds seemed like a much more attainable goal. Some of the stuff looked like it was being pirated from typical sources, security cameras, dashboard cams, that sort of thing. But there were other feeds that just made no logical sense, either in their placement or what they were capturing. The feeds that showcased empty bedrooms or the inner rim of a toilet bowl she could figure out. Cam girls and perverts. But how the strength of the feeds had been amplified to reach her was more alarming. Then there were the feeds she didn’t even want to consider, but knew she needed to. The ones showing only what appeared to be glistening, writhing flesh. Kaya’s best guess was that – somehow – cameras had been installed inside some of the hellish creatures dwelling in the Necropolis. Her best guess for those feeds was that perhaps a cop with a bodycam had gotten eaten at some point, but she’d have expected the gear to break down, or at least provide less stable footage. No, the cameras appeared to have been mounted in place.

The why was much easier to figure out, and far more sickening. She’d made numerous attempts to get a monitor to switch cameras, each of them a failure. The hours she’d spent listening and watching as a terrified woman sloshed about in some unknown creature’s stomach juices, slowing digesting away, still gave Kaya nightmares. She’d have felt even worse for the woman if she’d known Rose Calvert had only narrowly escaped drowning on the Titanic before being plucked into the Necropolis and promptly gobbled up. But as awful as the experience had been, it gave Kaya one answer out of all the mysteries surrounding her. Total observation. That was the point of the feeds. What her part in the whole scheme of things was, she wasn’t entirely sure, but something out in the world wanted a clear view of any potential events that took place within the city. Why something with enough influence to install cameras inside of monsters required video footage to observe anything, she didn’t know.

Kaya was in the midst of trying to figure out if there was some kind of pattern the feeds ran through, some method to the overwhelming influx of data. So far, she’d only managed to give herself a headache, eyes burning from staring at the banks of monitors before her for hours. She was about ready to stretch her legs and grab something to eat, maybe even a nap, when she caught movement on one of the monitors. She recognized Alice and her team of scouts and felt a wave of relief that they were still alive. The group had even picked up a few new members since she’d last seen them. More concerning was the fact that they were still in the Necropolis. The bridge had seemed like a clear route out of the city. She’d missed the altercation that had taken place, tucked away on the small cot she had access to, fingering herself to some much-needed stress relief.

The temptation to radio in and see what had happened became a much more panicked necessity as one of the other monitors switched feeds, showing Kaya the top of a skyscraper. The massive winged beast roosting against one ledge of the rooftop was enough to send a shiver down the young woman’s spine. The fear worsened as she spotted the highway overpass she’d seen the scout group heading onto in the distance. If she squinted, she could even see Alice’s group on the highway. Which meant it wouldn’t be hard for the massive beast to spot them as well. She turned and rushed to the radio, snatching it up. “Alice,” she called into the radio. “It’s Kaya. You have to get off the highway. Repeat, you have to get off the highway. Like right fucking now. Come in!” She glanced back to the monitors, her dread worsening as she saw the monster was no longer on the rooftop.


The crackle of the radio and Kaya’s faint but frantic voice drew Alice’s attention. She pulled the radio into her hand and up to her face. “Kaya,” she responded. “Good to hear from you. I didn’t quite catch your last message. Please, repeat.”

“ – off the highway!” Kaya’s panicked voice cut in. “Big fucking monster!”

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Barely. Despite its size, the massive winged beast had managed to swoop in close to the group without causing much noise. Only a combination of Kaya’s warning and Renamon’s quick reflexes saved them. The fox-like woman pulled Fuuka to the ground, narrowly avoiding the sweeping claws of the creature. Alice ducked behind a defunct pickup truck, dropping her head low enough to avoid the sharp swipe of the creature’s long tail – tipped with a hooked blade made of off-white bone. The monster let loose with an annoyed shriek that left their ears ringing as it beat its heavy wings to rise back into the air. Its claws crunched into the side of a nearby building, latching on and twisting its head around to lock its beady eyes on the group, tail swishing with eager bloodlust.

The Wings of Death almost looked like a Hell Flyer, aside from its overwhelming size and deadly tail. Other details were wrong, the creature crafted into a unique mutation of the aerial monstrosities. Alice called to the others, ordering them to spread out and take cover. She had no idea if they even possessed enough firepower to take the thing down, but she doubted it. Getting off the highway was the best option, but even that seemed like a huge risk. There was enough open ground between them and potential safety that the beast would have no problem swooping in and picking them off one or two at a time. Even a single loss felt like too much to her, given everything they were up against. They needed a better plan.

“Homura,” she called to the young woman. “Now would be an awesome time to use that time stopping trick you’ve got.”

Homura shook her head. “It would drain my magic too much. Besides, that thing can fly. As far as I could take us, it would be able to catch up to us pretty quickly.”

“Perfect,” Alice groaned, turning her thoughts to something else. The options weren’t plentiful. Before she could come up with another idea, the Wings of Death launched itself from the side of the building. It didn’t come directly towards them, instead cutting through the air in a wide circle around them, swooping between buildings. Its large beak chattered before emitting a high-pitched cry that sounded far too much like mocking laughter. The scouts didn’t need orders to keep the monster in their line of sight, whatever weapons they possessed trained on it as it looped around them. The creature ducked behind a wide building, vanishing from their sight. The Wings of Death didn’t appear on the opposite side of the building, leaving the group to linger in their rising tension, waiting for the beast to reappear.

With another cackling cry, the Wings of Death crested the top of the skyscraper and swooped towards the group. Being spread out as they were, it was easier for them to avoid the attack. Hefting a rocket launcher onto her shoulder, Homura employed her time stop for a few brief moments to line up a shot on the creature, firing off a trio of rockets. The Wings of Death regained motion in time to react to the attack, sweeping its tail at the rockets and managing to knock one into a second. The third missile managed to get through, blowing a gaping wound open across the giant monster’s side and tearing through a portion of one of its wings. The creature let out a shriek of pain, dropping onto the highway. The overpass shook beneath the scouts but managed to stand up to the rough impact.

The Wings of Death – anger fueled by the pain of Homura’s attack – fixed its focus on the young woman. It lashed its tail towards her with a vicious swipe. Homura brought her shield up in time to block the strike, but the force of the impact knocked her into the air. The arc of her temporary flight carried her over the edge of the overpass. The ground came up fast, her back slamming into the windshield of a car down below with a meaty crunch. With one threat dealt with, the Wings of Death tried to shift its attention to the others, finding the shots of their various weapons only mild irritants. The problem was that there were too many targets to choose from. On the ground, they were faster than it was. The Wings of Death might’ve been a hulking beast, but it wasn’t entirely stupid. Engaging with the scouts directly was a mistake. It needed to find a means of separating them. Turning away from the group, its claws dug into the cement, starting to run away so it could work up the speed to take flight again and devise a better strategy of attack.

Inspired by Homura’s successful strike and the creature’s apparent retreat, Renamon charged after the creature. She ignored Alice’s call to stand down, determined to show the monster just what kind of a mistake it had made. Her bushy tail swished with fury as her powerful legs launched her into the air, managing to rise above the massive beast. She prepared to launch a devastating Diamond Storm into the Wings of Death’s backside, hopefully causing enough damage to keep the creature grounded long enough so that she and the others could finish it off. But the beast proved it was more aware of her presence than Renamon expected. The thing’s tail shot up, meeting her in the air and punching its way through her white-furred belly. The bone blade tore through her, erupting from her back as the air was driven from Renamon’s lungs. Her glowing blue eyes bulged from the shock, paws coming down to her bleeding belly. Her legs kicked about spastically, no longer controlled by her mind thanks to her severed spine. Her head was thrown back, body tugged along as the Wings of Death beat its leathery wings and returned to the air. Satisfied with the squirming catch impaled on its tail, the creature abandoned the rest of the scouts, eager to find someplace private to enjoy the morsel and heal from its wounds.

Still alive but suffering badly, Renamon was helpless as the Wings of Death carried her into the air. Wind rushed around her, roaring in her fluttering ears and ruffling her blood-stained fur. She lost sight of the others almost immediately. The vibration of the creature landing on a distant rooftop radiated through her body, drawing a scream of agony from her lips. The beast curled its tail around its body to get a good look at the prey it had snared. Bony fingers curled around Renamon’s busty figure, prying her off of the bloody bone-blade with painful slowness. The gaping gut wound left behind spewed blood and lacerated intestines. The fox-like woman whimpered as she watched the Wings of Death’s massive prick rise to attention before her. Her claws dug into the thing’s hand, lacking the strength to even lightly scratch the creature. The beast pulled her closer, pushing its way through the wound in her belly. Renamon screamed as the raw wound was stretched around the creature’s girth. The bloody cock emerged from her torn open backside, leaving her once more impaled. Her dead legs dangled and swayed beneath her as the Wings of Death fucked its way through her body, dragging her back and forth along its erection with growing speed.

Renamon gagged and hacked up a thick wad of blood onto her heaving breasts. Her tail gave off spastic twitches, just as paralyzed as her legs. Dizziness washed over her as her suffering continued, each stroke fucking her closer to death. She let out an agonized wail as the creature pulled its prick back through her, nearly leaving her body. Instead of withdrawing, the Wings of Death adjusted the angle of its penetration, ramming forward and fucking it oversized cock up into Renamon’s chest cavity. Her head jerked from side to side, wide eyes filled with animalistic terror as she puked up heavier spurts of chunky blood. Her gore-soaked tits jumped and bounced as the Wings of Death raped her torso, pulverizing her organs into useless clumps of flattened tissue. Gripping her body tight enough to break her arms and crush her ribs, the Wings of Death slammed Renamon’s body down onto its throbbing member. Her neck bulged as the thick cockhead wedged its way upwards. Her jaw dislocated to allow the dick to slide fully through her body, dying eyes filled with horror as she watched the geyser of creamy spunk erupted into the air above her. The jizz cascaded back over her twitching body, soaking her fear and drenching her face.

With its lust satiated, the Wings of Death curled an arm around its pulsing member to grab hold of Renamon’s lower half. With the wound in her gut fucked wide open, it was easy enough to tear the dead Digimon in half. It left her upper half, cock-spitted from torso to mouth, where it was, proud of the trophy it had claimed. Her lower half was shoved into the creature’s mouth, sharp beak snapping into her succulent meat. Renamon’s flopping legs and tail slowly descended down the creature’s gullet as the Wings of Death tilted its head back, allowing gravity to assist in the consumption of its meal. It gulped down her legs, leaving only the tip of her tail protruding from its beak for a few moments longer before even that was slurped down.


In the wake of the Wings of Death, Alice and the others were left stunned at how fast things had gone so wrong. Alice did her best to push down the loss, focusing on regrouping. The first order of business was getting off the highway. It was comically easy without the huge monster tormenting them. They found Homura, bruised but otherwise okay. Renamon hadn’t been a part of their group for long, but it was the first real loss the core group had suffered since Kaiden. Being the newest addition to the team, Domino had an easier time coping with the loss. The others, not so much. The burden of being in charge placed a fair amount of guilt on Alice’s shoulders. She tried to assure herself that they’d done the best they could in a bad situation. She’d even tried to tell Renamon to hold back. Even that knowledge wasn’t enough to brighten her spirits any. Seeing a similar degree of guilt plastered across Fuuka’s face only made it worse. She could already imagine what the woman was going to say. That her abilities should have warned them sooner. And while it was alarming that such a massive threat had managed to evade her abilities, it just wasn’t what they needed to be focusing on.

Homura was the first to speak up. “We can’t stay here,” she insisted. “We have to leave before that thing comes back. Or something else shows up.”

It wasn’t a bad suggestion, but the fact that it had been Homura who made it lit the powder keg of Izumi’s anger. “One of our team just died, you callous bitch,” she yelled. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so goddamn stingy with your abilities, she’d still be here.”

Izumi’s words expressed the thoughts of several others in the group, but they weren’t eager to join in on the argument. Not even Kay-Em dared to say anything to brighten the mood.

The anger left Homura unaffected. Her face remained passive, determined. “We still need to get moving.” Maybe as a means of leading by example, she turned away from Izumi, starting down the road.

The lack of reaction only further infuriated Izumi. “I can’t believe you,” she yelled after the young woman. “What even are you? Do you not have a heart? Are you even human?”

Her last comment managed to get Homura to pause. Her face darkened as she let out a disgruntled, “Hmph.” She turned her head, looking back at Izumi from over her shoulder. “Someone else asked me that once. I’ll give you the same answer.” Her face firmed, eyes narrowing. “No. Of course, I’m not.”



The path from the mall to the hospital was a relatively straightforward route and, thanks to the scouting party, confirmed to be mostly absent of any lurking threats. Still, the group of survivors was large and slow moving. Keeping the women in too tight of a group only led to a constant cycle of tripping and stepping on toes. Too spread out and they’d be easy to pick off. Finding an appropriate middle ground took time they didn’t have, but it was a necessary delay to maintain an overall level of security. The better fighters made up a kind of safety loop around those too weak or wounded to do much good in a fight. Capable but not as skilled combatants dotted their way through the group, ensuring that no one was left helpless. It was a stressful, rickety operation, but – for the most part – it was working.

The scouted route took the group past an apartment complex and then through a narrow gap between two buildings, each of which had been under construction at the time of the Necropolis’s rebirth. Scaffolding took up the entirety of the sidewalks on either side of the road, leaving only a small length of road to travel down. It was more cramped than Azula cared for, but she wasn’t about to turn back or tell everyone to stop while they found another more optimal path. The bulk of the group had reached the halfway point of the natural choke-point when the worst case scenario played out. The rear guard spotted the hulking figure of the zombified Great Dane. Scooby-Doo had been prowling around the apartment complex when the scent of such a large group of fresh meat had lured him out. His bloodshot eyes fixed on the surplus of tasty Scooby Snacks before him, licking his slobbering chops before lifting his head to the sky and letting out an echoing howl.

The howl was loud enough that even the women at the front of the group had no trouble hearing it. The threat of a single undead mutt wasn’t great, but the howl hadn’t even concluded before it drew out several Hell Hounds. The beasts charged down the road, focusing their trajectories on the sidewalk as opposed to the women crowding the street. Their beefy bulks had no trouble smashing through the rickety scaffolding, knocking it loose from the sides of the buildings and sending it toppling over into the street. Azula and the others in charge of guiding the group didn’t need to call out orders to get the bulk of the group moving. The women charged down the road, desperate to rush clear of the trap they’d been lured into. Being at the front of the group, Azula and Baroness had little trouble getting out of the way of the falling debris. Others weren’t so lucky.

Bashira Kincaid had been near the center of the group when the panic erupted. She holstered her sidearm and managed to maintain her composure, hurrying ahead but focusing more and pushing the others ahead of her. Her adherence to following her orders to keep the others safe proved costly. With so many rushing bodies still behind her, her slow pace made her more of a liability than a help. She tried to pick up speed as women knocked into her from behind, shoving her back and forth as they clawed their way forward, desperate to avoid the chunks of cement and twisted metal raining down on them. She lost her balance and dropped to the ground, grunting as Pippa Harris’s foot slammed down into her gut. The Angel Corps agent barely noticed Bashira as she fled. Trying to get back to her feet, Bashira only started to sit up before a length of rebar slammed into her shoulder, pinning her to the ground and drawing a scream of pain from her lips. Another piece of rebar punched through the meat of her thigh, followed by a third that somehow managed to nail her in the exact spot Pippa’s foot had. The air was knocked from her lungs, leaving her gasping in agony, wide eyes filled with agonized terror for the half-second it took the final length of rebar to slam into her right cheek, ripping through her skull and skewering her brain. As if to had insult to injury, several massive chunks of cement dropped over the woman’s corpse, flattening her body into a gooey paste.

A chunk of cement very nearly caved in the top of Beatrix Kiddo’s skull, but Jean Grey was quick to snare the chunk in her telekinetic grip, holding back the deadly debris long enough for the blonde to get clear. Taliyah saved Laura Matsuda from a similar fate, pulling up a chunk of rocky earth from beneath the road to shield the woman as she ran. The bulk of the group managed to get to the far end of the road, avoiding the falling rubble with only minimal injuries. With the bullet wound in her leg and being towards the back of the group, Lucy Heartfilia had wavered between attempting to run forward or pull back and wait for the destruction to conclude. Her hesitance nearly ended with her being brained by a falling paint can. Kim Possible snatched hold of her and yanked her to the side just in time to avoid the impact, but the act of heroism left both of them on the wrong side of the pile of rubble now thoroughly blocking the road.

The Hell Hounds responsible for bringing the scaffolding down found themselves amidst the larger group of survivors. Their attempted attack on the group was met with a surprisingly effective defense, spurred by the fresh panic of having nearly been killed. Despite the hungry lust the beasts felt, the group managed to drive the creatures away after taking out a few of their pack. For perhaps all too brief a time, it appeared as if they were reasonably safe. Azula was quick to order them to keep moving, knowing they were still to vulnerable and not wanting to imagine the slaughter that would unfold if they were surrounded by a larger group of monsters. They could take the time to tally their losses later.

Baroness did not disagree with Azula’s orders, but she was already thinking of a way to color the event to her favor. Why had Azula been at the front of the group, with all of the strongest fighters around her? Why had she been so quick to leave behind potential survivors trapped in the rubble? There was no need to point out that she’d also been at the front and had gone along with Azula’s orders. She wasn’t in charge. Yet. It was just some more damning evidence against their current leader for her to use to sway any potential recruits. For the moment, she kept moving, glad to see that none of her cohorts had perished in the assault.


Lucy and Kim had managed to avoid the rain of rubble, but they were far from safe. Cut off from the rest of the group, they lacked the numbers or the resources to properly defend themselves against the Hell Hounds they faced. Sensing her injury and determining she was the weaker of the two, the Hounds went for Lucy first. Kim was too busy trying to avoid the beasts herself to offer any further assistance to the woman. Lucy screamed as a trio of Hounds converged on her, knocking her to the ground with ease. Her screams heightened as vicious fangs tore into her wounded leg, chewing away a thick chunk of bloody meat. One of the beasts dropped onto her flailing form, tearing away her top to free her tits. The Hound’s large back paws mashed down against Lucy’s crotch, claws digging in and tearing through the fabric covering her cunt. The woman squealed as the throbbing length of canine cock skewered her, desperately trying to roll out from under the creature as he rammed into her.

Lucy brought an arm up only to have the third Hound chomp down around the limb. She shrieked as her flesh tore and her bones snapped. With a series of hard tugs, the beast managed to tear her arm free. Hot blood gushed from the stump, leaking out into the gutter. Thick lines of slobber drizzled across her terrified face as the beast above her continued to hump away, cock-knot swelling within her aching snatch. The beast raping her lowered his head to start chewing away at her succulent tit-flesh. The woman’s screams radiated through the air as she was fucked and torn apart, finally shifting into wet gurgles as the beast who’d ripped her arm off returned to bite through her throat. The Hound on top of Lucy’s shuddering body let out a triumphant bark as he sprayed his creamy spunk into her spasming pussy. He pried his member free of the dying woman’s violated hole and chewed through her belly, feasting on her innards while the other two Hounds focused on ripping through the rest of her limbs and head.

The rest of the Hell Hounds – five in total – had a fair bit of fun herding Kim around. The redhead did her best to avoid the monsters, but they were faster than she was. Every move she made, they cut her off promptly. When playing with her grew tiresome, the beasts rushed in on her. She let out a cry as she was knocked to the ground, wincing as their teeth sunk into her flesh. They took hold of her arms and legs, stretching her squirming form out between them and lifting her from the ground. The fifth Hell Hound closed in on her, lowering his snout between her stretched thighs to give her crotch a thorough sniffing. Carefully, the beast pinched the fabric of her pants between his fangs and jerked back, tearing a patch away from her loins. Kim groaned and squirmed, but the harder she fought, the harder the beasts bit into her. She could do nothing as the crotch of her panties was torn away, leaving her vulnerable to the same sort of degrading violation Lucy had suffered during her gruesome demise.

The fifth Hound was just starting to mount Kim when Scooby Doo intervened. He knocked the beast aside, letting out a threatening growl. After the death of the Alpha Hell Hound, a new leader of the pack was needed. Unholy nature had chosen Scooby. His already intimidating size had been amplified as he made the transition from random undead canine to Alpha. The dissuaded Hell Hound wasn’t pleased, but he accepted the hierarchy ingrained into his instincts and backed off. Scooby maintained the low growl as his eyes shifted across the four remaining Hounds. The beasts slowly released Kim’s limbs and backed off, heading over to where the rest of the pack was enjoying Lucy’s remains to see if they could snag a piece of her to chew on.

Even though he was the biggest of the beasts and seemed to command a level of intelligence and power that the others lacked, Kim liked her odds a whole lot better. Shaking off the pain of the bites she’d endured, she sat up and tried to shove the big dog away. Scooby turned on her, snapping his powerful jaws closed around her hand and tearing free three of the young woman’s fingers. Kim dropped back to the ground, howling as she clutched her bloody hand to her chest. She stared at the ragged stumps where her fingers had been a moment ago, helpless as Scooby took over where the previous Hound had left off. His massive prick angled towards Kim’s exposed pussy, pressing into her painfully. The redhead’s screams choked off as the throbbing slab of canine cock rammed into her young body, knocking the air out of her.

Plunging into the depths of Kim’s clenching pussy, Scooby enjoyed fucking her almost as much as he had Velma. His cock had grown along with the rest of him, allowing him to easily reach the redhead’s cervix. With the tenacity of a wild beast, he hammered his way through the miniscule opening. Kim writhed beneath him, face filled with horrified shock as her uterus became stuffed with dog-dick. The inner walls of her cunt stretched painfully as Scooby humped away between her kicking legs, his cock becoming trapped within her body thanks to the swelling of his knot. Lapping up the salty tears from the young woman’s cheeks stirred the canine’s hunger. The strokes of his thrusts didn’t slow as he buried his snout against Kim’s chest, chewing his way through her black shirt before ripping through the skin of her cleavage.

Kim could only lie there and suffer as Scooby viciously ripped into her. She wailed as her breastbone snapped, allowing the beast to wedge his snout deeper into her chest. The once pale flesh of her inner breasts was painted with her blood. It soaked through her torn shirt and splashed against the hollow of her throat. Her screams became desperate chokes as Scooby managed to pierce one of her lungs, tugging the spongy organ free from the hole in her chest. She watched the precious organ become little more than an edible chew toy for the hound as she struggled to keep breathing with only one lung. The rough pumps of Scooby’s dick hammering against the roof of her uterus kept her conscious, a painful and humiliating reminder of what was being done to her. Swallowing down the girl’s chewed up lung, Scooby went digging for another treat. His bloody fangs closed around Kim’s weakly beating heart. Getting a firm hold on the tough organ, he yanked his head back, ripping it free from her gory chest. Kim stared in sickened awe, watching as Scooby held her still beating heart between his teeth, seemingly showing off what he’d done. The tension ran out of her body, as did the life. She slumped against the road, body rocking steadily as Scooby pumped away into her corpse. His jaw stretched open before snapping down, crushing the redhead’s heart between his fangs. A spurt of blood squirted free from a torn artery at just the right angle and with just enough force to cause the ruined organ to release a fleshy squeak.


While Scooby and his gang had their fun with Lucy and Kim, the rest of the group managed to escape, making it to the hospital. The panic had dwindled down to a simmering uneasiness. None of the women were keen on the prospect of entering the hospital. The scouts hadn’t cleared it and there was no telling what dangers lurked inside.

Zoey, in particular, seemed to be some kind of authority on the subject, declaring loudly, “I’ve seen this movie before. You never go into the creepy hospital. I don’t give a fuck how hot the zombie nurse looks.”

The surge of adrenaline they’d all gone through had left everyone dangerously fatigued, though. Some form of rest was required if they wanted to remain alert against the threats of the Necropolis. And while looting the mall had afforded them enough food to make it to their destination, they’d not found much in the way of medical supplies. It was yet another choice laid on Azula’s shoulders. She could order the group to keep moving, to suck it up and ignore their exhaustion. Given the misgivings of the others, it would even be the popular decision, but perhaps not the wisest. Alternatively, she could ignore the fears and – in the case of Zoey – the straight up warning to avoid the hospital and head inside to regroup and gather supplies. Regardless of the decision she came to, Azula was certain of one thing. She needed to ask Baroness what the hell a ‘movie’ was.


The sewer hadn’t smelled particularly good to begin with, but the growing stench wafting down the tunnel provided a particularly nauseating form of distraction from the persistent horrors the shrinking group of survivors faced. Considering their recent dose of fresh air had come with a brand-new monster and the loss of Taki, it was far easier for the group to stomach the stench. Jack could hear some murmuring about what might be causing the smell. Yet another new monster. A particularly thick patch of rotting zombies. Maybe the sewer itself had come alive and would soon be ripping them to pieces.

With an annoyed sigh, Jack glared back at her remaining group. “It’s a sewer,” she growled. “Of course, it smells like shit. Until we see something or hear something that says otherwise, that’s all it is. Now quit scaring each other and stay alert.” The harsher words felt a lot more comfortable in her mouth than the pep talk she’d given. She was happy to see it worked about as well at getting everyone to stay focused on their primary task.

Jack did feel some relief when they discovered the source of the stench. The cavernous water processing room confirmed her suspicions. The reservoir of tainted water sloshed its way from one end of the reservoir to the other, like a man-made water rapids filled with piss and shit and who knew what else. A series of catwalks stretched out across the reservoir, several feet higher than the waterline. The metal looked rusted and old, but it hadn’t collapsed. Jack could see a path that would lead them past the reservoir, continuing in the direction they were headed. The flow of the water was strong enough that it seemed unlikely that anything could be lurking within it, waiting to jump out and kill them. Mostly, Jack was just thankful that they weren’t going to have to try to swim through the stuff.

Taking point, Jack took the first cautious step out onto the rusted catwalk. The low creak of strained steel filled the air. She froze, not even daring to breathe, as the structure adjusted to taking the weight of a human being for the first time in what looked like years. The creak faded away and nothing snapped loose or collapsed. Looking back, she could see the reservation in the others’ eyes. Guess they need a little more of that tough love, she thought. “We can’t go back,” she reminded them. “And we’re not climbing down to swim through that shit. So that leaves us two options. Wait here for something to find us and rape us to death, or keep going. I know which of those two I like better.” She let her words sink in for a few moments before adding just a bit of a softer touch. “Look, everybody take it slow. Its old and pissed off, but that just means its built really well. It’ll hold up.” She turned away before pausing and looking back. “And for fuck’s sake, no one start doing any jumping jacks.”

With the plan established and her orders given, Jack stepped further down the catwalk. If anyone in the group chose not to follow her, they were on their own. She couldn’t risk wasting time talking someone across the path. If being a good leader meant holding some coward’s hand to keep them alive, Jack was alright with never being a good leader. Even with that thought fresh in her mind, she glanced back and breathed a soft sigh of relief seeing that Ellie, Tron, and Quorra had found enough bravery to follow her. Their tech skills were too valuable to lose. By the look of it, everyone was along for the ride. Oh, she’s nothing but a troublemaker, she thought, mimicking all the shit talkers she’d encountered over her life. She’ll never amount to anything. Look at me now, cocksuckers.

Jack’s bolstered confidence wasn’t enough to distract her from the sudden buzzing drone that filled the air. It was possible the sound had been there the whole time, but it was certainly getting louder, overtaking the splashing rush of the water below them. Dread crept its way down her spine and into her gut. “Eyes up,” she called to the others. “Weapons ready. Sounds like we might be getting company.”

“Should we go back?” Kara asked. “Wait for whatever it is to show up?” Her limited powers paired with the hammering knowledge that she easily could have suffered Taki’s fate had dealt a solid blow to her confidence. Her good nature kept the bulk of her concern fixed on the others, but she had little desire to rush into anything.

“No,” Jack snapped quickly, eager to cut off any notion that might split up the group. “We’re already halfway to the other side. Pushing on makes just as much sense as turning back. More sense. Everybody stay frosty.” It was good advice. But then Jack spotted what was making the buzzing sound. And all of the good advice in the world couldn’t hold back the primal fear that shot through her.

The hard life she’d led had made her stronger in a lot of ways. But everyone had a weakness. Drifting through the slums and locked up in prisons, there’d been one constant nightmare that had followed her. Cockroaches. The way they scurried across the floor and up over the walls. The way the bigger ones took flight with no apparent fear of anyone or anything they shot towards. She had far too many memories of waking up to the insects crawling on her. Even killing the things did not bring her the usual satisfaction she felt when she vanquished a weaker foe. The sound and feel of their bodies crunching and popping beneath her boot or – half-asleep and less than half-clothed – within her clenched fist sickened her. She’d never have admitted it to anyone, but the borderline phobia was the primary reason behind her nearly nude state of attire. She’d had far too many experiences of roaches darting up the arm of her shirt or up her pants leg. Better to keep the bulk of her flesh bared to give them even fewer hiding spots.

Now she found her eyes locked onto a cockroach far larger than any she’d seen before. As if I needed any more reasons as to why there is no God, she thought, frozen in place. Her hands grew sweaty around the grip of her shotgun. She managed to shift her gaze, but only to fix on a second roach. Now that she’d spotted one, she couldn’t help picking out another and another… and another. They were swarming across the ceiling, creeping down the walls. They showed no signs of attacking. They were just doing what roaches did. But their mere presence was enough to stir Jack to action. She wished she had a flamethrower to torch the whole hive of them into ashes – to hell with the level of methane most likely surrounding them. But the shotgun would do just fine.

Lifting her weapon and taking aim at a particularly thick cluster of the insects, Jack’s finger slid around the trigger, ready to face her fears with buckshot. Oh fuck, she thought, bile rising up her throat. Are those two actually fucking? She fired, blowing the offending pair of roaches into chunks of exoskeleton and pale goo. Pumping the shotgun, she adjusted her aim and fired again, determined to exterminate as many of the things as she could before they inevitably darted into the darkness.

The Colony of oversized roaches were not too dissimilar from regular roaches. That’s all they had been when the Necropolis had been born. Feeding on the corrupted flesh of zombies had given them one hell of a growth spurt, but beyond that, they’d not changed much. The one, very important, exception came in their inclination towards aggression. By and large, they were content to ignore anything they could not easily feed from. The group of survivors passing through the area beneath them were too lively and numerous to make decent meals. If they’d been normal roaches, they would have scattered at the very start of Jack’s unprovoked attack. But their increased size afforded them the physical strength to respond to threats in a more direct manner. The ceiling and upper walls of the room came to life as hundreds of giant roaches took flight. More than half of the cloud quickly peeled away, composed of females weighed down by gestating egg sacs. They scurried into open tunnels, instinct forcing them to keep their offspring safe. Dozens of males remained, grouping together to defend against their attackers.

Jack’s unexpected attack on the roaches had made the rest of the group jump. The groan of protest from the catwalk became a minimal concern as the roaches swooped towards them. Oversized legs hardened and as sharp as talons swiped at the women as they scrambled to get their own weapons ready. Kara swatted and punched at the insects that flew too close to the group. The blinding light of Quorra’s disc cut through the air, dicing its way through the hardened carapaces. Joy stayed close to Kara, swinging her frying pan from side to side, seemingly just as bothered by the giant roaches as Jack. Persistent gunfire caused the catwalk to rumble beneath their feet. It was enough to cut through Jack’s instinctive fear. “Keep moving!” she called to the others. “This catwalk’s not gonna stay up forever!”

With the constant assault of the roaches flying overhead, the group’s progress across the catwalk was slow and stressful. But despite their numbers and their outrage, the insects weren’t difficult to kill. The problem was that for every shredded carcass that plopped into the sloshing waters below, it felt like two or three more of the creatures squirmed free from one of the open tunnels lining the walls to join the fight. Jack could see that the catwalk led them into a narrower tunnel, one that would make it far easier for them to hold off the horde of creepy crawlies. They just had to get there.

Tron had been near the back of the group to begin with. Fighting off the roaches while shouldering the weight of her supply-stuffed pack caused her to fall even further behind. She shifted the aim of her pistol from one insect to the next, picking them off as they made their attack runs on the group. She gasped as the roach she was aiming at jerked in the air as she fired, dodging her shot and turning to face her. Its wings fluttered angrily as it swooped towards her, sharp legs poised to tear into her flesh. She nearly lost hold of her pack as she adjusted her aim, firing off the remainder of the rounds in her magazine at the attacking insect. Most of the shots missed, a couple managed to shred through the buzzing wings. Moments before the roach reached her, she managed to land a rather impressive headshot with her final bullet. Her sigh of relief became a cry of dismay as the insect’s twitching husk continued along its trajectory, smashing into her chest.

The force of the impact knocked Tron into the rusted railing behind her. With a sharp shriek, the metal tore free. Her feet stumbled back over the edge and into a freefall. The shock kept her scream trapped in her throat as she fell, flinging her spent pistol aside as her hands scrambled for something to cling to. By some miracle, she managed to snag hold of the catwalk’s ledge. The weight of the supply pack falling short against her shoulder very nearly pulled her free immediately. She clutched to the catwalk desperately, panting heavily as panic overwhelmed her. The others were too far ahead – and too distracted by the roaches – to offer any assistance. Flexing her muscles, Tron strained to pull herself back up. She managed to get her chin over the ledge, sweat drenching her terrified face.

Then the supply pack’s strap gave out. Tron let out a startled shriek, far from comforted by the sudden lack of weight working against her. Without it, she’d have a much easier time pulling herself back onto the catwalk. But the supplies were too precious to lose. With less than a second to decide, Tron acted on instinct, dropping one hand away from the ledge and reaching down to snag the tattered end of the pack’s strap. She cried out as the renewed weight nearly pulled her clenching hand free of the catwalk. A wave of vertigo washed over her as she made the mistake of looking down, past the pack to the sloshing waters below. Even if she fell, she knew the group needed the supplies. Flexing the arm holding the treacherous pack, Tron gathered every ounce of strength she had, ready to fling the pack up over her head and back onto the catwalk. Once that was done, she could focus on saving herself.

With only one shot at success – and, for that matter, survival – Tron put everything she had into the throw. She managed to get the hefty pack up past her shoulder before the rusted metal of the catwalk failed her again, bending abruptly downwards. Her strained fingers slipped free. Tron let loose with a blend of startled shriek and strained grunt as she followed through with the throw, gravity already tugging her small form downwards. Her wide eyes filled with tears as she watched the supply pack clip the edge of the twisted catwalk before bouncing back down, falling after her. The young woman’s body hit the rancid water, splashing into its depths. Her arms and legs kicked about wildly, trying to get back to the surface. She barely got her head above the water when the pack dropped onto her, smacking her across the face and forcing her back below the surface.

Even separated from the group, Tron was determined to save the supplies. She clung to the pack with one arm, doing her best to swim against the powerful current of the water. When that failed, she focused on keeping her head above the water, sucking in desperate gasps of fetid air. But she’d used so much of her energy already. And waterlogged as it was, the pack wasn’t getting any lighter. Tugged beneath the water, lungs aching with stale air, Tron realized that the pack was a lost cause. She let it go, determined to save herself at least. With both arms free, she swiped through the thick water, fighting to get back up. Her efforts were ruined as one of the pack’s smaller straps became looped around her ankle, the familiar weight of the supplies once again weighing her down. Tron kicked wildly, trying to dislodge the pack as her arms waved about above her head, fingers managing to breach the surface and feel the air her lungs so desperately needed.

Bubbles squeezed past her taut lips as the pounding in her chest and head worsened. Giving up on trying to kick the pack free, Tron brought her arms back and curled down, trying to pry the strap away from her ankle. The small trail of bubbles leaking out of her grew more forceful, obscuring her already limited sight. It felt like only seconds before her lungs were empty and the strap still clung tenaciously to her ankle. Her fingers fumbled ineffectually at the soaked fabric as her young body was tugged along in the water’s current. When she finally sucked down her first breath of sewage, her body gave up on trying to get free, going back to frantic struggles. Her wild efforts gradually faded away into heavy jerks as she drowned, body whisked away into the deeper depths of the sewer.

Tron’s body tumbled along listlessly through the tunnel system. The pack of supplies finally tore free from her ankle, allowing her to progress more swiftly through the water treatment section before being dumped into a shallower tunnel. Her waterlogged corpse bobbed to the surface, upturned face frozen in a rictus of agony. The weight of her body dragged her along one side of the small river of sewage, rubbing against the brick lining the sides of the drainage tunnel. Her momentum came to an end as a large, three-fingered green hand snared hold of the neck of her top. The young woman’s petite form was easily hauled free from the sewage and dropped onto the narrow path lining the tunnel. Scooping her soggy, stinking body into his arms, the figure slung Tron over his shoulder and carried her into the darkness.


In the chaos of the roach attack, Tron’s fall into the sewage had amazingly gone unnoticed until the group got past the catwalk and into the next area. Losing people was nothing new. It was a constant occurrence in the Necropolis. But knowing that if Tron wasn’t dead, she’d likely be dead soon enough cut into the conscience that Jack did her best to ignore. The roaches weren’t attacking, she thought. If I’d kept my shit together, we might’ve been able to walk right past them. She knew she couldn’t afford to start second-guessing herself, but she found it impossible not to. Oh, throw out a good pep talk or two, put on a brave face for everyone, be the badass bitch you’ve pretended to be all your life. You can be a leader. Yea fucking right.

Unsurprisingly, Joy wasn’t much help. “Well, that’s just great,” she whined. “What the fuck are we supposed to do now? Tron had all our supplies.”

“That’s hardly what we should be upset about,” Kara shot back. “A woman died.”

“And maybe if our Too Edgy for Life Leader hadn’t gone on a shooting spree, she might still be alive,” Joy persisted. “I don’t know what y’all were thinking letting her call the shots.”

Jack wanted to say something. She certainly had more than a few valid and damning comebacks for Joy. But the nasty voice in the back of her head was too busy agreeing with the woman.

“Shut up.”

The firm voice was enough to draw everyone’s attention, their eyes turning to Samus.

“Let’s all be very honest with ourselves right now,” she continued. “Jack’s in charge because, quite frankly, she’s the only one of us who had the balls to do the job. We don’t get to start coming down on her because of a mistake. The way I see it, she saw a threat, before any of us did. And she did what she had to. If she hadn’t gotten the drop on those things, who knows how many of us might not be standing here right now. We lost our supplies. That’s sad. We lost Tron. That’s sadder. But we can’t do anything to change that.” She turned her focus to Jack, showing no signs of distrust. “So where to next, boss?”

Samus’s words seemed to cut through the waning confidence. Jack appreciated them maybe more than the others. She gave a small nod of thanks to the blonde, doing her best to shrug aside her guilt. “We keep moving. Without the supplies, we’ve got even more of a reason to stay on the move. Once we get out the other side of this shit show, I plan on buying more than a few rounds of drinks in memory of everyone we’ve lost. But for now, we press on.”

With no better ideas and no one willing to directly challenge Jack for leadership, the group got moving again. They reached another notable location shortly. The tunnel they were following opened up into a cavernous area. The sound of rushing water greeted them. Looking over the edge, they saw a waterfall of sewage draining out over the side and into a stream down below, likely the same stream that they’d passed over previously. Jack was just thankful no one – Joy – mentioned the fact that Tron’s body was likely somewhere down in all the muck. A lift elevator was mounted off to the side, a clear way down. It was big enough to fit the whole group inside and it appeared to be operational. But the obvious answer was not without risk.

“Having all of us trapped in a cramped box doesn’t sound particularly fun,” Samus pointed out. “That thing looks like it’s gonna make a lot of noise. And I doubt it’s very fast.”

“There’s a ladder,” Ellie called out, pointing. The ladder was narrow, running alongside the lift’s scaffolding. “Probably for maintenance on the lift, or if it broke down.”

“It’s a pretty long way to go,” Quorra commented, looking down the waterfall. “Doesn’t seem like the most defensible place to be if something shows up while we’re climbing down.”

Two shitty choices, Jack thought. What else is new? She looked at her group, unable to keep from thinking about how much smaller it had become since the trek through the sewer had begun. It seemed likely it would be even smaller by the time they reached their destination – if they reached their destination. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll be the next one to get taken out and then I won’t have to worry about this shit anymore.


Medical supplies were a precious commodity, but in the end, Azula was forced to accept that they would do the group little good if their moral continued to slip away. Against her better judgement, she sided with the popular choice and decided to leave the hospital behind, unexplored. Being out on the streets was a stressful necessity, made even worse in the wake of the Hell Hound assault. She had no intention of opening up their primary course of action to debate. There was nowhere to go back to and staying still would do them no favors. The fate of the Bunker had made that perfectly clear to even the most pessimistic of the survivors. Although she’d allowed herself to be swayed by the group’s fears once, Azula vowed to not let it become a common thing. She was in charge, and she would do what needed to be done to get as many of the group to the airport as she could. She had little interest in popularity contests.

The only positive Azula took from the sudden thudding vibrations of heavy footsteps rolling across the asphalt was that it gave her plenty of time to prepare for whatever fresh hell was coming their way. A trio of Zombie Factories lumbered their way into a side street, eyes fixed on the crowd of potential prey as they trudged forward. There were two males and a female. Bloated tits leaking thick globs of tainted milk over a bulbous, ever-pregnant belly and two swaying pricks the size of thick tree-trunks. The cocks stirred at the sight of so many alluring females, but it was a sick joke to think that they’d be able to penetrate any of them without absolutely destroying the body of their victim. Not that it would stop the male Zombie Factories from trying their best to get some sexual relief.

Baroness was quick to direct a three-woman unit to handle the threat, making sure to point out that they only needed to distract the beasts long enough for the others to get away. Hope Van Dyne, Fio Germi, and Jeanette Vasquez broke away from the rest of the crowd, hurrying into the side street to do their duty. Azula took charge of the others, ushering them to hurry on ahead. If there were other threats lying in wait there, things would get much worse, but it was a risk that needed to be taken.

Fio and Vasquez had heavier weapons, maybe not enough stopping power to put the behemoth zombies down completely, but certainly strong enough to cause some damage. The pair broke apart to opposite sides of the street, lining up their shots and focusing their fire on the female Zombie Factory. The large caliber rounds managed to pierce the oversized female’s thick hide, but didn’t do much to dissuade her. Unclipping a frag grenade from her belt, Vasquez pulled the pin and chucked it towards the female. The explosion left the tops of her wide shins blackened and managed to knock her back a couple of steps. There was no doubting that the fuckers were tough, but the longer they took to get down the road meant the more time the rest of the group had to get away.

While Fio and Vasquez worked to be the biggest nuisances they could to the Zombie Factories, Hope got to work becoming a genuine threat to them. Her suit was more or less functional, but the Pym Particles worked sluggishly within the Necropolis. The ability to shrink and grow with rapid flashes had become a much lengthier process. Whatever edge shrinking would give her in the fight was rendered nonexistent due to the elongated time it would take to reach her Wasp-like size. With the Zombie Factories primarily focused on Fio and Vasquez, Hope slid free the single expansion disc she’d come into the Necropolis with. She slapped it against her slender belly and activated it, feeling the tingle of its effect rushing through her body. Her body expanded and stretched, growing larger with agonizing slowness. But her partners did their job well, buying her the time she needed to match the Zombie Factories in terms of daunting stature. Looking out at the world with the perspective of a giant, Hope felt a different kind of power swelling within her.

“Hey, uglies,” she called out, her loud voice echoing down the street, drawing the attention of the Factories. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”

The street rumbled beneath her feet as she charged ahead, meeting the pair of males head on. She was panting by the time she reached them, amazed by how much exertion it took to move her supersized body. She pushed the ache in her muscles aside and focused on the fight, snapping one leg up in a slow arch that connected with one male’s swollen balls. She twisted to the side as she brought her leg down, curving a punch towards the second male and smashing her knuckles across his jaw. The first male stumbled back, clutching at his bruised testicles while the other stumbled to the side, slamming his shoulder into the front of a townhouse.

Vasquez stared slack-jawed at Hope’s giant form, trying to work out the logistics of how such a thing was even possible. Fio was less shocked. She’d seen her fair share of crazy shit even before becoming an unwilling tourist in the Necropolis. Her biggest takeaway from Hope’s increased size was the fact that she had no choice but to admit that the woman had a stunning ass. At Hope’s thirty-foot height and standing behind her, it was hard to notice much else. “Vasquez,” she called over to the shocked woman, maintaining her shots on the female Zombie Factory. “Target’s still up.”

“Right,” Vasquez replied, snapping out of her shock and returning to the fight. “Let’s rock!”

The pair were forced to get more mobile as the female drew near, swiping her hands down at them. The street was narrow and the female was huge, but there was still enough room for Fio and Vasquez to maneuver around her as they fired away into her expansive gut and into her heavy breasts.

Every punch Hope delivered sapped startling chunks of her stamina. She’d given up on kicking, too unfamiliar with her size to maintain her balance very well. The hits she took were worse, oversized nerve endings sending jolts of agony through her body. She was thankful for the suit’s impact dampeners, but even with them, each blow she sustained threatened to overwhelm her. Her instincts told her to shrink to avoid the strikes, but she knew that was not an option. On the contrary, it would only doom her. Pushing through the fatigue and the pain, Hope shoved one of the males back and focused her attention on the other. She ripped a fire escape ladder away from the wall of one building, using it as a makeshift club to smack the creature, knocking his head from one side to the next. She let the unorthodox weapon drop and pushed aside the revulsion she felt, snagging hold of the thing’s throbbing erection. Her giant fingers tightened and she let out a groan of disgust as she felt the flesh pulse within her grip, squirting out thick lines of jizz as she tugged the factory closer. Hope released the male Factory’s twitching prick and grabbed hold of his head, slamming it into the front of the building. The head popped in her hands from the impact, leaving her fingers sticky with chunks of brain and blood.

Hope’s head swam, dizziness washing over her as she fought to stay conscious. Her body couldn’t handle her giant size any longer. With one Zombie Factory dead and the others at least wounded, the group would have enough time to make their escape. Turning away, she switched off the expansion disc, feeling the tingle of its effects and the resulting relief of her body slowly shrinking back to a normal size. With her back to the remaining male Zombie Factory, she didn’t notice how fast he was able to shake off the pummeling she’d given him. She heard the thud of his feet and turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. Her eyes widened within her helmet, realizing her mistake but too tired to do anything about it.

The male Factory’s large hands closed around Hope’s shrinking waist, tackling her to the road. The impact knocked the air from her lungs as the weight of the creature smashed onto her back. The ground shuddered with the force of a minimal earthquake. Not enough to bring down any of the buildings on either side of the street but more than enough to distract Fio at a critical moment. Instead of dodging the female Factory’s clenching grip, she stumbled right into it. The fingers closed around her and tugged her into the air. Her legs kicked about as she tried to get her oversized rifle around to get a clear shot at the female. In her struggles, she wound up losing her grip on the weapon completely, watching with horror as it fell back to the ground below.

Disoriented and with her body still shrinking, Hope squirmed helplessly beneath the male Factory. He kept her pinned, working the head of his monstrous cock into the cleft of her ass. Fio hadn’t been the only one admiring it. Hope screamed as the creature tore through the back of her suit, fucking his way through the material and into her tight rear. She was still large enough that the penetration was only painfully humiliating instead of impossible, but with the Pym Particles continuing to work away at the slow task of reverting her to an average human size, that would not last for long. The Factory lifted himself up from the ground, dragging Hope’s skewered body along for the ride. Her oversized legs kicked out, smashing up chunks of asphalt and kicking a fire hydrant free from its bolts. A geyser of water erupted, showering down over her but providing no benefit to her situation. Her head tilted forward, watching in horror as her belly expanded and retracted at the same time, shrinking around the massive erection while her skin stretched taut.

The Zombie Factory fucked his way deeper into Hope’s diminishing form, pulverizing her guts and crushing her organs. Her vision blurred from the agony. Her throat bulged before she vomited up thick chunks of destroyed innards into the helmet. Her bones dislocated and shattered as her shrinking body became a skin-tight sheath around the creature’s pumping member. She very nearly made it back to her original size before the internal damage finally ended her life. The male’s hands closed around her devastated carcass, crushing her tits within her damaged suit as he jerked her remains back and forth along his length. With a pleased groan, the Zombie Factory came. Hope’s head popped off like a cork, riding the torrent of jizz shooting through her body. Her mangled legs, barely attached to the stretched lengths of bloody tissue that had been her crotch cradled the monster’s swollen balls – badly bruised from the kick she’d delivered at the start of the fight – before tearing free and flopping to the ruined street.

Arguably, Hope’s gruesome demise was even more shocking than her sudden size growth, but Vasquez was too busy worrying about the shit situation to notice much of what had happened to the woman. She focused all of her efforts on the female Factory. More specifically, trying to shoot Fio free from the thing’s clutches. Her machine gun wasn’t designed for accuracy, making it difficult – and downright risky – to try to shoot through the female’s wrist. Being the last fighter standing also meant she had the full focus of the female to contend with, dodging and ducking under the lashes of her free hand. Her weapon was hot in her hands, on the verge of burning her, but she was determined to save the woman. “C’mon, you ugly bitch,” she growled as she unloaded another flurry of shots into the female’s rotund belly. “Just fucking die!”

Vasquez had plenty of ammo. The big zombie bitch moved sluggishly enough to make dodging her easy, albeit stressfully exhausting. The male Factory was still rubbing Hope’s corpse up and down his cock. Even dead, she was proving to be a pretty good distraction. Fio was still alive, straining to pry the creature’s fingers away from her body. All she needed was a bit of time. The female had taken a lot of damage. Vasquez had to hope that she was close to death. Just a few more shots, a lucky bullet through something sensitive, anything to turn the tide and get Fio free. If she’d paid even a little attention to what had happened to Hope, she might’ve seen where the woman’s head had landed. Her foot came down on the thing, shifting her balance and tripping her onto the ground. She grunted as her machine gun came up, smacking hard against her chest, smoking barrel grazing across her cheek and searing her flesh.

Vasquez screamed and pulled the weapon down, tearing a patch of her cheek away in the process. Her eyes widened as she saw the giant female’s hand descending over her. “Fuck y – “ The marine’s body flattened with a greasy crunch, her machine gun becoming a part of her as it was driven through her breastbone. A spray of blood squirted from the edges of the female Factory’s hand. Pulling her hand back, what remained of Vasquez was revealed, a gory slop of crushed tissue, shattered bone, broken metal, and – tangled amidst the gruesome slop of her head – a tangled length of red bandana.

Fio’s hope faded as she watched Vasquez flattened into the world’s goriest pancake. “No, no, no,” she gasped as the female Factory lowered her to the deep crevasse of her gooey snatch. She retched as the stink of the female’s fluids filled her nostrils, too busy trying not to puke to let out a scream as she was fucked head-first into the Factory’s folds. Viscous vaginal fluids leaked across her squirming body, soaking into her clothes and smearing across her flesh. Forcing the wiggling young woman halfway into her sex, the female let her kicking legs dangle between her meaty thighs for a moment. Extending her middle finger, she brought it down to her crotch and rammed it up against Fio’s, fingering her the rest of the way into her clenching cunt. Her kicking boots vanished into the nightmare snatch with a wet slurp, the inner workings of her twisted reproductive system drawing her the rest of the way into her waiting womb.

Fio lost a good deal of her clothing on the way through the tight ring of the female Factory’s cervix. Nudity was the least of her concerns as she found herself floating within the sack of corrupted amniotic fluid. Clinging to the air she had left in her lungs, Fio swam upwards, hoping to find even some stale oxygen to suck down. When that failed, she turned around and planted her boots against the roof of the creature’s womb, kicking out and dropping back to the bottom. Her fingers clawed helplessly at the opening to the cervix, finding it far tighter now that she was trapped inside. Fio’s glasses slipped off, floating away from her. She ignored the loss, teeth clenched and lips sealed tight as she punched at the female Factory’s inner walls.

The female Factory let out a pleased growl, stroking her bulging belly and enjoying the squirms of her victim. Fio’s lively struggles spurred along the female’s persistent arousal, resulting in fresh spurts of cunt honey from her giant, rotting snatch. The movements faded away by the time the remaining male Factory came to her. His cock was still hard, Hope’s skin still stretched around his girth. The street was rocked with another small earthquake as the two giants dropped into an embrace, engaging in the third most disgusting form of monster copulation to take place in the Necropolis. The flesh-condom of Hope’s corpse pumped into the female’s quivering sex, easily plunging through her tight cervix to prod at Fio’s floating corpse.


Safely away from the Zombie Factories, Azula’s group was too relieved to have escaped facing the nightmare creatures to waste much time worrying about whether or not the trio of women would survive their mission and make it back to the group. After the run from the Hell Hounds and then the Factories, Azula could see the fatigue eating away at the group. They needed to rest. The large church looked as good a place as any to find sanctuary in. Azula had no interest in putting it to a vote. “Everyone inside,” she ordered. “We’ll secure the perimeter and create a blockade to keep the monsters out. I want everyone to get some rest. We’ll need as much energy as possible to make the final push to the airport.”


Soothing the rampaging horrors outside of the Bunker took a good deal of Psylocke’s mental focus. She’d very nearly wound up killed by a number of the creatures. She’d had to kill a few particularly resistant ones. Without the Child’s influence, the bulk of the creatures had no interest in following orders. Only the small part of essence she’d shared with her undead generals kept Psylocke from reverting to yet another drooling, horny corpse. But the lack of contact left her feeling cold and lonely. She didn’t know if the Child was dead or just cut off somehow. All she could do was continue to try to bring the chaos back under some degree of control.

Many of the deadlier creatures present at the Bunker attack had fled after the psychic disconnect. Most of the ones that had remained behind were dead. There were still plenty of zombies lingering behind, but they were far more interested in the scattered remains of the dead survivors than they were in following any orders. Yoko Littner’s body had been propped against a wall, rocking steadily as a zombie crouched in front of her and thrust through the hole in her chest. Jessica Albert’s corpse had been reduced to bloody chunks of meat, the source of an undead banquet. The greasy, undead flesh that had been Mara Jade had stumbled about aimlessly after her rebirthing process before scooping up Mikoto Misaka’s severed head, grinding her crotch against the young woman’s slack face. The two halves of Camilla’s corpse were getting equal attention from a handful of zombies as they rammed their rotting pricks into her tattered halves, thrusting against and into her organs. Beruka’s body lay spread-eagle across the street, a single zombie lover perched on top of her, humping rapidly into her dead snatch. Nero Claudius lay on top of Celes Chere, her bloody asshole stuffed full of undead cock while Celes drooled a steady stream of cum. Hera Syndulla’s head bobbed, waving her gruesome skinless visage about as she was forced to bounce on top of the zombie she squatted over, a second zombie crouching behind her and working his way up the woman’s rear. The Hell Hound responsible for her death had finished chewing away Arlene Sander’s head before scampering off, but the rest of the woman’s fit form remained largely intact, rolled onto its side while two zombies sandwiched her on either side while a third fucked her torn esophagus.

It was a delightfully disgusting orgy of the dead and undead. Psylocke’s inherit nature demanded she join in on the fun, but the higher calling imbued into her by the Child kept her from giving in to the desires. The problem was, without the Child’s mind dispensing orders and strategies, Psylocke’s reanimated brain struggled to formulate any kind of plan. With nothing to do but wait, she allowed herself a small degree of weakness, reaching down to rub at her wet slit as she watched and listened to the sexual depravity transpiring around her.


Rebecca Chambers did not have the pleasant distraction of waves of necro-sex to hold her attention. She’d still been in the midst of enjoying her new body when the Bunker had collapsed. A chunk of cement had smashed her left arm into flattened pulp. Tearing free from the ruined limb left her annoyed. Jade’s body had been an undeniable upgrade from her former vessel. Even with an arm missing, she still had a good deal more strength than her old body had possessed, but to have the form damaged so suddenly after acquiring it infuriated her. Her murky eyes fixed on Zelda’s body. It showed no signs of stirring, although it was possible the Cockworm within her might be capable of recovering from the damage Jade had inflicted on her. With no contact from the Child, Rebecca’s zombie mind grew selfish.

Crouching over Zelda, Rebecca shoved her remaining hand through the mostly dead zombie’s mouth, fingers clawing around until she found the weakly squirming length of the blonde’s Cockworm. Prying the thing free, she found the creature wounded and likely dying. She brought it up to her torn shoulder, mashing it against the raw flesh. The Cockworm slithered into Rebecca’s shoulder, latching on. A sudden jolt of ecstasy shot through Rebecca. She dropped onto her ass – firm and muscular now – and leaned back against the pile of rubble sealing her within the passage. She hooked a pair of fingers into her dripping sex, moaning with ravenous ecstasy as the Cockworm mass swelled and grew, replacing her missing arm. As she finished fingering herself to a satisfying climax, Rebecca lifted her new arm, examining it. It wasn’t Jade’s arm. And it wasn’t her old arm. With a growling chuckle, she realized it was Zelda’s. A fleeting memory from Rebecca’s long dead mind crept into her, reminding her that – in life – she’d been quite a fan of the tale of Frankenstein. Zombie Rebecca wondered if her old living self would have been amused to discover her ultimate fate was to become a style of the patchwork creature she’d admired so much.

Then she realized it hardly mattered and leaned over to chew away one of Zelda’s nipples.


The Child pulled the upper half of Satsuki’s body against the underside of her cock. The young woman’s head dangled awkwardly, mouth gaping open, blood and jizz leaking past her lips. Her soft breast-meat dragged across the sensitive member, forced to perform a post-mortem tit-fuck. Aside from a few crimson smears, nothing else remained of Satsuki’s body. None that could be seen, anyway. There were a few thick chunks of her still digesting away inside the Child’s gut, but even those bits would be broken down into a nutritious slop within the hour. The sealed off command center was coated in more of the Child’s spunk than it was blood. Trapped alone, cut off from her forces, she had only one thing to occupy her attention while she waited for her body to heal. She came with a bored sigh, soaking Satsuki’s dead face with a thick layer of seed before tossing the corpse aside.

The healing process was slow, but steady. Already, the claw that had been cut away had been regrown, although it was far less deadly now. Instead of vicious, sharp tips capable of eviscerating a foe with a single swipe, she now had what looked like a relatively normal human hand. The fingers felt strange as she curled and stretched them, but there was no denying that they would provide her much greater dexterity. The nerve endings – freshly grown – were much more sensitive, too. Reaching towards her mostly destroyed plaything, she closed the fingers around one soft mound of tit-flesh, appreciating the feel of it in a new way. Her new thumb idly flicked across Satsuki’s death stiffened nipple, her own perverse method of twiddling her thumbs.

The repairing of her brain was slower, painful. But it had been long enough that the Child decided it was time to attempt reaching out psychically to her minions. Her fangs ground against each other, eyes squeezed shut tight as she shrieked out. The attempt left her brain feeling as if it had been set ablaze, but amidst all of the pain, she felt something, another mind. She clung to it, struggled to recognize it.

Rebecca. The mind’s identity snapped into the Child’s head, followed closely by a mental image of what her undead general was doing. Annoyance crept into the Child. Stop eating your fellow general’s tits.

Elsewhere in the Bunker, Rebecca spat out a half-chewed mouthful of fat and skin and sat up from Zelda’s corpse, fully returned to the Child’s command. Then the connection cut out again. She blinked with confusion then leaned back to resume her meal.

The Child screamed, slamming her new fist into a broken terminal. The wake of pain that came with issuing the single, simple command nearly forced her to pass out. She took several minutes, panting heavily and leaning against the wall, before she dared to try again. Prepared for the pain this time made it a little easier to deal with. She reached out, this time finding another mind.

Psylocke. The Child’s face constricted with annoyance as she discovered what her remaining general was doing. Stop touching yourself.

Outside, Psylocke yanked her fingers free of her damp pussy, ecstatic to hear the voice of her commander. She winced as the psychic connection cut out, giving off a shockwave of energy. After a few moments of silence, she lifted her hand up, extending her tongue to get a taste of the stickiness on her fingers.

Stop it, the Child’s voice suddenly cut back in.

Psylocke let out a startled yelp and dropped her hand to her side.

Back in the command center, the Child paced with aggravated movements around the room. She was recovering, but she couldn’t hold her connection for much longer than a few seconds, barely long enough to issue simple commands. Each one sent a wave of pain rolling through her, but that lessened with each connection she made. Trapped, she informed Psylocke. Wounded but healing. She could sense Psylocke’s eagerness for orders. She’d rested long enough. She could begin to dig herself free and finish healing along the way. But that would take time. Every minute that passed was another minute the survivors had to get further away, or put together some form of defense. The Bunker assault had succeeded in flushing them out. Now they needed to be exterminated.

The Child pondered what order to send to Psylocke. Ordering Psylocke to collect the entirety of the monsters still available to her and give pursuit would certainly speed the survivors’ destruction along, but it would put the entirety of digging free on the Child’s shoulders. There was also Rebecca, still trapped within the Bunker. Digging her free would cost even more valuable time. Remaining within the destroyed Bunker while the survivors were killed off was not an option. She’d made a promise to Satsuki that she intended to deliver on. Alternatively, she could order Psylocke to take only the horde of zombies to torment the survivors, while the stronger creatures remained behind to help dig her and Rebecca free.


A tense silence permeated the scout group. Losing Renamon had been bad, but the spat afterwards had left everyone in a pretty sour mood. Alice let the tension linger. She didn’t have the time to hold a group therapy session and she trusted that – despite however her group felt about each other – they would continue to perform to the utmost ability when the time came. They could sort the shit out once the mission was finished and they were safely away from the Necropolis. Until then, they pushed on.

Homura covered the group’s rear. She wasn’t surprised that the others were eager to keep some distance from her. Izumi hated her. Who cared? The others trusted her a little less. Slightly more problematic, but ultimately just as meaningless. She had no interest in apologizing for who she was – what she was. If anything, her ability to disconnect from the emotional horrors dwelling within the Necropolis at every turn was a positive thing. It allowed her to stay focused. But even with that focus, making sure that the group was not surprised by an attack from behind, Homura found her mind wandering, thinking back to her arrival in the doomed city.

Abruptly appearing within an environment utterly unfamiliar to her hadn’t affected Homura nearly as strongly as it had many of the other survivors. She’d grown used to finding herself in surreal realities with little information to go on. A casual appraisal of her surroundings told her that this place was unlike any other she’d been to before. That was worth noting. Feeling prepared to handle whatever dangers this new reality had in store, Homura had begun to wander the streets, exploring and searching for anything that would give her answers or, better yet, a way out of the ill-tempered dimension. Even before she’d spotted her first monster, the place had felt wrong, like there was an unseen layer of filth permeating the air.

By random chance, Homura’s first encounter with another being in the Necropolis was not a zombie or some kind of monster, but another living woman. Flowing red hair that reached down to her shoulders with her bangs trimmed just above her eyebrows stood out most distinctly, but Homura was more caught off guard by what the woman wore. A long flowing cape, white across the back with a light purple interior, and what she could only describe as a functional yet formal dress with lightly armored boots that stretched up the majority of her slender legs. The woman looked better suited riding a horse in a fantasy kingdom than roaming around a deserted, half-destroyed modern city. With Homura’s distrust of strangers already kicking in, the woman’s bizarre wardrobe only strengthened her desire to keep her distance until she’d given the situation a thorough examination. It didn’t help that the clothing reminded her of Sayaka Miki, hands down her least favorite person in whatever reality she happened to be in. Her hand moved to her shield, intending to trigger her time stop ability to move in and check things out.

When the world didn’t become a freeze frame around her, Homura averted her eyes from the mystery woman to focus on her shield. She tried to activate the time stop again, but it still refused to work. The loss of the ability sent the first trickle of fear down the young woman’s spine since her arrival in the Necropolis. She pulled her magical vessel up, examining closely as she traced her fingers along it and gave it a few hard smacks. She tried to go through the process of manually triggering the time stop, but the mechanism refused to function, adding a good dose of annoyance to her lingering worry. As she continued her efforts, she forgot all about the mystery woman. And the fact that she was stood well within her line of sight.

Celica’s eyes lit up as she spotted Homura, overjoyed to find another living person. “Hey,” she called, starting her way over to the young woman. “Don’t worry. I’m not one of those things. I was pretty freaked out when I showed up here, too. My name’s Celica.”

“Homura,” she snapped back in response, still focusing on her shield. The woman seemed friendly enough. That was good. Probably. “I’m a little busy.”

Celica moved beside Homura, looking over the device she was fiddling with. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s broken,” Homora replied briskly.

“It’s…” Celica looked the thing over, frowning with confusion. “A shield?”

“Right,” Homura nodded.

Seeing no damage to the thing and struggling with how a shield could be broken if it was still capable of blocking an incoming attack, Celica had no idea what to do. “How is it broken?” she finally asked.

“Because it’s not working,” Homura growled.

Celica sighed, frustrated more by the young woman’s lack of sufficient answers than she was by the apparently broken shield. She looked up just in time to spot a trio of bulky Linebacker Zombies lumbering out of a nearby alley. “You’ll have to worry about that later,” she told the newcomer, drawing her short golden sword. “We’ve got company.”

Annoyed with pretty much everything in existence at the moment, Homura was probably just a little too relieved at the prospect of getting to fight something. She was relieved to find that her shield was still capable of conjuring forth whatever weaponry she desired, pulling free a fully loaded Uzi. With a pair of alluring targets in sight, the Linebackers had started a charge, rushing towards Homura and Celica. Leveling the machine gun, Homura peppered the hideous abominations with bullets while Celica conjured bursts of fire into her palm, flinging them at their attackers. Focusing their efforts on the lead Linebacker, the pair managed to send him tumbling into the street, a badly singed, bullet-riddled corpse. The remaining Linebackers took no notice of their companion’s death, surging ahead.

Celica could feel the resistance pressing back against her magical abilities, sapping her energy and resulting in weaker fireballs. She backed up as one of the Linebackers tracked in on her, realizing that her magic was not strong enough to bring him down on its own. Homura faced a similar problem as she realized the Uzi lacked the stopping power required to bring down the armored zombies effectively. She wasn’t worried. The Linebacker she faced as drawing nearer with each heavy step, but her instincts told her she had all the time required to correct her mistake. She remembered the state of her shield even as she attempted to stop time yet again, but by then it was already too late.

Homura dove to the side, narrowly avoiding the Linebacker’s outstretched arms. Celica’s attempt to stand her ground and face her attacker cost her dearly. She managed a couple swipes of her sword, opening up deep gashes across the Linebacker’s broad arms before the weapon was knocked free from her hands. The bulky zombie snatched her into his grip, crushing the air from her lungs as he pulled her off of her feet. Her legs kicked out, smashing into his shins and thighs, but the pain meant little to him now that he had his prize snared. Working an arm under her cape, his thick fingers curled around Celica’s buttocks and slipped beneath the bottom of her dress, tugging the crotch of her panties aside. Homura saw her new companion’s plight, but could do nothing about it, too focused on avoiding the Linebacker still doing his best to tackle and kill her.

Working the small battering ram of his cock between Celica’s thighs, the Linebacker holding her bucked up into her exposed cunt. Her pussy lips stretched around the mutant zombie’s girth, drawing a scream from her. His arms clenched tighter around her, choking off the scream as he plunged into the depths of her tight slit. The damned cock bored through her hymen without mercy, stealing Celica’s purity. Warm blood dribbled from her gaping snatch, rolling across the throbbing length of zombie prick not yet inside her. Her palms smacked against the creature’s broad, armored shoulders, straining to push free of him as he mercilessly raped his full length into her cramped cunt. Tears soaked her flushed cheeks, staring in horror at the thing’s face, certain that she could see a perverse grin forming there.

The Linebacker’s hips shift back and forth, sliding his rigid flesh through Celica’s blood-slickened sex. His head tilted back before slamming forward, headbutting the redhead’s nose flat against her face. Her wails took on a nasally wheeze, blood gushing from her broken nose. A second headbutt shattered Celica’s teeth and shredded her lips, utterly devastating her good looks. Her head swayed unsteadily, brain rattled in her skull from the concussive force of the blows. Hugging her shuddering body close, the Linebacker hammered into her with growing speed and slammed his head into hers again. One bloodstained eye bulged, half-ejected from its socket. Her jaw hung open, blood oozing from her torn lips and tooth-vacant gums. She gave off high-pitched shuddering wails, sounding like a dying animal. Her bulging eye was dead, nerves severed. Her other eye swiveled lazily, swollen down to a slit from the blackened flesh around it.

The Uzi in Homura’s hands clicked empty. She chucked the spent weapon aside and reached for her shield, ready for something new that would make a more effective means of defense. The Linebacker reached her before she could draw a new weapon free. She brought her shield up as the creature’s clenched fists slammed towards her head, managing to block the strike. The force of the blow sent her stumbling back, rolling onto her back. The Linebacker pursued her, ready to pulverize her into a gooey corpse. Homura worked to get another gun from her shield, silently cursing her inability to freeze time and handle the situation with the smooth grace she was used to. Her body tensed as the Linebacker brought his arms over his head, ready to smash her, certain that her luck had run out.

A perfectly aimed steel crossbow bolt pierced the Linebacker’s face, narrowly avoiding the thick bone-armor covering the majority of the thing’s head. The zombie snapped up, momentarily too shocked to realize how dead he was. He teetered for a few moments before flopping back to the ground. The Linebacker raping Celica’s mostly braindead body had dropped to the street to get better leverage into her. He was too engrossed with his prize to notice the pair of women approaching him, making it easy for Claire Redfield and Abigail Black to pump a few fatal shots into him. Celica lay beneath the creature, the urgent whistle of air passing her tattered lips the only obvious sign that she still clung to life. One look was all that was needed to determine there was little to be done for the woman. Abigail leveled her pistol at the redhead and fired a round through her fractured skull, putting an end to her suffering.

Emily Kaldwin slid a fresh bolt into her crossbow and rearmed it before helping Homura to her feet. After everything that had happened, Homura was far more willing to meet new people. Emily made the introductions and caught her up on what was happening, at least as much as they knew. Much to Homura’s annoyance, it wasn’t as much as she would have liked, but the knowledge that there was a Bunker capable of providing some degree of safety from the horrors lurking in the city was a relief. The Bunker seemed to operate on the concept of the more survivors they could find, the better. It didn’t much matter where they’d come from originally. The prevailing thought was that, they were all in this mess together, so better to work together. Homura wasn’t sure about that, but she liked the idea of trekking the urban wasteland alone.

The Bunker was impressive, even if some of its occupants left something to be desired. In the spirit of everyone banding together, Homura showed off a portion of the arsenal her shield possessed. Emily and another of the Bunker’s leaders, Satsuki, had been very impressed, especially with the cache of explosives she was able to procure for them. When the offer to join the scouting team came up, Homura had agreed. It was the first pro-active effort she’d seen taken to find a way out of the Necropolis. It seemed likely that something in the city was keeping her from using her full range of abilities. Escaping it would hopefully fix that problem. The way she saw it, it was her only shot at avoiding the terrible fate in store for her if she didn’t regain her abilities.

Homura was drawn out of her trip down memory lane by Fuuka’s voice.

“I can detect a group of monsters,” she relayed to the group. “Feels like they’re attacking a pair of survivors. It’s not too far off from our route, but I can feel at least one of the creatures is pretty strong.” She looked to Alice. “If we hurry, we can save them.”

Alice would have been more thankful for a break in the thick silence if it hadn’t come with such a dire situation. They were making good time, and they needed to keep making it. But after Renamon’s death, the thought of leaving anyone to their death didn’t sit well with her. They would have to act fast if they wanted to save the mystery survivors. The only question was, did they have enough time to conduct a proper assessment of the situation instead of simply rushing in?


Rayne was hungry. She’d not had a decent meal since being plopped into the Necropolis. The zombies she’d encountered smelled too foul to risk drinking from. The more grotesque monsters smelled even worse. Her need for blood wasn’t so strong as to risk catching whatever corruption had created the monstrosities. But it was harder to control her hunger with a big, beefy snack pack trotting along beside her. They made a mismatched pair. Rayne with her pale skin and lithe figure, clothing that might be better suited for a bordello more than a combat situation. Zarya with her thick, muscular physique and rigid good looks, contrasted by her vibrant pink hair.

And so full of hot, healthy blood.

Rayne shook the thought away. If the hunger got bad enough and they found a place of reasonable safety, she’d think about broaching the subject of asking Zarya for a sip or three of her precious blood. For now, she could endure. And the last thing she wanted was for Zarya to be half a pint down when she needed to act. Wandering the streets of the Necropolis, that moment could come without much warning. Even if she couldn’t feed off the monsters, she could at least use her hunger to give her a combative edge.

Rayne had been on her own in the Necropolis for a little more than a day before she met Zarya. And while they were both more than capable of taking care of themselves, they’d each seen enough of the strange, terrible world they now inhabited to find an appreciation for partnership. They’d not found anyone else yet. No one alive, anyway. They’d seen a couple corpses that certainly looked out of place, evidence that they’d not been the only ones teleported into the city. But none of them had been capable of surviving long enough to make introductions.

Even a couple of Class-A Badasses needed rest, though. Even Rayne’s muscles were beginning to ache from all the walking with occasional bouts of sudden violence. The street they were one seemed largely deserted, no sign of any threats. The pair made their way towards what looked like an apartment complex. It seemed like an appropriate location to bunker up and recharge. Maybe Rayne could even persuade Zarya into sharing some blood. The pink-haired muscle girl hadn’t asked her about the fangs yet, but she imagined the questions were rolling around in her head.

I guess I should just be thankful she didn’t fry me on sight, Rayne thought, glancing over at the heavy Particle Cannon the woman carried. She doubted even her dhampiric nature could withstand the sort of energy the thing produced.

They made it to the apartment building’s entrance without incident, slipping into the shadowy interior. Rayne’s eyes adjusted to the gloom quickly. It helped that the sky wasn’t much brighter outside. The shuffling figure of a single zombie came into view. Not a real threat, but certainly in need of handling. Rayne hesitated as more of the creature’s details soaked into her mind. It was different from the other undead she’d encountered so far. The first, most noticeable difference, was that it hadn’t immediately turned to attack her and Zarya. It – it was a she, very obvious due to the lack of clothing – stood in front of what looked like a maintenance door, as if guarding the passage. Her head had been shaved and a raw line of cut skin circle the crown of her skull, thick staples keeping the skullcap in place. Slowly, the zombies head swiveled around to fix on the two interlopers, offering a growl of warning but not moving to engage them.

Rayne glanced over – and up – to Zarya. “This is weird. Something’s not right.”

Zarya responded with a shrug, seemingly less bothered by the weird situation than Rayne was. “First, we kill. Then we explore.”

Rayne nodded her agreement. Something about the zombie’s butchery seemed familiar in an unsettling way. She hoped it was only nerves brought on by her hunger.

Zarya took point, stomping up to the bald zombie without fear. The closer she got, the more agitated the zombie became, snarling and glaring at the muscular woman. With less than a foot between them, the zombie lunged, teeth gnashing for Zarya’s face. Zarya drew her Particle Cannon up and smashed the butt of the weapon into the creature’s head. The force of the strike dislodged the staples keeping the top of her skull in place. The bone shifted back suddenly, shearing the bulk of the dead woman’s putrid brain out of her head. The zombie’s eyes bulged, black blood snorting from her flared nostrils as she stumbled back wildly, smacking against the front of the door she’d been guarding and sliding down to the floor, properly dead.

“Let us see what this smelly kitten was protecting,” Zarya remarked, kicking the limp carcass aside and reaching for the door.


It had been so long since Bathory had felt the intimate touch of another human being. The consensual touch, anyway. It certainly had its benefits and Harley certainly knew her way around the female anatomy. She quivered her way through her final orgasm as Harley’s sticky fingers slid free from her cunt, both thankful and bitter that the onslaught of ecstasy had reached an end point. Partnership had its benefits. Her desire to keep Harley around strengthened, even if the insane woman’s habit of spouting out a litany of bad jokes tested her patience.

The pleasant afterglow faded swiftly as the door to the basement opened. Bathory and Harley turned to face the interruption. Two figures in the doorway, staring in slack-jawed shock into the room. The bulky one with the pink hair couldn’t help but stand out, but it was the other one that Bathory fixed on. A surge of white hot rage tinged with only a spark of fear rose up within the Nazi butcheress. She saw her feelings mirrored on her bitter enemy’s face.

“Bathory,” Rayne growled, pulling her arm blades up into an attack pose.

“Whore,” Bathory hissed back, springing into action with only the thought of killing Rayne filling her mind. Her long legs kicked out, knocking Harley off of her.

Harley let out a surprised yell as she lost her balance, rolling off of Bathory’s body and falling off the table they’d been using. She crashed to the floor and let out a disgruntled groan. “Owww, my sweet sexy ass!”

Bathory ignored her, snatching up a straight razor and the circular saw they’d used to carve open Erin’s head. Hardly the most appropriate weapons, but they were what was nearest. She met the dhampir midway into the room, slashing the razor at her face while ducking to avoid the slash of one of the woman’s arm-blades. Bathory had fought Rayne enough times to know that her adversary was not at full strength. Partially disrobed and still recovering from the fun she’d been having with Harley, Bathory wasn’t at her peak, either. She searched for openings in Rayne’s defenses, hoping to outlast her, tire her out enough to deliver a fatal strike. Her time in the Necropolis had only just begun to bear fruit, and this seemed as good a place as any to bring their ongoing feud to a final end. She only hoped that the end would not also be her own.

Harley stood, rubbing at her bruised posterior. She noticed Zarya still in the doorway, big mean gun aimed steadily at her face, but didn’t give the woman much concern. The real show was taking place between Bathory and Rayne. The two circled and lashed out at each other like furious serpents. “Man, I could really go for some popcorn right about now,” she commented to the pink-haired woman. “How about you?”

Zarya offered Harley no response, keeping her Particle Cannon aimed at the woman. Rayne and Bathory were too close to lend any assistance to that fight, but she could at least make sure the blonde’s accomplice didn’t interfere. She had no idea who either of pair were, but Rayne certainly knew who the Bathory woman was. And she was not a fan. She’d witnessed Rayne slaughter numerous creatures since teaming up with her. The pale-skinned woman always had a degree of ferocity to her attacks, but this was different. Personal. She made a mental note to ask about the history once the fight was over.

With a gun trained on her and no real desire to get involved unless something went dreadfully wrong, Harley was more than happy to enjoy the view and offer her own brand of color commentary. “Get her, Bathy-baby!” she cheered. “Kick her in the cunt!” She fell into a spirited, but non-threatening cheerleader prance. “Bathy, Bathy, she’s our girl! If she can’t slay em, Harley sure will!”

Zarya considered shooting Harley. Just to earn some silence.

“Don’t…” Bathory growled, twisting to avoid having her arm cleaved away. “Call…” She ducked under Rayne’s next slash, responding with a slash of her own that only managed to leave a gash across the lower portion of the dhampir’s leather vest. “Me…” She jumped back, flexing her abdomen inwards to keep from becoming skewered on one of Rayne’s arm-blades. “Bathy!” she finished, spinning inwards and low, extending the circular saw and squeezing the trigger. The blade spun to life, carving a thick gouge across the top of Rayne’s right thigh. It was far from a decisive blow, but it forced the dhampir to back off a limping step or two.

The sting of the gash across her thigh was a cruel reminder of just how proficient Bathory was at cutting up flesh. The augmented zombie proved that the woman was back to her old, horrid practices. She would come into this nightmare of a world and find a way to bend it to her sick desires, she thought, annoyance growing as the hunger in her gut burned stronger. The sluggish state of her healing was evidence of just how malnourished she’d become. Such a trivial wound typically only required mere moments to stitch itself closed. Now, the wound continued to hang open, leaking sluggish lines of blood down her leg. Two tasty meals waiting for me in this room, she thought. Just have to live long enough to dine. Even in her hungry state, the thought of swallowing even a sip of Bathory’s wicked blood left her nauseous, but she could look past her personal feelings long enough to suck up the nourishment.

Harley rolled her eyes. “Y’know, Red never complained about the pet name I gave her,” she called back. Her brow furrowed. “Hey, where is Red? I gave her specific instructions not to let anyone interrupt Mommy while she was getting her fuck on.” With Rayne and Bathory focused on their duel, she turned her attention to Zarya. “What’d you do with my zombie girl-toy, Muscle Mama?”

“Zombie with the staples in her head?” Zarya asked.

Harley nodded. “That’s my Red.”

“Wasted her.”

Harley’s eyes widened with overdramatic shock. “What’d she ever do to you, ya big dummy?! Ain’t anyone ever told you to pick on someone your own size? She…” Harley sniffled, working up a tear for the lost zombie girl. “She was just getting comfortable in her own rotting skin. I’ll never get to show her all the things I wanted to show her. I’ll never get to treat her the way a lobotomized living dead girl deserves to be treated.” Her jaw firmed, a spark of insane anger flashing in her eyes. “That’s it!” She snatched the grenade from her side, flicking the pin away. “You’re both terrible house guests!” Her over-the-top anger faded for a brief moment. “Bathy-baby, hold your breath.” She chucked the grenade between Zarya and Rayne, ducking behind the makeshift operating table just in time to avoid the devastating energy blast from the muscle girl’s cannon.

Despite her personal grievances with her psychotic partner regarding pet names, Bathory trusted Harley. She sucked in a quick breath and sealed her lips, throwing herself backwards from Rayne. Her head turned to the side, an arm coming up to shield her eyes just as the grenade blew. Instead of an explosion of concussive force, a thick cloud of pale green smoke erupted into the room, momentarily concealing Zarya and Rayne from view. The thick smoke billowed wildly, coalescing against the ceiling before dispersing. Lying on the floor, breath still held in her lungs, Bathory’s eyes widened with surprise as she caught sight of her nemesis and her partner again. The pair stumbled, aimlessly and disoriented. Zarya’s cannon clattered heavily to the floor as she coughed, clutching a hand against her throat. Rayne’s eyes rolled about, hands fumbling as she clung to the wall, struggling to remain on her feet.

Harley’s head popped up from behind the blackened table, one pigtail noticeably shorter, ending in a patch of singed hair. A quick glance was all she needed to give Bathory a thumbs up. “It’s alright,” she called. “The gas has thinned out enough now. Let’s get these losers!” She leapt over the table and charged towards Zarya, snatching a thick rubber-headed mallet along the way. “This is for Red, ya muscle-brained bimbo!” she cheered, slamming the mallet across the side of Zarya’s temple and felling the broad woman with ease.

Rayne struggled to fight through the effects of whatever the gas was. Her eyes burned terribly, blurring her vision, and her muscles felt like they’d been filled with lead. She caught sight of Bathory rushing towards her, tried to pull her arm-blades up to defend herself, but the movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. There was a sudden jolt of pain as something connected with her head, knocking her to the side. Then a thick blackness swam up to consume her.


“So this is how it ends,” Bathory grinned, running her hands along Rayne’s smooth thighs. The dhampir’s bare flesh felt cool against her fingers. Not as chilled as a cadaver, but close. “Just as I always knew it would.” Rayne’s clothing was neatly folded and resting on the seat of a nearby chair, her arm-blades criss-crossed on top of the pile. A thick rope circled her ankles, stretching to a mounting post in the ceiling and back down to a securing post on the wall, leaving the unconscious woman suspended upside down. Utterly stripped and utterly helpless. Like a prime slab of meat reader for butchering. And as sweet as it would feel to carve pieces away from Rayne’s body until there was nothing left to identify, Harley’s surprisingly level head had persuaded Bathory against that course of action.

“Wouldn’t revenge be so much more satisfying if you turned her into your willing slave?” she’d remarked.

The thought of Rayne – even a zombified version of her – willingly licking her boots was a very nice visual, indeed. But she was still determined to have a bit of fun with the dhampir before the deed was done. It wasn’t every day that she’d get to have her most hated adversary strung up like a lamb to the slaughter. Her finger traced across the gouge she’d made with the circular saw. It was still healing, a line of angry red scar tissue, but the bleeding had stopped. Her hand moved inwards, to Rayne’s crotch, working between her lithe thighs to rub against the cleft of her cunt. She dipped the tip of her middle finger into the hole. Not because she wished to fuck Rayne, but because she knew the dhampir would hate knowing her fingers had explored such an intimate region of her body. She pumped steadily for a little bit, chuckling as she felt the lips of Rayne’s pussy grow damp in response. Her thumb stroked across the rising bud of the dhampir’s clitoris, drawing a weak groan from her lips as Rayne stirred closer to consciousness.

Bathory popped her finger free of Rayne’s snatch and wiped the juices across the dangling woman’s lips. Something pleasant for the whore to wake up to, she thought as she quickly snatched up the flat-nosed screwdriver. Now that they knew frontal lobe destruction was the key to obedience, there was no need for the invasive methods they’d used on Erin. She guided the tip of the screwdriver against the bridge of Rayne’s nose, angling it towards the corner of her left eye. Her free hand slipped around to attain a firm grip on the back of her head. Then she waited for her victim to come around. Lobotomizing her while she slept would be no fun. She wanted Rayne to know – if only for half a second – what was going to happen to her. She owed the bitch that much at least.

Rayne awoke slowly, still sluggish from the effects of Harley’s gas grenade. The tingle of arousal she felt between her thighs sent a jolt of revulsion through her. From the pressure in her head, she could tell she hung upside down. Nude. Bathory’s perverse nature had gotten the better of her. She’d wasted time playing and no doubt waiting to gloat. Rayne vowed to make her regret that. She forced her eyes open, brow furrowing with confusion as she tried to focus on the length of metal held so close to one of them. “W-wha..?”

Bathory smirked. “Hello again, Rayne,” she growled, tightening her grip on the screwdriver and driving it forward with a hard, steady plunge. She watched Rayne’s eye bulge, shoved to the side by the intrusion of the tool, felt the crack of her occipital bone before she slid easily into the soft tissue of her brain. “Goodbye, Rayne,” she concluded, giving the handle of the screwdriver a precise twirl, sloshing up the dhampir’s frontal lobe and eradicating her higher consciousness. With enough time and good supply of fresh blood, Rayne may have been capable of recovering from the damage, but Bathory had no intention of allowing her either. She withdrew the blood-stained screwdriver from the dangling dhampir’s bleeding eye and set it aside.

She took up the straight razor, ready to kill Rayne and claim her as a willing servant, but the sight of her vacant face was too stunning to ruin so quickly. Bathory laughed, poking at one of the dhampir’s soft breasts. “Not so wicked now, are you?” she mocked, laughing harder as a line of drool crept from Rayne’s sputtering lips. Her eyes lit up with fiery excitement. “I can’t believe this is truly happening. I’ve dreamt of it for so long.” She brought the razor up, angling it against Rayne’s throat. Her breath quickened as she dug the sharp blade into the dhampir’s pale skin. A small, quick stroke opened Rayne’s carotid artery. A crimson stream erupted from the wound. Bathory stepped closer to the dangling body, lips parted to slurp down several mouthfuls of the succulent liquid. It splashed over her face and drained over her chin, drizzling across her breasts and through her cleavage. Bathory moaned deeply, rubbing Rayne’s blood against her skin. It was the ultimate blood shower. Her hands never delved down to her aching crotch, but she didn’t need to touch herself to writhe and gasp through a powerful climax as Rayne’s blood and life drained out of her.

As the flow of blood slowed, Bathory leaned in, planting her lips against it. She sucked hard, wanting every last drop of the stuff. Her tongue flicked across the slice of opened skin with even more attentive enthusiasm than she’d shown Harley’s cunt. Her lips smacked against Rayne’s throat, slurping again and again until she was forced to accept that the woman had no more blood to give. She stepped back, panting heavily, soaked in blood and sweat. The ecstasy tingling in her loins spiked again as she committed the sight of Rayne’s limp, dangling corpse to memory. Her greatest foe, finally defeated. And when the Necropolis’s taint soaked into the dhampir, it would all become so much sweeter.

While Bathory had her fun with Rayne, Harley made sure the straps holding Zarya down were nice and tight. Her muscles throbbed from the exertion of hefting the bulky woman onto the table. She ran her hands over Zarya’s pronounced physique, feeling along the ridges of her biceps. “This one’s a real treat,” she remarked. “We don’t need ourselves a Brute Squad anymore, Bathy. She is the Brute Squad.” She grinned, hands slipping to Zarya’s chest to give her firm breasts a squeeze. “She’s like Bane, but with more squishy, fun parts.” She turned to examined the pink-haired woman’s crotch, mildly disappointed that there wasn’t a tuft of pubic hair the same shade of pink as her head hair, but very intrigued by the distinct bulge of her thick clitoris. “And I think she might even have a bigger dick.” Her mind wandered as she thought of Bane.

“That guy,” she reminisced. “Classic overcompensation. All those muscles, all that bulk, but down between his legs?” She held up her hand, extending her pinkie and curling it downwards. “Thimble dick.” She glanced over at Bathory, but the woman wasn’t listening, too busy dragging her tongue across Rayne’s dead flesh. She shrugged and returned her attention to Zarya, climbing onto the table and spreading her legs wide to straddle the woman’s chest. She leaned down, tickling a finger against the tip of the unconscious woman’s nose. “Who’s gonna be the biggest, baddest zombie slave girl in all the land?” She giggled. “That’s right, it’s you, honey.”

Zarya groaned, shifting uneasily on the table and muttering some half-conscious Russian retort.

Harley snatched up another screwdriver – Philips head – and slotted it against the muscular woman’s eye. With a grunt and a shove, she forced the slender rod of steel through Zarya’s eye and into her brain. The big Russian’s eyes snapped open from the sudden pain, staring up at Harley with confused anger. She let out a yell, flexing and easily snapping an arm free from the ropes holding her down. Harley gasped as Zarya’s big hand reached up, fingers closing around her throat and clamping down. She quickly gave the screwdriver a quick twirl, scrambling Zarya’s brain. The woman’s fingers twitched, clenched harder for a moment, then relaxed. Her thick arm drifted back down, weakly pawing at Harley’s breasts. Zarya let out a pained whimper as the screwdriver slid free.

Harley let out a purr of desire, enjoying Zarya’s fumbled groping of her breasts. “Nothing like ruining a perfectly good brain to really get a girl’s motor running,” she remarked. “Is mama’s new puppy hungry? I’ve got something for you to eat.” She climbed further up Zarya’s prone form, dropping her naked snatch down onto the woman’s face. If Zarya possessed any knowledge of the intricate nuances of cunnilingus, those memories and techniques had been scraped away, but she didn’t need a higher degree of intelligence to grasp the basic concept. Harley moaned as the woman’s tongue slid through her folds, settling her full weight onto her face and making sure both Zarya’s mouth and nose were thoroughly smothered. “I could sit here all day,” she whimpered. “Or, y’know, at least long enough for you to die.”

Riding the face of a lobotomized victim proved to be as fascinating as it was pleasurable. Harley felt Zarya’s tongue jabbing into her more urgently as the air in her lungs grew stale. It was clear she was starting to panic, but she no longer possessed the basic problem-solving techniques required to figure out why her body was suffering. So instead of struggling, she was dumbly trying to lick a breath of oxygen out of Harley’s slippery sex. Harley clutched at the muscular woman’s pink hair, shuddering and gasping as waves of ecstasy rose through her. When Zarya’s tongue slipped limply away from her cunt, she kept on riding, grinding, moaning. Harley’s eyes rolled back, spine arching as she turned her face upwards and let loose with a powerful scream, gushing her juices all over Zarya’s lifeless visage.

Harley wiped the sweat from her brow and rolled off of Zarya’s corpse. She dropped onto her feet and stumbled, leaning back against the table to wait for her muscles to stop seizing. “Fuuuck, that’s good,” she groaned. “Remind me to kill more bitches that way.”

Bathory lowered Rayne’s corpse to the floor, unbinding her. The spark of fear the dhampir had inspired in her was gone. Even if she returned to life unwilling to accept orders, she was confident she could dispatch the woman just as easily the second time around. Her breath quickened as she saw the first twitch of zombification creep through Rayne’s muscles. I swear, if this one only listens to Harley, too, I’ll carve up everyone and go back to my passion of interior decoration, she thought. Her bottom lip curled inward, chewing nervously at it, as Rayne released a groan, murky eyes blinking slowly. The undead dhampir sat up in a series of awkward movements, relearning how to work her muscles. Her eyes found Bathory, head tilting to the side, curiously.

Rising to a stiff posture, Bathory conjured a sense of domineering power. “Crawl to me,” she ordered in a firm voice.

Rayne sat there, staring at her, just long enough that Bathory almost turned to retrieve the circular saw. Then she rolled to her side, rising onto her hands and knees. She crawled the short distance to Bathory, just as she’d been ordered. A psychotic grin spread across the Nazi doctor’s face. She thrust one leg towards her zombified slave. “Lick my boot,” she growled. Rayne stared dully at Bathory’s foot then slowly lowered her head, dragging her tongue across the top of her footwear. Bathory let out a cackle. “It worked! She’s mine!”

“Congratulations, Bathy,” Harley called over as she helped the freshly zombified husk of Zarya slide off the table and stand. “How does it feel to be a mother?” Her attention remained fixed on the beefy zombie, ordering her to perform a series of poses that flexed her thick muscles. Harley grinned sloppily, cooing over the spectacle. “I’m gonna miss Red, but you’re gonna make a much better bouncer, baby.”

Bathory amused herself by ordering Rayne to get dressed. The zombie dhampir fumbled with the clothing, really struggled to get the nearly skin-tight leather pants up her legs, but she managed it eventually. Harley was content to leave Zarya in the nude. “It’s the more enjoyable show,” she explained. But Bathory wanted Rayne in her outfit, a constant reminder of what she’d once been. It made what she now was all the more satisfying.

“Is it safe to arm them?” Bathory asked as Harley ordered Zarya to retrieve her Particle Cannon.

Harley laughed. “Not for anyone we don’t like.”

It was far from a reassuring scientific explanation, but it was good enough for Bathory. She picked up Rayne’s arm-blades and returned them to the dhampir. Rayne took them and Bathory was a little unnerved by just how naturally she seemed to carry them. If some inkling of Rayne’s personality persisted, even a flicker, it would likely lead to catastrophe. But even weaponized, Rayne remained passive, waiting for her next order.

Bathory was still trying to decide what that order should be when the seizures started. Both zombies began to shudder wildly. Bathory backed away, looking to Harley. “What the hell is this?”

Harley shook her head, giving Zarya some distance as well. “No idea! I ain’t exactly a zombie physicist over here!”

The two moved closer to each other. Bathory grabbed the circular saw. Harley snatched up the rubber mallet. They watched their zombies jerk and twist about, growling and gurgling with pained utterances. The sound of stretching, tearing flesh filled the air. Zarya’s already prominent muscles bulged larger. Bones popped and creaked as her body grew, stretching nearly a foot taller and thickening. The hand holding the Particle Cannon split open, tendons and meat curling around the weapon, partially absorbing it into her arm. Her jaw stretched open wide, teeth sliding free from bleeding gums, pushed out by the growing row of vicious fangs just behind them. Her hair fell away in clumps, a mohawk of bone-like spikes – still tinted the same vibrant hue of pink as her follicles – erupted from the top of her skull. With a final growl, Zarya’s hulking figure relaxed, dropping down to one knee, overwhelmed by the sudden, violent transformation.

Rayne’s skin sloshed away, revealing a glistening, scale-like ebony. Her clothing sank into her, fusing with her, leaving behind the black and red sheen of the leather but exposing her nipples and genitals fully. The skin peeling away from her arms gathered around her arm-blades, pulling them upwards and attaching them to her body, a pair of gleaming lengths of sharpened metal extending from the grotesquely twisted flesh surrounding them. Her milky eyes popped, leaking fluids down her black, scaly cheeks as new eyes – a fiery red – grew within the sockets. She cried out, bending forward as her spine bulged across her back, thick fins splitting through her skin and raising several inches into the air. Her feet curled and molded into her high-heeled boots. Her toes merged together to form a pair of vicious claws, bone spike jutting out of the backs of her feet to leave her perched menacingly.

Bathory and Harley stared at the mutations, stunned, still ready to defend themselves if necessary. But in the wake of the remolding of their flesh, Zarya and Rayne returned to their passive, obedient states.

“This is awesome,” Harley cried out suddenly. Bathory jumped, immediately hating Harley just a little more. “We’ve gotta couple of super zombies!”

Embarrassed by how easily she’d been startled, Bathory still had to admit that Harley had a point.


Better to make noise and maintain the ability to defend themselves over attempting to be quiet and being helpless against a potential attack. That’s how Jack saw it, anyway. “We take the lift,” she decided. “It’ll be cramped and noisy, but everyone just stay sharp and we’ll get down there just fine.” She wished she believed the words, but she genuinely thought the lift was the best option. If I’m going out, I want the chance to kill the son of a bitch right back along the way, she thought, trudging over to the lift and pulling the door open.

The elevator wasn’t exactly small, but with seven bodies crammed into it, there wasn’t much in the way of elbow room. Jack let the others pile in first before squeezing into the front and pulling the door closed. The controls were simple enough. Two buttons. One for up, the other for down. She pressed her thumb against the appropriate button and hoped for the best. The lift shuddered around them. For a second, Jack thought it might just drop, plummeting them all to their deaths. That’d be hilarious, she thought. Before she had the chance to laugh her way into a bone-shattering end, the lift started to descend without incident.

Working machinery was just the first hurdle to cross. The rate of movement was slow and, just as they’d feared, the rumbling was nearly deafening, echoing off the walls of the cavernous room. If there was anything around, they’d know right where to go for the banquet. Jack was fairly certain that any shuffling, horny corpses up on the moon were turning their rotten brains to rocket science to hunt down the source of the noise. She didn’t have to tell the others to stay alert. They already knew. And they were ready to do what they could against anything that came poking around. She hoped that would be enough.

“Ah, shit,” Joy’s panicked drawl rang out. Standing just beside Jack, the tattooed woman cringed at the ringing in her ears. Joy thrust a finger towards the far wall. “It’s a big ole wall gator!”

Jack spotted the thing immediately once she knew where to look. Joy’s description was reasonably accurate. Some kind of massive reptile-like creature, four squat legs clinging to the wall courtesy of its thick claws. Its rough, thick hide was a myriad of blacks and dark greens, giving it a natural camouflage in the murky darkness of the sewer. Its size and general shape did resemble an alligator, along with its large head and long snout. But it possessed something no gator Jack had ever seen did. Its tail was stouter, brimming with thick spines. Wall Gator was a decent name for it. Spike Tail seemed even more appropriate.

“Somebody give me a gun!” Joy demanded, head darting from one woman to the next. “The hell am I supposed to do against that thing with this stupid frying pan?” She held her weapon up to show how ineffective it would be in a fire fight. Jack ignored her, more worried by the monster as it curled its massive tail up and back, like a scorpion. One of its many spikes launched from the tail, streaking across the room at the descending lift. By pure chance, Joy lifted her pan just in time to avoid being skewered by the spike, deflecting the shot with a loud twang. Her eyes bulged as she stared at the noticeable dent left behind in the metal. “Oh, screw this,” she groaned, forcing herself deeper into the crowd, struggling to put as much distance between herself and the monster as possible.

Those in the group with guns shifted to the front, struggling to get a good aim at the Spike Tail. The Spike Tail shifted on the wall, crawling slowly and keeping its tail curled upwards, occasionally firing off its organic spears. The creature didn’t seem to be a particularly good shot, but the women had just as hard a time hitting their solitary target. Either that, or the thing’s hide was too thick for their bullets to penetrate it. The lift rattled around them as one of the spikes hit the side and bounced away. Good thing it’s dumb, too, Jack thought. If it aimed higher, it could damage the hoist. Drop us all like a big, screaming stone and crawl on down to chew on what’s left.

She shook aside the dark thought before her subconscious could manifest it into reality. It was easy to focus on the heat of battle. She let it sort out her priorities for her. Step One: Keep everyone alive. Step Two: Keep herself alive. Step Three: Kill any and all pieces of shit trying to interfere with Steps One or Two. The floor was approaching slowly but steadily. Once they got there, they’d have to come up with a plan. The Spike Tail would have them pinned down. If they stayed in the lift, it would only be a matter of time before the thing made its way down the wall, leaving them as sitting ducks. Thankfully, the thing seemed to like its elevated position, for the moment, and the more distance they moved away from it, the worse its aim became.

The lift rumbled to a stop at the bottom of its track. Spikes punched into the ground around the lift, several punching several inches through the elevator’s ceiling. Jack thought through their options. “Quorra,” she called out. “That disc of yours. I’ve seen it lock onto things before. Think it could help us out here?”

Quorra nodded. “It might. But I need to know where it is.”

“It’s above us,” Joy offered, unhelpfully.

“More precise than that,” she replied.

They could hear shuffling, but the Spike Tail remained out of sight. No more spikes rained down on them. “It’s waiting for one of us to walk out there,” Kara realized.

“If it shoots another spike, would that be enough for you to get its location?” Jack asked Quorra.


“I ain’t walkin’ out there to play target practice with that thing!” Joy yelled.

“Shut up!” Jack snapped back. “Dot, give me your vest.”

Dot shrugged out of the garment and handed it over. Jack took it, along with several breaths to steady her nerves. Its aim is garbage, she told herself. Quorra just needs one shot to get its position. It was a risk, but one that needed to be taken. “Alright, be ready,” she told the others. She yanked the lift door open and shoved Dot’s vest out into the open, hoping she didn’t lose her hand in the process. The wisp of a fired spike rang in her ears. She closed her eyes, clenched her teeth. The spike nailed the vest, missing her clutching fingers by only an inch or so. Jack yanked her arm back into the lift. “Quorra, go!”

Calculating the trajectory of the shot and using it to find the trajectory she needed to hit the Spike Tail, Quorra flung her glowing disc out of the lift. It clipped the wall, ricocheting upwards into the darkness. A bestial roar filled the air, followed by a torrent of scuffling. The bulky reptile slammed into the ground several feet in front of the lift. Pale green blood gushed from the stump of one leg. It writhed about on its back, straining to flip over. The group’s guns came up, ready to blow the wounded monster into oblivion. With startling speed, the Spike Tail managed to flip itself over, tail snapping up and around to take aim at the lift.

“Everybody out!” Jack yelled, rushing clear of the lift and diving to the side. The others scrambled to get free, out of the line of fire. Joy’s attempt to shield herself from the attack left her at the back of the lift, unable to get clear. She hefted her pan in front of her, a futile attempt to shield herself, as the Spike Tail unleashed every spike it had into the lift. The blonde vanished in a spray of blood, twisted metal, and sparks as the spikes tore through her, pinning her to the back wall of the lift. Three of them speared her face, obliterating the majority of her head, leaving only tangles of blood-drenched blonde hair and a mangled, hanging jaw. Six more punched through her chest and shoulders, shredding her breasts and shattering her bones. Four more through her slender midriff, steaming guts exploding outwards and tangling around the fatal shafts.

A hail of gunfire erupted, shredding through the Spike Tail’s body, killing it before it could regrow any of its spikes. They were safe again, for the moment, but there was nothing to be done for Joy. As far as losses went, it didn’t sting as bad as some of the others they’d lost so far in the sewer. But not even Jack felt particularly good about the woman’s death. She’d despised the woman, had even considered killing her, but now that she was gone, she felt no satisfaction. Guess I’m not as big a cunt as I think I am, she thought.

The lift was just as dead as Joy, controls smashed beyond repair. Not that it mattered. Jack had no intention of turning around. “No use dwelling on it,” she told the others. “We have to keep moving.”

Samus nodded her agreement. And while the others looked glummer about the whole thing, there was no argument.

“The bridge isn’t much further,” Quorra said, referring to the map stored on her disc. “Looks like we just need to make it to another control station and then we’ll be there.”

The group got moving, ready to be done with their journey and even more ready to get out of the sewer. They followed a tunnel leading to the control station, on edge for potential danger. Catching a glimpse of movement up ahead, Jack motioned for everyone to stay quiet and stick to the shadows. The group crept forward until they caught sight of what lay ahead.

Four humanoid figures, large in size, with slimy green skin and thick shells covering their backs. Unique weapons were strapped to their bodies. A katana for one, a pair of sais for another, bo staff, some nun chucks. Thin strips of colored, but dirty, fabric circled their heads, slits for their bulbous eyes to peer through. Great, Jack thought. As if this place couldn’t get any weirder, now we’ve got some kinda ninja turtle people.

Any doubt as to whether or not the things were friendly vanished as Jack spotted what the shelled foursome was up to. A trio of female bodies lay sprawled amidst them, stripped nude and quite dead. Jack’s eyes widened as she recognized two of the bodies. Ada and Tron. The third was a stranger to her, but not the turtles. April O’Neil’s final moments had been filled with terror as the zombified husks of the Ninja Turtles had happily violated her various holes, drowning in the creamy spunk gushing from Raphael’s twitching cock. She’d been the first plaything, but they’d happily salvaged others since her death.

Ada’s body bounced atop the turtle-man with the katana, forced to ride his thick member as her head rolled about bonelessly. Her glazed eyes stared sightlessly in the direction of Jack’s group, tongue protruding against her chin as a steady flow of jizz leaked from her mouth. Tron had been perched on her knees, head turned to the side as the turtle-man in purple rammed into her upraised ass. Each pump forced spurts of rancid sewage up her throat. The last two turtle-men had April’s body sandwiched between them, stuffing her cunt and ass as they made her listless arms wave about.

As shocking as the discovery was, the turtles were too engrossed with their playthings to have noticed Jack or the others. There was no doubt that they would have to get past the creatures to reach their destination, but she saw a couple potential options as to how to achieve that goal. A walkway stretched across where the turtles were camped out, the ladder up to it far enough away that they’d likely be able to get up to the walkway without being detected. Once up there, they could sneak past and leave the things to their disgusting hobbies. The biggest issue was that the walkway was largely exposed. It would only take a bit of noise or just a little bad luck and they’d have to deal with the creatures from a compromised position. Alternatively, they could take full advantage of the element of surprise. Jack had no idea what the turtle things were capable of, but catching them off guard might be enough to make the fight a short, simple affair.

Whatever she decided to do, she needed to come up with the plan fast. Every moment of inaction left them vulnerable.


There was nothing quite like unexpected combat in a strange new world to unify two strangers. Yang Xiao Long and Beverly Crusher had barely arrived in the Necropolis, appearing close enough together that they’d managed to bump into each within a few minutes of arrival. They’d only had enough time for introductions before the zombies showed up, a large crowd of foul-smelling, rotting flesh. The hungry growls and visibly erect members were all the evidence the pair needed to know that the newcomers weren’t friendly. Yang cocked her shotgun-gauntlets and got ready to smash while Beverly drew a small, shiny grey device and took aim at the advancing horde.

Beverly didn’t exactly consider herself an expert with the phaser. She was a doctor, not a sniper. But she knew how to use the weapon well enough to defend herself. Ignoring her Hippocratic oath long enough to dial the phaser up to kill was easy enough. It was clear at a glance that the things attacking them were already dead. Whatever miracle had restored life to them had done so for wicked purposes. With Yang rushing towards the center of the horde, head on, Beverly focused her shots on the outer edges, frying the zombies before they could close in around her newfound companion.

With an excited cheer, Yang swung her fist into the chest of the nearest zombie and triggered her gauntlet. The explosion of buckshot shredded the rotten husk, showering the undead behind him with chunks of tattered flesh and guts. It was a glorious sight, but far too easy a victory to satisfy Yang’s desire for risk. She trudged deeper into the crowd, spinning, kicking, punching. Each punch was accented with the blast of her shotgun gauntlets, reducing the targeted zombie to rancid scraps. “Oh, c’mon, ya smelly jerks!” she yelled. “I’m barely breaking a sweat here!” The zombies showed no signs of understanding her, which only further fueled Yang’s growing frustration with the simplicity of the engagement.

Yang’s words only reinforced what Beverly had already determined about the woman. She was reckless. Highly skilled and very powerful, but still reckless. If they got through the fight, she’d have to talk with her about proper strategic teamwork and the suicidal rationale of blindly throwing punches amidst a crowd of enemies. For now, she focused on keeping the zombies from surrounding Yang completely. Not that her companion was making it easy for her. She was moving forward in roughly a straight line, driving deeper and deeper into the mass of undead.

Yang stopped short in front of the next zombie, narrowing her eyes and cocking her fist back. “I’m gonna hit you so hard, your zombie kids are gonna come out bruised,” she growled. Before she could deliver her killing strike, a wad of gooey spit shot past her shoulder, missing her by less than an inch, and splattered across her target zombie’s chest. Yang’s confusion was mirrored on the zombie’s face as he looked down to stare at the goo. The slick ooze sank into the undead man’s flesh and then with a sudden, violent tearing, a new, terrible life sprouted free from the zombie’s chest. It was an ugly looking spud, fanged sucker mouth puckering towards her as its pincer legs clacked together with excitement. Yang followed through with her punch, unleashing a blast of force into the thing’s hideous face and blowing apart both the Spawnburster and the zombie host.

Yang took the time to look back, over her shoulder, to find the source of the biological sniper shot. She spotted the long-bodied crab-like tank crouched at the ledge of a rooftop, already swiveling its cannon-snout to adjust its aim on her. “Beverly,” she called to her partner in combat, motioning to the creature. “Kill that thing!” The Babymaker was too far away and too high up for her short-range weaponry to do any good. Which was unfortunate, because it looked like a far more formidable adversary than the squishy zombies. At the very least, Yang knew with certainty that she could handle the zombie horde on her own while Beverly took out the sniper monster.

The Babymaker’s attempts to lock onto Yang’s shifting form proved difficult. The creature changed tactics, targeting the already devastated carcasses of the fallen zombies the woman had left in her wake. Its potently fertile spit did not require a living host. As Spawnbursters erupted from the bodies around Yang, the blonde cracked an excited grin. The Bursters died just as easy as the zombies, but the addition of a new kind of monster to fight forced her to push herself a little harder, edging that much closer to the true challenge she yearned for.

Beverly turned her attention to the Babymaker, lifting her phaser in its direction. She fired off a shot, only to have the Babymaker duck back behind cover. It darted back out several feet further down the rooftop and fired off several more quick shots into the pile of corpses surrounding Yang. Beverly’s second shot had much the same effect. The thing was fast, and aware of her. The higher positioning it had gave it a defensive benefit that was troublesome. Beverly scanned the ledge, looking for anything she could use to her advantage while firing off the occasional phaser blast to keep the Babymaker at bay. It occasionally offered a few spits of goo in her direction, but she was able to sidestep to avoid the messy splatters. She found her advantage at the corner of the building, the damage to the structure clearly visible. The inkling of a plan formed in her mind and she worked to put it into motion, using her shots to herd the Babymaker towards the weakened area of rooftop.

The Babymaker was smarter than Beverly would have liked, but wasn’t smart enough to piece together what she was doing. When it crept out from the corner of the building, legs perched precariously on the loosened bricks, she adjusted the aim of her phaser and fired. The creature’s attempt to duck back faltered as the bricks shifted underneath it. It lost its balance completely as the phaser blast caused the bricks to give out completely, toppling forward over the ledge. The creature spun in the air, acting fast to save itself from the fatal fall. The potent goo congealed within its snout, swiveling to take aim at an adjacent rooftop before firing out a thin, stringy line of sticky baby-snot. The shot landed and the Babymaker swung towards its destination.

Not wanting to go through the whole process again, Beverly acted fast. The line of congealed goo was thin, but not impossible to hit. She steadied the phaser in both hands and fired, gasping with relief as the beam severed the goo-line. The Babymaker resumed its fall, this time at an angle. Beverly’s eyes widened as she realized the thing was dropping right on top of her, made an attempt to turn and throw herself out of the way, but the creature fell too fast. The impact stunned her, knocking the air from her lungs and sending her stumbling backwards. As the Babymaker collided with Beverly’s body, the force caused its body to burst, showering the woman in the plentiful reserves of Spawnburster slime.

From a medical perspective, the Babymaker’s weaponized reproduction method was a fascinating process. Highly energized enzymes permeated the goo, raping their way into helpless cells and impregnating them with cruel mutation, stealing them from their host to transform into short-lived abominations that ripped their way free of the host as soon as their rapid gestation gave them enough strength to do so. The goo soaking Beverly’s body varied in strength, ranging from not viable to ready for breeding. The quantity of the goo also caused the Babymaker’s spawn to fight for genetic resources within Beverly, some Spawnbursters feasting while others starved their way through maturation. If she’d witnessed the process carried out in a safe lab environment, the doctor would have been sickened but fascinated. Being the unwilling test subject of the unexpected experiment, her response was quite different. She screamed, and she died.

Beverly’s body shuddered against the ground as multiple gory eruptions ripped through her body. More than half of the Spawnbursters were born too badly mangled and weak to even pull themselves free from her. Her cheek split open, a shrieking half-formed mouth of teeth twisting about aimlessly before slumping over her bulging eye. Several of the creatures only amounted to bulging blood blisters across her flesh, ripping open and spewing half-formed chunks of twisted tissue onto the ground. Two of the strongest Spawnbursters tore through her breasts, tearing themselves free and rushing away, leaving cavernous pits of tattered skin and fat in their wake. A bulge traveled its way from her forearm down to her palm before a weaker Burster ate its way out of her, blindly latching down on the phaser it found. It had enough strength to crunch through the hard plastic. The compromised phaser exploded, ripping the Burster – and half of Beverly’s arm – to shreds. The crotch of her uniform bulged, cunt spewing wads of blood as three smaller Bursters slithered free from the ruined orifice. Her belly expanded rapidly, exploding and flinging creatures of varying sizes into the air, riding the tangles of her intestines.

Yang looked back to see how Beverly was faring with the sniper-crab thing, just in time to witness the explosively fatal multi-birth. The shock of the gruesome demise froze her, the brutality of the Necropolis cutting through her confident ego for several damning moments. Enough time for the small wave of viable Spawnbursters born from Beverly’s tortured form to reach her. Yang kicked and swung at the things, trying to knock them away, kill them, but the newborns arrived ravenous and well aware of their limited lifespan. Her aura shield kept them at bay as they bit and stabbed at her body, but it could only take so much. The aura failed her before she had a chance to handle the group of hungry newborns.

The blonde screamed as numerous sets of teeth tore into her soft flesh. She tugged the Bursters free, flinging them away, but there were too many for her to deal with. One leapt for her face, spiked tail curling inwards to plunge into her left eye, leaving her half-blind. She reeled to the side, bringing an arm up and instinctively firing her shotgun gauntlet. The Burster stabbing into her eye was ripped apart, some of the buckshot ripping fresh gouges across her cheek and temple. It was just another source of pain out of many. She shrieked as sharp teeth dug and tore at her right breast, gulping down mouthfuls of meat and fat as the Burster jabbed its tail into her side to maintain a firm grip on her body. She tore the thing free, ripped it in half and flung it to the ground, but by then her chest was decidedly lopsided. Three more of the Bursters converged on her right arm, biting their away up the length of it before focusing on her shoulder. Bone cracked, leaving the limb dangling useless at her side. She tried to rip the things away with her working hand, crying at as the Bursters turned to nip at her clenching fingers. The creatures reached the end of their life cycle, dropping away from her bloody, ravaged body. Yang stared down at her wounded arm in horror. The limb was barely attached to her body, dangling from strained strips of partially chewed flesh. A wooziness flowed through her in the wake of the vicious attack. She fell to the ground, panting heavily and struggling to stay conscious. It took her a moment to realize that she had even bigger problems.

The zombies were closing in on her.

Gathering up her waning strength, Yang rolled over and crawled. She didn’t like her odds. The notion that she’d be ripped apart like Beverly had been horrified her, but not as bad as what the undead horde no doubt intended to do with their visibly erect members. She was too weak to stand and fight. She wasn’t even crawling particularly fast. The enthusiastic groans and growls of the zombies grew louder in her ears. A sudden spark of desperate inspiration flashed in her mind. She acted on it before fear could freeze her muscles. Yang drew her working arm back, tilting to the side and working her fist up under her chin. She activated her shotgun gauntlet. The click of the empty gauntlet was deafening, but not as loud as the wail of despair that immediately followed it. Her screams strengthened as the zombies reached her.

There were only three of them. Yang had killed far more than that with ease only a few minutes ago. Knowing how easy they were to kill battered her ego cruelly, knowing that so few of their number would be enough to end her. They rolled her onto her back, leaving her to stare up at their rigid cocks bobbing above her. With the tasty morsel slowly bleeding out before them, the zombies wasted no time indulging. One dropped down, shoving Yang’s thighs apart and clawing at her crotch. It fumbled her belt open and tugged at the zipper of her black shorts before tearing through them completely. Forcing her panties to the side, the zombie leaned in and plunged his aching prick into her warm cunt. He humped his way deeply into her, dropping his head to her chest to start chewing at her remaining tit.

Another zombie became intrigued by her mostly severed arm. He grabbed hold of the limb, stretching it up from her body. With a hard yank, the arm came away completely. Yang watched through her single eye as the zombie forced her lifeless fingers around his girth, fucking his way through the loose grip to satisfy the lust burning away in his undead core. The sight of a piece of herself being used in such a gruesome, perverse way seemed especially cruel. The same fist she’d used to blast away so many undead monsters was now being forced to pump along the shaft of one of the creatures. She retched as the first gooey spurt of zombie cum erupted, splashing against her face.

Yang was saved from enduring any more of the humiliating cumshot as the last zombie stepped over her and dropped down onto her chest. His hands curled around her head, clutching at her blonde hair and forcing her face to tilt forward. Her purple-hued eye widened at the sight of the massive prick aimed at her. She clamped her lips shut, refusing to allow the nightmarish abomination entrance. The zombie was undeterred. Yang’s mouth had never been his goal. The young woman realized that just a little too late, mouth dropping open to release a scream of horror as the zombie sheathed his cock through the vacant socket of her eye. His hips bucked, bashing the tip of his member against the back of the socket. The Burster’s spiked tail had left the layer of bone cracked already. It only took the zombie a few spirited strokes to punch through into her brain. Yang’s eye bulged, scream softening into gurgling gibberish as the undead man fucked her mind into sloppy chunks. Tears streaked down her cheeks, clear dribbles of salty water down one, thick drizzles of milky jizz down the other. Her body shuddered into death beneath her pair of zombie rapists, another unfortunate victim of the Necropolis.

Alice and her team turned onto the street where Fuuka had sensed the survivors. With the time they’d taken to properly survey the potential dangers, they arrived confident and ready to save the day. Only to immediately see that the time they’d taken had proved costly for the women they’d gone to rescue. Determination faded into a gloomy depression. Alice and Homura moved forward, quickly dispatching the trio of zombies violating Yang’s corpse. It was hardly the rescue they’d planned on, but it was the best they could do. Looking over the pair of corpses, as well as the sheer number of dead zombies littering the street, Alice couldn’t help thinking that they’d missed out on adding a pair of valuable assets to the team. It was easier to think of it that way, as opposed to the more bitter realization that their fear of what the Necropolis could do had stalled them from action, leading to two unnecessary deaths.

“We need to get back to the Bunker,” she told the others. “As quickly as possible.”


The massive, sprawling cathedral was beautiful in a haunting way. But more important than the stunning architecture was the defensive benefits the location provided. The large wrought iron gate and fence surrounding the cathedral and its surrounding buildings made for an excellent barrier to keep the Necropolis’s hordes at bay. Maybe not forever, but certainly long enough to allow the large group of survivors a few hours of rest and recovery. The majority of the group filled the chapel, taking advantage of the pews to lay down and gather their strength. Azula pulled aside a few of the group, the ones capable of defending themselves and still strong enough to do so, to scout out the remainder of the building to check for potential threats or supplies.

Stocking Anarchy was left posted as a guard for the main group, but the task bored the moment she received the order. While Azula gave her orders to the smaller search parties, she saw a chance to slip away and took it. Her sweet tooth demanded satisfaction. The supply of candy she’d stolen from Anna’s shop had not lasted her long. She needed more. A place of worship didn’t seem like a likely candidate to find a bountiful supply of sweetness, but Stocking was desperate. And on the off chance there was anything that met her requirements for nourishment, she wanted to get to it before any of the others could. To hell with rationing out those sorts of supplies. She needed the sweets more than anyone else.

Stocking found the kitchen with relative ease, as if she’d been drawn there through natural instinct. Her face scrunched up as she stepped into the room, finding the walls, floor, and surfaces coated in a pale pink mold. “Fucking gross,” she grumbled, stomping further into the room. The more she looked at the stuff, the more it started to resemble soggy clumps of cotton candy. The revelation made Stocking’s mouth water. She quickly went to the cupboards, pulling them open, even more eager to find something sweet to munch on so she could forget about the insane notion of chewing on the patches of mold. Her search occupied her mind to such an extent that she took no notice of the vines slithering their way down the wall behind her, pulling the kitchen door closed and clamping tightly around the handle to ensure no one else could enter to room.

The cabinets weren’t devoid of supplies, but stale crackers and bottles of water did nothing for her. Each disappointing search led her to slam the cabinet door closed and mutter increasingly vulgar curses. She finally went to the fridge, prying the door open and peering inside. She had a brief spurt of excitement when she spotted the jar of jelly. Not candy, but still sweet. She pulled the jar out and pried off the top, letting out a groan of annoyance to see it was empty aside from a few congealed smears. She shoved her hand into the jar anyway, scooping as much of the stuff onto her fingers as she could before sucking them clean. The sweet grape flavor soaked into her tongue, but the taste faded far too quickly. She chucked the disappointing jar across the room, only a little satisfied to hear the glass shatter. “What’s a bitch gotta do to score some fucking sweet goodness in this shit hole?”

Stocking’s nostrils flared, inhaling sharply as she caught a whiff of something deliciously sweet. Her head swiveled, trying to lock in on the smell. Her emerald eyes settled on the walk-in freezer at the back of the room, the door partially open. She took a step closer and sucked in a deeper breath, confirming the source of the smell and basking in the haze of sugar-filled oxygen entering her lungs. “Goddamn jackpot,” she purred, licking her lips. She started towards the freezer, each step steady despite the warmth spreading through her body. She let out a half-laugh. “Whatever this shit is, it must be good. I’m fucking wasted on the smell alone.” The implausibility of getting drunk off the smell of sugar didn’t occur to Stocking. The spores she’d been breathing in since entering the kitchen kept her brain from making any form of logical reasoning. The Narcomold was a simple organism, but it performed its duty well, lulling victims into a hypnotic, horny daze and then guiding them into the clutches of the vined creation growing inside the walk-in freezer.

Stocking panted heavily, sweat beading across her skin as she fell deeper and deeper under the spell of the Narcomold. Her hands dropped down to the wide hem of her largely black mini-dress. She tugged the garment up and over her head, pulling her long hair through it before tossing the dress aside. She unclasped her bra and stumbled as she worked her panties down her legs, leaving the majority of her pale flesh exposed, with the exception of her thigh-high black and blue stockings. If she’d been capable of thinking about her actions, she’d have wondered why she’d so casually stripped down. But with a head full of spores, the act seemed as natural to her as the steps she took into the freezer. She stared dully at the mass of hose-like vines clustered in the middle of the room, thoroughly dazed by the cloud of sweetness permeating the room.

Stocking visibly shuddered as the vines stretched towards her, staring up at the creature in a drugged, slack-jawed stupor. The vines touched her, slid around her ankles, pulled her arms behind her back. She groaned, writhing as she was lifted into the air, gripped tightly in the creature’s bondage and forced to spread her legs. The Juicer squirmed one of its many vines against Stocking’s damp pussy, forcing the tight orifice to spread apart and accept the penetration. She cried out as the vine filled her sex, curling her hips upwards to grind against it, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as a second vine wedged between her tight buttocks. She felt no pain as her asshole gaped open around the girth of the vine, only pleasure. Even without the spores, Stocking would have been intrigued by the experience, her fetish for bondage nearly as strong as her fetish for sugar.

When a third vine stretched towards her face, Stocking eagerly wrapped her lips around the tip. Her eyes lit up with ecstasy as her tongue dragged across the opening at the end of the vine, lapping up her first taste of its thick sap. A powerful sweetness soaked into her taste buds, satisfying her urge for sugar in a way she’d never experienced before. She writhed within her bindings, shifting her hips back and forth to fuck the tendrils plunging into her lower holes while sucking harder at the vine in her mouth, desperate to taste more of the sticky sap. Her nipples tightened, pale breasts bouncing as the Juicer’s thrusts intensified, plunging deeply into Stocking. Her throat bulged, plugged by the vine and gulping steadily as the creature’s potent ejaculate drizzled into her.

Pumping steadily into Stocking’s wet, clenching holes, the Juicer had little trouble achieving enough stimulation to spew forth heavy wads of sap into the young woman’s trembling body. The sap flowed into Stocking’s plugged body, filling her with a rising volume of the substance. Like so many other overly sweet treats, the sap was rich with sugar but lacked almost any form of nutrients. Despite the way Stocking hungrily gulped the stuff down, twitching through one orgasm after the next as it filled her pussy and backed its way into her bowels, the Juicer was not truly feeding her. It was simply preparing her for consumption. Along with the sugar, the sap contained potent corrosive enzymes, capable of breaking down muscle, organ, even bone. Between the Narcomold’s spores and the addictively sweet flavor of the sap, Stocking remained in a blissful state, passionately grinding against the vines slowly killing her as her innards were efficiently broken down into a tasty slop.

The definition of Stocking’s body shifted from angular and curvy into something better resembling a ripening melon. Her breasts flattened, hips expanding, as her body was tilted back, forcing the juicy innards to slosh into her swollen belly. The ecstasy filling her upturned face gradually faded into a lifeless stare as the liquified remains of her brain drained down the back of her sap-coated throat. Her eyes sank back into their sockets, disappearing completely as they dissolved. Her skull didn’t last much longer, causing her head to deflate in on itself, leaving a grotesque, loose pouch of face. The Juicer bent Stocking’s body into a U-shape, allowing the fluids in her arms and legs to flow down into her overripe abdomen. The vines continued to plug her holes, keeping the meal contained until the digestion process was complete.

The Juicer pulled Stocking closer, hanging her bloated corpse over the base of its thick stem. The soggy pink Narcomold blended oddly with the dark green of the Juicer, but the two independent organisms enjoyed a symbiotic relationship. The Narcomold’s spores lured prey into the Juicer’s clutches and then, after the Juicer had prepared the prey for consumption, the vined creature used its greater mobility and strength to feed both itself and the mold. Thick vines curled around Stocking’s swollen body, gripping her lightly at first. The vines pressed down, squeezing and twisting the bulging sack of skin. Heavy sprays of liquified innards erupted from Stocking’s mouth, nose, hollowed eye sockets. It squirted from her ears and shot free from her loosened cunt and asshole, a tiny stream forced through her urethra. As the Juicer squeezed and twisted, wringing the dead woman’s body out, her belly button distended before popping open to allow further drainage. Her swollen nipples lactated her soupy lungs across the Juicer’s base.

In her ongoing hunt to consume as many sugary substances as she could, Stocking had become the ultimate sweet treat.


With the group taking a few hours to rest, perhaps for the last time before they made the final push to the airport, Baroness saw her chance to put her coup into action. The plan was simple. Get Azula alone and then – with the help of her recruits – make sure she caused no trouble for anyone ever again. She pulled Azula aside.

“I need to speak with you,” she told the woman.

“I’m right here,” Azula replied.

“Not here,” Baroness said, keeping her voice low. “It concerns the safety of the group. And I’d rather not cause any panic. Meet me on the roof in ten minutes.”

Azula gave her a curious look but nodded her agreement.

With the first step of her plan completed, Baroness made her way around the chapel, collecting her small assortment of cohorts. Since recruiting Azura, she’d also managed to persuade Mugino Shizuri and Sonya Blade to join her little rebellion. Along with Lola and Nena, that gave her five loyal to her cause. Once she had them gathered, she made sure Azula was nowhere near before passing along the news. “We’re going up to the roof to have a little chat with our ignoble leader,” she told them. She turned to Azura. “I want you to stay down here, just in case she decides she doesn’t want to give up her command peacefully. And to keep everyone down here calm. I suspect Azula still has some of the others convinced she’s the best choice. They won’t be happy to see her dethroned.”

With her orders given, Baroness collected the others and headed for the roof, leaving Azura behind. The dancer watched them go, frowning. Since her decision to follow the woman, she’d begun to have second thoughts. She still believed Azula was not fit to lead, but she doubted Baroness’s motives almost as strongly. She worried that Baroness had no intention to follow through on her supposed plan to try and take Azula alive. Azura looked around at the others in the group. They would need comforting in the wake of whatever happened. But she struggled with following the Baroness’s orders blindly. She wanted to believe that the woman would stay true to her word, but it would be impossible for her to know for sure what happened up on the rooftop if she wasn’t there to witness it herself.


Jack’s decision to engage the zombie turtle people came surprisingly easy. Strategically, it seemed like a bad idea to leave a certain threat behind them when they still didn’t know what lay ahead. Beyond that, the sight of the bodies of Ada and Tron only reinforced the rising guilt she felt for those she’d lost along the way. Even though they were dead, she hated the thought of leaving their bodies behind to be playthings for the perverse monstrosities. She passed her plan to the others, keeping her voice low enough to avoid being heard by the creatures. “We sneak in, get close,” she told them. “Wait for my signal and then take these fuckers down.” She saw shockingly little hesitation or reluctance among her group. Looks like they’re just as sick of this place as I am, she thought. A bit of revenge’ll feel good for all of us right about now.

Jack crept further down the tunnel, shotgun at the ready. The turtle-man fucking Ada was closest, making him her first target. Even lying on his back, the katana he had marked him as the most dangerous in terms of weapon potential. With the squad of turtle-men engrossed in violating their macabre playthings, Jack’s crew managed to sneak up on them without drawing any attention to themselves. Jack lifted her shotgun and took aim, finger sliding over the trigger.

Leonardo’s zombified brain was significantly duller than it had been before his corruption. If he’d still been alive, Jack and the others would never have been able to get the drop on him and his squad of Zombie Mutant Ninja Turtles. But with the blend of lust and hunger constantly consuming him, he was transfixed by the limp doll perched atop his crotch. The woman’s short black hair swaying with each hard pump he made into her, the death-cooled grip of her cum-slicked snatch sliding up and down the long length of his smooth member. The way her perky tits jiggled with each bounce he forced her to make. He was nearing yet another release, flexing his thick arms to make Ada dance on top of him faster, when he – finally – caught movement out of the corner of his eye.

While Leonardo’s brain may have been dulled, his reflexes were still good enough to twist Ada’s body towards his attacker, shielding himself from Jack’s initial shot. At close range, the buckshot devastated Ada’s mostly pristine corpse. The blast shredded through her back, ripping those perky tits to pieces. Her arms ripped off, flung to the side, as her head snapped back on its broken neck, the flesh of her throat sheering away to send the head tumbling towards Jack’s planted feet. With the lower half of Ada’s body still clinging to him, cunt stretched taut around his pulsing prick, Leonardo struggled to get to his feet. His movements were slowed by the sudden orgasm that struck him, squirting a watery seed into the depths of Ada’s snatch as Jack pumped her weapon and adjusted her aim. “Get fucked, scumbag,” the tattooed woman growled before squeezing the trigger a second time, transforming Leonardo’s head into a wad of gory paste.

Jack backpedaled as soon as the headless turtle-fuck’s corpse flopped back to the floor, twitching and humping into Ada’s lower half. She felt a wave of nausea roll through her as she spotted the bulbous head of the thing’s dick pushing up through the torn midsection of the woman, spewing creamy spunk across tangles of guts. The blasts from her weapon had drawn the attention of the others, although she was glad to see they were moving just a little sluggishly as well, seemingly annoyed that their necrophiliac games were being interrupted. She stayed alert, looking for the best spot to lend her assistance as the rest of her crew moved in to join the attack.

Donatello shoved Tron’s corpse away from him, stiff prick popping free from her gaping asshole, and rose to face the red-and-blue-clad blonde advancing on him. He drew his staff and engaged her, his movements awkward and stilted with the bobbing length of his erection jutting from his crotch. Kara was far from full strength, both due to the effects of the Necrotic field blocking the precious sunlight she required to charge her powers as well as the prolonged stay underground, but she still possessed enough of her enhanced abilities to go toe-to-toe with the turtle-man. She brought her arm up, blocking Donnie’s staff. It was a hard hit, enough to leave behind a nasty bruise across her weakened skin, but far from crippling. Looping her arm around the long weapon, Kara yanked it free from the turtle’s grip. She hopped back, bringing the staff up horizontally before her before slamming it down against the top of her rising knee, snapping the hardened wood with relative ease. She chucked the pieces aside and rushed back in, dodging the swipe of Donnie’s large, three-fingered fist and slipping around behind him.

His body was bulky, even bulkier thanks to the thick shell covering his back, but Kara managed to work an arm around the turtle-man’s neck, pulling back hard. Killing went against her nature, but the Necropolis demanded a certain hardness to survive. It helped to think that this creature, wherever it had come from, was only technically alive, resurrected by an evil force and puppeteered into committing heinous acts. Kara kept that thought at the front of her mind, willing herself to believe it fully, as she yanked back hard enough to crush Donnie’s throat. Clenching her teeth, Kara jerked back again, snapping the turtle-man’s neck and putting an end to whatever corruption of life still remained in his reanimated body. Even with her mental reassurances, she still felt a pang of guilt as she let the limp carcass drop to the ground.

Raphael had responded a bit faster than the other turtles, shoving April’s body into Michelangelo’s hands and lumbering towards the small group of women. The quickness of his movements, paired with the deadly sharpness of his sais, made him the next target Jack fixed on. Samus and Quorra joined her, helping to divide the zombie turtle’s attention between them. Despite the slow rot of his undead body, Raph managed to maintain a frustrating spryness, backflipping away to avoid a blast from Jack’s shotgun and ducking below a shot from Samus’s pistol. He twisted to the side, deflecting the glowing edge of Quorra’s disc with his shell. Dropping low, Raph spun to face his attackers and flung one of his sais, the weapon flying fast and steady. Jack’s eyes went wide, seeing the sai rushing towards her face. She jerked her head back, knowing it would not be enough to save her. Samus’s hand shot up, fingers closing around the blade, catching it with only a mere inch or so between the glistening tip and Jack’s nose.

Jack didn’t allow the close brush with death slow her, shifting the barrel of her shotgun and firing in response. The buckshot tore through Raph’s gut, knocking him back and dropping him onto his hands and knees and rancid lengths of cold turtle innards spilled from his torn belly. His large hand dropped to his side, pulling his remaining sai up, readying another attack. Before he could, Quorra rushed up to his side, disc in hand, and brought it down over the back of his neck. The oddly shaped turtled head fell away from the stuttering body, rolling awkwardly across the tunnel floor as the rest of him collapsed into the pile of intestines leaking out of him.

Only Michelangelo remained. He’d dumped April’s body, groaning as her slick, dead cunt sloshed away from his aching member. Dot and Ellie advanced on him, not as boldly as the others. Their limited – borderline nonexistent – combat training made them cautious, but with only a pair of nunchucks at his disposal, he seemed to be a relatively easier target compared to the others. It was hard to tell of Mikey’s backstepping was a sign of cleverness or cowardice, but Dot and Ellie pursued him all the same, giving him few chances to attack back while they searched for a means of dispatching him. The pistol in Dot’s hand was small, but it still felt heavy and awkward in her grip. Aiming was difficult, especially in the midst of trying to avoid getting brained by the sweeps of the turtle-thing’s nunchucks, but she managed to sink a couple of rounds into the soft meat of Mikey’s forearm and abdomen. It was enough to slow him, but not stop him.

Ellie stepped to the side, noticing the turtle was more fixed on trying to bring Dot down than her. She took advantage of it, angling a shot with her plasma cutter that neatly severed one of the creature’s hands at the wrist. The three-fingered hand dropped to the floor, still clinging to the nunchuck. She shifted the aim of her weapon higher and fired, but the turtle managed to duck back in time to avoid the decapitating blast. Ellie could only assume the thing was confused and hurt when it dropped its remaining weapon and pulled a thin metal rod from his belt. The thing wasn’t large enough to be an effective weapon. Ellie smirked and tried to line up a clean kill shot. “Idiot,” she muttered.

Mikey’s fat finger mashed against the small button on the side of the metal rod, igniting a blinding streak of yellow light nearly three feet in length. The sudden light stunned the women, as did Mikey’s sudden lunge. Ellie fired, missing the turtle’s face for the second time. She made an attempt to adjust her aim and fire again, but the thing moved too quickly to stop his attack. Dot’s lips parted, releasing a shocked gasp as the searing blade of Bastilla Shan’s lightsaber came down against the top of her forehead. Her body snapped rigid as Mikey cleaved downwards, slicing smoothly through the young woman’s face and down through her chest, finally exiting her crotch. Dot’s pistol slid from her numb fingers, wide eyes staring blankly as the cauterized line of damage down her body gave off small wafts of smoke. Her left and right side peeled apart, exposing the bisected organs within her. Her sliced clothing fluttered away, providing the turtle a tantalizing view of her breasts before the two halves flopped to the ground.

The speed with which Dot had died was a shocking example of what the weapon could do. When Mikey turned towards Ellie, slashing at her midsection, the woman jumped back and fired her plasma cutter in response. The flash of blue-white energy struck the glowing blade, managing to deflect it back. The turtle cocked the lightsaber back, ready to launch another attack. The combined force of Jack’s shotgun and Samus’s pistol tore through his chest, opening up gaping wounds. Ellie leveled her cutter and squeezed the trigger, again and again, tearing the creature into as many pieces as she could until the heat of the weapon forced her to stop. She stumbled back, panting heavily, unable to keep her eyes from fixing on Dot’s remains, far too aware that she’d come very close to winding up equally dead.

At least it was quick, she thought. Jesus, is that the best we can hope for in this hell?

With the fight over, Jack allowed everyone to take a short rest. Another encounter, another one of us dead, she thought angrily as she looked over the remains of the now four women draped amidst the corpses of the turtle-men. She left the turtles where they lay, but took the time to scoop up the others, laying them out side by side. The tattered, stained sheets she found stuffed into a small side tunnel smelled awful, looked even worse, but it seemed at least marginally more respectful than letting the women’s bodies lay exposed. She draped the sheets over them, doing her best not to look at any of their faces. Even the body of the woman she’d never known seemed to stare up at her accusingly. It’s not my fucking fault, she thought back at the bodies. I’m doing the fucking best I can, goddammit.

She believed that, mostly. But the ordeal was getting to her. She checked with Quorra to review the sewer map she’d downloaded, only mildly comforted by the knowledge that it would be a relatively short, straight shot from where they were to the exit. “Alright,” she called to the remaining few women. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”


Spider-Gwen had been in the midst of a leisurely patrol around Manhattan when the reality bending tug of the Necropolis had snatched her up and whisked her away. It had been shaping up to be a relatively lovely day, no sign of major crimes, no super villains wreaking havoc in the city. It was the sort of relaxing afternoon she’d needed more than she’d realized. Figures, she thought as she was flung into the air above the Necropolis, dropping swiftly towards the streets below. This is why I can’t have nice things. She twisted her body around into a more aerodynamic pose, extending an arm and letting loose a length of webbing to snare a nearby ledge, transforming her fall into a graceful swing. Gwen rode out the swing, using it to propel her up and onto a nearby rooftop. “Alright,” she muttered to herself, eyes scanning across the cityscape, noticing the spots of devastation and abandonment, a few shuffling forms down below that didn’t look the least bit healthy. “What have I been pulled into this time?”

On a rooftop not far from where Gwen landed, the Wings of Death slurped Renamon’s leg into its beaked snout and swallowed down the final morsel left of the fox-girl. The massive monster’s keen eyes had spotted Gwen upon her arrival into the Necropolis, had traced her movements as she’d swung to safety. With its previous victim thoroughly raped, torn to pieces, and eaten, the winged nightmare was eager for something fresh. Stretching its large wings wide, the creature pushed off of the rooftop and took flight, coasting in relative silence towards the unaware young woman crouched nearby.

Gwen faced away from the Wings, visually unaware of the behemoth’s swift approach. It wasn’t until the creature got closer that the unnerving tingle at the back of her brain kicked into gear, warning her of impending danger. She acted without thought, instincts forcing her to leap from the ledge moments before the Wings’ claws could clench around her petite frame. Gwen let herself freefall for a couple seconds, putting some fast distance between herself and the aerial predator before firing off a web to swing away. She turned her head back, getting a glimpse of the monster from over her shoulder. That thing’s as ugly as it is mean looking, she thought. Like some jerk took the Vulture and the Lizard and mashed them together. This place just keeps getting better.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out – whatever the creature was – it wasn’t friendly. Gwen swung faster, putting on as much speed as she could safely handle and zig-zagging from one side of the street to the next. The tingle of her spider-sense persisted, a constant reminder that the monster was still behind her and gaining. Launching herself into a somersault, Gwen fired a length of webbing to the side, swinging down a side street. She hurried down the next block and turned down another street, hoping to lose the creature with her greater agility. But despite the Wings’ size, it proved to be shockingly maneuverable. The streets it couldn’t fit its bulk down, it simply flew higher – over the rooftops. Gwen pushed herself harder, feeling the sweat soaking into her suit. After several more fast turns and quick swings that very nearly left her splattered against a wall or two, she felt the tingling in her head recede.

Gwen didn’t allow herself to slow much, but she did take a moment to glance behind to confirm the monster was no longer pursuing her. Maybe it decided to find some easier prey, she thought. Her spider-sense returned, screaming in her head, so suddenly it drew a gasp from the heroine. The Wings dropped in front of her, terrifyingly close. Gwen’s head swam with dizziness as she reacted, shifting her momentum in an attempt to swing back the way she’d come. The movements were hasty and sloppy, not fast enough to avoid the powerful swipe of one of the creature’s wings. Gwen let out a yelp as the tension of her webbing vanished, the sturdy substance easily cut by the monster’s strength. She found herself dropping into another freefall, the last thing she needed with the Wings right on top of her. Extending her arm, she pressed her fingers against the trigger for her web spinner. A short spurt of webbing erupted from the nozzle before it went dry. Gwen quickly extended her other arm and tried again. Not so much as a drizzle. The spinners were empty.

The momentum of Gwen’s swing shot her forward and downward. Her shoulder clipped the wall of the building to her right, hard enough to draw a cry of pain from her as the limb nearly dislocated. She made a grab for the wall but bounced far enough out from it that the solid surface was quickly out of her reach. She fell, managing to pull herself into an upright position just before her feet hit the rooftop of the short office complex below her. She crumpled forward, rolling roughly several feet towards the ledge before coming to a stop. Her knees throbbed from the impact, various hot patches across her body telling her where she’d scrapped through her suit. Her right arm hurt the worst. She could move it, but each shift she made sent jolts of pain through her badly bruised shoulder and into her chest.

Gwen managed to get to her feet, limping and aching but alive. She fought to push down the pain flowing through her, knowing she wasn’t safe. Get inside, she thought, hastily putting together some kind of plan. It’s too big to follow me inside. It might be able to rip the building apart to get to me, but I’ll deal with that when it happens. She lifted her head, looking for an access door leading into the building she’d unceremoniously landed on. She spotted one on the side furthest from her and let out a groan, moving towards the escape route with as much speed as she could muster. The adrenaline pumping through her veins helped. The sudden jolt of fear that followed the blazing spider-sense helped even more. With no time to confirm where the Wings were attacking from – behind her, definitely, beyond that, who knew? – Gwen trusted her instincts and dodged the impending attack.

In the short period of time the Wings had been chasing Gwen, it had noticed her uncanny ability to anticipate its strikes. It expected her dodge. And being wounded, Gwen’s defensive leap wasn’t nearly as fast or graceful as she needed it to be. The Wings’ tail whipped around, razor-sharp tip curling to meet the young woman. It happened fast. The tail slashed through Gwen’s neck, sending her head spinning away from her body. Instead of landing on her feet, Gwen’s legs gave out, forcing her body into an abrupt flop to the rooftop where it lay mostly still, pumping out heavy spurts of hot blood and giving off the occasionally hard jerk. Gwen’s head landed and rolled a foot or so before coming to rest on her neatly severed neck, still-living eyes aimed back at the rest of her and the approaching behemoth.

The Wings landed over Gwen’s headless corpse, scooping the twitching flesh into its claws. It carefully cut and peeled away her suit, exposing her petite, athletic figure. Gwen’s stay in the Necropolis had been a short one. She’d not glimpsed what the corrupted city’s monstrous denizens were truly capable of. But trapped in her dying head, she was forced to watch with sickened horror as she was treated to the dark purpose of the living nightmare courtesy of the Wings stripping her body and stuffing its oversized, stiffening member into her hairless cunt. As her vision faded, Gwen’s final thought was a simple one. Why?

The Wings offered her no answer, cramming several more thick inches into her widely stretched pussy, forcing her slender belly to distend around the rigid tip of his member. One claw gripped the body around the waist, thumb digging into the soft mound of her left tit, as he yanked her back and forth along half of his punishing length. The flow of blood from her neck slackened as he drew back, shot forth as he plunged inwards. As his strokes grew more violent, the dead woman’s esophagus bulged to allow the expulsion of chunks of crushed organ meat. Her limbs flopped limply beneath her, swaying back and forth in time with the Wings’ fuck-thrusts. Gwen’s ribs snapped under the growing strength of the monster’s grip, her blood and the thing’s pre-cum effectively lubing up her tight hole as the Wings jerked her body faster.

Ramming Gwen’s corpse towards its crotch, the Wings let out a sharp cry of triumphant release. A geyser of jizz rocketed from her torn neck, arching through the air and splattering messily across the rooftop. Gwen’s face – fully slackened into death – received a warm bath of cum, her features becoming fully obscured from the thick goo. The Wings pulled her body upwards, holding her against its chest as its seed drizzled from her neck and flowed over her perky tits and down her smooth backside. By the time the Wings pried her tight, dead cunt off of its softening member, Gwen’s body was a thoroughly cum-glazed treat. Stretching its maw open wide, it rammed her bloody, cum-oozing neck inside. The hard beak snapped shut, slicing and tearing through meat and bone to gulp down the first satisfying chunk of its catch.

Sharp snaps and wet tearing filled the air as the Wings enjoyed its meal, stuffing more and more of Gwen’s body down its gullet. The masticated remains of Gwen’s carcass slid down the creature’s throat, plopping messily into its stomach where the mostly digested remnants of Renamon resided. Slurping up tangles of guts, the Wings hefted Gwen’s pert ass into its mouth. Its beak closed more gently over the smooth cheeks of her posterior, tilting its head back to gulp down her flopping legs. It took some effort. With only Gwen’s bare feet protruding, the monster took a break, leaving her soles and toes pointed towards the sky for several long moments before working up the strength to finish swallowing the last of its meal. The bulge of her legs against the Wings’ throat tapered off as her feet slid down the creature’s gullet. Stretching the strain from its jaw, the Wings released a satisfied belch.

The Wings squatted on its hind legs, resting as the bulky meal settled in its stomach. Its attention was drawn to the only piece of Gwen left behind. Her jizz-covered head stirred its lust enough to draw the Wings back to a semi-erect state. Trudging across the rooftop, the creature scooped up the young woman’s head. The piece was small, her esophagus impossibly tight compared to the girth of its cockhead, but the Wings’ determination allowed it to force the head onto the tip of its dick. The sexual relief was pleasant but minimal. The creature was more interested in showing off its latest catch, even as its mind turned towards future fuck-meals. It recalled the group it had attacked not so long ago. The fox-girl had been a pleasant catch, but she was long gone. The creature recalled the one who’d managed to hurt it, a desire for some form of twisted revenge stirring in its brain. The Wings took flight, heading in the direction it recalled Alice’s group heading towards. The recent conquest and meal had been nice, but the Wings – like every other nightmare lurking in the Necropolis – was forever hungry, forever horny.


Tasked with securing the rooms in the church and searching for whatever meager supplies might be worth something, Xian Mei, Zoey, and Leaf made their way down a deserted hall. The location had been quite enough so far, that they’d managed to find some degree of relaxation, but it was edged with an alertness in case any unwanted guests made an appearance.

Sweeping the beam of her flashlight across the dusty interior of a closet, Zoey frowned at the lack of anything interesting. “You know who I miss?” she remarked, keeping her voice low. “Anne. I remember I traded her some bandages for this light. She always had the craziest stuff in that shop.”

Xian nodded. “I recall haggling with her for nearly an hour once,” she recalled. “She’d found a tachi from somewhere. I tried to argue that the value of weapons should be discounted, given their importance, but she wouldn’t budge.” Her brow furrowed. “Wait, wasn’t her name Anna?”

Zoey shook her head, moving further down the hall. “No, it was Anne. I’m like, eighty-percent sure.”

“No, it was definitely Anna,” Xian pressed. “I remember calling her Anna. To her face. She didn’t correct me.”

“Yea, but see, she was probably too engrossed in haggling with you to bother,” Zoey shot back. “She didn’t care so much what you called her, as long as she came out the other side of the deal with the better bargain.” She held up the flashlight. “You know how many bandages this little thing cost me? Far too many. Called her a greedy bitch as I handed them over. She didn’t come back with, ‘But my name’s Anna.’ Or, wait… Anne? Shit, now I’m doubting myself.”

Xian frowned. “It’s sad. We both had meaningful conversations with her, saw her and interacted with her so many times, but we can’t even remember her name now.” She checked another door, the one leading into the kitchen, finding it securely locked. Being at the end of the hall, they turned and headed back to follow an intersection leading along the backside of the church.

“No,” Zoey insisted. “I remember her fucking name. Her name was Anne.”

“Anna,” Xian muttered back.

Leaf sighed. “Look, Anne, Anna, Annabelle, whatever her name was, she’s dead. Does it really matter?”

Zoey and Xian exchanged a look.

“It’s a bit harsh,” Zoey commented.

“Yea, Anne was nice,” Xian agreed, flinching. “Dammit, now I’m doing it.”

“Right?” Zoey said, flustered. “The fuck was her actual name?”

“The fuck does it actually matter?” Leaf snapped. “Unless we all wanna end up just as dead as she is, we need to focus. I’m sorry if it’s harsh. I liked her, too. But of all the fucking things we need to think about to keep ourselves alive, is figuring out what her actual fucking name was actually that fucking important?”

Leaf’s outburst shocked Zoey and Xian into silence. Zoey finally worked up the nerve to break it. “You alright?”

Leaf took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “It’s all just getting to me.”

“Dude, you need to get laid,” Zoey said.

Leaf shrugged. “You’re not wrong.”

A small smile crossed Xian’s face. “You remember that little nook in Anne’s shop? Where she kept the ‘adult’ things?”

“Anna,” Zoey corrected.

Leaf let out a restrained shriek of annoyance. “That’s it! Fuck it! You guys keep investigating. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“To piss or masturbate?” Zoey asked.

“I hate you both,” Leaf groaned, rolling her eyes and turning away from the pair.


Leaf’s annoyance grew as she backtracked to the small bathroom they’d found, her mind now picking up the debate Zoey and Xian had been having regarding whether the shopkeeper’s name had been Anne or Anna. Look, she’s not around to correct anyone anymore, she decided. So we should really just settle on one name and stick to it. And that name is… Anne. Wait, Anna. Fuck.

Leaf was close to convincing herself that the woman’s name should actually just be Stupid Dead Bitch Who Sold Stuff when she spotted Baroness further down the hall. She paused, watching as the woman slipping into a side room. Curious what Baroness was up to and thankful for any distraction from the endless cycle of which name was the right one, Leaf crept to the door. It had been left cracked. Crouching and scooting forward, she put her ear to the crack and listened. She could only hear Baroness’s voice, but it was clear from the words that there were others in the room with her.

“The time has come,” Baroness announced. “Azula is going to meet me on the rooftop. To discuss how to best reach the airport, she thinks. I’ve already asked Azura to stay with the others, so she won’t be a problem. Azula is tough, and powerful, but she’s also wounded, tired. I doubt she’ll be much of a match against five people.”

A chill ran down Leaf’s spine. She’d expected perhaps some juicy gossip, maybe a few glimpses of Baroness hooking up with another survivor. Not the revelation of an impending coup. Leaf wasn’t a huge fan of Azula, but a violent power shift among the leadership seemed like an even dumber way of wasting time and causing needless confusion than arguing over which stupid name as right. These idiots are going to get us all killed, she thought. I have to warn Azula. Get her off the roof. Baroness can’t go through with her plan if she’s not alone.

If Leaf had taken a glimpse through the crack in the door, she’d have realized the numbers didn’t add up. There were only three members of Baroness’s group in the room. Leaf found the missing fifth member of the coup as she backed up, bumping into Lola on her way to the meeting. The blonde had gone to the wrong room, making her a couple of minutes late for Baroness’s announcement, but right on time to spot Leaf eavesdropping. She cracked the butt of her machine pistol across the back of the woman’s head, knocking her into an unconscious heap. Lola glanced up and down the hall, confirming no one else was around, before scooping Leaf up and over her shoulder. She carried her into the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

“Little problem,” she said, rolling Leaf’s weight off and down to the floor. “Not sure how much she heard, but it’s safe to say it was enough to fuck us.”

Baroness looked over Leaf’s slack face, frowning. It was unfortunate. She’d hoped to go through with her plans with as little loss of life as possible. And Leaf had struck her as a potentially valuable asset. A little cocky, perhaps, but with the proper cultivation, an air of cockiness could be a valuable thing. “Once a spy, always a spy,” she remarked. There wasn’t time to waste. She didn’t want to leave Azula waiting for long. The element of surprise was key to a decisive transition of power. She looked across the small group she’d managed to collect. Each of them skilled in their own way. Lola and Nena had been with her for a while. They were loyal enough, good henchwomen, perfect potential fodder in a fight. Sonya Blade had been an easy enough recruit, after a bit of manipulation to reinforce the woman’s thought that it had been the Bunker’s mismanagement that had gotten her daughter killed. She’d do what needed to be done when the time came, but she struck Baroness as the sort who might object to outright murder.

Then there was Mugino Shizuri. The woman’s abilities were impressive, but it was her character that intrigued Baroness most. There were those who called Baroness a sadist, but they’d never met Mugino. She’d agreed to join easily, amused by the idea of getting to cause some pain and violence. But the woman was a borderline psychotic. Perhaps not even borderline. She insisted on being referred to by the name of her power, Meltdowner. She had little patience, a nasty streak of pettiness. Her former leadership role made her less malleable in terms of following orders and Baroness expected that issue would only become greater in the heat of battle, when she would likely lose herself to her own interests over what was best for the unit as a whole. In terms of choices for who should deal with Leaf, she was perfect.

“Meltdowner,” she called, drawing the woman’s attention. “Ensure that our interloper does not interfere with our plan and then come to the roof.” She looked to the others. “The rest of you, with me.” She led her group from the room, only mildly concerned about the little hiccup. It was far from ideal, but not significant enough to make her want to call the plan off. She doubted there would be a better time and the longer she waited, the greater the risk that Azula would suspect she was up to something. She only hoped that Mugino didn’t waste much time dealing with Leaf. Meltdowner, she corrected herself, rolling her eyes. Absurd name. I can’t believe she actually wants people to call her that.


A similar thought crossed Meltdowner’s mind as she looked over Leaf’s unconscious form. Of course, it’s not like Pippa’s much better, she decided. Baroness hadn’t gone into specifics, but they weren’t necessary. Leaf needed to die, and quickly. Meltdowner understood that well enough, but as she admired the young woman gradually stirring beneath her, she cast aside the rush. It had been too long since she’d really gotten to enjoy hurting someone. And the little bitch had almost cost them everything. If that didn’t earn her a little suffering, Meltdowner didn’t know what did. She straddled Leaf, dropping down on top of her to keep her pinned to the floor. Lifting a hand, she conjured a glowing orb of ionic energy. The Necropolis had sapped her power like any of the other survivors who’d possessed abilities before being stolen away from their home dimensions, but she could still conjure an option or two if she focused.

As Leaf’s eyes fluttered open, mind still too hazy to fully remember her situation, Meltdowner fired a beam from her option. The streak of green energy connected with the spy’s throat, cutting into her flesh. Not deep enough to kill her, just enough to snip her vocal chords. Leaf’s lips parted, face flinching from the pain, but she only managed a weak, hoarse croak. “Shhh,” Meltdowner grinned. “We don’t want to frighten the others.”

Feeling the strain of pushing her powers to the max, Meltdowner conjured a second option over the squirming young woman. A pair of beams – stronger than the first – shot down from them, slowly carving upwards, through the soft flesh of Leaf’s armpits and through her shoulders. The woman’s eyes bulged, gushing tears, urgent rasps pouring from her gaping mouth as she tried to express just how much the loss of limbs hurt. Her legs kicked about, feet smacking against the floor. Twisting from side to side, she tried to throw Meltdowner off of her. Meltdowner shoved her crotch down against Leaf’s flexing abdominal muscles, riding her bucking body and ensuring she had nowhere to escape to.

Meltdowner adjusted the aim of her options. The green beams returned, directed Leaf’s sides. They crept upwards and inwards, angling in to bore through the bare flesh of her chest, charring through her lower ribs. The woman’s green eyes bulged from their sockets, unimaginable agony filling her face as the energy carved through her. Her muted screams grew even more strained as her lungs were sliced apart. The beams met the lower, inner curves of the underside of Leaf’s tits, slicing through the soft mounds like butter. The fabric of her green-black half-top was no match for the destructive energy. Meltdowner reached down to tug away the loose flaps of the clothing, exposing the quivering flesh of Leaf’s breasts and bright pink nipples. The beams continued their journey, criss-crossing at the center of her cleavage. Her rapidly beating heart was spared by mere centimeters, as was the heavy silver cross draped around her neck. With a quick flick, the beams sliced the rest of the way through Leaf’s chest, leaving her body gruesomely quartered. Sweat soaked her short brown hair, leaving it clinging to her forehead as her lips smacked wetly, gurgling up a bloody foam as she strained to breathe into her destroyed lungs.

Leaf seemed surprisingly determined to cling to life despite the fatal slices of Meltdowner’s options. Allowing one of the options to fade away, Meltdowner focused another beam towards the spy’s head. The green energy tracked horizontally, slashing open Leaf’s left cheek before carving a slow, horrible line through her jaw and into her mouth. Meltdowner’s eyes lit up at the sight of Leaf’s flopping tongue being diced into chunks of glistening muscle within her endlessly screaming mouth. The light in Leaf’s bulging eyes drifted away as the beam finished its journey across her face. Meltdowner lost sight of them as the top of her head rolled back, showing off the neatly cauterized bone and muscle. With the woman no longer in any shape to try to fight back or flee, Meltdowner rose to her feet. She’d made Leaf’s death as slow as she could without completely forgetting about her duties to Baroness. One more quick flick of her option sliced the legs from Leaf’s diced up carcass. As it passed just beneath the barely covered flesh of the spy’s crotch, the beam caused the pool of piss she’d leaked to boil and steam even as further spurts of urine squirted through the soaked fabric of the green thong Leaf wore.

The chances of someone else wandering into the room to find the spy’s remains may not have been high, but they were high enough that Meltdowner decided to clean up the mess she’d made of the girl. She ferried the chunks of Leaf’s carved up corpse to a nearby filing cabinet, managing to stuff the pieces inside and close the drawers. Aside from the drying puddle of piss on the floor, there were no obvious signs that the woman had ever been in the room, let alone brutally carved apart within it. Her task completed, Meltdowner left to join Baroness and the others on the rooftop, eager to indulge her sadistic urges some more.


Baroness led her group of defectors to the church’s rooftop. A large, open air garden dominated the majority of the roof, several ornately designed spires stretching up towards the sky. It looked like a pleasantly peaceful location. Nothing like an invasion of undead monstrosities and the desire for power to shatter peace, Baroness thought, spotting Azula waiting for her at a stone podium near the center of the garden. With the rest of the survivors waiting unawares in the church, she saw little reason to maintain the façade of her loyalty any longer. She strode towards Azula, the others following along behind her.

“Bad news,” Baroness declared, a smug smirk filling her face. “I’ve decided you’re no longer the right person to lead us. I humbly nominate myself to take your place. And I graciously accept that nomination. So how would you like this to go? Quick and easy or long and painfully? I know which one I prefer.”

Azula looked from Baroness to the others gathered behind her, surprisingly unsurprised by the betrayal. Baroness’s brow furrowed with confused annoyance when the woman broke into laughter. Azula gave a snap of her fingers and four figures appeared from behind the spires. Baroness took quick stock of the women. Abigail Black, Beatrix Kiddo, Crimson Viper, and Balalaika. They looked about as unfriendly as Baroness and her group did.

Azula planted her hands on her hips, offering Baroness a mocking smile. “Well, you certainly took your sweet time, didn’t you?”


A blend of shock and rage trickled through Baroness as she looked across the handful of women Azula had brought to the roof with her. She’d been so careful arranging the coup. She’d not attempted to recruit any of the women aligned with Azula, so none of them could have spilled her secret. She shook her head. “How?” she couldn’t help asking. “How did you know what I was planning?”

Azula gave her a restrained smirk. “I’m a people person. Specifically, I don’t trust them. The other Bunker leaders met with some terrible luck towards the end, didn’t they? And since I knew I wasn’t responsible for their deaths, that didn’t leave me many options. When I discovered Dany had been infested with… whatever the hell it was that had started living inside her, I briefly thought it might have been her all along. But then I started to wonder, how did Dany get infected? Someone had to have let those worm things into the Bunker. Was it a mistake? Just some stupid accident? Or was it intentional? In the panic, I didn’t really have time to give it much thought, but afterwards, there was you. Suddenly not only eager to help, but conveniently the only person left – aside from myself – who had any connection to the Bunker leadership. I couldn’t be sure until now, but I had no intention of becoming another victim.”

Baroness saw no reason to point out that she’d had nothing to do with the deaths of the other leaders. Azula seemed to enjoy talking, giving Baroness’s group time to ready themselves for a much bigger fight than they’d anticipated. It looked like it was going to get much messier than she’d hoped. Where the fuck is Meltdowner?

Azula’s smirk settled into a smug smile as she came to the end of her little speech. “Now I may be a monster, but I’m not completely heartless. So I’ll give you the chance to surrender peacefully. I know you got yourselves all worked up and excited, thinking you’d be in charge, but you should really take the offer. The creatures lurking in this city will certainly kill you, but I’m still mulling it over.” The smile became a frown. “But don’t take too long to decide.”

Baroness didn’t need long, thankfully. She’d spotted Meltdowner finally arrive on the roof, sneaking into position. It didn’t look like Azula or any of her group had seen the woman’s arrival. “If I may,” Baroness said, lifting her hand. “It may sound silly, but I’d really like to know what she thinks about this offer.” She aimed a finger towards Abigail Black, hoping that Meltdowner took the hint.

She did.

Abigail’s harsh features softened into a look of confusion. She glanced from Baroness to Azula. “I… wait, what?” Her body snapped tense, shrieking as an emerald beam of energy bored through the thick black latex of her bodysuit, scorching through her flesh and vaporizing her heart. Her eyes – framed by thick black eyeshadow – bulged, rifle falling away from her limp fingers as she dropped to her knees and faceplanted onto the rooftop.

Abigail’s sudden death sparked off the fight, immediately pushing the odds in Baroness’s favor. The spires that had provided convenient hiding spots now became essential cover as the women wielding projectile weaponry advanced on each other, trading shots. Caught off guard, Azula and her group focused on making it to that cover as Baroness and her people rode the high of the sudden shifting of the tide to press their attack. Perhaps this won’t get as messy as I feared, Baroness thought, firing off a round that nearly took off Balalaika’s ear but instead clipped the side of the spire the woman ducked behind. Well, not messy for our side, anyway.

Sonya closed the distance to Beatrix fast enough to avoid getting shot. She kept her thoughts – the ones not busy working to keep her alive – on Cassie. The rage and sorrow she felt from knowing she was gone and that it was Azula’s fault. Not directly, but close enough. The rest of the Bunker leaders were dead. Bathory had vanished. Someone needed to pay. She’d have preferred Azula herself, but Beatrix was closer. She’d sparred with the woman a handful of times, knew how skilled she was. With her katana in hand, Beatrix was even more dangerous. But Sonya had experience facing off against opponents better armed than she was. She ducked and dodged the slashes of the woman’s blade, staying close enough to use Beatrix as a shield from the others, forcing her to commit only to short, quick slashes with the weapon. Sonya focused on defensive posturing, keeping her life and limbs intact while Beatrix used up precious energy trying to bring the fight to a fast end.

Beatrix had plenty of her own anger, although none of it was focused on Sonya. The altercation was an unfortunate necessity. She doubted she’d have the chance to bring the woman down without killing her, but she hoped that the killing blow would be quick and painless. Sonya deserved that much at least. She understood the mother’s grief. If the roles were reversed, she’d have hoped for a similar treatment. The close quarters brawling was a tricky obstacle, but Sonya’s movements were beginning to develop a pattern. One that could be easily taken advantage of. Beatrix cocked her katana back and to the side, thrusting up and out, expecting the blade to meet Sonya’s face as she went through her dodging pattern.

Sonya had been waiting for Beatrix to take the bait of her predictable movements. She jumped back instead of to the side, momentarily putting herself at risk of being blown away or set ablaze by Azula. The others were too busy with their own engagements to take advantage of her vulnerability. Her leg snapped up, kicking Beatrix’s overextended blade away, tearing it free from her grip. The katana was just clattering to the ground as Sonya darted back in close, unleashing a flurry of strikes. She didn’t give Beatrix the time to recover from the sudden loss of her weapon. The yellow-clad blonde attempted to defend herself, but Sonya’s furious speed was too much for her. Her nose crunched under the force of Sonya’s fist, squirting blood from her nostrils and bringing tears to her eyes. Sonya’s knee came up, smashing into Beatrix’s side, snapping several of her ribs. A quick palm jab mashed the flesh of Beatrix’s right tit against her breastbone, snapping the bone and making her heart stutter. Beatrix managed a poorly executed strike, only to have her arm snared and broken.

Sonya had no interest in mercy. Each strike she landed sent a rush of cathartic relief through her. But even that wasn’t enough to douse the anger inside her. Her lips pulled back into a bestial snarl as she clamped her palms against the sides of Beatrix’s face, yanking the stunned woman up against her. Sonya mashed her lips against her foe’s, shocking her with the sudden kiss. A purple spark of ethereal flame erupted within Sonya’s mouth. She tongued it forward past Beatrix’s lips before breaking the kiss and shoved the woman back. Beatrix’s hands came up to her throat as the scorching heat of the flame forced its way deeper into her body. She let loose a hoarse howl as her body exploded with blistering heat, consumed within the raging purple inferno. Her muscles grew taut from the devastating temperature, locking her in place as her flesh charred and slashed away from her superheated bones. The glowing embers of her hair drifted into the air as her eyes popped and oozed down her melting cheeks. The echo of her scream continued to radiate out of Beatrix as she was reduced to a blackened skeleton. Her bones cracked and collapsed, leaving her as a pile of scattered ash and charred chunks. The death had been quick, but for Beatrix, the agony had seemed to last an eternity.

Sonya hadn’t stuck around to watch, diving behind a nearby spire. She scooped up Beatrix’s fallen sword along the way. She wasn’t proficient with the weapon, but it seemed better to have it than risk Azula or one of her minions retrieving it. She’d worked too hard to keep from dying to the blade.

Lola and Nena, ever the wicked pair, had grouped up to take on Crimson Viper. Their weapons bucked in their hands as they fired off rounds at the woman, growing increasingly frustrated with her speed. Her jet boots afforded her the mobility to launch herself out of their line of fire or duck behind spires for cover. As C. Viper once again disappeared form their view, Nena motioned for Lola to move around one side while she went the opposite way, intending to catch their target between them. Nena had just gotten into position when C. Viper lunged out from behind the spire. Her jet boots shot her forward too fast for Nena to get her gun up. The lunging redhead brought her fist up, slamming her gloved knuckles into Nena’s gut and triggering an electrical shock. Nena let out a yelp as the tazer punch hit her, crumpling back to the ground, unconscious.

C. Viper spun around, rushing towards Lola. She snapped her leg high, intending to bring it down on the blonde’s head, removing her from the fight. Lola threw herself to the side, lifting her pair of machine pistols, avoiding the downward swipe of C. Viper’s leg as she fired. Bullets plunked through C. Viper’s jet boot and tore through her foot, causing an explosion of sparks and short misfires that threw the woman off balance. She hopped on one leg, turning in place as she tried to kick the boot from her bleeding foot. The damaged boot exploded, ripping C. Viper’s right leg apart from the knee downwards. She screamed, staring at the grisly stump in horror, somehow managing to maintain her balance, continuing to hop. Her scream became a stuttered series of grunts as Lola unloaded a half-dozen rounds through her chest, shredding her tits and turning her lungs into Swiss cheese. Lola adjusted the aim of her second machine pistol and fired again, destroying the woman’s face as she finally toppled over. She advanced on the fallen woman, leveling both of her weapons and emptying the remainder of her magazines into C. Viper’s head, leaving it a gooey pile of mush.

Despite only really wanting Azula dead, Baroness found herself engaged with Balalaika, exchanging shots from around the spires they’d chosen for cover. The blonde was a good shot, maybe even better than she was, but the firefight had dragged on long enough that it was beginning to feel like a stalemate. She glanced around, checking on the others on her side. Sonya was unharmed, but didn’t seem keen on throwing herself into the line of Balalaika’s fire. Good, Baroness decided. It would be a waste of talent. Lola and Nena had put an end to C. Viper, but Nena was down and Lola was dragging her inert form to relative safety. Meltdowner was keeping Azula distracted. There was no one available to lend her any assistance. With that knowledge in mind, Baroness convinced herself she didn’t need any.

The gunfight had gone on long enough that Baroness had subconsciously detected a rhythm to it. Thunderous explosions as they exchanged fire slackening slightly as Balalaika’s shots ceased. I have more rounds in my magazine than she does, she realized suddenly. She went through the cycle once more, this time listening carefully, counting up the number of times her enemy’s weapon fired before Balalaika ducked back behind the spire to reload. She took the opportunity to slap a fresh magazine into her own weapon and waited. If Balalaika noticed Baroness wasn’t firing nearly as often through the next loop, she didn’t seem to show it. Baroness counted off the rounds in her head. The moment she got to the end of her countdown, she darted out from behind her spire and charged the woman as she slipped back behind her cover. She still had plenty of bullets in her own gun, enough to bring the stalemate to an end.

Balalaika heard the rapid steps approaching and figured out what Baroness was up to just in time to drop her empty gun and defend herself. She was ready for the woman as she came around the spire, smacking Baroness’s weapon from her hands and drawing a combat knife. The wide-eyed look of shock was priceless, but Balalaika didn’t let it distract her as she lunged and slashed. Baroness pushed herself back, bringing an arm up to block the knife and hissing as the sharp blade sliced a deep gouge through her forearm. She gave Balalaika some distance, the pair circling one another, trading strikes and slashes. Balalaika managed to land a few more hits, cutting a few more gashes across Baroness’s arms and jabbing the tip of the knife into her hip. Her confidence swelled, encouraging her to dart in closer and shove the blade into Baroness’s belly. Baroness hopped back, bringing her hands together and deflecting the angle of the knife lower. She gripped Balalaika’s wrist and twisted, not hard enough to break the bone but still enough to send the bloody knife clattering to the ground.

Balalaika rolled with the loss of her weapon, moving in closer and snaring Baroness in an iron-grip. The pair grappled, Baroness slamming one fist into Balalaika’s firm gut while Balalaika worked a leg around behind Baroness’s knees and brought her to the ground. The wrestling match intensified, each woman struggling for a dominant position. The zipper of Baroness’s bodysuit tugged downwards, allowing one breast to spill free. The buttons on Balalaika’s red suit jacket went flying, the garment falling open to leave her chest fully exposed. The nudity meant nothing to either woman, although Baroness did take advantage of it, snaring one of Balalaika’s nipples between her fingers and giving it a vicious twist. The blonde yelped, muttering out a curse in Russian as she slammed her elbow into Baroness’s ribs, freeing her aching nipple. Baroness gasped and winced, feeling her cracked rib shifting painfully, loosening her grip enough that Balalaika managed to slither behind her and yanking her forearm up against her throat.

Baroness gagged as her windpipe was crushed under the strength of Balalaika’s grip. She didn’t allow herself to panic. It wasn’t the first time someone had attempted to choke her out. She’d certainly performed similar moves on enough others to know that it had been their panic that had ultimately doomed them. She struggled wildly, but with intent, shifting her hips and twisting her body to keep Balalaika from slipping into a convenient position to snap her neck. Her arms stretched outwards, seeking out some means of getting the woman literally off her back. Her fingers dragged across the blade of the combat knife, gurgling out a yelp of pain as she cut herself. The wounds were minimal, especially compared to the value of the discovery. She moved her hand lower, finding the knife’s grip and pulling it up. Baroness angled the blade inwards, sinking it into Balalaika’s forearm, deep enough to slide between her radius and ulna bones. She gave the knife a twist, satisfied with the scream of pain it drew from the blonde but even happier to feel the tension of the arm around her throat slip away.

Baroness ripped the knife free from Balalaika’s arm, rolling away and jumping to her feet. Adrenaline and endorphins fueled her, lunging forward and snaring a fistful of the woman’s blonde hair. She yanked Balalaika’s head up and back, slashing the knife across her throat and opening her jugular. A wave of blood sprayed from the wound, flowing over the woman’s exposed breasts. Baroness released her grip and let her foe drop back to the ground, watching as she rapidly bled out at her feet. Balalaika choked and gurgled on the hot blood flooding into her severed esophagus, staring up at her murderer. An eerie smile filled her pale face as her strength faded away, managing to gurgle out a wet, “Well done,” in her native Russian tongue before the light in her eyes faded away.

Baroness’s jaw firmed, looking down at the corpse with a stern expression. “Same to you, bitch,” she muttered back, tucking her exposed breast away as she zipped her bodysuit back up. Her body ached from the fight, the cuts covering her arms would need patching, but the coup wasn’t finished yet. Azula’s forces had been dealt with. It was time to put an end to the altercation.

Identifying Meltdowner as the biggest threat and leaving Baroness and the others to the capable hands of the women she’d enlisted to keep her safe, Azula focused her attention on trying to bring the woman down. With only one good hand, her fire bending took more effort than she would have liked. The blasts from Meltdowner’s options kept her constantly on the move, unable to find effective cover even behind the spires. Meltdowner had made a quick, careful retreat back to the door leading into the church, the wall providing her protection from the blasts of flame Azula sent her way. It took every ounce of concentration she had to even stay alive, unable to see one of the options, only spotting the energy blasts as they pierced the wall Meltdowner was using for her defense.

With the church structure proving to be surprisingly resilient to fire, Azula knew she would have to change things up if she hoped to win. Jumping to avoid another blast from Meltdowner’s hidden option, Azula tucked into a roll, drawing on the force of electricity and bending it to her will. She came up, twisted towards the doorway and unleashed the crackling flash of power. Both of Meltdowner’s options fired back, converging to meet the electricity before it could reach her. The convergence of energy met and reflected one another, sending Azula’s bolt uselessly into the air while the green beams curved downwards and sizzled against the rooftop.

You can’t keep getting lucky forever, you cunt, Azula thought, preparing to conjure another strike. Her eyes shifted away from her target, only for a scant moment, hoping to see one or more of her group available to lend some assistance. She spotted the pile of Beatrix first, unable to recognize who the body belonged to, but a glimpse of Sonya gave her a pretty good idea. Abigail had been dead from the start, no help at all. C. Viper’s bullet-riddled carcass was easy enough to identify, sparking Azula’s frustrated anger. The quick scan of the rooftop ended on Balalaika, lying limp, blood still leaking from her gashed open throat. “Useless,” she hissed angrily. “Good riddance.”

Her frustration flared as she spotted Baroness darting out from behind a spire. She turned towards the woman, momentarily forgetting about Meltdowner as her emotions took over. Baroness – gun retrieved – unleashed a spray of bullets. The hot lead punched into Azula’s thigh, one managing to blast through the side of her knee. Azula shrieked as the leg gave out, fighting to conjure up a fiery blast that would leave Baroness as another pile of smoking ash. Before she could unleash the attack, the beam from Meltdowner’s hidden option carving through her wrist, leaving behind a sizzle stump and stealing away any ability she had to bend the elements. Azula’s eyes flicked from Baroness down to her missing hand, eyes shooting wide with shocked rage. She screamed – less from the pain and more from the anger she felt at having been beaten. She sucked in a deep breath and kept on screaming, spittle dripping from her bared teeth as she glared up at Baroness. The woman’s cocky, victorious swagger only infuriated Azula further. She attempted to lunge towards the woman, determined to beat her face in with the stinging stump where her hand had been, only to let out a howl of pain as she attempted to put weight on her shot up leg.

Baroness stopped in front of Azula, lifting her leg and smashing the heel of her boot into the woman’s temple, bringing her pathetic temper tantrum to an end. Azula was knocked back, landing flat on her back, unconscious. Baroness looked down at the woman with a grin as the rest of her group made their way over. Considering the unexpected ambush, things had gone about as perfectly as she could have hoped for. Nena had even managed to shake off the effects of C. Viper’s taser. “Looks like we’re just about through here,” she remarked, lightly kicking at Azula with the toe of her boot. “Of course, I’ll be taking the honor of ending her properly. It’s simply a question of how I’d most enjoy doing it.”

She thought over the options, tempted to open up the decision to the others. Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Baroness’s head snapped up, prepared to lift her weapon and annihilate whoever the late arrival was. Her muscles froze as she spotted Azura stepping out onto the rooftop. Fuck, she thought. Why can’t anything ever just go according to plan?

Unable to shake the bad feeling in her gut, Azura had followed Baroness and the others up to the rooftop. She’d struggled with the decision. As she took in the aftermath of the fight, spotting the corpses, Azula’s defeated body lying at their feet, she wasn’t sure she’d made the right one. Tears stung her eyes as she moved towards Baroness and the others. “Why?” she gasped. “What… what happened? You said you were just going to ask her to step down!”

Killing Azura would be easy, perhaps even smart, but Baroness still saw value in keeping her alive and on her side. Even with this new, unfortunate complication, she would be useful in keeping the other survivors in line. “And that’s all I intended to do,” she assured the dancer. “But, as you can see, Azula had other plans.” It was a stroke of good luck that none of Azula’s cohorts had been allowed to live. None of them could offer an alternative series of events. “I brought the others with me as a show of force. I’d hoped it would be enough to convince Azula to give up without a struggle. It’s my fault, really. I should have expected she’d organize her own death squad to keep her safe and in power. They attacked us without provocation, and we were forced to defend ourselves.” She took an appraisal of the corpses, even managing to look a little sad. “It’s unfortunate. I valued these women. I’d hoped we could all work together to get out of the city safely. But they chose their side, and they gave us no choice.” She settled her eyes on Azula’s unconscious form. “And now she’s proven that she’s too dangerous to be allowed to live. If we showed her mercy, I do not doubt that she would continue to cause us trouble, seek some form of revenge. We can’t afford to let that happen.”

“But you promised,” Azura pressed. “You said we wouldn’t kill her.”

Baroness frowned. “I said we’d do everything we could to not kill her. Azula has made this choice for us. If we don’t act now, decisively, we risk everything getting much worse. None of us want to endure another incident like the lynching that took place back in the Bunker.” She motioned to the bodies. “Azula was able to recruit these women to her selfish cause without any of us knowing. What do you think she’d be able to do if we brought her with us? How long before she tried to reclaim her power? And I assure you, she will not be as merciful as we’re trying to be. She’ll tear this group apart, sacrifice everyone, only to regain and secure her power, even if it gets herself killed in the process.”

Azura’s bottom lip quivered. She didn’t like it. She hated that with all the threats pressing down on them from the Necropolis, that the greatest threat seemed to be the internal strife amongst them. The only way she saw through it was to continue to trust Baroness. She desperately wanted to believe that the woman had wanted to resolve things peacefully. If they kept Azula alive, brought her along, and what Baroness warned of came to pass, Azura knew she would pay dearly for the side she’d chosen. But even that didn’t seem so important. She valued the fate of the group at large more. And with the information she’d been given, she could see only one, terrible way to ensure their safety, at least from internal threats.

Azura’s silence told Baroness that she’d managed to convince her that Azula was too dangerous to be kept around. “That being said, we do still have options,” she pressed on, moving on to the only conversation that mattered. “We could simply banish her from the group. Send her off into the city on her own with the guarantee that if we see her again, things will not go well for her. It would keep all of our hands clean. And who knows? Maybe she’ll even find some way to survive on her own, find her own way out of the city.”

“Wouldn’t that be the moral thing to do?” Azura asked. “Give her a fighting chance?”

Baroness shrugged. “It could also be seen as the more wicked option. In some ways, it wouldn’t be much different than what Azula herself had done to Minako. We’ve seen how efficient this place is when it comes to death, and also how much apparent glee it gets from making those deaths slow, painful, humiliating. But, yes, in a way, we could simply ignore that reality. If we don’t see it happen, who’s to say it happened at all? However, if we control her death, give her a quick, relatively painless execution here and now, we bear the guilt of doing the deed ourselves, but we guarantee that her suffering is minimized.”

Baroness could see the struggle on Azura’s face. She had to admit, playing with the woman’s emotions and moral compass was a fun game, but she kept her enjoyment well hidden. “So you see, we do have options, but neither is truly clean or simple.” She took a breath, let it out slowly. “But, I did make you a promise that I am unable to fully keep. So I’ll let you make the ultimate decision. Whatever happens, I want you to be okay with it.”


Mere moments of enduring the pressure of a choice that could greatly impact not only one person’s life, but the lives of everyone left in the group, gave Azura a good deal more sympathy for Baroness. Even conceding the fairly obvious point that Azula was too dangerous to take with them came with some doubtful hesitation. But that hadn’t been the question. Being the mistress of Azula’s ultimate fate was not a burden she wished to have, but it was one she could not turn away from. Is this the weight Corrin had to bear? How do I know what to decide? Azura was certain that she could never truly know, but a decision needed to be made in a timely manner. She struggled with it for a few moments longer before giving in to her heart over her head. “Exile her,” she said, wishing her voice sounded more confident than it did.

“You’re sure about that?” Baroness pressed. “I need you to be sure. I need you to be okay with it.”

Although she was giving her more time to decide, to change her mind, Azura could see the urgency in Baroness’s eyes. She truly must care if she’s willing to give me this time, she thought. Somehow, that helped her reaffirm her choice. She nodded. “Yes. It’s… I know it may not be the safest course of action for us, but I don’t feel right with simply killing her. Let her have a chance. She deserves that much, at least.”

Baroness’s face softened, appeared to be genuinely relieved. “I’ll be honest, I was hoping you’d say that,” she said, glancing to the scattered corpses littering the rooftop. “There’s been too many needless deaths already.” Internally, she wasn’t nearly as relieved. So much for giving Lola and Nena a chance to blow off some steam. I may need to find a way to make it up to them. The pair had been planning what they’d do to Azula once they had the woman subdued almost as soon as Baroness had recruited them. They were loyal enough to go along with her orders, but they wouldn’t be happy about it. “So here’s what we’ll do,” she continued. “Lola, Nena, and Mugino will keep her sedated with chloroform until we can get the others moving. We’ll leave her behind in the church. We know this location is reasonably secure, she should be safe long enough to wake up. Then she’ll be on her own, free to do what she likes.” Her face firmed. “But, Azura, you need to understand… if she comes after us… if she tries to achieve some form of revenge… we won’t have the benefit of making this choice a second time.”

Azura frowned, but nodded. “I understand. If it comes to that, we’ll do whatever we need to in order to protect ourselves and the others.” She looked down at Azula’s passive face. “I hope she can forgive us and simply leave us be.”

“I hope so, too,” Baroness agreed, knowing that Azula would not be given the chance to come after them. She slid an arm around Azura’s back, guiding her back towards the door leading into the church. “Come along. We need to inform the group about what’s happened and get them ready to move out.”


“This is bullshit,” Lola grumbled as she helped carry Azula’s unconscious, tightly bound form down the back stairs of the church. “What’s the point of taking over if we can’t even have any real fun?”

“Baroness needs Azura on our side,” Nena replied. “But I’m with you. All of this kid glove nonsense is getting ridiculous.”

“Exactly! What the fuck even good is she? Seriously, why do we need her? I can dance.” Lola smirked. “I can dance real good.”

“Because,” Mugino cut in. “Have you seen the way Baroness and the rest of us look? We don’t exactly inspire trust. Do you really think the others would go along with following her if she didn’t have someone like Azura on her side? Assuring everyone that she’s the woman we need guiding us?” She shifted her gaze to Lola. “Besides, as nice as your stripper moves might be, I doubt they possess the ability to restore vitality. And since she’s firmly on our side, we’ll get preferential treatment when it comes to her restorative dances.”

Lola narrowed her eyes at the woman. “Look, you’ve never had one of my lap dances before. Trust me, your vitality will be restored.”

“Maybe we can have a bit of fun with her before we leave her,’ Nena considered.

“And hang around out here while the others head out?” Lola shot back. “Not fucking likely.”

“We got to play with the last one,” Nena pressed. “Why not her?”

“Last time, we weren’t this deep into the city. We knew the area a bit better. We have no idea what’s lurking out here. Let’s just set her up and leave her. But mark my words, Baroness will find us someone else to have a bit of fun with. She may need that goody-two-shoes bitch to keep the peace, but she needs us even more.”

Having carried Azula a sufficient distance from the church, the trio dropped her outside of a fairly nondescript building, unaware that it had once been Kerrigan’s lair. They checked the ropes binding the woman, tugging the knots tight and ensuring she had no means of getting free. Mugino procured an egg timer, twisting the dial far enough to give them enough time to get away from the scene. She set the ticking timer next to Azula, just far enough away that the woman would not have an easy time of smashing the device. “That should bring something out to finish her off,” she remarked, glancing along the empty street. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”


The jangle of the egg timer jerked Azula awake. She would have come up swinging if not for the ropes holding her arms behind her back. She blinked quickly, trying to shake the haze from her aching head, head darting to spot the source of the blaring noise. Her rattled mind took a moment to remember how badly things had gone on the church rooftop. She flexed her muscles, tried to bend the elements to her command, fought to spot Baroness somewhere around her. Azula’s efforts did nothing to help her. With one hand mangled and the other gone, her abilities were kept from her, she lacked the physical strength to break through the ropes, and – egg timer aside – she appeared to be alone. She shifted her efforts. The noise would attract monsters. Grunting, Azula twisted sideways and scooted closer to the device. She brought her bound feet into the air and stomped down in unison on top of the timer. The pitch of the clanging shifted as the plastic shell cracked, the dial popping free. Releasing a yell of anger, she stomped down again, crushing the device into a mess of cracked plastic and mangled metal. In the wake of the blaring noise, the silence pushed in on her from all sides, crushing the fear of her situation into her body.

With the most immediate problem handled, Azula turned her thoughts to dealing with the ropes constricting her so efficiently. She twisted and pulled, straining the few remaining fingers she had left in an attempt to reach any of the knots. Sweat crept across Azula’s body, her efforts sapping at her already diminished strength. She was panting heavily, nearing exhaustion, when – only a minute or two later – the clatter of dozens of chitinous feet caught her attention. Azula turned her head towards the sound, face paling as her eyes fixed on the giant, perverted centipede creature crawling out of the building she’d been propped against. The oversized bug’s carapace was vibrantly hued with oranges, yellows, and reds. A set of mandibles clicked together with excitement as it crawled towards her, leaking thick globs of mucus. Spread across the top and sides of its shell, seemingly sprouted at random, were a number of phallic-shaped appendages, varying in length, girth, and texture.

The protrusions were not simply horns. Even at a distance, Azula could see the things pulsing, twitching, twisting to take aim at her as they leaked a pale pre-cum down their various shafts. The Royal Throne had not enjoyed a plaything since Kerrigan’s violent birth of her Child. Its lust had simmered as it crept around the building, yearning for a queen to take her seat atop any of its aching cocks. Azula didn’t look like much of a queen, and the way her struggles intensified as the Throne crawled closer made it clear she had no intention of willingly seating herself. But the Throne was beyond caring. She would make an excellent morsel while the creature waited for another rightful queen to find it.

Giving up on getting free, Azula tried to scoot away from the approaching Throne. It worked about as well as her other attempts at escape. The centipede reached her, clamping its large mandibles around the back of her neck. She cringed, closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable crunch of her bones that would at least offer her a mercifully quick end. But even though the mandibles were sharp enough to pierce her skin, allowing a flow of warm blood to creep down her back, the oversized bug showed enough care to not do her any immediately fatal damage as it dragged her squirming form back to Kerrigan’s abandoned lair.

The Throne deftly sliced through Azula’s bindings – as well as her clothing. Even with her limbs freed, she could not escape the creature’s hold. The bug’s sticky secretions flowed across her, leaving her skin glistening, hair plastered to her skull. She turned as much as she could, hammering her elbows into the hard surface of the carapace. Her legs kicked out, the tops of her feet bruising against the rigid shell. A desperate panic consumed Azula as the Throne prepared her for the fun it had planned. The humiliating defeat she’d faced at Baroness’s treacherous hands had almost been more than she could handle, but being trussed up and left to be a hideous creature’s rape-fodder without the ability to defend herself or even fight her way to her death was a stroke of disrespect her mind couldn’t hope to tolerate.

The giant centipede’s many legs peeled Azula’s ruined scraps of clothing away from her. It didn’t take long before she was fully nude, face scrunched up with revulsion and fury. “No,” she growled, flexing her muscles within the tight hold the massive bug had on her. “This isn’t right! It’s not fair! I wasn’t meant to die like this, dammit! This is all wrong! Get off! I demand you get off of me now!” Her words meant nothing to the Throne, her struggles only causing her flesh to move enticingly against its underside. The bug needed nothing to stir its overwhelming lust, but it appreciated the young woman’s gyrations all the same.

The Throne was made up of several bulbous segments, each one capable of nearly a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees of rotation. Although the creature preferred to serve as the cradle for a willing, worthy queen, it could make all the adjustments required to take its struggling captive in as many ways as it liked. Row upon row of pincer-like legs rolled the woman over before the centipede used its considerable bulk to pin Azula to the floor. Her legs were pried open, pushed flat, leaving her bared snatch vulnerable. The segment currently over the woman’s midsection turned, legs tickling against her inner thigh as the insect guided its first aching member into her crotch. It was little more than a flat-tipped stump, thick but stretching no more than four inches in length. The opening at the tip gaped open, gushing globs of pre-cum over Azula’s slit. Curling its body down, the Throne mashed the tip of the first cock into the squirming, screaming woman’s folds.

Azula clenched her jaw, glaring into the hideous bug face leering down at her as her pussy stretched around the creature’s member. “You’ll pay for this,” she growled. “I’ll burn this whole worthless city to ashes.” She could see no sign that the monster even comprehended her words. Deep down, she knew it was merely her impotent attempts at facing her horrible fate with some form of courage, but her ego had taken full control, offended by the actions that had been taken against her. Each rolling thrust the centipede gave her beat away at her mindless rage, hammering home the inescapable reality that she would soon be dead, raped and consumed like so many other weaker women had been before her. She cursed Baroness for her betrayal, the women the bitch had conned into following her, even the women who’d given their lives trying to defend her. Pathetic specks, all of them, she thought, wishing nothing but pain and suffering not only on Baroness and her small crew, but the remainder of the survivors.

As the centipede unleashed a gush of its jizz into her clenching cunt, Azula found she could deny her reality no longer. The anger filling her face flickered before shifting into complete horror. Tears didn’t just brim in her eyes, they burst free and gushed down her cheeks. She shook her head, letting out pathetic wails and desperate gasps of, “No, no, no…” as the centipede’s head rotated away from her. Nearly ten inches of rubbery flesh slapped across her cheek. Her palms pressed against the sides of the bug’s heavy shell, straining to push it off of her. She twisted her head to the side as the floppy cock length dragged over her smooth skin, leaving behind a smear of fluids. The side of the member slid across her lips, forcing her to gag with disgust. She made an attempt to turn her head in the opposite direction, but the Throne was ready for her. It rotated its uppermost segment back, matching her speed so that it could slot its aching cock into her mouth.

The Throne’s cock tasted like salty dirt. Azula choked on the girth, forced to take the oral violation as she fought to breathe around the flesh. Tiny pointed feet tickled across her bare skin, teasing her nipples into hard buds and scratching at the shallow divot of her bellybutton. The stumpy prick in her pussy slipped away, segment turning back to allow more of the many legs to caress her quivering inner thighs. They dragged through the cleft of her sex, poking her cunt lips and prodding her clit. The multitude of small points of stimulation tickled, teased, and stung, but mostly they sent deeper waves of humiliation and revulsion through her. Her misery intensified as the cock in her mouth pulsed and spat sticky wads of seed down her gullet. Azula’s body controlled her reactions, forcing her to swallow the warm load instead of willingly drowning in it.

When the cock dragged free from her mouth, Azula coughed up a few clumps of jizz. She sobbed like a frightened child, no longer sharing even a passing resemblance to the strong, defiant woman she’d been only a few minutes ago. As pointless as her struggles had proven to be, she kept on offering as much panicked resistance as she could to the giant bug as its many legs manipulated her body. The Throne rolled Azula over beneath it, mashing her perky breasts flat against the floor as it twisted its waist-level segment further. Another cock – fresh and ready to fuck the young woman – pushed between the crack of her ass. It possessed an upward curve, resembling a horn with its tapered but blunt tip. The minimal girth of this cock’s tip made it easy for the centipede to push into Azula’s clenching anus. Her head came up, eyes bulging and jaw dropping into a silent scream as the bug’s body jerked against her, sheathing eight thickening inches of horned-prick up her ass in a single stroke.

The Throne rocked back and forth atop Azula, sliding its horn-like member through her asshole. The woman found her voice, crying out, begging for help as she pawed helplessly at the floor. The centipede took its time violating her rear, enjoying every pained twitch of her muscles. As it thrust leisurely into her squirming body, the creature’s simple mind suddenly realized how hungry it was. Stretching its mandibles open wide, it bit at the back of Azula’s head. The first snap of the mandibles tore away a bloody chunk of hair and scalp. The clump of hair didn’t provide much flavor, but the tattered strip of skin gave it enough of a taste for the woman that it decided to go in for another bite. With a series of hard snaps, the Throne managed to crack through Azula’s skull, pulverizing the shards of bone with ease.

The pain shooting through the back of her head was enough to cut through Azula’s blind panic. Her face scrunched up, lips trembling as she let out a shameful series of whimpers. Her eyes widened as the mandibles pushed against the soft wrinkles of her brain, prepared to chew away a precious chunk of her very being. “Please,” she forced up her throat, all sense of authority stripped from her tone. “Don’t do this, please! Wai-ugg!” Her words choked in her throat as the Throne bit away a chunk of her mind. “D-d-d-do-don’t…” she blubbered out, tears draining from her bloodshot eyes. “N-n-nrrrrrk!” Her teeth ground against each other as the centipede ripped away another bite of her brain. Spasms crept through her cheeks, eyes losing focus momentarily. Thinking hurt, speaking was impossible. Azula became trapped in her own partially devoured mind, simultaneously aware and oblivious to what was happening to her.

The shuddering tremors rolling through Azula’s body helped her to massage the horn-like prick buried up her ass, reminding the creature how fun it was to violate her holes. Slurping down the slop of her chewed brain matter, the bug saw a new way of using the orifice it had bitten into her skull. It rotated its head again, until another new cock pushed against the woman’s partially eaten brain. The Throne shoved the lumpy six inches of phallus through the back of Azula’s head, fucking a deep tunnel through her cerebral mass. Azula’s eyes bulged, irises sliding to the outer corners of her eyes as bloody snot gushed from her nose. Her body went into spastic death shudders beneath the creature, the wet gurgle of her death rattle vibrating in her throat as the Throne violently fucked her brain into a mushy paste.

A powerful orgasm rushed through the centipede, flooding Azula’s skull. Her eyes shot away on geysers of jizz, more of the spunk squirting from her nostrils and ears. Her bowels became clogged with the thick substance, bubbling from around her broken sphincter. With a wet slurp, the Throne extracted the cock from Azula’s head, leaving behind a soupy mess of cum and brain chunks. Its head rotated back, mandibles stretching wide as its powerful hunger surged. Cradling the sides of the woman’s head, the Throne bit down, twisting and tugging until her head tore free. Tilting its head segment back, the centipede struggled to ingest the pleasant meal. The hole in the back of Azula’s skull tipped backwards, pouring the contents down the bug’s eager throat. The mandibles tightened, popping the woman’s hollowed out skull into gory tatters that were far easier to consume.

With its hunger satiated for the moment, the Throne focused its ever-present carnal urges on the headless husk that remained. The bug still possessed many members that had yet to sample Azula’s holes. Before long, that would not be the case.


Even in her undead state, Psylocke was capable of feeling fear. It had been tickling around in her slowly rotting guts for a little while, strengthening as she led the shambling horde of zombies along a path she’d hoped would lead them to the survivors, only to find the messy remains of Minako Aino tied to a bench. Whatever flicker of consciousness that remained in her dead brain felt glad that the Child had not yet returned to full strength. She doubted her Mistress would be pleased to learn of the dead end she’d so eagerly pursued. Psylocke’s attempts to regain the trail of the Bunker survivors had proven increasingly frustrating for her.

The only comfort Psylocke had came from the thick length of cold cock lodged up her ass. She flexed her powerful thighs, controlling the Man-Horse she’d climbed onto down another road. The man portion of the Man-Horse hadn’t needed any encouragement to stretch his humanoid arm around her and play with her tits. As the search dragged on, offering little in the way of a clear direction to head, she reached up and pulled his groping fingers away from her stiff nipple, down to her crotch. The man portion took direction as easily as the horse portion, quickly rubbing at her clit. The sparks of pleasure provided a much needed bit of distraction for her worried mind.

Psylocke was nearing orgasm when the murky sky lit up, a blinding streak of energy stretching up into the thick clouds overhead. A dull rumble, almost like thunder, came moments later. The light show was unlike anything Psylocke had seen in the Necropolis before. She had no way of knowing it was a result of Azula and Mugino’s powers converging and deflecting one another. She only knew it was the closest thing she’d seen to a trail in far too long. She let the climax wash over her, groaning and leaning back against the Man-Horse’s bony chest. As the moment passed, she encouraged the hybrid monster to quicken his trot, calling for the crowd of corpses gathered around her to follow along.


The transition of power from Azula to Baroness went about as smoothly as it possibly could have. Azura’s support certainly went a good ways to buying the woman some sway with those who were skeptical about her. Baroness would have to fully earn everyone’s trust, but with Azura at her side, everyone was at least willing to follow her for the time being. She got the group moving, leaving behind the temporary sanctuary of the church and heading into a largely industrial section of the city. It was a good sign. The airport wasn’t much further. Then it would only be a matter of finding a plane large enough to carry them all capable of flight. That and the blind hope that they’d be able to simply fly out of the city unimpaired. As far as long shots went, it was probably about the longest. But even as they trudged towards their destination, Azura couldn’t shake the guilt.

She’d hoped that leaving the church would help to soothe her mind, but the decision she’d made regarding Azula’s fate still weighed heavily on her shoulders. What if she doesn’t wake up before something finds her? Maybe I should have let Baroness kill her. That would at least have been painless, maybe even honorable. Now she might have to suffer even more all because I wasn’t strong enough to do the merciful thing. Azura suspected the decision would continue to plague her, made all the worse because it was very likely that she would never know for certain if she’d made the right choice or not. The same could be said about any number of other decisions she’d made over the course of her life, but this one felt different. It felt more important.

Whether or not any choice truly mattered was immediately called into question as the group found themselves once again under attack by a small horde of living corpses, several mutated variations amongst them. The route through the industrial section was made up of tight, claustrophobic paths, the structures saving them from being easily surrounded. Baroness got everyone running, favoring speed in lieu of a stronger defense or counter-attack. It was not the most courageous of strategies, but there was some degree of wisdom to it, keeping the bulk of the group relatively safe. The stragglers at the back weren’t nearly as safe, forced to fight back the encroaching horde while trying not to fall too far behind.

Luna had seen her fair share of crazy shit even before she’d signed on to Barney Ross’s band of mercenaries, but none of it had prepared her for the non-stop insanity of the Necropolis. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Baroness being in charge, but she’d not argued with the woman when she’d been assigned to rear guard duty. It was a dangerous position, but that had been the appeal she’d seen in it. She’d had an eagerness for violence even before her bizarre abduction, but it had only grown stronger since her arrival. She figured it was the only reason she’d not yet gone completely insane in the face of the impossible monsters that dwelled within the corrupted city. The more she focused on killing the creatures, the less time has had to focus on how they could possibly exist.

Case in point, the thing she’d heard one of the other girls call a Deathscythe. Presumably, it had been a man at some point. Definitely a man, she thought, eyes flicking to the fleshy growth dangling between his legs. Now it only vaguely resembled something humanoid, tall and lanky in stature, right arm partially transformed into a viciously bladed weapon. The head possessed some kind of facial features, but nothing she could classify as human. If she looked at it too long, thought of it as anything other than a target in need of killing, it made her brain ache. Some of the abominations made some degree of sense. The Man-Horse, a label she’d coined, for example. Horse and rider, glued together. Simple enough, even if it was still an absolute fucking nightmare. But the Deathscythe was more like some terrible, mangled branch on the undead evolutionary tree, and an excellent example of why Luna did her best not to actually think about the things she needed to kill to stay alive.

Was it designed in a lab? Some aberration of the evil nature that seemed to control the weird world she’d been brought to? Who had the man been before he’d become the monster? Had he been a decent man? An asshole? Would she have gone on a date with him? Was the arm made of bone or some kind of metal? Maybe a blend of the two? Had his dick always been that big? Were there Lady Deathscythes? If so, could they breed? The fuck would a Deathscythe Baby look like? Would the Lady Deathscythe give birth to it like a regular lady, or would the newborn come slicing its way out of the mother? What had the guy’s name been? Before all the mutation and stripping away of his humanity, would she have recognized his face? Just how fast could they run? Just how high could they jump? If she challenged the son of a bitch to an arm-wrestling competition, would he accept? Could she beat him in one? I could totally beat him in an arm-wrestling competition, she thought, confidence bolstered with the knowledge that she at least had one answer to the thousand questions bouncing around her head.

Stop thinking and fucking shoot.

Luna’s brain shut up, stunned into silence as she realized the cascade of meaningless questions had doomed her. The Deathscythe – I’m gonna call him Tony – was right on top of her, bladed arm poised to cut her into a couple of well-toned, but ultimately useless, pieces. “Fuck you, Tony,” she growled, hoping she’d at least be good and dead before he put that big dick of his to use on her.

Asuna Yuuki’s rapier interceded on behalf of Luna’s life, parrying the Deathscythe’s strike. The nearly bisected blonde stumbled back, giving herself a brief instant to let the brush with mortality tickle her before she hefted her machine gun up to her shoulder. She drained half a magazine into Tony’s face before turning and hurrying back towards the retreating group of survivors. Alright, brain, she thought as she went. No more thinking for the rest of the day. Deal?

Baby Deathscythes, Luna’s brain conjured.

Fuck you, brain.

Asuna didn’t have time to keep track of Luna. In the wake of Tony the Deathscythe’s demise, a four-pack of ravenous zombies surged towards her, demanding her attention. She turned to face them, whipping her rapier in front of her. Asuna lunged, jabbing the tip of her weapon through one zombie’s eye and into his brain. Drawing back, she slashed the weapon across the next one’s throat, leaving it nearly decapitated. A quick kick to his chest sent him stumbling back, head tearing free. Asuna jumped to the side and stabbed her rapier in from the side, turning the last two zombie heads into a gruesome kebab. Tugging her bloody blade free, she looked back to confirm Luna had gotten to some form of safety. A tangle of animated intestine stretching from the expansive gut of a Big Man used her momentary distraction against her, snagging hold of her wrist and twisting it hard enough to jostle her rapier free.


While the others pushed ahead, struggling to put as much distance between themselves and the pursuing horde as possible, Azura headed towards the conflict. The guilt she felt for her role in Azula’s fate was a strong motivator. She’d given up a lot, emotionally, to ensure the group remained as safe as possible. She could not force herself to turn a blind eye to any of the women in danger on the back line. Azura breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Luna had escaped the undead’s clutches unharmed, but a sudden panicked yell drew her attention to Asuna. The blue-haired woman’s eyes lit up with panic as she watched Asuna being dragged into the midst of the zombies, snared by a Big Man’s innards. Clutching her lance tighter, she rushed onward into the danger, determined to keep anyone else from dying if she could help it.

Asuna stumbled along, tugging at her snared arm and calling for help that she doubted would come. She stared up at the Big Man as his living gut pulled her before him. A pair of fat-fingered hands clasped around her thin shoulders, forcing her onto her knees before the mutated zombie. The putrid stench wafting from his crotch caused bile to rise in her throat. The Big Man’s hands moved to clasp the back of her head, drawing her face against his throbbing member. If anything, he seemed to enjoy the warm stream of puke leaking from her mouth as he forced his way past her lips. Her head vanished under the rotund curve of his bulging belly, hands beating against his fat thighs ineffectively. A zombie moved up behind her, tugging up the back of her skirt and tearing away her panties. Asuna’s gagging intensified as he fed his member into her gripping cunt. His spirited humping drove her drooling face harder against the Big Man’s probing shaft.

Even with the zombies crowded between her and Asuna, Azura had little trouble keeping track of where she was going. The Big Man stood taller than the rest of the undead creatures doing their best to claim a tasty morsel for themselves. She spun and swung her lance, hacking through the living corpses, clearing a gruesome path towards the woman she so desperately needed to save. She ignored her own fatigue, the danger she was putting herself in. It meant nothing to her. The business with Azula had been tricky, impossible to decide with a fully clear conscious. Saving Asuna was much simpler. It was the right thing to do. That’s all that mattered. Each step she took towards the woman strengthened her resolve. Each zombie she cut down filled her with a flicker of hope. Even the sudden appearance of two more Deathscythes moving to intercept her was not enough to stir any doubt in her course of action.

Azura stepped towards the Deathscythe on her right, jabbing the blade of her lance towards the creature’s hideous face. She let out a surprised gasp as the Deathscythe’s arm-blade came up, parrying her strike using the same skillful move Asuna had used against Tony. She stumbled, thrown off-balance with her weapon overextended. She tried to recover, but the second Deathscythe moved faster than she could, catching her across the midsection with his organic blade. The air was knocked out of her as she continued to move forward, falling helplessly to the ground. She panted heavily, whining as the pain of her wound caught up to her. Blinking the tears from her eyes, she wedged her elbow underneath her and turned over. As she lifted her head, a weak scream poured out of her as she saw the lower half of her body lying several feet away, legs kicking about as steaming innards spilled out of her. Azura wanted to keep fighting, but she’d dropped her lance, her muscles refusing to budge as she watched the Deathscythe who’d parried her strike scoop up her lower half. She shook her head, trying to deny what she was seeing as the monster tore away the flowing white fabric covering her lithe leg.

Gripping the front of Azura’s thighs, the Deathscythe spread her legs and pulled them towards his rising erection. He pushed into the crevasse between her perky buttocks, forcing through the twitching asshole he found there. With a few hard tugs, he fucked the head of his cock through the gory pit of her midsection, enjoying the sensations of her dying muscle spasms. Her legs continued to flail about, performing the last dance they would ever take part in. It was a sloppy, uncoordinated performance, motivated by dying nerve endings and impending oblivion, but somehow it managed to illicit a provocative, hypnotic style. Azura’s world shifted as firm hands gripped her under the pits of her arms. As the blood drained from her torn waist, her head swayed, dizziness overwhelming her.

The Deathscythe pushed Azura’s upper half down onto his erection, fucking his way into the loops of her dangling guts. The pumps he made into her were just as forcefully cruel as the ones his counterpart made into her clenching rear. Azura’s head swayed on her shoulders, eyelids drooping as the darkness of death closed in around her. She let out groans of increasing discomfort as the throbbing length of cock-meat prodded at her insides. The groans faded away as her head slumped forward, succumbing to the consequences of her bold actions. A pair of zombies wandered over to the scene, one taking advantage of her vacant cunt while the other gripped a fistful of her soft blue hair and guided her slack lips to his member.

Asuna remained oblivious to Azura’s reckless attempt to rescue her. Sandwiched between the Big Man’s fat prick and the zombie humping into her cunt from behind, she couldn’t see much. A drizzle of the Big Man’s pre-cum flowed across her tongue, bringing tears of pain to her eyes. The caustic substance burned away her taste buds and leaked down her throat, leaving it raw. The drool leaking from around her lips grew red as her mouth filled with blood. Her tongue thrashed wildly, unintentionally lapping away more of the Big Man’s dick leakage. The slab of muscle sizzled and shrank as the powerful acids in the pre-cum dissolved her tissue. The liquid slop of Asuna’s tongue flowed down her burning throat as she beat her fists against the monster’s thighs, struggling to stop the creature’s impending release.

The Big Man’s thick member pulsed, ejecting a heavy spray of his watery, acidic jizz. Asuna’s struggles intensified. The inside of her mouth felt like it was being filled with molten lava. She could hear the sizzle of her dissolving flesh in her head. Her cheeks grew red before splitting open, allowing spurts of the Big Man’s cum to leak through, causing more damage as it went. Her teeth were widdled away into smoking nubs as her jawbone loosened, dropping to hang lopsided before tearing away completely. The front of her throat swelled, a mist of her vaporized tissue whipping up from the hole of her burned esophagus. Her eyes rolled back, leaking tears down what remained of her half-melted cheeks as the Big Man’s jizz ate away her lungs. A few spurts of the caustic cum made its way into Asuna’s stomach, blending with her digestive juices, strengthening them, and turning them against the poor woman to break down the fleshy sack.

The zombie perched behind Asuna dragged his cracked nails across her hips, raking open deep gouges in her skin as he enjoyed the wild convulsions of her dying cunt around him. He managed to get off, pumping a much less fatal load into the woman’s sex just as the Big Man’s wide belly split open, tangles of guts stretching out to loop around Asuna’s arms. Her squirming form was yanked off the still-spurting zombie dick, dragged into the cavernous maw of the Big Man’s belly, and stuffed into the waiting cavity. Her feet kicked up and over her head, sliding into place as the thick lips of the Big Man’s midsection closed around them, trapping the dying girl within where her painful digestion would continue at a speedy rate.


Luna managed to get her overactive brain to shut up long enough to affix a well-placed explosive to a strategic piece of wall. When the group had gotten far enough past the point, she blew the explosive, blocking off the pursuing group of zombies. It wouldn’t be a permanent solution, but it bought the group enough time to make their escape. They were reaching the end of the industrial section. The airport was within sight.


With their fresh new undead super soldiers, Bathory and Harley took a little time to really equip them with bells and whistles. Harley rigged up a set of cameras for the undead women to wear while Bathory managed to scrounge some radio earpieces. Equipped with the ability to transmit what they saw back to the apartment complex and the ability to receive and obey orders via the earpieces, Rayne and Zarya were sent out into the Necropolis to see what they could see. The way Bathory and Harley saw it, they couldn’t rely on fresh meat wandering into their clutches. It would be better to start actively recruiting, especially now that they had a couple of heavy hitters on their side.

The streets seemed oddly deserted. Nothing living, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Things didn’t live long out in the open when they entered the Necropolis. The lack of other creatures was more interesting. A spare zombie here or there, but the general level of activity had lessened significantly. Bathory would have assumed the monsters would spread back out after the fall of the Bunker, but it seemed they hadn’t. Perhaps they were still hunting down whatever survivors remained. Maybe whatever evil had taken hold of the city was finally weakening or growing bored of the wicked game it had set in motion. There was no way to know for sure.

The first point of interest Rayne and Zarya came upon wasn’t even particularly noteworthy. A death had occurred there, that much was obvious based on the size of the dried smear of blood. Only the anti-tank cannon lying near the stain gave a clue as to the identity of the victim who’d been devoured so thoroughly on that spot. Zarya’s eyes fixed on the discarded Harkonnen, staring at it longingly. When Harley’s voice gave the command to retrieve the weapon, a flicker of joy ran through her undead mind. She trudged over to the weapon and hefted its sizable bulk up, draping it over the back of her shoulders. The pair continued their search.

Rayne and Zarya made an imposing pair. And while they were not under the same influence as the other undead husks shuffling about the city, they had little trouble passing amongst other, average zombies. The only attention they drew was of the lustful variety. Groaning catcalls chased after them as stumbling undead men reached for them with outstretched arms and stiff cocks. Their lobotomized minds were saved from the distractions of fleeting undead carnal encounters. The zombies who got too close, or were too persistent, were sliced or smashed into a permanent death.

Rayne’s state of being and physical appearance had not been the only things to change during her transition from dhampir to undead minion. Her visual senses were heightened, mutated, able to sense the hot pumping of living blood up to four-hundred feet away, even through walls or other obstructions. She froze as she caught a glimpse of something – someone – in a nearby building. Harley and Bathory could not see what she saw, but the sudden quick movement of their minion told them that there was definitely something of interest happening. Zarya followed after Rayne, the pair of them entering the building and closing in on the figure hiding inside.


Jane Romero had grown somewhat accustomed to being whisked between nightmarish realities. The rush of being hunted, the stress of working against the clock to unlock a path to temporary safety, the pain of dying – again and again. It was not a pleasant existence, but it had become routine. This new area was completely unfamiliar to her. Minutes of searching without the discovery of a single generator further confused her, as did the feeling that she wasn’t – at least yet – being pursued. But it was something more than the obvious changes that unsettled her. Of all the numerous nightmare loops she’d experienced, this one felt more real. Like the rules of the terrible game had been changed on her, without any explanation, and that now she was playing one last round, the outcome of which would decide her fate forever.

But despite all of the differences, some things remained the same. Jane knew better than to make her presence known when she heard someone approaching. Taking a quick peek out into the hall, her eyes widened as she spotted Rayne and Zarya. The bulkier of the two seemed oblivious to Jane’s presence, simply following her companion. But the lithe, blade-armed monstrosity looked right at her. Two killers? How the hell is this even remotely fair? Not that it mattered. She’d seen very little that amounted to fairness in her many trials. She’d never seen these particular killers before, but they certainly didn’t lack the intimidation factor. With her position compromised, Jane had no choice but to run. So that’s exactly what she did.

Jane was a full-bodied woman in nearly every sense of the phrase. But she knew how to move when she needed to. Bursting into the hall, she ran away from Rayne and Zarya. She heard the pair giving chase. Not surprising. The fact that the big one with the cannon for an arm hadn’t simply shot her in the back was. Maybe some of the old rules do still apply, she thought, trying to remember if she’d seen any meat hooks around the place, waiting for her squirming body to be hung from them. Hoping it wouldn’t come to that – or something worse – she continued to pump her thick thighs, reaching out to snag a bookshelf that had been left in the hall. Jane pulled it over as she passed. It wasn’t exactly a pallet, but she hoped it would buy her some time to get out of range of whatever senses these killers possessed.

Doing her best to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings, Jane darted into rooms and looped around on her path, leading the killers on a confusing chase. But despite her efforts, the pair seemed to have no trouble following her, even gaining on her. Thankful for her impressive endurance, she pressed on, trying to add just a little more speed to her movements, focusing most of her attention on the killers chasing after her and only the barest sliver to the direction she was heading in. She only needed to avoid tripping hazards or running headfirst into a wall. If she got out of line of sight with her pursuers for long enough, she could make an attempt to find a hiding spot and hope that they didn’t stop to look for her.

Paying as little attention to where she was going proved costly for Jane. As she rounded a corner, she ran face-first into the waiting maw of a grotesquely oversized pitcher plant. The immobile creature stretched to block the entirety of the hall, the bulk of its body comprised of a single, clear-skinned sac. A thick organic hose stretched from the top of the sac, curling around over the front. From pretty much any angle you looked at it, it looked like a giant, weird, alien cock and balls. The obstruction drew Jane’s full attention, face filling with shock as she took in the bizarre sight. “Oh, what the fu – “ Her words were muffled away as the tip of the phallic hose stretched open wide and slurped over her head. Thin tendrils slithered from the creature’s thick lips, showing an incredibly amount of strength as they helped to tug the voluptuous woman further down the shaft of the hose.

Jane screamed into the humid interior of the shaft as the maw stretched over her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides. The inner walls of the hose were covered in layers of short tendrils, rubbing their slick fluids across her skin and working to rip through her blouse and undershirt as they got a hold of it. The wall of curling finger-like protrusions stripped Jane inch by inch as she was pulled deeper into the creature. When Rayne and Zarya rounded the corner, ready to capture their prey, they found Jane nearly beyond their reach. The lips of the plant-creature’s hose clung to the woman’s belly, straining to wrap over her wide hips and plump ass. Her thick thighs rubbed together as she kicked her legs wildly into the air, the hose hefting her body further into the air and tilting back. The pair of super zombies caught a clear view of Jane’s upper half through the creature’s transparent skin. Her terrified face pressed against the base of the intake nozzle’s shaft, screams nearly inaudible. Her bare tits were squeeze roughly, mashed together and flattened across the constricting flesh of the creature.

With a long, wet slurping, Jane’s hips sank into the hungry plant-thing, the lips of the hose shoving her skirt downwards as it consumed her expansive ass. Her shoes kicked free from her struggling feet, one bouncing off of Zarya’s thick bicep. Harley’s command kept them from moving forward and trying to pull the woman out of her perilous situation.


“Why?” Bathory asked her partner, pointing to the monitor displaying the action. “She’s right there!”

Harley gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Please, she’s not the sort we’re looking for. Besides, this show is way too much fun. Just sit back and enjoy it.”

Bathory rolled her eyes but conceded. The show was pretty good.


After getting Jane’s plump buttocks past its lips, the creature had a much easier time swallowing down her legs. By the time she plopped into the sac, she was fully nude. Twisting, she managed to turn herself around, pressing her palms against the thick layer of transparent tissue that held her. She beat against the slick surface as warm fluids secreted around her, pooling around her feet. The killers didn’t seem interested in her anymore, watching her dumbly as she struggled uselessly within her humid prison. The level of liquid within the sac rose, submerging the woman up to her shoulders. Her bare flesh began to tingle, giving her an idea of what would become of her, but her digestion would be a slow, torturous affair, taking place over many hours. The nutrients extruded from her body would keep the plant-thing well-fed for weeks – maybe longer given her full-bodied figure.


“Nothing’s happening,” Bathory complained several minutes after Jane’s swallowing had finished. The woman was still fighting to break through the sac, but her efforts had slackened, sapped of strength.

Harley frowned. “Figures the finale wouldn’t be worth the pay off,” she muttered. The footage from Rayne’s camera shifted suddenly, aimed at the floor. “Hey, what? What’s she looking at?”

Bathory gave it some thought. “I believe our toys might have some hidden talents we can’t perceive,” she guessed. “Rayne found this woman with surprising ease, tracking her within the building as if she could see through walls. I think she’s just found us another life.”

Harley tapped at the radio. “Don’t just stand there like a couple of dummies, girls! Go get the goods!”


Moving back out onto the street, Rayne kept her eyes fixed on the ground, following the glowing group of lives beneath her. Even with the weight of the Harkonnen on her shoulders, Zarya kept pace with ease. The pair reached the end of the street, coming to the same bridge Alice and her scouting group had tried to cross. Stepping out onto the bridge, Rayne turned to watch the group she’d been tracking as they finally reached the open storm drain below, finally getting a clear view of them.

Jack and the others were too relieved to finally be out of the sewer to take notice of the pair of undead sentinels watching them from above. As they tried to find a way to climb up from the drain to the street above, they also neglected the eight-foot wake rolling through the water below them. Thanks to the higher angle she had on the scene, Harley spotted it easily.


“I have no idea what that is,” Harley said, pointing to the disturbed water. “But I guarantee it’s not friendly.”

“That group is formidable,” Bathory said. “I remember them from the Bunker. If they’ve lived this long, they’ll make excellent test subjects if we can acquire them.”

“Should we tell our girls to take out whatever’s in the water before it can attack our new recruits?” Harley asked.

Bathory frowned. “It would keep them safe, most likely, but it would also give them time to escape. Or, worse, find an opportunity to kill Rayne and Zarya. I would not underestimate them. Perhaps we let this water creature attack them. We may lose some of them, but any that survive would certainly be strong enough to be welcomed into our new army, and probably too tired to resist being captured.”

“Unless that thing in the water kills all of them,” Harley countered. “Then we’d be back to square one.”


“Anyone else getting the feeling that we’re hostages instead of survivors now?” Jester mentioned to Zoey and Xian Mei, keeping her weapon ready and her voice low.

“You mean with Baroness in charge?” Xian asked.

Jester nodded.

Zoey frowned. “I mean, Azura did vouch for her. She was always trustworthy.”

“Yea, but she didn’t exactly make it too far after putting in that good word for our new leader,” Jester pointed out. “You figure that’s a coincidence?”

“Could’ve just been bad luck,” Zoey replied. “People die in this place pretty much on the regular. None of us are safe.”

Jester shook her head, turned and spat on the floor. “I still don’t like her. Something about her story just doesn’t add up. Like, Azula supposedly put up a fight with a group she’d swayed to her side. But she had some heavy hitters on her side and none of Baroness’s little glee squad even has a scratch? Sounds to me more like a slaughter than a straight up fight.”

“Good point,” Zoey conceded.

“And what about Leaf? Stocking? She didn’t say they were in the group that attacked her. Haven’t seen either of them since we left the church.”

Xian and Zoey shared a look. “Leaf was with us,” Xian admitted. “For a little bit, anyway. She went to go find the bathroom. That was the last we saw her.”

“Maybe she was actually going to rendezvous with Azula,” Zoey suggested.

“If she’d been in Azula’s group, why wouldn’t Baroness have just told us that?” Jester pressed. “And if she just fell behind or got into trouble somewhere in the church, why didn’t we take any time to try to find her? Whole thing just sounds crazy suspicious to me.”

Xian shrugged. “What can we do?” she asked. “Stage our own coup? A little late for such a thing. We’ve arrived.” She motioned to the airport just in front of them. “Once we’re out of the city and away from this nightmare, we can all go our separate ways. And whether we’re truly guilty or not, I’m sure we’ll all regret some of the choices we made during this ordeal.”

The airport was tucked into a corner of the city, sitting on the waterfront with runways extending along the coastline while the terminals and hangars rested further inland. The air traffic control tower stood at the tip of the arrowhead-shaped airport, a large main terminal running down the center with small terminals extending down the northern and southern branches. For such a large point of interest, there was a disturbing lack of zombies or other monsters. As the main group of survivors moved into the main terminal, whatever distrust they had for Baroness faded away as their tensions redirected to the eerie lack of apparent threats.

They cut through the main terminal, not wasting much time on exploration or sight-seeing. Exiting through the opposite end of the main thoroughfare, they made their way out onto the tarmac. There were plenty of planes waiting for them, but it became obvious why the airport wasn’t being more heavily defended judging by the wrecked state of the aircraft.

“Keep looking,” Baroness called to the others. “They can’t all be destroyed.”

The group spread out, desperation rising to meet their waning hope. The tension rose for several silent minutes before Kara Thrace’s voice rang out. “Got one!” All eyes went to the blonde, her arm pointing to a small passenger plane that had seemingly been forgotten amongst the wrecks. It would be a cramped fit, but the plane would get the job done. No one dared mention that if they’d not suffered as many losses along the way as they had, the plane would have been hopelessly too small to hold them all. Instead, they headed for the plane, quickness in their steps.

They caught sight of the monster moments later, proving that nothing good in the Necropolis lasts for long. The thing looked like a zombie, but if a zombie had a crippling addiction to steroids. The hulking beast towered more than ten feet in height, rippling with muscles so large that they’d split open his skin in numerous places across his body. As if to reinforce the steroid theory, his cock was decidedly smaller than the average among the nightmare creatures in the city. The Muscle Man made up for his deficiency in raw fuck power with a persistent rage, angrily attacking anything that got near him. Worse, he was between the survivors and the plane. Worst, his first act upon seeing the group was to turn towards the plane and grab hole of a wing in his beefy hands, hefting their only means of escape into the air and flinging it in their direction.

By the time Jester realized she was fleeing in the opposite direction of the rest of the group, it was too late for her to turn back. She kept running, heading for the water. A couple feet from the drop off, she hit a solid mass that knocked her on her ass. “The fuck?” she gasped, staring at the crackles of energy running across the Necrotic barrier from her impact. Her mind was still struggling with what the hell she’d run into when the plane hit the tarmac. She’d managed to get partially to her feet when the ground rumbled beneath her, nearly throwing her back down. The plane exploded a moment later, flinging her against the barrier a second time. She turned back, catching sight of one of the plane’s engines shooting like a rocket in her direction. Jester managed half a scream before the engine hit her, splattering her across the Necrotic barrier before causing a smaller explosion that transformed her into a blackened smear.

Zoey glanced around, concern on her face. “Where’s Jester?”

Xian frowned and motioned to the burning plane wreck.

“Fuck,” Zoey gasped. “You think she’s okay?”

“Are they ever?” Xian muttered back.

The Muscle Man let out an angry yell, his fury stirred by the lack of death the plane explosion had caused. With a sizable group of life still gathered before him, he stomped his way towards them, intent on smashing and crushing all of the women into gooey paste. The survivors with weapons opened fire on the beast. The bullets didn’t do much damage, caught in the dense muscle tissue covering every inch of the monster’s body, but he did feel pain from two of the women. Kylie Griffin and Maddie Fenton’s anti-ectoplasmic weaponry proved surprisingly effective against the Necrotic energy permeating his mutated flesh. The Muscle Man turned his full attention on the pair, determined to put a stop to the pain he felt.

Lacking ranged weapons, Black Orchid and Laura Matsuda moved in close to the Muscle Man, dodging the swipes of his fists and the stomping of his feet as they delivered powerful strikes to anything that looked like it might be a weak point on the creature. The monster’s anger surged, infuriated by his seeming inability to catch either of the nuisances raining down blows across him while Kylie and Maddie continued to blast him from afar. His rising anger gave him the strength to push through the pain he felt, but it didn’t do him any favors in regard to strategy. In the end, it came down to some unfortunate luck. As Laura focused on dodging and striking, she neglected to notice the state of the terrain she was fighting on. Her legs wobbled as she came across a patch of shattered tarmac, throwing her off balance for a few damning moments.

The Muscle Man took full advantage of Laura’s disoriented state, lunging forward and snaring her ankle in a bone-crushing grip. The woman let out a terrified scream as he yanked her into the air, turning and swinging her back to the ground. Her scream ended in meaty thud as her body hit the tarmac with enough force to shatter her ribs. A pained wheeze poured out of her as the mutant zombie yanked her back into the air, arms and leg flailing like a rag doll as her snared limb snapped free from its socket. The second slam into the ground ruptured her breasts, spraying hot fat and torn flesh across the ground. Her jaw was jammed backwards, spraying bloody teeth as she was given an absurd overbite. The Muscle Man did not relent, lifting her up and flinging her back down a third time. Laura’s skull gave out, exploding across the already gore-soaked tarmac. Peeling her twitching remains up, the strain on her dislocated leg proved to be too much. Her skin tore, leg ripping free from the rest of her and sending it tumbling back to the ground. The Muscle Man gave the severed leg a glare before shoving the muscular thigh into his mouth and biting away a large chunk of meat.

As the Muscle Man turned, eager to kill something else, Kylie and Maddie focused the beams of their weapons into his face. He let out a pained yell, stumbling backwards. Mugino moved in to lend her assistance, focusing her powerful beam into the creature’s face as well. Gritting his teeth, the hulking zombie stomped towards the trio, leaving cracked indents in the tarmac with each heavy step. The pain consuming his head was overwhelming, nearly blinding him, but he lacked the mental processing to consider retreat. He managed a few more steps before the damage became too much. The combined efforts of the three women tore his head to pieces. His bulky figure stumbled about aimlessly before twisting and falling to the ground with a thunderous sound.

Baroness didn’t let the group recover long from the unexpected attack or the loss of life. She moved past the dead Muscle Man to where the plane’s fiery wreckage lay. There was no doubt that the vehicle was useless scrap now, but the loss didn’t sting quite as badly with the discovery of the barrier. The charred chunks of meat that had been Jester still clung to an area of the invisible wall. “Mugino,” she called, pointing to the unseen obstruction. “Cut through it.”

Summoning a fresh Option, Mugino did what she could to penetrate the energy field. After several minutes, she gave up. “I’ve got no idea what that thing is made of, but it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.”

“So that means we’re stuck in this fucking hell hole,” Claire yelled, kicking a chunk of smoking plane debris. “That pisses me off!”

“That explosion will likely draw even more creatures to this location,” Jean Grey said. “We’re not going to be safe here for long.”

“Ask Jester and Laura how safe we were here to begin with,” Jessica Jones muttered. She rolled her eyes and turned away. “God, I need a fucking drink.”

“What’s your next plan, new fearless leader?” Kylie asked Baroness.

Baroness could see the way the tide was turning and motioned for Lola and Nena to be on guard, in case things got violent. She disliked the situation just as much as everyone else, but she pushed aside the hopelessness she felt and turned her mind towards action. “Jean’s right. We’re likely going to have company very soon. We need to use that time to prepare our defenses. If we can’t leave, our only option is to fight. Make this our city.”

“Oh, yea, cuz fighting these things head on worked out so well back at the Bunker,” Jessica grumbled.

“They surprised us at the Bunker,” Baroness pointed out, leveling a firm glare at the woman. “And we had the misfortune of being under the rule of poor leadership. This time, we’ll be ready for them, unified. We’re not fighting for survival anymore. We’re fighting for superiority. Domination. After all we’ve seen, I doubt this place has much more in the way of surprises for us. We use what we’ve learned to beat them, destroy them, once and for all.”

She could tell that the general mood was still low, but some of her words had gotten through. Besides, it wasn’t as if they had much of an alternative choice. “So let’s get to work,” she said, getting down to planning their defenses. Taliyah, Jean, Jessica, and Mugino’s powers made them prime candidates for securing and fortifying large portions of the airport. She directed a few of the others to move several trucks and fuel tanks towards the main terminal. As the survivors got to work, Baroness debated the best strategy for the defenses. Constructing a solid wall would provide excellent cover, but there was nothing to stop the creatures from focusing on a single point, breaking through and swarming them. Alternatively, she could organize a weaker frontline with a series of pre-established chokepoints in the hopes that it would funnel whatever monsters arrived into confined areas where it would be easier to fight them from a distance.

The clock was ticking. She needed to make a decision.


The timing and destination of Rogue’s unexpected arrival in the Necropolis put her a ways off from the most active sections of the doomed city. The office building appeared deserted; the upper floors inaccessible. Getting her bearings, the young mutant explored her immediate surroundings, finding little in the way of an explanation for how she’d been kidnapped or why. The place certainly didn’t seem very friendly, but it also felt eerily dead. Calling out to see if there was anyone else in proximity was tempting, but it felt too dangerous. She didn’t know nearly enough about what had happened to risk drawing attention to herself. Rogue made her way into the office building’s lobby, finding the front entrance hopelessly blocked off by chunks of rubble and destroyed office furniture. Not disorganized enough to be just a natural disaster, she thought, turning to make her way to the back of the building. Some kind of invasion?

An invasion seemed likely, but the disturbing essence that seemed to permeate the air shifted Rogue’s mind away from any human villains. Aliens, maybe? Demons? The answers eluded her, as did any explanation as to how she’d been suddenly and mysteriously teleported to the location. I swear, if this is Nightcrawler’s idea of a practical joke, I’m going to kill that little monkey bastard, she thought, finding an emergency exit at the back of the building. She grabbed the handle, gave it a twist, and pushed, but the door only shifted a half inch before resisting her. “Hey,” she grumbled with surprise. “That’s a fire hazard.” Gritting her teeth, she jammed her shoulder against the door and shoved harder. Whatever was blocking the door on the outside wasn’t solid. She could shift it. Bracing herself, she flexed her legs and kept on pushing, widening the gap in the doorway little by little.

The thick group of zombies had piled together in the alleyway behind the office building, fallen into an almost inert state with the significant lack of fresh prey to stalk. The jostling of the door stirred them. The living corpses went from a nearly comatose state to ravenously excited in moments. They shifted, going from blocking Rogue’s exit from the building to actively helping her. She let out a surprised yell as the door suddenly shot open, stumbling headfirst into the pack of waiting corpses. The cloud of putrid decay gagged her as she tried to escape their clawing hands. She managed to backstep halfway through the open door before one of the zombies tackled her, pinning her to the ground.

Urgent fingers, unaware and unconcerned by Rogue’s mutant powers, hastily tore through her clothing, baring her pale flesh. The touch of rotten flesh against her drew a gasp of pain from her lips as she absorbed the dead man’s essence along with an unhealthy dose of the Necrotic energy animating him. It felt like ice water being shot through her veins, leaving her shivering. The zombie released an annoyed growl as weakness enveloped him, collapsing over her into an inert heap, head resting against her breast. Before Rogue could squirm out from under the drained zombie, two more yanked the limp body aside and replaced him, finishing her stripping even as their own Necrotic energy was drained away from them.

Rogue’s pale complexion grew even more pale as she adopted certain lifeless traits from her attackers. She felt the constant pain they suffered as her own, as well as the burning lust for life and flesh. When the first undead cock managed to make it into her tight cunt, her slit was damp with arousal even as her mind revolted in horror from the experience. Wave after wave of dead men’s memories assaulted her almost as strongly as their reanimated bodies assaulted her sexually. Her mind grew cramped with personalities, none of them offering her any true answers as to what had gone so terribly wrong in the Necropolis. Each one brought with it the agony of rotting, the fleeting ecstasy that each fuck gave them. The zombies dropping over her didn’t last long, managing maybe only a handful of pumps into her dripping snatch before they were reduced to truly lifeless husks and dragged away for the next undead rapist to take his turn.

The pile of inert bodies dragged back into the alley remained that way for a few minutes before the Necrotic energy surged back into them, drawing them back to unholy life so they could make another attempt at violating the young woman’s squirming body. Rogue could not fight back, too consumed with the feelings and images soaking into her sweaty skin with each zombie’s touch. She saw other women, so many strange, unfamiliar faces. Some surviving their undead rapes long enough to become like the monsters that had attacked them, but so many more simply dying, torn to pieces and devoured. She saw glimpses of other things, things far worse than the living dead, lurking the streets of the dead city, raping and killing victims for themselves.

Rogue’s head rolled from side to side, drooling and moaning. As a thick, rotting erection plunged into her sex, she experienced the sensation of the same cock being forced up the resisting cunt of another woman, a bloody length of pipe rammed up the girl’s ass. As a spray of cold jizz streaked across her heaving breasts, she felt another ejaculation, pouring across the face of a Chinese woman whose body was gruesomely splattered across a desolate street. Rolled onto her stomach, Rogue sobbed as her ass was violated for the first time, her eyes stretched wide, witnessing a woman impaled by a hellish creature whose body was covered in spikes moments before both monster and woman vanished in an explosion of blood and cum. The experiences and sights ravaged her mind, threatening to smother Rogue’s own persona completely.

As more and more of the Necrotic energy soaked into Rogue’s mutant form, she realized she was no longer just seeing the experiences of the zombies currently assaulting her, but snapshots of events that had transpired across the city, committed by an obscene number of monstrosities. She was suddenly a terrified medic, trapped in a very similar predicament as infection surged through her, forcing her to love the undead orgy she was the center of until she was just another zombie. Dizziness washed over her as she felt herself becoming a half-horse, half-man hybrid, impaling a blonde through the gut before ripping her head away. A gnawing agony twisted Rogue’s insides as she experienced Seras Victoria’s final moments, being consumed from within by her own zombified guts.

Rogue sobbed and moaned, a limp ragdoll as she was pulled onto her back again. A bloated zombie tongue lapped across her cum-leaking pussy while another squatted onto her chest and forced her to suck his throbbing manhood. Her eyes rolled back, shuddering violently as a fresh flurry of experiences rushed through her. She tasted the sweat flavor of the large breasted nude woman with the twin pistols with each drizzle of pre-cum that flowed over her flailing tongue. Cunt honey gushed out of her as she experienced the sensations of the Alpha Hell Hound pounding his huge prick through another woman, stuffing her from ass to mouth, the spasms of death delivering unimaginable pleasure.

And then, among all of the strangers, she finally spotted a familiar face. Psylocke. She felt the woman psychically brushing against the heart of the evil responsible for the Necropolis’s creation and the immediate and fatal reaction it had caused in her. She knew in an instant that several of the zombies presently fucking, dying, undying, and fucking her again had been present for her fellow mutant’s glorious welcome into the ranks of the undead. She tried to pinpoint which of the zombies were responsible, but there were too many overlapping memories for her to contend with. She sobbed pitifully as the sensations of fucking Psylocke suddenly became the sensations of Psylocke being fucked as she’d concluded her transition.

Eyes rolled back, body quivering and straining to breathe, Rogue’s overwhelmed mind needed several long minutes before she realized that her ongoing assault had come to a stopping point. She managed to find enough strength to swallow the load of cum pooling at the back of her throat and lift her head, amazed to find that she’d drained all of the zombies. Fighting to keep control of her mind, she did her best to take advantage of the good luck. She rolled over, rose to her hands and knees. Her muscles throbbed, both from the usage she’d endured as well as the pervasive quantity of Necrotic energy still trapped inside her. She half-crawled, half-dragged herself back into the office building, making it only a few feet before she collapsed, gasping for air as she tried to remember how a living woman breathed.

Hearing the moans of the dead behind her, Rogue knew from the hundreds of amalgamated memories crowding her head what she was in store for. Their carnal urges were strong, one of only two things capable of temporarily relieving the pain of being dead. But with their balls so effectively drained, their interest in her would have shifted, leading them to the other means of fighting off the never-ending pain. Feeding.

Rogue was too weak to even scream as the zombies caught up to her, dropping over her and tearing into her soft flesh with hungry teeth. She continued to drain them even as they ate her, driven past the point of sanity as she experienced just how delicious she was as each gruesome bite was stolen from her body. The duality of being both the eater and the eaten trapped her in a sickening mix of agony and satisfaction. As a zombie peeled away her two-toned hair to expose her bloody, raw scalp, still more memories and experienced flowed into her. Her vision was taken from her as her eyes were scooped from their sockets, making it easier for her to see through the eyes of a being both majestic and terrible, a dual-gendered queen with terrible intent, returning to her full strength. She saw rubble being dislodged, cleared away. She saw the medic she’d shared a similar fate with, now a zombie of exceptional power, being retrieved from that rubble.

Rogue’s mostly devoured body seized as her skull cap was pried back, the first bite of her overworked brain taken from her, making it difficult for her to maintain the connection she felt. She slipped away from the queen, doused in a terrifying darkness for what felt like an eternity, certain that she would finally be allowed to die. Then a new sight filled what remained of her mind. Looking through the hazy eyes of the zombified medic, Rogue was treated to the sight of Kerrigan’s Child, standing tall and proud in all of her glory. Twin horns – freshly grown – curved from her brow into vicious tips. An appropriate crown for the nightmare queen. Her monstrous cock stood firm, cunt lips drooling a potent honey down her muscular thighs. Her tail whipped about with excitement, a hint of the terrible plans she had in store for whatever unfortunate lives remained in the city. Leaking tears of blood down her cheeks, the young mutant was gripped with a powerful, mind-obliterating orgasm at the mere sight of the Child. And then, finally, Rogue died.


The hell of what had plagued them throughout their underground journey had been severe. Enough so that the sight of the outside world, although it was guaranteed to be no more friendly than the sewers, filled Jack’s group with relief. The large storm drain they exited from drained into a bay. Not far down from where they’d arrived, they could see the bridge leading out of the city. “There’s our destination, kids,” Jack told them, pointing to the bridge. “Let’s get moving. This isn’t exactly the most defensible spot ever.”

Leaving the tunnel put them on a narrow strip of rocky beach, roughly four or five feet between the twenty-foot seawall on their left and the bay on their right. The bridge was ahead and up. Jack was hopeful that they’d find a service ladder or maybe even some stairs to lead them up to it. But they had to make it there first. The length of unsightly beach was devoid of any obvious threats, aside from the occasional tripping hazard, but she was well aware of the open tunnel behind them and the myriad of monstrosities still lurking in the sewer. There was also the possibility that something could come slithering its way over the seawall above their heads. After making far less progress than she would have liked, Ellie pointed out yet another avenue of attack she’d neglected.

“There’s something in the water!” she called out, aiming a figure out the swell of water rushing in their direction. Picking out any details of the creature was impossible, but Jack had no trouble discerning that whatever it was, it was massive. It was coming their way from under the bridge, and judging by the angle of its movement, it absolutely knew where they were and was eager to do whatever perverted, deadly acts it could to them. Between its position and its speed, the creature was definitely going to cut them off on the beach before they could get past it, blocking their path to the bridge.

“Alright, stay sharp,” Jack called out to the others. “This motherfucker wants to keep us from getting home in time for Christmas. Let’s disappoint his ass!”

The group readied themselves as best they could. Fatigue and lack of supplies had them stretched beyond anything they’d had to deal with previously, but they were all ready to fight. Moments later, the massive bulk of the Doom Whale threw itself from the water and skidded onto the rocky beach, lodging itself on land at an angle that blocked their path effectively. Its single, bulbous fish eye fixed on them, glistening with excitement as it stretched its huge mouth open, exposing glistening walls of grey-blue flesh and large, flat teeth. Its flippers slapped excitedly at the wet rocks while its tail flopped about in the water, creating heavy splashes. The multitude of slimy tentacles growing from its sides and top whipped about, eager to find something to violate and kill. Or kill and violate. The creature didn’t seem particularly discerning about the order.

The group fell into a loosely organized attack pattern. Jack stayed back, along with Ellie and Quorra, lending ranged support, while Kara moved in to handle the creature with her fists. Samus found the ignition button on the lightsaber she’d looted from Mikey’s corpse and followed after her, getting used to the feel and weight of the weapon. The Doom Whale seemed unbothered by the number of adversaries it faced and proved it was capable of defending itself while continuing to try to snare one or more of the women. Kara punched back the tentacles that came near her, while Samus cleaved through others, the rest of the group focusing their attack on the creature’s thick hide, searching for some weak spot to take advantage of.

Their ability to keep the Doom Whale’s attempts at bay grew more difficult as fat, juicy cists grew along its sides and back, exploding to reveal fresh tentacles to replace the ones that had been damaged. The appendages moved in what at first seemed to be a chaotic, animalistic fury, but the group soon discovered that there was nothing random to the Doom Whale’s gyrations. It was simply multitasking, handling each of the individual threats the women presented while simultaneously working towards its terrible goal. Jack’s group got their first sign of this when they discovered the creature’s reach was far greater than they’d realized. While keeping Samus and Kara occupied with numerous tentacles, the Doom Whale shot several more towards the back line, one slapping Quorra’s glowing disc aside while two more snared her by the ankles and yanked her off her feet and into the air, dangling upside down out over the water.

The tentacles gripping Quorra’s ankles pulled her legs apart while two more moved in to have some fun with her. Their tips mashed between the cheeks of her ass, pressing inwards until they split open the seat of her bodysuit. Quorra’s black hair swept back and forth as she shook her head, screaming as her virgin ass was suddenly and violently stretched by the pair of amorous tendrils. Her eyes bulged and rolled back, the dizziness from her upside-down pose worsening with the gut-pounding agony of the tentacles fucking their way into her rear. She extended an arm, trying to draw her disc back to her. The weapon nearly made it back into her grip before the Doom Whale smashed it away, splitting the impressive tech in half and sending both sparking pieces plunking into the water below.

Quorra gagged and sobbed as the tentacles invaded her guts, distending them obscenely as they curled and slithered their way deeper through the flailing woman’s body. Her ability to breathe became drastically limited as her throat bulged nearly to the point of bursting. Her wide eyes stared down the length of her nose as both of the tendrils fought to push through her stretched lips, wiggling about with excitement as they enjoyed the shuddering pleasures of her fully impaled form. With no means of defending herself, Quorra’s arms stretched out, waving wildly at the others, desperate for whatever help they could offer her.

The Doom Whale’s attention had noticeably shifted after snaring its first victim. The tentacles not holding and fucking Quorra still proved to be dangerous, but its focus was obviously on violating the snared woman. Samus managed to dodge halfway around the Doom Whale, getting in closer than she’d previously been capable of. Drawing the lightsaber back, she rammed the glowing blade into the creature’s flank, hoping to piercing something important. Whether the area she carved into was vital for the creature’s ongoing life, she didn’t know, but the section was most certainly sensitive, unfortunately for Quorra. The Doom Whale jerked, reacting instinctively to the sudden stabbing agony cutting through its side. The tentacles stuffing Quorra from ass to mouth reflexively pulled away. The pale-skinned woman managed a gurgle of suffering as the internal pressure built for a fraction of a second before the tentacles tore her body in half, ripping her frontmost portion away from the jaw downwards while her backside peeled away, depositing her sloppy insides into the bay as her mangled, bisected remains were flung aside.

Samus pulled the lightsaber free and stumbled back, instinctively extricating herself from the immediate danger that followed her strike, but distracted and guilt-ridden over the terrible consequences her efforts had caused. The sight of Quorra’s gory remains splashing into the bay distracted her from the Doom Whale’s intent to punish her for the pain she’d caused it. She glanced up in time to see the trio of thick tentacles slamming down on her, uncertain whether she had the time to move out of the way or if she should even bother. The choice was taken from her a moment later as Jack darted in and yanked her out of the way. “Grieve later, goddammit!” she snapped. “For now, we’ve gotta – fuck!”

After failing to smash Samus into pulp, the tentacles had acted quickly to snatch the tattooed woman responsible for saving their target. Two looped around her knees, the third closing around her shoulder, yanking her up into the air above the Doom Whale’s maw. The creature held Jack before it, moving in a fourth tentacle to snag her free arm and stretch the woman into a spread-eagle pose, seemingly displaying its latest catch while using her as a shield from attacks. Jack flexed and struggled, face constricted with rage. “Let me the fuck go, you smelly fish fuck!” Her insult meant nothing to the Doom Whale as it moved more tentacles in to strip her already minimal clothing away. As her half-worn jumpsuit was reduced to tatters and the thin leather belt concealing her nipples slipped away, Jack felt fear tempering her rage. She’d been fixated on the fight, on keeping as many of her unwanted charges alive, that she’d briefly forgotten she was just as likely as any of the others to find a sudden, terrible fate. Jack cringed as a slimy length of tentacle pushed eagerly into her cunt, reaching the end of her vaginal canal in less than a second. A second forced its way up her ass. Each of them did not hesitate to begin a painful rhythm of hard strokes into her lower holes, proving to her that all the defiant anger she had meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Still, defiant anger was what she did best, so Jack saw no reason to abandon it now when things looked to be nearing their end. “You better enjoy this shit, you bastard,” she snarled at the Doom Whale. “Cuz when I get outta this, I’m gonna carve you into so many pieces of fucking sushi.” She started to roll her hips, grinding back against the forceful pumping of the tentacles raping her. “C’mon, Moby Dickless! Is that the best you’ve fucking got? If you’re gonna fucking kill me, at least let me feel something! I’ve been with varren that could fuck better than you, you - ” Jack’s incessant stream of insults came at an abrupt end as a third tentacle plugged her mouth. She gagged as the slippery appendage stretched down her throat, but it didn’t stop her from sinking her teeth into the slick, clammy flesh. A burst of what tasted like rancid salt water flowed across her tongue, gagging her even worse.

With a fresh slab of prey in its clutches and a trio of pleasant orifices to violate, the Doom Whale kept Jack held before it, stretching its unoccupied tentacles around to flail and swipe at the remaining women scrambling to regroup and come up with a decent plan to save their foul-mouthed leader. In the panicked chaos, one of the sweeping tentacles hit Ellie. The force of the strike was enough to cave in one side of her rib cage. Her body was flung backwards, smashing into the seawall with a wet splat. The impact left the cement cracked and her spine shattered. The back of her skull caved in, sending her eyes – both natural and artificial – shooting free from their sockets, gooey streams of brain matter gushing down her shocked face. Her body peeled away from the seawall, flopping into a limp heap on the rocks.

With her head pulled back and a tentacle fucking her mouth, Jack didn’t see the loss of yet another of her group. She was a little preoccupied with the pain and humiliation running through her as the Doom Whale pleasured itself with her body. Throbbing discomfort radiated up through her crotch, her cervix stretch painfully around the squirming tip of the tendril invading her pussy. The heavily inked flesh of her slender belly, glistening with a blend of sweat and water, undulated as the tentacle squeezed through her guts, eagerly straining to plunge ever further through her struggling form. Her nostrils flared, wheezing in short gasps as a blend of the Doom Whale’s watery blood and her drool bubbled from her stretched lips. The thrusts of the tentacles were growing more urgent, letting her now how close the monster was to finishing its thorough violation of her. If the others didn’t come up with a means of freeing her fast, she doubted they’d have much to save at all.

The grip of the tentacles looped around her knees and shoulders tightened, another sign of her impending end. Everything felt as if it was happening so slowly. Jack recalled, not so long ago, being pushed past her limits, mentally. The wave of suicidal intent had been short lived, although so very tempting. Now that her certain death was playing out, she wanted to survive more than anything. Vengeance was a strong motivator. But more than that, she wanted – desperately – to find some kind of life beyond all the horrors she’d been a victim of, even before her unexpected arrival in the Necropolis. Now that her immediate future seemed fixed, Jack wanted any opportunity she could find to change it.

Jack screamed against the tentacle in her throat as her shoulders and knees were crushed. The pain worsened as her limbs were violently torn from her body. Disorientation flooded her at the sudden loss of sensation in her extremities and the rapid gush of her blood expelling from her. The tentacles plunging into her various holes reached their limit at the same time, spraying gooey streams of Doom Whale jizz into her. The force of the trio of ejaculations forced Jack’s limbless body back down their lengths. The tentacles popped free from her gaping orifices and gravity claimed her. She was treated to a thorough cum-bath as she dropped, the force of the sprays speeding her descent into the Doom Whale’s waiting mouth. She landed hard within the beast’s maw, darkness enveloping her as the creature’s lips closed. With a flex of its inner muscles, it pushed her helpless form to the back of its mouth, cold, slippery flesh squeezing her firmly before drawing her down into the monster’s belly.

Jack’s dismemberment and devouring gave Samus and Kara another gruesome memory to keep them haunted for the remainder of their lives. They were snapped back to the danger they were still in the midst of as they were forced to dodge Jack’s limbs as the Doom Whale flung them at the remaining pair. Being outside of the sewer helped to recharge Kara’s strength only minimally due to the crimson overcast filling the skyline. Samus’s pilfered lightsaber was a potent weapon, but its lack of range was a difficult problem to contend with in the fight. They kept their distance, dodging the Doom Whale’s attempts to snare them while struggling to come up with some plan – any plan – to either kill the thing or get around it.

At some point during her swallowing, Jack had blacked out. She strained to open her eyes, pain and weakness radiating through what remained of her body, worsening by the moment as the Doom Whale’s caustic stomach juices sloshed against her. She spent several precious moments continuing to try to open her eyes before her mind cleared enough to realize her eyes were already open. There was just no light to see her surroundings. With that mystery solved, she allowed herself another precious moment to let the realization that she was somehow still alive sink in. When that passed, her rage returned, stronger than ever. “Gonna take more than some bloated piece of shit fish to kill me,” she groaned weakly. Even if she had a limb to crawl her way back out of the Doom Whale, Jack knew she lacked the strength to make the journey. Her tenacious tether to her mortal coil was stronger than most, but it wouldn’t keep her going for much longer.

Time to give this big bastard some indigestion, she thought, focusing everything she had left on conjuring her lingering biotic prowess. Her flesh began to tingle with something other than her gradual digestion. A light blue glow radiated from her, strengthening as she built up more and more energy. She nearly lost her focus as her horrific surroundings were revealed to her, the damp walls of spasming muscle tissue, lightly grinding away at her to encourage the breakdown of her body. The revelation that she was not alone in the Doom Whale’s gut drew a startled gasp from Jack’s lips, the glow permeating from her dimming briefly as she fought back the revulsion she felt at the sight of Rose Calvert’s mostly digested corpse mashed against what remained of her left thigh. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight, and fixated all of her mind on the burning hatred she felt. Her teeth ground together, feeling the energy enveloping her, warming her nearly bloodless body.

With anger and energy crackling across the seams of Jack’s body, she unleashed a roar of fury, eyes opening to reveal a blinding glow of blue-white. The energy exploded from her limbless body, hitting the Doom Whale from within with a devastating result. The stomach ruptured around her, cold blood flooding into the cavity to wash away the digestive enzymes. The explosion of energy continued to ravage its way through the monster, shredding muscle and bursting veins. Outside on the beach, Samus and Kara were shocked as the creature’s gyrations grew wild, moments before its sides ripped open, flinging chunks of half-cooked meat and singed organs across the shallow water.

Samus and Kara had no idea what had caused the damage, but it had obviously been effective. Despite its daunting size and killing potential, the Doom Whale was clearly dying. But even with so much damage done to it, it proved to be a potent threat. Its tentacles flailed about, desperately trying to defend itself from whatever had dealt the killing blow. The women backed away, doing their best to stay out of reach of the dying beast, but it seemed more intent than ever to kill them, finding enough coordination to drag itself further onto the beach, pursuing them right up until its bloody end.

A deafening blast left the women’s ears ringing as a fresh hole was bored through the Doom Whale, drawing their attention to the bizarre pair injecting themselves into the battle now that it was nearly at its end. The zombified mutation that had been Zarya held the massive bulk of the Harkonnen in a single beefy hand. She squeezed the trigger again, but was rewarded with a dry click. The hulking zombie woman chucked the used up anti-tank cannon aside. Rayne’s lithe, deadly figure pranced majestically up the side of the dying Doom Whale. She clacked her arm-blades against each other, strange eyes scanning the beast and quickly locating an important portion of anatomy near the surface of its flesh. Stabbing one arm-blade into the top of the Doom Whale’s head to anchor herself, she leaned over the side of the behemoth and rammed her second arm-blade through the thin tissue and into the monster’s brain. The bulging fish eye rolled about, straining upwards to glare at the mutation riding it before finally rolling back completely. A few energetic spasms ran through the Doom Whale’s tentacles before the appendages finally fell still.

With the threat neutralized and two survivors left, Zarya and Rayne had clear orders. Capture Kara and Samus. They moved to carry out their command, largely ignoring the open communication still buzzing in their heads as Harley aimed a finger at the monitor feed and told Bathory, with great amusement, that she knew that one Super Bitch.

Samus and Kara were physically and mentally exhausted, but not so much so that they felt any degree of relief at the sight of their seeming saviors. They abandoned the idea of making it to the bridge, instead turning and fleeing back the way they’d come, demanding their fatigued muscles to put as much distance between themselves and the zombified abominations they now faced.

Rayne remained perched and ready atop the dead Doom Whale as Zarya stomped forward. She lifted her cannon-fused arm towards the retreating survivors, took a moment to aim, and fired off a Graviton Surge. A sphere of black crackling with streaks of pink electricity shot towards Kara and Samus. Their steps faltered as the ball’s powerful gravitational pull caught them. Samus deactivated the lightsaber just in time to avoid having the glowing blade pulled back into her face. As the sphere settled onto the ground behind them, they were plucked off their feet and dragged backwards, pressed against the energy ball with as much restrictive force as the strongest of bindings. Rayne leapt from the Doom Whale and stalked up the beach, Zarya just behind her, catching up to the pair in time to secure them before the effects of the Graviton Surge wore off completely.

Zarya collected both of the women in her powerful grip, pulling them up against her and squeezing them together in an iron-like bearhug. The lightsaber – still gripped in Samus’s hand – went unnoticed. As she was pulled against the mutant zombie, her arm became trapped between Zarya’s firm breasts and her own, the hilt of the powerful weapon trapped there. She adjusted her hold, not wanting to accidentally trigger the blade, but maintained her grip, well aware that it could be save her and Kara’s lives if the right moment came. Whatever the zombies were, they were unlike the other abominations dwelling in the Necropolis. They seemed uninterested in raping or killing. After the ordeal of the Doom Whale, even that small, strange sliver of good luck was enough to keep both women hopeful that they could still find a way out of the nightmare they’d been plunged into.



Machiko Noguchi had not been the first woman to be blinked into the Necropolis, but she’d arrived early on. The fact that she’d survived as long as she had was a testament to her cool nature, but more so the yautja training she’d had. Spend enough time around a pack of brutish hunters tracking and killing the deadliest game the universe had to offer and you picked up a few survival tricks along the way. Aside from the disorienting nature of her arrival, there were several other reasons why this hunt was unlike any she’d taken part in previously. The biggest difference was that this hunt did not seem to have an end. Rescue seemed unlikely. Escape didn’t seem possible. The best plan Machiko could come up with was to wait and see. She was a skilled enough hunter that she had patience enough to spare, but as time dragged on, even she began to grow antsy.

Machiko’s first act of business – after dispatching the horny pack of dead men so eager to get a piece of her – had been to secure a safe, hidden place to spend her time waiting. Whatever fear of heights she had was easily controlled and had grown non-existent after claiming the church’s bell tower for her roost. The church was far from secure, but the tower was remote enough that she didn’t have to worry about most of the undead monsters reaching her without her seeing them coming. It was roomy enough to provide a cramped bit of living space and the height advantage allowed her to survey a decent portion of the city and keep tabs on the migration patterns of the various nightmares and other survivors. If her supplies held out and she didn’t get incredibly unlucky or meet something new and even more terrible than she’d seen so far, Machiko was reasonably certain she could go on as long as she needed to.

But even as Machiko maintained her routine, the Necropolis was changing around her. Even from a distance, she’d heard the sounds of huge battle taking place. Weapons fire and screams – both human and monster. She’d beat back her curiosity and had maintained a distance from the event. Shortly after the sounds of fighting had died down, a rumble had gone through the city. Some kind of explosion. Huge. The seeming calmness that had settled over the city in its wake had started to give Machiko the idea that perhaps whatever had happened had been the ultimate climax to whatever hell was transpiring. She regretted missing out on what seemed like a truly glorious hunt, but it was easy to push those feelings aside considering it hadn’t sounded like the living had done particularly well in the fight. Her presence may have been enough to make some kind of difference, but she doubted it. Her pride was strong, but it wasn’t that strong.

Then the refugees had come. More living than she’d ever seen in the Necropolis since her arrival, all grouped together and looking like they’d been through the worst neighborhoods of Hell itself. Prolonged isolation nearly spurred her to climbing down and greeting them. They looked to need all the help they could get and Machiko had never been a stranger to putting her life on the line to help those in need. But the city had tempered her humanitarian side and strengthened her cautiousness. She remained hidden, waiting and watching them for a bit, to gauge their character. She’d had a front row seat to the Baroness’s coup. It had told her two very important things. The first, that regardless of their numbers, this group was doomed. They’d already been reduced to fatal in-fighting. Her presence would do little to help them and everything to ensure her survival chances were limited. The second, thanks to the vibrant deflection of light and energy shooting into the sky, was that she needed a new hideout. The light show would undoubtedly draw monster to the church in search of the cause of the disturbance. Nothing as simple and tolerable as a small pack of zombies wandering through aimlessly, the creatures would come with purpose and even her height advantage would give her little protection at that point. Machiko waited until the refugees moved on and quickly scaled down the bell tower with a small pack of supplies. Her choice of directions was limited. Following after the other survivors was out, as was going back the way they’d come, at least directly. She decided to cut out to the side and then make a larger loop back, hoping to circumvent whatever hoard might be tracking the group.

Machiko didn’t make it far before she heard the approach of others. Judging by the distinct shuffling of the movements as well as the occasional grunt and growl, it wasn’t hard for her to guess the state of the newcomers. She slipped into a blown-out shop and disappeared into the shadows, dropping into a crouch and remaining perfectly still. The horrifying menagerie began to pass only moments later, led by a nude undead woman, strikingly attractive despite her lack of life. Machiko got a much better understanding of why the group of survivors had been so fucked as she took in both the overall size and variance in the horde chasing them down. There were zombies, plenty of them, but beyond that, there seemed to be every form of creature she’d spotted in the city after them, as well as a number of monsters she’d never had the misfortune of running into. By the sound of the battle, she’d known whatever was going on was big, but this was even bigger than she’d feared. She counted herself lucky that she hadn’t introduced herself to the refugees. If this horde managed to catch them, and she suspected it would, they were in for one hell of a showdown.

In her haste to conceal herself from the parade of horrors traipsing down the main street, Machiko had neglected to fully scout her immediate surroundings. The shop itself was safe enough, but the back door had been left propped open, a worn brick slotted into the threshold. The clerk responsible for the security flaw had been out back having a smoke when the Necrotic field had permeated the city and, up until that point, the door had remained undisturbed and largely unnoticed by both monster and survivor. With Psylocke’s innate psychic call radiating out from around her, commanding any undead life within range to join the party, stragglers were rushing to obey. The small group of zombies shuffling their way down the back alley found a quicker route to the source of the call via the cracked door and pushed their way inside.

Machiko heard the movement behind her and reacted instinctively. She whipped around, remaining concealed in the darkness, as she pulled her deadly staff from her shoulder. The bulk of the horde outside had already passed her by, but she didn’t want to risk drawing any unwanted attention, so she dropped low and slid her feet backwards, easing mostly behind the counter. The glass front of the counter afforded her a line of sight on the zombies using her hiding spot as a shortcut. Machiko held her breath and waited, silently willing them to move on past without incident. The undead weren’t particularly observant creatures from her experience. She figured her odds were reasonably decent.

Unfortunately, while Machiko’s assessment of the zombie’s general lack of observation was perfectly accurate, she’d neglected to factor in the odds of them being clumsy, random oafs. And while her hiding spot was well out of the direct path between the back door and the front, it didn’t stop one of the undead from stumbling into the end of the counter and then choosing the exact wrong path to get to where he was trying to go, bringing him around the back of the counter and right to her.

“Cjit,” Machiko muttered, using the yautja word for ‘shit’. There was no avoiding the fight now. The zombie was already fixing her with a lustful gaze, reaching his rotten fingers towards her mostly fishnet-clad body. The revealing nature of her armor didn’t truly factor into the thing’s lust. She’d seen enough to know that. But it did mean the thing wouldn’t need to do much to achieve his goal of violating her flesh. Except, armor’s got nothing to do with it, Machiko told herself. Who needs defense when your body is a weapon? She proved as such, tense muscles springing as she launched herself to her feet, directing the tip of her spear into the soft meat under the zombie’s chin, skewering his head before sheering it off the dead man’s shoulders. She flicked the pathetic excuse for a trophy from her weapon and set herself into a fighting pose, her presence in the shop momentarily overriding Psylocke’s call.

Despite the reality of a plan gone dreadfully wrong, Machiko couldn’t help the wicked smirk that filled her face. After so much time spent waiting and watching, cultivating her patience and seeking for a safe route to survival, it came down to the same old thing, the very reason she’d abandoned her own race to run with the hunters. A life or death fight. It had been too long since she’d gotten to enjoy that simple pleasure. She barked out a challenging grunt in the alien tongue she’d still been trying to get the hang of to the small group of zombies filling the shop, eager to show them what she was capable of. With their brains practically putrefied, the zombies weren’t nearly smart enough to back down from the challenge she presented them. All they saw her as was a set of alluring holes to violate.

Living, dead, undead,, she thought as she circled around the counter to gain some much needed maneuvering space. Guys are all the same. She waited for them to come and they did so with a spectacular lack of grace or strategy. She dropped low, slashing the bladed tip of her spear across the belly of the nearest zombie before springing back up and driving the blunt end of the weapon through the mouth of the second closest. She gave the spear a twist in her hands before jerking it free of the dead zombie’s head, driving the blade through the disemboweled zombie’s left eye. Two more proper corpses littered the shop floor. Cleanup on aisle all of them, she thought passively as she brought her weapon close and reset herself to handle the remaining undead shuffling towards her.

Killing her fellow humans was a line Machiko had never crossed. In her estimation, she still hadn’t. The dead residents of the Necropolis had ceased to be human before her arrival. If anything, these were mercy kills. The yautja hunting pride had kept her from taking any of the zombie heads as trophies. None of them were worthy of that honor. Merely deadly annoyances to be dispatched. Machiko’s thoughts shifted, only briefly, to the skull she had claimed, cleaned, and was still displayed in her recently abandoned bell tower hideaway. The Headsnatcher had been a beast, in every definition of the word, but one of ruthless design. She’d been witness to what it had been capable of before she’d moved in to kill the thing and take its furred head for herself. She’d left Mami Tomoe’s headless corpse behind, feeling a little regretful that she’d not been fast enough to lend the woman any assistance, but the trophy had given her a small sliver of satisfaction and something to focus on. Primarily, that the Necropolis was a deceitful place, capable of bringing unexpected death at any moment.

Hearing a groan from the back of the shop, Machiko moved to intercept and eliminate the final zombie making its way through the building. The sight of the thing gave her pause. She’d seen a couple of the Big Men before, but never a Big Woman. Looking over what had become of Fio’s dead flesh while she’d been gestating inside the Zombie Factory, it was the only way to properly describe her. She looked obscenely pregnant, fat, bulbous gut forcing her to lean forward, nearly dragging her belly across the floor. Her tits were bloated and draped over her gut, leaking a steady flow of viscous goo. Her lower jaw stretched downwards into a permanent gaping with her tongue and throat melded into what looked like a fleshy tube. Her arms had grown longer and stronger in order to brace herself against the ground and pull herself along when her cocked, mangled legs could not manage the feat. As Fio stumbled towards Machiko, the hunter charged in to make short work of the abomination, hoping to take advantage of her cumbersome size in the cramped environment.

In her haste to end the encounter, Machiko neglected the Necropolis’s most devious rule. Fio tilted her head back, tongue-tube whipping up and unleashing a chunky spray of potent stomach acids at her attacker. The powerful spray came too suddenly for Machiko to avoid. She reversed her momentum in time to avoid taking a face full of the stuff, but the thick goo splattered across her forearms and over the tops of her thighs. The result was instant, drawing a pained shriek from Machiko’s lips as she watched her hands melt around her weapon. She’d felt the intense sting of xenomorph acid before, but this was worse. She tried to back away, but her legs refused to work properly as the bulk of her muscular thighs were worn down to smoking bones. Instead, she dropped hard onto her toned ass, spear landing across her chest as her arms finished burning away into gory stumps waving about uselessly. Machiko shook her head wildly, tears in her eyes, as Fio lumbered closer to her.

Stopping over her writhing, shrieking victim, Fio unleashed another destructive spray of potent vomit over Machiko’s chest. The felled hunter screamed louder, no longer caring about keeping a low profile as her perky breasts were melted off her chest, soft meat and fat blended with the liquified remains of her supposedly acid-proof yautja armor. The fishnet bodysuit that made up the majority of her outfit did even less to protect her. Machiko’s toned abdomen sizzled away, splitting open to allow the puke to pour through her steaming guts. The caustic substance leaked through her exposed ribs and ate holes through her lungs. Her screams faded into urgent wheezing as she strained to draw air into her crippled lungs. Gathering her strength, Machiko lifted her head and watched through horrified eyes as the finely tuned weapon she’d made out of her body became a sloppy soup spreading across the shop’s floor. With no voice, she could only shake her head and cry, hardly resembling the proud, skilled warrior she’d been only moments ago.

Machiko’s gruesome transformation from hunter to victim intensified as Fio retched up another heavy spray of puke across her pretty Japanese face. The lightning bolt scar given to her by Broken Tusk vanished under the spray, eaten away by the acids to reveal only bloody skull beneath. Her dreaded hair burned away, braids popping as the destructive enzymes broke through them. Her eyes sank into her skull, deflating as they were eaten through, nose withered away and lips leaking through her teeth and down her burning throat. The few half-dissolved muscles and ligaments capable of movement gave off a wild series of jerks as Machiko’s brain was destroyed, shriveling and sloshing away like cotton candy, finally ending her agonized existence.

With the bulk of Machiko’s body broken down into a messy slop, Fio dropped onto her knees, leaning heavily against her bulbous belly. Her tongue lapped eagerly through the smoking chunks of the woman’s corpse, hose slurping through the thick puddles. The tongue traced its way through Machiko’s half-dissolved bones to reach the tastiest bits of her, meticulously drinking up the leftovers of her remains. Curling into the corpse’s weakened pelvic bone, Fio eagerly drained the frothing remains of Machiko’s womanhood down into her oversized gut. From there, she found a mostly melted scrap of one of her nipples floating on the outskirts of the bubbling puddle and chugged it down, dissolving the flap of flesh along the way. When most of Machiko’s liquified body was consumed, Fio moved to the fleshless, scorched skull – a skull that would have made a glorious trophy in the woman’s home universe – and carelessly cracked it open to get at the gummy pink goo collected at the back of it.

With her meal finished, Fio struggled to pull her bloated body back onto her feet. She turned and hurried to catch up to the horde that had called her towards it, leaving behind Machiko’s devastated remnants. Only her half-dissolved armor and spear gave any indication as to the identity of the unfortunate woman, let alone any evidence to suggest that she’d been the Necropolis’s longest living survivor. Now, Machiko Noguchi was nothing more than yet another corpse left in the wake of the Legions of the Undead.


Psylocke and her myriad monsters were just reaching the industrial section of the city when she got a psychic tingle from somewhere behind her. It seemed one of the minions she’d called into her group had discovered someone still alive. She got a vague taste of Machiko courtesy of Fio and the spicy tastiness told her that the woman had been strong. Unfortunate that she was now so much mush. She’d have made a valuable addition to her zombie ranks. Thankful that the woman would at least have no chance to cause them any further trouble, Psylocke moved onwards.

Coming upon a pack of zombies, she found them still quite enamored with the dismembered remains of Azura. Watching them stuff their cocks into the dead woman’s various bits was quite the alluring sight, but she could not afford to enjoy herself. She commanded the zombies to get to work removing the obstruction of rubble blocking their path. As they did, she strode over to Azura’s corpse, shoving a lingering zombie aside before he could sink his discolored teeth into the woman’s face. She had no doubt the meal would be a tasty one, but she had far more depraved thoughts in mind for the head. Tearing Azura’s head away from her upper body, she lifted it within her hands, rubbing her thumbs across the woman’s cum-coated cheeks as an eerie smile crept across her own face.


Despite the Necropolis’s seemingly intelligent joy in creating ironic nightmare scenarios, Alice was glad to find the library both vacant and as quiet as it would have been under normal conditions. With the Bunker not far off, she wanted to give her team a little time to rest and gather their strength. They had no idea what would be waiting for them at the Bunker, or if there was anyone left alive to save, but they’d already gone through too much and lost too many people to back off and give up. Still, even if there was a good possibility they were on a pointless suicide mission, that was no excuse to charge in recklessly. An hour or two of rest was a much needed respite from the unending carnage and hell lurking throughout the city.

With everyone taken care of and split up to grab a few minutes of precious sleep, Alice went looking for Kay-Em. It had been far too long since she’d gotten the chance to spend any quality time with the android. And if she wanted any chance of catching even a small dose of slumber, she knew she would need something to take the edge off. Fuuka had been keeping Kay-Em safe during the journey and had taken her off into the labyrinth of book stacks near the back of the library. Alice put together a semi-convincing argument for why she would need to hang onto the talking android head for a little bit. Someone to formulate a plan with and bounce ideas off of. Not that she was ashamed of having an android lover. She just figured it looked better if the leader of their little party didn’t appear to be a sex-starved freak in the midst of all the horror surrounding them.

As it turned out, Alice had no need for excuses or explanations. She heard the soft moan before she found Fuuka and Kay-Em. Slowing her pace, she peeked around the bookshelf and felt her desires spike as the sight of Fuuka splayed out on the floor with Kay-Em’s attentive head nestled between her thighs came into view. With Fuuka’s soft-spoken and innocent nature, it was quite the shock seeing her partaking in such a lewd activity, but Alice could hardly blame the young woman. Especially knowing just how talented Kay-Em’s tongue was. Still, she had her own needs and something as simple as quietly masturbating behind the bookshelf wasn’t going to cut it. With a smile filling her face, she stepped around the shelf to make her presence known. “Kay-Em, you cheating whore,” she remarked.

“Shit!” Fuuka gasped, snapping her legs closed around the sides of Kay-Em’s head as she went from massaging her exposed breasts to covering them in embarrassment. She blushed terribly as she kept one arm draped across her naked chest and worked the android’s head away from her sex.

Kay-Em didn’t seem nearly as embarrassed by being caught in the act. She licked Fuuka’s juices from her lips and looked up at Alice. “Hey, I’m a living head,” she shot back. “There’s not a whole lot of services I can provide. I’m just looking for a little fun in this hell hole.”

“Well, does that fun have a little room for me?” Alice asked. “Fuuka’s not the only one here with urges.”

Fuuka continued to blush, stammering out words in an attempt to explain her situation. “I… she… We were just…” She finally let out a sigh, frowning. “She’s very convincing…”

Alice laughed, unfastening her pants. “Oh, I know. There’s a reason why they called her the Silver-Tongued She-Devil who’d turn you into a full blown robo-sexual back in the Bunker. She might be a man-made battle-bot, but I don’t think I’ve known anyone more fixated on sex.”

“It fascinates me,” Kay-Em explained. “You organics are all so squishy and fun to play with. Besides…” She smirked. “I enjoy seeing humans on their knees.”

Tossing her pants aside, Alice leaned in to scoop Kay-Em’s head out of Fuuka’s hands. “We get out of this, I’m gonna turn you into a soccer ball, you bitch. Now put that mouth of yours to better use.” She brought the android’s face down to her bare crotch, gasping as Kay-Em’s tongue lashed across her folds. Keeping the head in place, she lowered herself down to the floor, sliding in close to Fuuka. The girl’s embarrassment had faded a bit, her lust still simmering enough to make her open to Alice’s involvement. She leaned in and lured Fuuka into a kiss that deepened quickly.

Alice broke the kiss to slip her shirt off, guiding Fuuka’s face down to her chest as she slid a hand over to massage one of the girl’s tits. Her breath quickened as Fuuka sucked at one of her thick nipples while Kay-Em tongued her aching clit. It was exactly the sort of attention her body needed. But she wanted to give as much as receive. As Fuuka sucked at her breast, Alice worked her hand lower, between the young woman’s thighs to rub through the damp folds of her cunt. She curled her index and middle finger into the tight, warm passage, pumping steadily. After some time, she pulled Kay-Em’s head up from her crotch, thighs quivering from the stunning orgasm she’d been tongue-fucked to. She took turns with Fuuka kissing Kay-Em, licking and sucking the taste of herself from the android’s wet lips.

Handing Kay-Em’s head back to Fuuka, she let the girl move the head back down between her legs. Alice rose onto her knees and scooted her crotch over Fuuka’s upturned face, lowering herself so the young woman could give her wet slit a thorough oral examination as she leaned forward to grope her breasts. When her lust spiked, she tugged Kay-Em’s head aside and dropped down to reciprocate the oral love. Kay-Em watched, lying on her side, as the pair vigorously ate each other out. She rolled her eyes with annoyance. “You guys wouldn’t be ignoring me like this if I still had my body,” she grumbled.

Alice reached over and snagged Kay-Em by the hair, twisting her arm around behind her and shoving the android’s face into the crack of her ass. Judging by the eager lapping of her tongue, Kay-Em didn’t mind her role in the bizarre threesome, so long as she had a role in the bizarre threesome. Neither Alice nor Fuuka got much in the way of actual rest during the downtime, but they both came out the other side of the experience feeling reinvigorated and fully committed to staying alive. Kay-Em came out the other end with a strong desire to somehow get herself a new body. Maybe this time I can get one with some proper tits, she thought. The bouncy kind that have nipples.


In the aftermath of her sexual romp, Fuuka felt awkward even fully dressed. Not-so-thankfully, the Necropolis didn’t waste long giving her something else to focus on. While the others got ready to move out, she conducted a scan of the surrounding area. There were surprisingly few creatures lurking in the nearby area, but one big reading left her head aching and a nervous sweat breaking out along the back of her neck. She hurried over to Alice, pushing back the blush warming her cheeks. “That giant flying monster,” she said. “It’s in the area, heading this way, towards the Bunker.”

Alice frowned, the pleasant feelings fading fast in the wake of the bad news. “Perfect. That’s all we need.”

“Is it heading for us or the Bunker?” Homura asked.

Fuuka reached out with her abilities again. “The Bunker, I think. But it’s trajectory is going to take it right past us.”

“That’s a good thing.”

Alice lifted an eyebrow at Homura. “It is?”

“If it doesn’t know where we are, we can take advantage of its ignorance,” she explained. “Ambush it. Kill it before it can cause any more trouble.”

Alice thought it over quickly and nodded. “I like it. Better to fight it now than to have to deal with it alongside whatever baddies are still at the Bunker. We’ve got much better cover here. We head up a couple floors and its aerial advantage won’t even do it much good. Let’s move out.”


Diana Prince had been in the fight of her life against Darkseid and had just spotted the opening she needed to bring the villain down when the world went fuzzy for her. As her vision cleared, she found herself standing in the middle of the street in a ruined city that was unknown to her. Sheathing her sword and coiling her lasso, Wonder Woman worked to get her bearings, suspicious that it was yet another of Darkseid’s tricks. As the behemoth of the dragon-bird thing came into view, already swooping in on her from above, she had to admit, it was a very effective trick. Still aching from the beating she’d taken and the disorientation of her sudden teleportation, Diana wasn’t entirely sure she would be quick enough to evade the monster’s vicious beak. She yanked her sword free again and prepared herself to at least go down swinging.

The Wings of Death was moments away from snapping its beak closed around the unexpected treat it had been given when the treat vanished as abruptly as she’d appeared. The winged beast flapped its leathery wings to gain elevation, rising over the buildings lining the street and circling back around to see where its victim had escaped to.

Diana was dizzier than ever and more than a little irritated by the surreal jostling she was being given. She leveled a glare at Homura, who still had a hand around her wrist. “Who are you? What is this place?”

Homura sighed, shaking off the fatigue from using her timestop ability to save the ungrateful woman. “Those are two very complicated questions. Here’s what you need to know…”


The Wings of Death settled into an agitated patrol around the block of buildings, keen eyes darting back and forth, looking for any sign of movement. It swooped lower, to see if it could flush the woman out from whatever hiding place she’d managed to slip into in such a short period of time. It took no notice of the three-story library it passed on its right. A costly mistake as Alice and Domino opened fire from an open window, dumping numerous rounds into its flank but focusing primarily on its thick wing. Ragged holes were stitched across the wing, compromising the monster’s ability to maintain an airborne state, but it took a few very lucky shots from Domino’s weapon to snap necessary ligaments that crippled the wing completely.

As the Wings struggled to maintain its flight and pull itself high enough to escape the volley of gunfire, Homura returned to the fight, blinking into existence above the creature to drop a handful of bombs along its back. The explosions ripped chunks of tough hide apart and sent the creature tumbling further towards the street. Homura reappeared on the ground below the Wings, ready to attack again. The Wings managed to gain enough elevation to reach the side of a building, punching its thick claws into the cement to anchor itself as it recovered from the devastating blows it had received. It spotted Homura on the street below and whipped its deadly tail towards the young woman in an attempt to quell its furious desire to kill.

Before the tail could impale Homura, Wonder Woman’s lasso snared the tip of the appendage, pulling tight and redirecting its trajectory so it struck only air. Looping the opposite end of the lasso around her forearms to secure her grip on the massive creature, Diana set her feet and used her impressive strength to start pulling the beast free from the side of the building. Cement crunched and crumbled under the Wings’ claws. With an angry roar, the monster slipped free from its perch and dropped towards the street. Homura and Diana were quick to move out of the way as Izumi moved in, leaning down to press her palms to the asphalt, transmuting it into a jagged spike that stretched towards the falling behemoth. The Wings’ angry yell became a scream of pain as the spike punched through its chest and erupted from its back, both grounding the creature and leaving it mortally wounded.

Even impaled, the Wings had more than enough fight left in it to be a deadly threat. Alice and the rest of the scouts rushed out of the library and onto the street. Those with guns let loose into the creature’s whipping head, focusing their attack until the thing finally slumped dead on the spike. The silence in the wake of the short but crucial fight was deafening. Still not entirely sure what was going on, Diana did the only thing she could think of. Introduce herself to the group who’d saved her life. Without a way to return to her own reality, helping Alice and the rest of the scouts seemed to be the best option she had. If there were people in need of rescuing, she was more than happy to lend her strength and skill to the fight.

With one massive threat crossed off the list of endless dangers lurking in the Necropolis, the scouts continued to make their way to the Bunker. Izumi slipped back, matching her pace with Homura. She walked alongside the woman in awkward silence for a few minutes before pushing down her pride enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” she blurted out. “About what I said earlier. You’re not a monster. You’re a hero. And we wouldn’t have made it this far without you.”

Homura responded with a simple nod, barely registering the apology with her mind fixated on far more pressing concerns. The fight that lay ahead of them was chief among them, but more than that was her own limited time before she feared she would become the monster that Izumi had originally accused her of being. There was no more time to waste. They needed to end things in the Necropolis and return to their own realities before things got so much worse.


The MVA ship slipped smoothly through the wormhole. Fate had done her best to prepare herself for some shocking sights, given the shear quantity of unsanctioned breaches that had been registered to the location, but what she found on the other side left her baffled. The source of the disturbance was clear enough. She could see a massive city encased in a red-purple bubble, completely sealed off, but the surroundings outside of the city did not match up completely. Nothing but desolate wastelands as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t something as simple as an entire world left destroyed. There didn’t appear to have ever been any form of life on the world, certainly not enough to justify the sprawling city. It was as if the entire location had been plucked out of whatever world it had originated from and deposited on this dead planet. The shear amount of power required for such a task sent a shiver of terror down her spine. Whatever they were dealing with, it was even bigger than anyone at the MVA had dared to guess.

“Gwen, scan it,” Fate called out. “What the hell are we even looking at right now?”

Gwen DeMarco leaned over her terminal, tapping at buttons and adjusting dials. She frowned with frustration and continued to tinker with the settings for several more minutes before leaning back with a sigh. “According to the computer, we’re looking at nothing.”

Fate looked to the woman, her confusion rising to greater heights. “What?”

“The sensors can’t detect the city,” she explained. “As far as they’re concerned, there’s nothing there.”

“Is it a mirage?” Rebecca asked.

“I doubt it,” Fate grumbled. “Let’s move in and see if we can get into the city. I’m in the mood to burst some bubbles.”

The MVA ship moved in slow, cautiously. Without any idea what they were dealing with, Fate didn’t want to take any chances. They tried to push through the barrier at the slowest possible speed. The ship jerked around them as it connected with the barrier, the red-purple sheen rippling and giving slightly but it was obvious whatever the thing was made of, it was solid. They backed off and did a circuit around the city, looking for any openings. There were none.

“So what’s the plan, Cap’n?” Veronica Santangelo asked. “This place looks sealed up tighter than a Deathclaw’s asshole.”

“What if we open an in-universe breach from the ship into the city?” Susan Storm suggested.

Fate shook her head. “Negative. We’ve got no reason to believe an in-universe breach would react any differently than the one they attempted from HQ.” She’d watched the footage from the MVA’s initial attempt to send someone directly into the Necropolis. Shadowcat had stepped through the portal first, eager to prove herself capable in a leadership role. Less than a second later, the young woman had been spat back out, a violent sneeze of shredded gore that appeared to have also been torn inside out. The remaining two members of the three-woman team had been ready to move in after Shadowcat, putting them in a prime position to become drenched in the diced-up remnants of their fearless leader. Amy Santiago had stumbled onto her knees and puked up her pre-mission meal onto the floor before passing out from the shock. Dr. Allison Cameron stood motionless, eyes wide with shock as Kitty Pryde’s mangled tit-flesh dribbled down her face. Word had it, both of them were scheduled to undergo extensive therapy. Cameron still hadn’t said a word since the incident. Fate didn’t blame her. It had been some truly gruesome shit.

“Heat up the ship’s weapons,” she ordered. “If we can’t slip in quietly, let’s make some noise.” She indicated the point of the bubble she wanted targeted before grabbing Bardiche and moving back into the ship. “Wait for me to give the word.” She climbed up the maintenance shoot and popped the hatch leading onto the ship’s hull. Bracing herself, she took aim at the bubble with her magically infused axe. “Hit it,” she called into the mic. The ship jumped beneath her as the weapons lit up, pounding at the bubble with everything they had. Fate unleashed her weapon’s strongest lightning attack, adding her own strength to the barrage. Ripples spread out from the impact point along the bubble’s surface, creating growing waves of crimson. The barrier was a tough son of a bitch. Their efforts were having an effect, but it wasn’t going to be easy to break through. But with no better options, Fate kept up the barrage and hoped for the best.


After coming to the decision to use chokepoints to drive the undead hordes through, Baroness set her group to work getting things in order. There was no way of knowing how much time they had before the enemy forces arrived. Even with their backs against a literal wall and the chances of escaping the Necropolis at an all time low, the survivors managed to find the will to go on fighting, adding motivation to their efforts. With the combined abilities of Taliyah and Jean Grey, they constructed three narrow paths leading to the airport’s central terminal, one lined up directly with it, with the other two angling inwards from opposite sides. Between the paths, the survivors built up as many chunks of debris and general hazards as they could. The barriers would not be totally impossible to climb over or through, but the effort would slow down whoever attempted it significantly, leaving only the trio of open paths available for a faster, easier route to the airport and the living holed up there.

With the barrier at their backs, they only needed to focus on making the front of the airport defensible. A significant silver lining for the survivors. Of course, it also meant that if things went poorly for them, there would be nowhere to escape to. Either they walked away victorious, or they all died. Somehow, the fatal simplicity of it all made it easier for them all to focus on their tasks. There were no more alternative routes to explore, no more options. Only fight or die. And even with hell surrounding them, none of the women wished to die.

Baroness used a pair of binoculars she’d found in the airport to keep a look out as the others worked, looking for any sign of the undead forces that had been pursuing them since the fall of the Bunker. The defenses were coming along nicely. She only hoped it would give them enough of an edge to make it through the forthcoming battle. She looked away from the binoculars as Jean approached her.

“I think I have something else that could help us,” Jean said. “These monsters, they operate via a psychic link of some sort. I felt it when I arrived and tried to trace the source of it. The attempt nearly killed me. Only the Phoenix Force inside me kept me from falling under whatever evil force is controlling this place.”

“If you can’t trace it and you can’t stop it, I’m failing to see how this news helps us,” Baroness replied. She didn’t even want to broach the subject of what the hell a Phoenix Force was, but she tucked it away for later. It sounded powerful, at the very least.

“I said I couldn’t trace the main source,” Jean pointed out. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t interrupt it on a smaller scale. When we were escaping the Bunker, I spotted a former teammate of mine. Psylocke. She, too, possessed powerful psychic abilities. When I saw her, she was undead and it appeared she was controlling the other creatures. I believe she may have fallen into the same trap I did when I first arrived, only she wasn’t strong enough to fight it off. If she is in charge of this group that’s pursuing us, I may be able to distract her with psionic attacks. It should keep the other creatures unfocused, easier to fight off.”

“And what if poking at her psychically pisses off whatever this big bad evil force is and it decides to shut you down?”

Jean frowned. “If it comes to that, the Phoenix will awaken. And then everything left standing in this city is going to be in much bigger trouble.”

Baroness smirked, although there wasn’t any humor in the expression. “I always did love a good nuclear option.” She shrugged. “Give it a try. If it goes south, at least try to warn us all to duck and cover first.” She brought the binoculars back to her eyes and looked out over the barriers they’d constructed. “Well, speak of the undead devil…”

Out past the chokepoints, she spotted Psylocke leading her horde towards the airport. Her stomach churned uneasily as she spotted what the zombified woman held in her right hand, lifted high for both her forces and the survivors to see clearly. The mangled remains of Azura’s body had been skewered onto her lance, transforming her corpse into a gruesome banner of war. With her long blue hair rustling in the wind, the sickening totem could be seen from a good distance.

“Looks like our time is up,” Baroness muttered.


Psylocke gave her banner another wave, undeterred by the obstructions between her horde and the survivors. In her undead eyes, she saw it was nothing more than the last desperate attempt of the living to go on living. It was time to finish what had begun back at the Bunker. She turned to her eager forces, grinning maniacally as she reached out to them all psychically, giving them the simplest of orders.

Kill them. Rape them. Eat them.

With that, she unleashed her underlings upon the airport, allowing them to charge down the chokepoints with the utmost confidence that soon enough, ultimate victory would be hers.


Killing such a massive creature had lifted the scouts’ spirit quite a bit, but the thrill they’d been left with was short lived. The Bunker was gone. Utterly destroyed and collapsed into rubble. Bodies littered the road outside where the main entrance had been, a fair number of zombies and monsters, but far too many familiar faces to leave any of Alice’s group feeling very good about their recent accomplishment. But despite all of the death and destruction waiting for them, there remained the possibility that some survivors had lived through the Bunker’s collapse, judging by the linger monsters doing their best to dig their way into the rubble.

Staying behind cover, Alice turned to Fuuka. “Can you sense anyone still alive in there?”

Fuuka reached out with her abilities, focusing on the rubble, just as hopeful as Alice was. That hope rapidly became a deep dread. She retched, breaking off her powers abruptly as she turned away and clamped a hand over her mouth. Her breath quickened, sweat pouring down her face as she struggled to not be sick. Coughing lightly, she looked back to Alice, shaking her head. “Whatever’s in there… it’s terrible. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

While the others looked concerned, a flash of excitement lit up in Homura’s eyes. “That must be what’s keeping the barrier up,” she said. “We need to kill it.”

Alice sighed. “Well, at least it’s stuck under a few hundred pounds of rubble, right?”

The pile of debris suddenly exploded, carried on a pulsing wave of vibrant purple energy. The Child emerged from the pit, stretching her wings and brandishing her freshly grown horns. Rebecca crawled out from beside her, rolling down the pile of debris and rising to her feet as the Child took to the sky to enjoy her regained mobility. As she stretched her muscles and flexed her claws, she caught sight of something down the road. Her elevated position made it easy to spot Alice’s group. She smiled, happy to see that she wouldn’t need to go hunting for fresh meat. They looked like a formidable group, but she had quite a few nasty critters at her disposal. Assuming psychic command of them with ease, she set them loose on the small pack of survivors.


Kaya hissed and cursed as she scuffed her knuckles – not for the first time – across a sharp edge of the terminal’s innards. She was sick of sitting in the satellite, watching things below transpire without any ability to help or even communicate. She’d been sick of it for a while, but judging by the monitors, things in the Necropolis were building to a pretty climactic end. The survivors needed all the help they could get and a well-positioned eye in the sky would be some very valuable help. The problem was, the tech stuffed into the satellite wasn’t like anything she’d worked on before, leaving her to blindly poke around and hope that she could somehow get the radio working again.

“Fuck!” Kaya yelled as a spark erupted from the open terminal, giving her a painful jolt and throwing her back onto her ass. Her fear spiked as the screens and lights in the cramped observation room all cut out, leaving her in thick black silence. Her mind raced with possibilities, none of them good. Either she’d broken the satellite severely enough to earn herself a fiery demise upon re-entry or she’d just killed her only window into the terrible world down below. Somehow, that seemed worse, having to sit alone in the darkness, gradually losing her mind from the isolation and sensory deprivation.

Before either possibility could thrust Kaya into a full-blown panic attack, the power flickered back on. She let out a startled yell as the speakers blasted a blended symphony of harsh sounds, eyes shifting from one monitor to the next. The feeds had shifted, every single one of them showing some form of terrible action or another. She climbed to her feet and dropped into her seat, trying to comprehend how things could have gone so badly so quickly before she realized many of the women she saw on the screens were unfamiliar to her. A closer examination of the monitors revealed time codes sprinting along. Except none of the codes matched up. “Oh god,” she gasped, realizing that, whatever she’d done, she’d triggered the world’s most fucked up clip show. The Necropolis’s Greatest Unseen Hits.

Kaya desperately wanted to turn the monitors off, but she didn’t dare. The system wasn’t stable and she couldn’t risk the possibility of drifting in the dark all by herself. So she did the only thing she could do. She steadied her nerves as best she could, and she watched.


“Get out of here, Liara,” Ashley Williams yelled, shifting the aim of her rifle and firing off another burst at the gelatinous creature that had been hunting them for the last hour. The rounds that hit the thing didn’t seem to do any damage, a persistent issue they were running into, on top of the fact that the thing seemed capable of squeezing its way through any boundary they managed to put between them. The only potential solution Ashley could see for their shared survival was if one of them ran while the other bought time. Of the two, it was an easy choice for her. She was the better shot and with her training, the prospect of a potential suicide mission didn’t bother her so much, as long as it meant Liara got a chance to find a way out of the fucked up place they’d been brought to. Liara didn’t seem to agree, hesitating in the hall of the slummy apartment complex. “I’m serious, dammit! I’ve got this little fucker! Get the hell out of here and I’ll catch up!”

Liara didn’t like it, and she didn’t believe Ashley, but she did obey, offering her companion a sad smile that was unable to hide the flicker of relief that washed over her before racing for the stairs.

With one problem sorted, Ashley focused on the more immediate concern of at least finding a means of slowing down the blob thing long enough for Liara to get out of whatever range it had. The hall wasn’t particularly well lit, but she spotted the glistening of the goo-puddle as it slid up the righthand wall. She fired off another burst, tearing apart drywall and wood. Backpedaling to maintain some distance, she reached down to pull a frag grenade from her belt. Judging by the architecture of the structure she was in, she figured it was more likely to bring the whole building down than it was to kill the blob, but that would at least slow the thing down to some extent. Just because she was okay with the idea of sacrificing herself didn’t mean she wanted to die. Priming the grenade, Ashley kept a firm grip on it as she found what looked to be a reinforced doorway. Not much in the way of potential protection from a falling building, but it was the best she had.

“Eat this, you fuck,” she growled as she spotted the goo oozing and slithering its way across the floor, heading in her direction. She knelt and rolled the grenade towards the blob, ducking into the room to shield herself from the explosion. Even covering her ears, her head was left ringing as the grenade blew. A cloud of dust and debris consumed Ashley, leaving her coughing but amazed that the place hadn’t come down around her. Waiting for the smoke to clear, she stepped out into the ruined hall. Scorched holes had been ripped through the walls on either side, a chunk of floor missing, and – most amazing of all – she could see no sign of the persistent goo puddle.

Stepping carefully down the hall, Ashley kept her rifle at the ready, shifting the aim back and forth, looking for any sign of the thing. She didn’t notice the stretched length of pinkish snot drooping from the ceiling as she stepped beneath it. She did feel the briefest of tickles running along her scalp when it made contact. Ashley’s face constricted into a look of disgust as she reached up to brush away the substance, but before her hand could reach the top of her head, the blob had already digested a neat hole through the top of her skull, oozing its way inside. Ashley’s body snapped tense, one eye squinting while the other bulged. Her teeth ground together, emitting a choked gag. Her eyes drifted in separate directions as her brain was dissolved within her head, spastic convulsions working their way through her muscles. Her finger tightened on her rifle’s trigger, spraying the remainder of its magazine into the partially destroyed floor.

The soldier’s jaw slackened, allowing the blob to gush from her mouth, half of Ashley’s dissolving tongue trapped within its mass, and splash onto her chest. Her stiff-limbed corpse toppled backwards, landing in a heavy heap as the gelatinous creature sizzled its way through her chest armor and went to work breaking down her sweet tit-meat, growing ever-larger in size as it enjoyed its meal.


Hot Hell Hound jizz bubbled from Rem’s stretched lips as the creature fucking her face with rapid strokes came yet again. Her upraised ass throbbed from the violations of the second hound, cunt draining a healthy supply of cum while even more of it was pumped through her broken asshole. Her maid outfit was in tatters, bare breasts – welted from rough pawing – swayed beneath her. By the look of it, she’d been getting double-teamed by the hounds for quite a while. Finally sated, the beast pounding her face finally slid his sticky shaft free of her gasping lips and trotted away, dropping into a tired heap. The ass-fucker continued his brutal assault, mashing his front paws into Rem’s shoulder blades and forcing her upper half against the ground. He lapped across the leaking gash in the back of her skull, matting her light blue hair with his saliva along with her hot blood.

The taste of her stirred the hound’s ravenous hunger. Prying his swollen prick free from the young woman’s gaping asshole, the beast used his snout to roll Rem onto her back. She lay there, helpless, exhausted, panting heavily as she looked up at the hideous monstrosity looming over her. She managed a weak scream when the Hell Hound closed his vicious fangs over her right breast, ripping the mound of meat and fat away with a hard twist of his huge head. The shift from fucking to feeding stirred the attention of the second Hell Hound. Rising to his tired legs, he trotted back over to Rem’s squirming, screaming form, promptly biting through three fingers of her extended hand. With both of the hounds primed with the sweet taste of Rem’s flesh, they descended upon the doomed woman with unquenchable hunger, tearing into her flailing body without mercy.


Edelgard von Hresvelg let out an irritated yell as her axe was yanked from her hands. The reanimated mummies infesting the museum were stronger than their withered forms appeared. Edelgard made an attempt to get her weapon back, blinding herself to the danger her reckless attempt placed her in. The risen Pharaoh lunged for her, grappling the woman from behind. His bandaged hands closed around her perky breasts, squeezing roughly as he pulled Edelgard backwards. The white-haired heiress twisted from side to side, trying to break free from the firm hold, slamming her elbows into the Pharaoh’s sides. She shuddered with revulsion at the sensation of the mummy’s shriveled yet still throbbing manhood dragging against her leggings. Keeping her held tight, the Pharaoh dragged Edelgard back into the familiar confines of his sarcophagus, currently propped up to better display the intricate interior.

Screaming as her clothing was torn through, Edelgard didn’t stop fighting. She could see her axe lying on the floor only a few feet away. The rest of the mummies were watching her molestation with clear interest, but even in their corrupted states, none dared to take the Pharaoh’s prize. In her efforts to get free, the heiress only succeeded into knocking the sarcophagus off balance. She let out a startled yell as gravity pulled her and her unwanted admirer backwards. The sarcophagus hit the floor with a bang. The lid swung closed, covering Edelgard’s shocked face in darkness as it thudded shut. Trapped in the tight confines of the ornate coffin with the Pharaoh’s eager hands tearing at her clothing and grasping at her warm flesh, she could only squirm and scream. Her sounds of protest were reduced to muffled, barely audible cries outside of the sarcophagus.

The Pharaoh growled with satisfaction when he finally managed to sheath his dried-out prick into Edelgard’s warm snatch. He ground into her, accepting the wild bucking her ass against him. Pushing her long white hair aside, he sucked at her neck, tasting the sweat and the pulsing life within her. The thrill of it made him fuck her harder. Baring his yellowed teeth, he sank them deeply into Edelgard’s neck, chewing away a morsel of meat far more exquisite than any he’d sampled during his reign as Pharaoh. He swallowed down the chunk and lapped at the bleeding wound, digging his fingers into Edelgard’s soft tits and humping into her dampening cunt. Over time, the sounds of distress filling the cramped sarcophagus shifted as the infection in the heiress’s body took hold of her. Soon enough, she found herself quite enjoying the cozy fuck-pocket she was trapped in with her ever-erect lover.


Hinata Hyuuga clenched her teeth as she strained to pull herself away from the trunk of the bizarre tree she’d been knocked into. The sap layering the bark was a powerful adhesive. She doubted she’d get away with her clothing intact, but modesty kept her from ripping through the fabric too quickly. As she wiggled and squirmed, doing her best to loosen the sap’s hold on her, she let out a gasp as a warm droplet struck her forehead. Tilting her face upwards, she let out a groan of dismay. The branches extending from the tree were just as layered with the sap. She watched as drops of the stuff stretched towards her before gravity finally tore them loose and allowed them to splatter onto her stuck form. Her efforts to get free intensified, no longer caring about exposing herself.

Hinata panted heavily, panic rising within her. The sap had soaked its way through her clothing and reached her skin, creating just as solid a hold on her. Getting free would no longer cost her her modesty, it would cost her a good portion of her skin. She could feel more drips spattering across her frontside, but even worse was the slowly encroaching tide of sap oozing its way through her hair. “No, no, no, no…” she whimpered, blinking tears from her eyes as the realization that she had no way to escape pressed down on her. It didn’t stop her from continuing to squirm as the sap gradually flowed over her, hardening in minutes and reducing her range of movement more and more. When the tide of sap finally passed her lips and set, Hinata’s terrified suffering worsened. Her body jerked and twisted with the most minimal of ranges as she suffocated within the coating of sap. She became a corpse long before the Flowstone Tree finished covering her in its sap, but it wasn’t until the process had finished that Hinata’s ultimate fate was achieved, becoming a hardened lump of amber-bark to defend the unnatural tree from potential dangers.


Makoto Niijima gunned Johanna’s throttle, boosting the motorcycle’s speed at the risk of not being able to react to any obstructions on the road in time. It was a worthwhile risk in her opinion, given the abomination chasing her. Despite only having the obvious power of a single horse, the Man-Horse galloped along after Makoto, managing to keep up with her even at her advanced speed. Makoto’s short brown hair whipped against her head as she rode her Persona with everything she had, doing her best to come up with some kind of plan that would allow her to escape the monster that had taken such a keen interest in her. Her focus was shattered as she caught movement on her left side. She glanced towards it and her crimson eyes widened as she realized the Man-Horse wasn’t just keeping up with her, he was overtaking her.

With a cruel, chittering laugh, the Man-Horse bucked to the side, knocking into Makoto and leaving Johanna wobbling. The young woman struggled to regain control of her motorcycle, but the street hadn’t exactly been the smoothest ride to begin with. Makoto cried out as the handlebars twisted, left one coming back into her and hitting her ribs hard enough to crack one of them. The motorcycle spun out beneath her, flinging her free from the seat and hitting the asphalt hard. She rolled end over and several times, earning herself a multitude of scrapes and bruises along the way. She heard the crunch of metal as Johanna finished crashing. Lifting her head and blinking away the blood leaking down the side of her face, she watched the ruined form of her Persona vanish, leaving her alone and helpless.

Makoto ignored the throbbing pain radiating through her body and managed to get to her feet, turning away from the Man-Horse and limping away with as much speed as her wobbly legs could muster. Her hands fumbled to draw her revolver as the thudding of the Man-Horse’s gallop filled her ears. She managed to get the weapon free, half-turned in a futile attempt to fire off a shot. Makoto screamed as the Man-Horse towered over her, legs tangling beneath her and forcing her to fall as the terrible monster reached her. Her finger reflexively squeezed around the trigger, firing off a pathetic shot into the air as heavy hooves punched into her body. Her knee was obliterated, guts crushed within her as another connected with her slim belly. The upper hooves came down on far more vital parts of her body. One crushed her right breast, skin rupturing to squirt hot yellow fat over her partially crushed chest. The other came down on her cheek, forcing the majority of her teeth through the opposite side of her face and into the asphalt.

Slowing to a trot, the Man-Horse turned and came back to Makoto’s twitching corpse. With another chittering chuckle, he speared his lance-arm through her chest and hefted the dead meat upwards. Tearing aside her plaid skirt and the panties hidden underneath, he twisted her mangled form around and mounted his latest kill onto the throbbing shaft sprouting from in front of the man-portion of the Man-Horse. The horse portion let out an annoyed whiney, its own huge prick twitching beneath it as the fused rider and beast settled into a leisurely pace, Makoto’s limp form bouncing and rolling awkwardly from her ass-stuffed perch.


The Face Sucker had been a strikingly beautiful attorney once upon a time. Now she was a hideous mutant zombie freak. Her optical nerves had grown into eye-stalks, mouth nothing more than a set of loose lips while her lower jaw and tongue and become coated in a layer of tiny sharp teeth. Her clitoris had swelled, in girth but mostly in length, becoming a sensitive probing tool that the Sucker very much enjoyed shoving into orifices. Currently, she was having a splendid time grinding her mutated clit into Madelyn’s clenching pussy. Pinning the young woman to the ground, the Sucker pressed her transformed mouth over Madelyn’s stunned face, loose lips stretching over her cheeks and chin to create a solid hold.

Madelyn had no clue where she was, how she’d gotten there, and – most importantly – that her powers of reviving would not save her from her terrible fate. With the monster on top of her ramming her fleshy clit-stalk into her slippery snatch, prodding urgently at her g-spot, she couldn’t care less about the lips slurping at her face. On the contrary, she did her best to kiss the bizarre mouth, shoving her tongue against the rough radula layering the Sucker’s mutated tongue. Her eyes rolled back, cunt honey gushing out of her as the Sucker ground away at her tongue, shredding the length of muscle and slurping it down her gullet. Madelyn gladly drank down the blood that the Sucker could not, pressing her head forward to experience more of the uniquely exquisite agony the creature’s deformed mouth gave her.

With Madelyn’s tongue reduced to a bloody stump, the Sucker continued to grind away at the young woman’s face, ripping apart her cheeks and shredding her lips. The small teeth dug into Madelyn’s nose, whittling it down little by little. As wave after wave of blissful agony washed through her, Madelyn’s legs kicked about wildly before extending and curling around the backs of the Sucker’s thighs. She thrust her crotch up to meet the thrusts of the swollen clit-cock. Her only regret as the bulk of her face was ripped away and pulled down the Sucker’s gullet was that she’d not had the chance to wrap her own lips around that glorious mutation of female sex. Among the flashes of pain and the encroaching darkness swirling into her wide eyes, she wondered if the thing had a cunt hiding beneath her oversized clit and what such a creature’s juices tasted like.

The Sucker did not concern herself with any such complex thoughts. She simply continued to grind her hips into Madelyn’s urgently humping crotch and grind her radula against her ever diminishing face. Madelyn’s spirited gyrations devolved into spastic flailing as the Sucker cracked her way further into her face, lips stretching to envelop her head completely. The young woman road a powerful orgasm into death, unaware that this time, she would not be coming back.


Filia’s transition into the Necropolis went about as smoothly as any of the unfortunates pulled into the dimension. The same could not be said for Samson, the parasite that possessed and controlled her hair. The necrotic energy permeating the area had an immediate and violent effect on the parasite. Filia let out a startled yell as her animated black hair shifted atop her head, growing into a multitude of thick tendrils. Two of the tentacles curled inwards, latching onto the collar of her white button-up top and ripping outwards. Buttons ripped free and flew through the air, her short black tie torn asunder and fluttering aside as her top split open, exposing her pale, plump tits and deep cleavage, clad only in her bra. Filia crossed her arms, attempting to conceal her sudden exposure as she screamed for Samson to get control of himself.

Samson did just the opposite, already shooting another thick tentacle down Filia’s backside and looping up under her short black skirt. She felt the condensed hair follicles rubbing between her meaty thighs before jamming up against her crotch. Her hands shot down, curling under her skirt to try to tug the tendril away. The tentacles at her chest took advantage of her distraction and forced themselves into the cups of her bra, dragging roughly across her nipples before squeezing through the bottom of the undergarment and ripping it away completely. Filia screamed and stumbled about, hands moving from one hair-tentacle to the next, desperately trying to keep any of them from abusing her. The efforts were pointless. Samson had as many limbs as he wanted, more than enough to contend with Filia’s resistance. Finally snagging her by the wrists, he stretched her arms out to her sides, working three more tendrils under her panties to really get a feel for his host.

Filia shrieked as Samson rammed the first hair-tentacle into her pussy. She stared down at her naked, heaving tits, watching in horror as another writhed eagerly within her cleavage before shooting upwards to plug her mouth. The second and third hair-tendrils crowding her panties shredded through the underwear. Filia’s snared arms were tugged forward, forcing her to bend forward as her skirt was flipped up to reveal the girl’s fleshy buttocks. The tentacles smacked against her plump cheeks before slithering into her crack, straining as one to gain entrance to her virgin asshole. Filia gagged around the tendril plugging her throat as her sphincter tore, allowing the trio of hair-tentacles to pound her lower holes in unison. Her belly bulged awkwardly as the tendrils violating her various orifices fucked their way deeply through her body, entangling with one another before driving deeper to exit her already stuffed holes. The corrupted lust consuming Samson drove him to go on raping his host with the utmost of efficiency and ruthlessness. Filia’s eyes rolled back, blood bubbling from her stretched lips as more of it drained from her overly stretched pussy and torn asshole. The tension in her muscles faded away as the internal damage mounted. Soon enough, she was a limp corpse, held aloft by her own possessed hair, a roughly swaying display of sexy, jiggling flesh.


The hideous behemoth that was the Doomgape was an intimidating foe, made all the more unnerving due to Byleth having no idea where she was or how she’d gotten there, but she was determined to vanquish the giant mouth-thing. Her lithe physique allowed her to dance ahead of the Doomgape, keeping a good distance from the thing as it lashed its long tongue about and dragged itself along with its many arms. The massive maw stretched open, gnashing its curved fangs in her direction as it grew increasingly annoyed by her persistent strikes. Her chain-sword afforded her the benefit of maintaining space between herself and the creature while still opening up deep gouges in its thick hide. The problem was, she couldn’t find a particularly sensitive or vital part of the thing to cut into. Byleth’s jaw tensed, eyes filled with determination, as she continued to lash away at the Doomgape.

Her efforts came to a terrible end as she whipped her chain-sword towards the Doomgape, only to have the first several links of the extended blade snag between the monstrosity’s teeth. Byleth gave the hilt of her sword a hard jerk, trying to shake it free of the snare. Instead, the blade links only dug deeper into the Doomgape’s bleeding gumline. Before she could entertain the foolish notion of abandoning her weapon, the creature’s tongue did some lashing of its own, following along the trajectory of her snared weapon to find the woman. Byleth let out a yell as the powerful tongue looped around her midsection and retracted, plucking her off her feet and yanking her into the waiting maw. The teeth snapped closed like a fleshy beartrap, tearing into Byleth’s belly and lower back, hard enough to snap her spine.

Byleth stared into the glistening pit of the Doomgape’s mouth, screaming out as the sharp teeth continued to snap against her. Her hands pressed against the interior of the mouth, sinking into the collected pool of saliva and her own blood. Her legs hung limply outside the creature, paralyzed from her broken back. As the Doomgape chewed its way through the woman, her lower half pulled away, knees buckling and dropping into a crouch as a few tatters of shredded innards spilled from the pit of her waist. Her upper half, still very much alive, continued to scream and claw as she was flipped over and pushed to the back of the Doomgape’s shallow throat. The thing’s slimy esophagus stretched open for her, squeezing her down into the cramped confines of the Doomgape’s small stomach. Byleth’s eyes lost focus, the life fading from them as her face sunk through the clenching oral sphincter. Her right arm, stretched outwards towards the teeth that had so efficiently bisected her, was slowly dragged long, limp fingers finally disappearing as the Doomgape finished swallowing its tasty meal.


Megumin rolled her eyes at the pack of clearly aroused zombies moaning and shuffling their way towards her. Focusing her energy, she cast her explosion spell into the midst of the pack and was rewarded with a very entertaining show of dismembered zombie bits flung in all directions. Letting out a breath, Megumin felt the innate fatigue that came with casting the powerful spell, knowing that she would be unable to move very far or very fast for some time while she recovered. Not that she had any need to move, as far as she could tell. There wasn’t enough left of the zombies to be any threat to her. Not that they’d ever really been a threat to begin with, she assured herself, taking her period of immobilization to stroke her ego.

Megumin’s period of self-aggrandization was rudely interrupted by a yearning moan. Her face constricted with concern, managing to turn her head and see the zombie shuffling his way toward her from behind. “No, wait,” she groaned as the undead man reached her. He may have been a slow-moving dullard, but he possessed far more energy in his reanimated muscles than she did in that moment, making her a very easy catch. Megumin squirmed with disgust as his hands roamed over her body, screaming as he buried his teeth into her shoulder, chewing away a sizable chunk of flesh. After such an impressive showing, Megumin was doomed to a humiliating fate, too weak to do anything but accept her vigorous molestation and slow transformation into a member of the undead.


Carol Danvers was no fan of the sewer. Specifically, she was no fan of the giant mutant cockroaches attempting to swarm her. The insects were no threat to her, but they made her skin crawl and there seemed to be no shortage of the things. For every one she blasted away, three more swooped in to attack her, breaking their mandibles against her tough skin. Her suit wasn’t as durable as she was, though, and the roaches didn’t much care what they ate as long as they could swallow it. Carol’s rage swelled as she yanked one of the insects free from her chest and crushed it in her fist, only to realize that it had torn away a crucial piece of her suit, leaving one pink nipple exposed. Face scrunching up with frustrated fury, she fired off several more shots at the cloud of roaches buzzing around her, feeling only minimal satisfaction as she watched them explode into chunks of charred exoskeleton and tattered wings.

The idea of simply ignoring the roaches and moving on occurred to her. It would not be difficult. But it wasn’t about protecting herself. Despite the alien city she’d been unexpectedly teleported to, she had no fear for her well-being. And with no clear destination or purpose to strive for, she was more than happy to play the role of exterminator for a little while longer. She stomped her boot across the back of a half-dead roach at her feet, squirting its pale guts out across the sewer floor. A particularly irate and thick cloud of the roaches swarmed her a moment later, obscuring her vision and beating away at her, nibbling further pieces of her suit away. Swinging her arms and firing off the occasional blast seemed to do little to dissuade the irritating creatures. Her skin began to glow with rising energy levels as her anger swelled within her. Finally emitting a bellow of rage, Carol unleashed the force within her, creating a massive energy pulse that fried the cloud of roaches fluttering about her.

With a thunderous crack, a fatal fissure split across the ceiling of the sewer. Carol’s vision cleared just in time to watch as thousands of pounds of fractured chunks of cement, asphalt, and twisted rebar caved in on her. In the wake of her powerful expulsion of energy, her body was weakened enough that she found herself trapped within a claustrophobic pocket of rubble amidst the many corpses of the roaches she’d killed. She groaned, blinking dust from her eyes, flexing her powerful muscles in an attempt to pull her pinned legs free. She grunted and pushed up on the huge chunk of cement above her, straining to gain enough room to get some proper leverage, urging her fatigued body to regain the energy she’d spent. Carol managed a startled yelp as something crunched above her, eyes widening as her struggles caused a secondary cave in within her cramped pocket. Captain Marvel’s head popped under the pressure of more than a thousand pounds of broken cement, her body left unceremoniously buried amongst the rubble and the length of sewer tunnel above her left open to the elements. Once everything settled, the roaches squirmed their way into the rubble pile to feast upon the far more agreeable body pulverized within it.


Morrigan Aensland groaned as she finished hacking her way through the group of zombies. All things considered, she was enjoying her strange new environment. There seemed to be no shortage of squishy things to murder. Or re-murder, as it were. The bloodlust simmering within her had grown into a steady boil by the time she finished her grisly work. Loins burning and mind filled with a maelstrom of carnal urges, she scanned the remains of the undead flesh littered about her. A grin spread across her face as she spotted one zombie still alive, his limbs sheared away, but his cock still quite stiff. She dragged her tongue across her lips as she admired the member. Discolored and a little putrid, but quite a nice size. Morrigan strutted over to the dismembered zombie, rubbing at her breasts. “Let’s have some fun, lover,” she purred as she straddled his waist, tugging aside the crotch of her leotard. She moaned deeply as she lowered herself onto his erection, quickly working herself into a spirited bouncing atop him.

Cunt honey drained from Morrigan’s trembling cunt, leaking over the zombie’s crotch, coating his cock and balls. The slickness of her hole made it easy for her to speed her rhythm. The orgasm building within her was a big one and she worked diligently to reach it. She needed it more than anything. There was no way she’d be able to think clearly until the ecstasy had risen through her. Sultry moans and passionate screams poured from her lips, hands clutching at her tits as she rocked her hips forward and back. Catching movement from the corner of her eye, Morrigan turned her head towards it, spotting the Deathscythe’s approach. One glance was all she needed to know the thing was bad news, but her body refused to respond to the threat, too engrossed with the orgasm just a few strokes away. The succubus’s body snapped rigid as pure bliss ripped through her, head tilting back, emitting a powerful scream of horrified release as the Deathscythe’s bladed arm slashed out at her.

Morrigan’s head left her tense body, rocketing into the air on a geyser of blood. Shocked pleasure was locked into her wide eyes as her head spun, mouth gaping open as she strained to push one last moan past her lips. Her head hit the ground, rolling onto its side, left facing were headless body. Morrigan blinked slowly, death creeping into her, but not fast enough to avoid seeing her form continue its vigorous gyrations atop the limbless zombie. The hint of a smile filled the succubus’s face as she watched the Deathscythe grip her shoulders and bend her body back so he could force his own prick down her severed esophagus. Even at the expense of her own life, Morrigan couldn’t help getting turned on by the sight.


Albedo’s reaction to the Necropolis was drastically different from Morrigan’s. Her powers seemed to be negated by whatever strange energy had restored the dead to life. Instead of embracing the weakness of her succubus nature, she fought against it, far more concerned with keeping herself pure for Lord Ains. The pack of zombies surrounding her didn’t much care about her personal vows. They closed in around her, hands reaching for her loose-fitting clothing and cocks yearning for the holes hiding beneath. Albedo pulled away from one zombie, ducked low, and made a desperate attempt to charge through the crowd. Instead, she only found herself helplessly ensnared and dragged to the ground, clothing tearing away from her lithe figure. She cried out as she dropped onto her hands and knees, cringing as cold hands slid around to grab at her breasts, stiff shafts dragging across her bared skin.

As the first cock rammed its way into her cunt from behind, Albedo shrieked. Her head shot up, her face a blend of conflicted emotions. Horror was chief amongst them, but despite her efforts to subdue her own natural instincts, she could not deny the natural response she had to sex. Even rough, unwanted sex. She whimpered and whined, tears creeping down her cheeks as she struggled and failed to resist the urge to start grinding back against the zombie fucking her from behind. When the prick smacked across her cheek, she glared at it with pure hatred before parting her trembling lips to take it down her throat. Her body quivered through an orgasm, cunt honey spurting around the pumping member in her snatch. The taste of pre-cum on her tongue was foul, but she wanted more. She was simultaneously furious and thankful as the zombie in front of her took hold of her horns to fuck her face more vigorously. The pain of the zombie behind her leaning over her to chew a tasty piece of her neck away was enough to send her into another unwanted release.

The face fucker hammered his prick down Albedo’s gullet, yanking harder on her horns. The cunt pounder tore free another chunk of the succubus’s neck, compromising the integrity of her flesh. With a wet ripping, her head was ripped from her body, blood and jizz squirting from the stump of her neck. Prying Albedo’s lips away from his twitching prick, the zombie lifted her head and turned it back to face her flailing body. The succubus stared at what had become of her, a torture grimace creeping across her face. Her final, fading thoughts were of Lord Ains and the fact that she’d failed him so completely by succumbing to the slutty urges that had plagued her for so long.


The urgent moaning of the zombies chased after Serah Farron as she fled through the cemetery. A number of them were behind her, but she could see even more shambling amongst the tombstones ahead. With no weapons, she needed to find somewhere to hide and fast. She darted for a row of mausoleums, hoping for the best. Reaching them, she found the entrance of each one blocked by locked iron gates. Her breath quickened, panic threatening to overtake her as she darted along the row of buildings. Serah’s eyes lit up when she saw one of the gates was damaged at the bottom, creating a narrow gap that she was certain she could squeeze through. With the undead closing in on all sides, she didn’t hesitate to drop down and start crawling through the hole. It was a tight squeeze and, in her haste, she banged against the bottom of the gate just a little too hard, dislodging the heavy iron from its rusted hinges. Serah cried out as the jagged ends of the broken gate dropped onto the middle of her back, pinning her to the ground before becoming wedged into place. She clawed at the ground in front of her, kicked at the soil behind her, but could do nothing to free herself.

The zombies reached Serah, admiring her kicking legs and jiggling buttocks. The young woman screamed at them to stop as they tore away her clothing, exposing her soft flesh. Her screams intensified as the first undead cock forced its way into her ass. She kicked her legs uselessly, sobbing as she became an unwilling glory hole for the horde of zombies lurking within the cemetery. The living dead managed to settle into a surprisingly organized queue, moving in to take their turns with Serah, pounding into her cunt or ass until they blasted her innards with their sticky spunk and then sliding free to make room for the next eager abuser. As the gang-fucking dragged on, Serah could feel her sanity slipping away, screaming her throat raw. Her face constricted with confused disgust as she felt a face press between her buttocks, bloated tongue enthusiastically tongue-fucking her cum-packed asshole. Twisting her head around, she strained to look back. She regretted her curiosity as soon as the identity of her ass-eater came into focus. Serah retched as she watched the zombified visage of her sister, Lightning, dragging her tongue through the crack of her ass before extending a pair of fingers to jab into her swollen sex.

Lightning took the first bite of Serah, ripping away a ragged chunk from her right ass cheek. Spilling the woman’s blood caused a shift in desires amongst the zombie horde. The loose organization collapsed as the undead pushed in roughly, each them desperate to rip into the woman who’d provided them so much carnal pleasure over the last few hours. Serah finally managed to weakly pull herself free from the collapsed gate, dragging herself a foot or so into the mausoleum, tangles of guts spilling out from her torn midsection, before she finally slumped dead, leaving behind the lower half of her body as it was reduced to a pile of bloody bones.


An-Yi ‘Lily’ Shen crouched in front of the elevator’s control panel. She had no idea what the hell was going on, but she knew it had something to do with the nefarious alien presence that had taken control of her world. So the bastards figured out how to teleport an unsuspecting victim out of a secure and secret base, she thought as she fiddled with the wires. Two points. But I’d have figured they’d have taken me to a lab or something. Not to the top of some busted ass skyscraper. What’s their plan? Annoy me to death? From what she could tell, there was no alien presence on the floor she’d been ported into. The stairwell was blocked off with rubble, making it impossible to take the long way down. Her only possible escape route was the elevator. She just needed to find a way to reroute power to it.

Lily frowned as she tugged the bundle of wires further from the open control panel, looking them over. Without any tools or even a basic schematic for the electrical system, she was largely flying blind, but she was confident that her knowledge and some trial and error would get her where she needed to go. When none of the wires she had easy access to gave her what she wanted, she pushed her hand through them and reached deeper into the control panel. When her knuckles brushed against the frayed wire, Lily found all the power she’d been searching for. Unfortunately, instead of directing it into the elevator’s control panel, it went straight into her body. She grunted through clenched teeth, eyes bulging as her body went rigid, shuddering as devastating jolts ripping up her arm and through her body. Saliva sprayed through her teeth, nostrils flaring as she messily voided her bladder and bowels into her pants. Her breasts jumped wildly within her shirt, spine arching back to mash her chest against the wall. Smoke poured from the open control panel wafting over her spasming face. With a final pop, Lily’s twitching husk was thrown clear of the wall, collapsing to the floor. As her corpse jerked from the residual electricity running across her dead muscles, the elevator let out a happy ding before the doors swung open.


Kitana arrived in the Necropolis mere hours after the city’s population had been killed and reborn. By pure chance, she found herself standing on the tarmac of one of the airport’s runways, utterly oblivious to how difficult the location would be to reach for future survivors. Her attention was immediately drawn to a jet left idling nearby. She could see people through the windows, not clearly enough to see what had become of them, but judging by their awkward movements, they appeared to be in some form of distress. Thudding steps drew her attention in the other direction and Kitana assumed she saw the source of the distress. The hulking behemoth layered in muscles so massive they tore the thing’s skin open certainly looked like an excellent reason to panic. She had no idea where she was, how she’d gotten there, or what the stakes were, but she recognized the necessity of a fight when she saw one. Setting herself, she whipped out her bladed fans and prepared to face the Muscle Man. I’ve taken on Goro, she thought. How hard could it be?

Kitana soon found out. The giant was faster than he looked, closing the distance to her before she could adjust to his speed. “Wait, no!” she yelled as the thing scooped her up into one massive hand. She slashed down across his wrist with her fans, desperately trying to carve herself free from his crushing grip. The Muscle Man offered her a growling sneer before cocking his arm back and flinging Kitana at the jet. She let loose with an intense scream as she was sucked into the idling engine. Wet shredding echoed across the runway as a mist of blood shot from the back of the engine, diced up chunks of the woman’s body flung out across the tarmac. One long leg arched high, an arm flung low and splatting right into the ground, the mangled lump of her torso – one bare breast still miraculously intact – spun wildly before skidding to a stop, numerous lumps of diced up organ matter, and finally, Kitana’s head emerged. With her mask torn away, her slack face and half-lidded eyes could clearly be seen as her head tumbled end over end before finally hitting the runway, exploding on impact.


After witnessing her father do battle against the hideous Garthok, Connie Conehead had believed she’d never see anything capable of terrifying her to such an extent. All it took was an inter-dimensional kidnapping and prompt arrival in a city filled with the living dead and mutated abominations to prove her wrong. Pale green tears leaked down the young alien’s face as she wiggled helplessly within the female Zombie Factory’s powerful grip. She gagged and retched as her uniquely shaped head was shoved once more into the clammy embrace of the giant zombie’s putrid snatch. She could only kick her legs about as she held her breath and silently begged her father to save her. The muscular contractions of the Zombie Factory’s vaginal walls around her only further hammered home the disgusting situation she found herself in. As she was yanked back out, Connie gasped in fresh air and wailed.

“No, please,” she whined as she looked up into the glistening pussy above her. The Zombie Factory ignored the protests of her toy. The firm conical shape of Connie’s head made for an effectively delightful dildo and she eagerly stuffed the girl back into her sex. Her hand clenched tighter around the young woman, mashing her breasts flat against her chest and forcing the air from her lungs. As Connie’s lips parted, she was gifted with a heavy gush of undead orgasmic fluids. Even her powerful alien palate could not handle the foul taste. She puked into the Zombie Factory’s cunt as the hulking zombie shifted the angle of her body and rammed her deeper, forcing the high tip of her coned head to jab into her g-spot. Connie grew dizzy as she was pulled and pushed back and forth rapidly. The Zombie Factory used her free hand to massage one of her milk-heavy tits, squeezing the corrupted fluid out over her obese belly as a satisfying climax crested within her. A veritable geyser of cunt juice shot from between her thick, quivering thighs, drenching Connie’s struggling body after pouring over her face. The alien girl drank down as much of the rancid fluid as she could out of desperation, but the effort was fruitless. Her spirited flailing faded away as she drowned in the Zombie Factory’s girl-spunk.


Orihime Inoue screamed, hands clinging to the light pole as tightly as she could as the Hell Fliers pulled at her legs. She did her best to kick them away, desperate to regain her freedom. Her head shifted from side to side, searching for somewhere to flee to if she managed to get out of their grip. She howled out as their sharp claws pressed into her calves, slicing through her skin and sinking deeply into muscle. Her shoulders throbbed, on the verge of dislocation as the Fliers pulled harder. She cried out as one of her hands fell away from the pole, flexed her fingers to maintain her grip with her remaining hand, but she knew already that it was a battle she would not win. “No!” she screamed as her fingers slipped free from the pole. The Fliers pulled her up and into the air, dangling upside down.

Dizziness rushed through Orihime as she watched the distance between herself and the street widen. She couldn’t stop herself from flailing, even as her mind screamed at her to not shake herself loose from the monsters. Even if she could right herself during the fall, the likelihood that she’d hit the ground without more than a few broken bones was high. Her best bet was to let the things carry her until she was over something close enough to drop to without killing herself. Doing her best to keep her breathing under control and her panic at bay, Orihime listened to the cruel laughter of the monsters as they beat their wings and dragged her through the air.

It didn’t take long for the satisfaction of scooping up their latest victim turned to jealousy. The two Hell Fliers took vicious swipes at one another in an attempt to claim Orihime for themselves. When that didn’t work, the pair tightened their grips on her legs and flew in opposite directions. The woman shrieked as her legs were pulled into an extreme split. Tilting her head up, she watched through wide eyes as her body became the rope in an aerial tug of war. She could only scream as the pressure between her legs built as the Hell Fliers pulled more roughly. Her eyes bulged and crossed as the sharp snap of her pelvic bone breaking filled her ears. Her crotch exploded in a gush of blood as her skin tore. She choked on her own scream as the agony ripping through her intensified. As the gory seam split further down her body, Orihime was slapped in the face by a wad of her own tangled intestines. The pain faded along with her life as the Hell Fliers finally managed to rip her body in half, with one coming away with little more than a leg and portion of her waist. The Hell Flier with the bigger prize let out a cheer of victory before the he realized he could not carry the full weight of Orihime’s corpse on his own. His claws slipped free from her tattered calf, dropping her corpse back to the street.

As the Hell Flyer swooped down to reclaim his prize, a Hell Hound rushed forward and pounced on top of Orihime’s gory remains, snapping his jaws at the aerial monster before lowering his snout to chew at the dead woman’s guts.


Standing knee deep in sewage was not Pyra’s idea of a good time. Even worse was the deep basin she was on the precipice of. She scanned the room, using her flame to offer herself some better lighting, searching for some means of getting around or through the basin that wouldn’t require her to go for the world’s most disgusting swim. As she looked, she caught a glimpse of something breaching the surface of the water. Without hesitation, she flung fire at the disturbance. The flames sizzled and boiled the top of the water, but she could see no sign of what she’d attacked. She went back to scanning the expansive basin, nerves even more on edge now that she knew she wasn’t entirely alone in the sewer system.

With the disturbance a decent distance away, Pyra was caught completely off-guard as the water directly before her exploded. She flinched back as sewage splashed over her, catching only a brief glimpse of what she could only describe as a rotting mermaid surging towards her. A slender female physique, fully nude, with vibrant red hair that nearly matched her own shade, ending at the waist where green scales grew out into a muscular fish tail. The mermaid’s skin and scales were discolored, marred with signs of decay. Pyra tried to shake off the shock and react to the sudden attack, but the little zombie mermaid was already closing her arms around her shoulders and yanking her into the water.

Ariel pulled the woman close, burying her teeth into the side of Pyra’s neck. She pumped her powerful tail, dragging the squirming morsel deeper. The darkness within the basin was interrupted in eerie flashes as Pyra summoned flames in an attempt to fight off her attacker, but between her panic and the density of the watery sewage surrounding her, the fire could not stay lit for long. Ariel tore at Pyra’s clothing, dragging jagged scratches across her flesh while leaning in to continue nibbling away small, tasty bites of her. Pyra clung to the small portion of air she’d managed to suck down before taking the plunge into the basin, but between her rising fear and the growing pain spreading through her body, she couldn’t hold it in for long. Bubbles fluttered from her lips, racing back towards the surface as she was dragged ever deeper into the darkness. Pyra’s struggles intensified as she choked sewage into her lungs, eyes bulging and mouth gaping.

Ariel loosened her grip on her meal as Pyra’s muscles went limp. She dragged the carcass to the small alcove she’d discovered shortly after her arrival and rebirth within the Necropolis, laying the woman out and settling in for a far more vigorous feeding session.


Andie McNally and Gale Peck were so relieved to see a familiar face in the nightmare city they’d unexpectedly arrived in that they didn’t waste time considering all the things clearly wrong with Jules Callahan. They only saw a friend in need, not the discoloration of her complexion or the murkiness of her glazed eyes. Certainly not the way that her arms and legs, lying limply, looked just a little too flat, or the basketball-sized swollen lump in her gut. They only heard the raspy call of, “Heeeelp” from their co-worker’s lips – a rasp that sounded nothing like Jules’ actual voice in retrospect – and rushed towards her.

Jules’ slack, clearly blind face showed no reaction to Andie and Gale as they leaned over her. Gradually, the true implications of what they were looking at sank in, but not nearly fast enough to save either woman. The used up skin-suit’s bulbous belly ruptured, unleashing a young, half-grown Flesh Weaver Broodmother. Andie let out a high-pitched shriek that ended in a breathless grunt as the fat-bottomed spider monster launched itself onto her chest, tackling her to the ground. Her screams returned, tinged with sickened pain, as the Broodmother punched its phallic-shaped proboscis through the crotch of her jeans and buried it deep into her pussy, already extruding a potent goo that would prime her body for the oncoming eggs. In an hour, Andie would be bloated with gestating arachnid progeny and webbed to the alley wall only a few feet from the discarded scraps of Jules.

All sense of duty or obligation fled Gale the moment she saw the giant spider rip free of Jules’ loose flesh. She didn’t waste time screaming, her body immediately launching into flight mode. Turning and racing down the narrow alleyway for the opens street beyond, she didn’t care what other hell awaited her, she only knew she needed to get away from the creeping terror dwelling behind her. She didn’t see the light glistening on the fresh length of Fleshweaver webbing stretched across the alley’s opening until she was running into it. The sharp edge of the thread met the front of her throat at speed, slicing cleanly through her skin and opening up her jugular vein. Her momentum wasn’t enough to fully decapitate herself, leaving her trapped and gurgling with the webbing pressing snuggly against her neckbone. Her wide eyes were still alight with panic, hands reaching up to clamp against the wide gash across her throat in a futile attempt to staunch the flow of blood. Gale’s panic rocketed through her as she felt the pricks of many small, sharp legs crawling their way up the backs of her legs and across her shoulders. A dark shadow crossed her vision as one of the Fleshweaver dropped over her face. The arachnids began to exude their powerfully sticky webbing over the mortally wounded woman’s trapped form, speedily encasing her in a cocoon that would leave them with a fresh skin-suit. Gale’s final moments of lingering life were spent in total agony and heart-seizing terror as the arachnids crept over her, wishing they’d left Jules to rot in the alley.


Saryn and Khora gave little thought to the abrupt change in their environment. The school was simply another battleground for them to continue their ongoing fight. Their armored frames clashed against one another, powerful fists and vicious feet snapping and swinging, grappling and flinging each other into rows of lockers and up into suspended lights. They left a wake of destruction down the hall they’d arrived in. Securing a firm hold on her adversary, Khora lifted a leg and slammed her foot into Saryn’s gut, sending her smashing through a sealed door and into the science lab beyond.

Due to the corruptive nature of the necrotic energy permeating the Necropolis, several innocent spore samples had merged and mutated into a fast growing and carnivorous moss within the lab. The layers of mold greatly resembled scraps of torn, pulsating flesh with jagged edges criss-crossing over the surface. As Saryn stumbled into the lab, she stomped through the Meat Moss, peeling up portions of it as they stuck to her feet. She leaned against the teacher’s desk – equally covered in the mold – to regain her balance and prepared to launch a counter-attack against Khora. As fast as she was, the Meat Moss was faster, growing across the armored exoskeleton and working fast to break it down. Saryn registered the mounting damage and degradation of her form, feeling something akin to panic for the only time in her existence.

Standing at the threshold of the lab, Khora tilted her head to the side, confused by what she was witnessing as Saryn stumbled and flailed about, portions of her body sloshing off and bubbling across the floor as the Meat Moss broke her down to base components. She was just beginning to piece together the presence of the mold and the devastation consuming Saryn when her adversary darted towards her, awkwardly flailing what remained of her arms. Khora stepped back, but not before Saryn managed to brush across her chest, leaving behind a small smear of Meat Moss. The mold latched onto and began to feast upon its new victim instantly. As it spread across her chest, Khora devolved into the same uncoordinated gyrations as her opponent. The powerful Warframes bubbled and sizzled away, rapidly reduced to festering piles of mold within minutes of their accidental encounter with the Meat Moss.


Kono Kalakaua was thankful the layout of the Necropolis’s police station was close enough to her own that she was able to find the armory with relative ease. Whatever had caused the disaster in the city had happened so fast that the supply of weapons had gone untouched. Getting the door open, she headed into the room, surveying the selection, weighing the pros and cons of being heavily armed versus the added weight she’d have to deal with. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the explosion of a gunshot from just behind her. Kono stumbled forward, blinking slowly as she stared at the messy spatter of blood and brains coating the supply shelf in front of her. Her mouth dropped open, wet clicks intended to be an uncertain question rolling up her throat as she fell to her knees and rolled over onto her side.

Lola stepped up to the dying cop, sucking in the aroma of ignited gunpowder from her machine pistol as she looked down at Kono’s confused face. She smirked, striking a sultry pose. “You’re a tough bitch, huh?” she muttered, lowering her weapon and leveling it at the woman’s face. “Guess it’s just your rotten luck that you ran into me.” Kono’s gurgling protests grew in urgency, finding the strength to lift a trembling hand towards her attacker. Lola ignored her distress and squeezed the trigger, blasting a half-dozen more holes through the woman’s face and putting a definitive end to her life. “Shoulda seen the look on your face,” she muttered as she reloaded and took over collecting weapons and ammo. “That shit was priceless.”


With an absence of bones, the Stretcher had little trouble cramming his lanky form into the air conditioning vent to wait for some unsuspecting prey to come along. That prey arrived some time later in the form of Momo Yaoyorozu. Popping the vent loose, the Stretcher lowered it down to the floor with one arm, easily extending it the eight feet to the floor. His other arm stretched towards Momo, currently facing away from him and totally unaware of the monster’s presence. When the vent was leaning against the wall, the Stretcher moved that arm towards her as well, reaching for her ankles. His fingers – impossibly long and slender – twitched with excitement as he prepared to attack. Momo let out a startled yell as the snake-like arms snared her, one looping around her legs while the other curved around her chest, pinning her arms to her sides.

Using Momo as an anchor point, the Stretcher spooled himself out of the vent and over to her, curling his elastic figure around her voluptuous form. Momo pulled and twisted, struggling to get into a position where she could create a weapon capable of cutting herself free from the abomination, but with her arms and legs pinned together, she had no means of doing so. As the constriction around her body tightened, her full breasts popped free from the confines of her largely open red top. Nuzzling his grinning face into her dark hair, the Stretcher’s prehensile cock slithered its way between the young woman’s thighs and up under her mini-skirt. Slipping around the crotch of her panties, the Stretcher groaned into Momo’s ear as he sank into the tight sheath of her pussy.

The Stretcher extended his head forward, sliding his elongated neck around Momo’s, pulling her into a tight strangle hold as he writhed and ground his cock into her. Momo’s screams were choked off as he fucked his way easily against her cervix, filling out her snatch fully. Her mouth gaped open, tongue sloshing across her bottom lip as her face went red, straining to suck air through her mostly constricted windpipe. Tears stung her ways as she watched the Stretcher’s grinning face leering at her, his wide mouth a horrifying nightmare. Her suffering worsened as the octopus-like zombie squeezed around her, coiling and forcing her head to twist to the side slowly. The Stretcher fucked Momo faster, urgently smashing his way through her cervix and into her uterus. Fear blossomed across the young woman’s dark red, sweaty face as her head was turned as far as it could go. The Stretcher cared nothing for the limitation of her skeletal structure and kept on twisting, growling with delight as the snapping of her neck led to a glorious series of shudders throughout her constricted form. The life drained from her bulging eyes as her head was turned to rest backwards atop her twitching corpse while the Stretcher blasted her thoroughly raped womanhood with his creamy seed.


Cold sweat poured down Astrid Hofferson’s pale, pain-stricken face. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with shock, occasionally working up the strength to scream as the Gutwrencher’s extended snout jammed further up her stretched asshole, chomping the mandibles at the end of its long, powerful tongue into another portion of her intestines before dragging it out of her body with sadistic slowness. Astrid shuddered, scream choking off as she hacked up a thick wad of phlegmy blood. Digging her fingers into the floor and setting her toes, she managed to crawl a few feet from the monster, feeling her stomach literally drop out, a throbbing hollowness in the pit of her gut as bloody tangles of her innards spooled from her twitching sphincter.

Ripping the snared portion of Astrid’s guts loose, the Gutwrencher scuttled forward to catch back up with its prey. It rammed its snout back through her asshole, snaking it along through the gory mess of slop still contained within the young woman. Nausea consumed her as the creature snagged one of her kidneys and ripped it out, sliding the slippery organ into one of its large, clawed hands. From there, the Gutwrencher slid the kidney underneath itself, spearing it onto its stiff cock. Then it went back to rooting around up Astrid’s ass for more goodies. The strength left her, forcing her to slump listlessly, groaning weakly as she struggled to even keep her eyes open. With one last retch, a thick flood of blood oozed from her lips before her head dropped forward, dying as the gory lump of one mangled lung squeezed through her loosened anus.


Lucina was doing a fairly decent job at holding off the Impaler. The oversized crustacean looked like it could provide an impressive banquet of crab dinners if she could only manage to fell the thing, but the spike-tipped tentacles growing from its back were effective deterrents. She was forced to backpedal as she deflected their impaling strikes, focusing on avoiding being skewered and not noticing how the monster was easily herding her towards the entrance of an alleyway. She was halfway down the narrow pathway by the time she realized. A shiver ran down her spine as she acknowledged just how little room she had to maneuver. She eyed the crab-creature suspiciously, wondering if it could truly be clever enough to drive her into a trap, or if her current location had simply been poor luck. She got her answer moments later.

The Impaler launched all of its tentacles towards the fatigued swordswoman simultaneously. Lucina’s eyes shot wide, sword frozen in her hand as her mind tried to decide which of the appendages to deflect first. The hesitation wasn’t enough to doom her – that moment had passed when she’d stepped into the alley – but it certainly didn’t help. She screamed as two of the spiked tips punched into her flesh at the same time; one through her left shoulder and the other through her right knee. She was driven back into the wall behind her where her right arm and left leg were similarly pinned. Lucina only had a moment to appreciate the pain and just how utterly fucked she was before the final spike slammed into her forehead, ripping through her brain and pinning her head to the wall. Her face went slack, a curtain of blood draining over her twitching features.

Wiggling its spikes free from the wall, the Impaler tugged Lucina’s corpse towards it. With an easy flex of its muscles, it tore the woman apart, separating her into limbs, torso, and head. The macabre display of Lucina’s dismembered body was waved above the creature’s body as the thing backed its way out of the alley, dragging down one piece of the woman at a time to its mouth to enjoy the succulent banquet it had made of her.



The human-sized mosquito-thing buzzed angrily as it dropped onto Katara, hoisting her flailing form into the air. Its long black legs were covered in loose, fleshy sacs, and ended in sucker-like proboscises. As if that weren’t enough, a double-tipped stinger curled out from its rear. Its bulging multi-lensed eyes stared into the woman’s terrified face with no sign of emotion as it carried her ten or so feet into the air before letting her drop. Katara shrieked as she fell, hitting the ground flat on her back. Pain shot up her bruised spine, leaving her to groan weakly as the Buzzer moved down over her again. This time, it was uninterested in scooping her up. Now that she was relatively immobilized and stunned, the insect descended upon her ready to harvest.

Hovering over Katara, the Buzzer curved its rear forward, ramming its twin-tipped proboscis-tail between her legs, piercing through the cloth and plunging up her cunt and ass. She screamed into the insect’s face, flinging flecks of saliva across its hideous head. The Buzzer responded by jamming two of its legs through her tits, piercing her nipples and burying several inches into the warm fat of the fleshy mounds. Pain streaked through Katara’s head, the sounds of her screams abruptly cut off as her ears were pierced by a second set of proboscis-feet. The Buzzer chittered happily before pushing its final set of legs through the woman’s bulging eyes, leaving her deaf and blind as her harvesting commenced. The fluid sacs lining the Buzzer’s legs and tail began to inflate as the eight proboscises pumped steadily, slurping up the woman’s various fluids. Katara shuddered and screamed, her flesh growing pale as her blood was sucked away.

The Buzzer took its time feeding off the woman, draining away ever last drop of tasty juice contained within her. By the time its now far heavier form returned to the air, Katara was a withered husk, vacant pits for eyes and mouth hanging open loosely. The insect left the used-up meal behind to make its way back to its nest so it could properly process the fluids it had taken from her. Shortly after, a zombie happened upon Katara’s remains and had a frustrating time attempting to wedge his prick into her dried-up holes.


The Dark Magician Girl released a startled yell as she found herself suddenly appearing in the Necropolis about twenty feet in the air. She dropped swiftly, arms and legs flailing about. Looking down, her confused horror grew as she spotted the oversized, bloated living corpse of a man directly beneath her. Unable to shift the angle of her decent, the young woman dropped onto the Big Man, legs sliding over his greasy shoulders as she straddled his small head, mashing her crotch up against his face. The Big Man was just as surprised as she was by her sudden appearance and even more by her placement. He had not fed orally since his grotesque mutation had taken place, but the instinct remained. Sucking in the musk of her sex through her panties, he stretched his mouth open and took as big a bite as he was capable of.

The Dark Magician Girl screamed as her clit and a portion of her labial folds were viciously chewed away. She rolled backwards, flopping off of her perch and thudding to the ground before the Big Man. The obese zombie chewed messily at the chunk of cunt-meat he’d taken, resisting the urge to swallow as he savored the explosion of taste across his seldom used taste buds. His distraction allowed the Dark Magician Girl to pull herself up and scramble away from the nightmare being, limping and leaking blood in her wake. The burning agony radiating through her loins was more intense than anything she’d felt before. She clamped a hand over her bleeding snatch as she searched for someplace to hide. Her mind grew hazy, cheeks flushing, as the infectious wound went to work on her. When she stopped to catch her breath, she absently realized she’d gone from clutching at her wounded cunt to fingering the ragged wound. The feeling of her fingers rubbing against the torn skin felt nice, so she kept at it. By the time the Big Man caught back up to her, the Dark Magician Girl had fully turned, tearing at her clothing to start rubbing her tits and thrusting her bloody pussy up against her messy fingers.


Between all the horrors she’d seen before she’d arrived in the Necropolis and all the horrors she’d seen after, Ruby Rose had thought she was properly desensitized to death and violence. The unexpected discovery of her sister Yang’s chewed, partially dismembered, and clearly abused corpse proved to be too much for her overtaxed mind. She stumbled towards the body, staring down at it blankly, mind shutting down and locking up. The numbness spreading through her kept her from being able to even work up a tear for her sister. All she could do was stare at the body and drift aimlessly into a dark mental void.

The pack of zombies drawn to Ruby weren’t burdened with grief, only a lustful hunger. They closed in around the woman with comical ease. Their rough hands snagging hold of her and pulling her into their midst was enough to snap her out of the reverie she’d been sucked into, but by then it was far too late to do anything to save herself. Stretched out before the ravenous pack, her clothing was stripped away. She gagged around a stiff zombie prick as it was forced down her throat, groaning as another angled up into her ass. With a hard snap, her right arm was dislocated, twitching fingers forced around the girth of another eager zombie. The pain and humiliation of her multiple violations was soon accompanied by the agony of pieces being ripped and chewed from her flailing form. Ruby became the centerpiece of an excited rape-feast, but even she could not attend to all of the undead present. Those unable to squeeze in to get a piece of her turned their attention to what remained of Yang, dropping down around her to pick at her scraps and sheath themselves through her holes.


Tani Rey was more than a little surprised to find herself suddenly immersed in water. She kicked hard, swimming upwards to break the surface. Blinking the water from her eyes, she squinted out at her surroundings, looking over the sprawling city before her on the coast of the bay she’d been ported into. Utterly confused by what had taken control of her life, Tani could only focus on one thing in the moment. Swimming to shore. At the very least, it would give her some time to settle the frantic thoughts running through her mind and try to piece together what had actually happened. Even from a distance, the city before her looked absolutely fucked. Wherever she was, it was far from a happy place.

Tani was about halfway to the closest shoreline when an unexpected wave sloshed over her from behind. A powerful current caught her, drawing her backwards. Tilting her head around, she screamed into the water as her eyes fixed on the gaping maw of the Doom Whale rushing up from behind her. She kicked her legs and waved her arms harder, straining her muscles as she fought with everything she had to get away from the advancing predator. The Doom Whale continued its trajectory towards the woman, not even bothering to employ its many tendrils to snare her. Keeping its mouth open, it sucked inwards, drawing gallons of water into its gullet and filtering it back out. A shadow passed over Tani as she was drawn into the massive beast’s mouth. “No, no, no,” she gasped, tears blending with the water covering her face as she made a last desperate effort to swim free only to have the Doom Whale’s mouth snap shut around her.

Doused in darkness, Tani’s body was flipped end over end as the beast forced her to the back of its throat. Fleshy walls closed in around her as she was dragged into the huge esophagus, squeezed through a tight passage before plopping into a gooey cavity. Choking on the stale air within the Doom Whale’s stomach, Tani twisted and flopped about, searching blindly for some means of escape as the creature sank below the surface of the water. The stomach clenched around the woman, extruding digestive juices over her soggy form as it began to work away at her. The Doom Whale resumed its leisurely patrol of the bay as the intense struggling in the pit of its belly settled down, steadily processing Tani’s body into a thoroughly digested slop that would eventually become a spurt of watery feces.


Regina gasped as Bathory sank the needle into her arm, injecting a fresh dose of euphoria into her veins. The perpetual heroin high she was being kept in made it a lot easier for her to accept the ropes binding her wrists and ankles to the post of the bed. It even allowed her to find some degree of enjoyment when the wicked doctor raped her. It was hard for her to piece together any form of coherent thoughts, but for some reason, the word rain kept rolling about her head. Her captor wasn’t a fan of rain. Personally, Regina didn’t see what the big deal was. Left bound in a prone position and terribly parched, she’d have killed to feel a nice, soothing rain on her skin. She could only babble incoherently when she tried to ask her malicious abuser why she’d become the drug-addicted subject of her twisted games. After a while, she gave up on it completely, simply lying across the badly stained mattress, waiting for her next hit of heroin and writhing pleasantly when Bathory decided to eat her out.

Drawn from a light doze, Regina let out a wail as the agony of withdrawal hit her. She could hear the crackle of a radio somewhere close, a distorted voice. She rolled her head around and saw Bathory seated at a desk, leaning over the radio, listening. Regina’s eyes blinked slowly, drooling over herself as she fought to understand what was happening. Her eyes slipped closed again and the next time she worked up the strength to open them she found Bathory leaning over her, a devious grin plastered over her face. The dull words echoed in her head. She missed most of them, but she caught something about leaving. Something about herself being nothing more than used up trash. Bathory did Regina the service of shooting her up one last time before clicking on the vibrator she’d found in the little apartment. Bathory slotted the buzzing sex toy up her plaything’s cunt and gathered the few belongings she’d collected worth a damn before slipping out of the little hideout she’d been staying in since her arrival in the Necropolis, eager to seek out this apparent Bunker of survivors. Regina groaned pathetically, lightly humping the vibrator as she road the drug high, abandoned to succumb to the ravages of withdrawal and dehydration over the next several days.


Liara T’Soni had done her best to make Ashley’s sacrifice mean something, but the Necropolis was not a fan of redemption. After escaping the blob, she’d managed to keep herself reasonably safe as she’d picked her way through the infested city. The need for food had drawn her into the grocery store, hunger eating away at her, blinding her to potential dangers. She’d done her best to keep a low profile and stay quiet, but the Seamstress had spotted her the moment she’d crept into the store, stalking her from the shadows as it crept across the ceiling, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. The asari was caught unaware, snared within the Seamstress’s extruded webbing. She tried to flee, only to have the webbing yank her legs out from under her. Her screaming form was hauled into the air, dangling upside down as the Seamstress lowered itself into place before her.

Taking hold of Liara in its sharp legs, it spun the blue-skinned alien, spraying layers of webbing over her body. The woman’s screams were muffled as a sticky wad of the stuff crossed her face. The Seamstress worked speedily. It, too, was quite hungry. Liara became a human-shaped webbing cocoon in a matter of minutes, squirming uselessly at the end of the line of web anchoring her to the ceiling. Trapped within the cocoon, Liara strained to breathe as the webbing pressed in on her from all sides. She could feel herself continuing to turn, extra webbing being layered around her, increasing the compression within. The sound of popping bones and shifting organs could be heard as the pressure became too much for the asari’s body to contend with. Her bulging eyes popped free from their sockets as her head collapsed in on itself, bones pulverized into chalky paste. The humanoid shape of the cocoon shifted into a less distinct bulge of crushed meat and fluids. With its meal prepared, the Seamstress vomited up a stream of digestive fluids over the pale white shroud, softening it for easier consumption.


The observation satellite reeked with the pungent aroma of puke. Kaya’s face glistened with tears and sweat. She was no longer sure she wanted to be saved, not if it meant having to set foot in the nightmare of a world on the world below. She’d thought she’d seen terrible things in her time sitting in the satellite. The montage she’d just been forced to witness had stripped away all but the barest threads of her sanity. She no longer possessed the ability to cry and her body refused to let her puke again. The notion of laughing was strong, but she fought that off with everything she had left, knowing that if she gave in, she’d never stop and her mind would be gone for good.

The monitors clicked off again and she prayed that they would never come back on.

Disappointed again, Kaya groaned as the screens flashed. The myriad of disturbing imagery was gone, replaced by numerous angles on two specific locations. The airport and the Bunker. Two stages set for the finale rapidly approaching. Kaya leaned back in her seat, staring at the screens with very tired eyes, unaware of the soft chuckle easing past her lips.


The wave of death and rape met the survivor’s hastily constructed defenses and broke, filling their way into the chokepoints. The entrances to the chokepoints became clogged with monstrous flesh as the creatures struggled to make their slow progress down the narrow passageways. The most eager of the monstrosities unable to squeeze their way into the chokepoints instead turned their focus to the obstructions making up the walls, struggling to crawl their way up and over. Still more of the wave – the throngs making up the outer sides of the horde – broke along the outer wall of the barriers, taking the long way around. Their minds were filled with only one thing: Psylocke’s orders.

From her elevated position in the airport’s control tower, Baroness had an excellent view of the field of combat. She smirked as she watched the monsters creeping their way around the outer walls of their defensive front. “Nice try,” she muttered, palming the remote detonator. “But we figured you’d try something like that.” She waited patiently, watching the progress the creatures were making on either side, looking for a maximum body count. When they’d nearly made it to the end of the barrier walls, her thumb mashed the detonator button. Explosions ripped through the front lines of the chokepoint skippers, blasting them into charred chunks. A chain reaction of detonations fed back down along the walls, killing or crippling any monster unlucky enough to be in the vicinity. Some of the creatures at the back saw the danger approaching and turned back, clogging themselves into even tighter packs that ultimately doomed them. The sea of flames surrounding the barrier became a new, far more effective deterrent to any further attempts to avoid the chokepoints.

Baroness allowed a grin to spread across her face. “Now the fun can really begin. Tear them apart, ladies.”


The ladies were already doing just that.

Mugino was in charge of the long-range fighters, using her options to fire beams of destruction down multiple passages at once, carving through whatever got in their way. Her attackers were devastating, but not long lasting. When the effort became too much for her to sustain, she moved aside to let the others in her group move in and take over. Their weapons weren’t quite as effective, but they still helped significantly to further slow the Legions’ progress down the chokepoints.

Taliyah and Jessica Jones lifted hefty chunks of stone and asphalt, flinging them down the tunnels. Their unique efforts helped to daze – or even kill – some of the advancing monsters, while leaving the paths littered with awkward rubble that slowed the advancing horde down even further, giving the firing squad time to line up shots to create more corpses that only further clogged the ground.

The survivors with better close combat training were gathered at the exit points of the chokepoints, ready to handle the lucky few monsters who managed to make it down the gauntlet of death they’d laid out for them. The women used hit and run tactics to draw the attention of the undead, keeping them stumbling in different directions so they were unable to group together and become a larger, more deadly threat.

Against all odds, the survivors’ plan seemed to be working. It was a fact all of the women felt, but none of them dared to think it too loudly, let alone speak it aloud. They’d been through too much to allow themselves the danger of hope. Instead, they focused on simple things, like killing as many of the creatures charging towards them as they could.


Standing at the back lines of the survivor forces, Jean Grey stood with her eyes closed, fingers against her temples. She stretched out with her psychic powers, fighting her way back through the crowds of undead minds as they surged forward. They were nothing more than dull specks of consciousness, but the mass of them was a thick distraction for her to weave through as she searched for her fellow X-Woman amongst them. Her face turned from left to right, her expanded mind working like a dowsing rod. It took her several long, precious minutes before she felt the spark amongst the faded embers. She locked onto it and smiled as she identified the source as Psylocke. “There you are. Time to see who’s the stronger telepath.”

Jean winced as Psylocke became aware of her psychic prodding and pulled up her mental defenses, momentarily beating her back. Setting her teeth, Jean strengthened her focus and pushed back hard to keep the undead general on the defensive. She’d clashed with Psylocke before, but her resurrected mind was something new. Familiar, but clearly strengthened by whatever evil force infested the city. For a fleeting moment, Jean wondered just how unstoppable the Phoenix Force would be with a boost of Necrotic energy. Just a moment was enough to send a shiver of terror down the redhead’s spine. Breaking through Psylocke’s mental shielding proved trickier than she’d expected, but her efforts at least seemed to be keeping the dead woman’s attention fixed on her, preventing her from leading her menagerie of horrors effectively. Even that small victory could be enough to give them the advantage they needed, so Jean ignored the sweat pouring down her face and kept up her psychic assault.

Jean started walking forward, closing the distance between her and Psylocke. Even with her eyes closed, she had no trouble avoiding bumping into any of the other survivors or walking into the line of fire. She settled into a position at the front lines, the closer proximity to her adversary allowing her to strengthen her attacks. She could feel fissures forming in the mental bubble Psylocke had created for herself. It’s working, she thought, transmitting the thought from her own skull directly into Baroness’s mind. I’ll have Psylocke handled in minutes.


Up in the control tower, Baroness jerked as the voice filled her mind. “What the fuck?!” she yelled, turning and throwing a punch at the air. She calmed down as she realized she recognized the voice as Jean’s. “Oh… uh… good?” She glanced around the empty control tower, confused. Then she tried it a different way. Good work, she thought while thinking of Jean. Keep it up. Still not getting any kind of response, she shrugged and went back to watching the battle unfold.


Miles away at the destroyed Bunker, the Child regained her freedom, rising to full power within her mutated form and re-establishing the psychic connection she had with her beleaguered field general. Feeling Jean’s psychic attack as if it was being directed at her, she passed a portion of her power down the mental line of connection she shared with Psylocke, boosting her psychic potential a hundred-fold.


Jean shrieked as Psylocke’s fractured mental armor suddenly became an atomic explosion of psychic energy. Mental napalm poured into her head, scorching her psyche. She stumbled, but managed to remain standing, fighting through the pounding pain in her head. She tried to close off her connection to Psylocke, only to find that the woman now had a hold on her, possessing enough strength to keep even the Phoenix in check. Primal fear struck her, encouraging her to turn and flee, but that act of cowardice never got the chance to express itself. Jean realized she couldn’t even open her eyes. What? No! Let me go! Let me fucking go!

The words rattled around in her head, echoing onwards forever amongst the desolation that was her own mind. As the mental smoke cleared, she realized she could see ghostly images of the survivors around her and the monsters creeping closer down the chokepoints, but she could do nothing beyond that. Jean was a prisoner in her own mind, stiff limbed body standing at attention for a few moments before the rigidity in her muscles faded away, dropping her to the ground in an inert heap.

Black Orchid had been standing beside Jean when she fell. The woman’s sudden collapse distracted her. She turned to look down at the redhead, concern on her face. “Hey, what happened? You alright?” With her back to the danger lurking further down the tunnel she was guarding, she didn’t see the Headsnatcher spring onto the pile of zombie corpses covering the ground, firing off its speared tongue. The sharp tip of the tongue missed her head as she started to crouch beside Jean, instead punching through the back of her shoulder. Orchid’s concern for Jean vanished, screaming as she watched the bloody tongue rip through her upper right side. She made an attempt to set her feet and resist the powerful tug that followed, but the Headsnatcher’s strength far outweighed her own.

Yanked off her feet, Orchid shrieked and flailed as she was dragged down the chokepoint. Her legs kicked at the rubble and corpses she was pulled over, hands gripping at the spear point and trying to shove it back through her. She only succeeded in cutting up the palms of her hands, but in her panic, she didn’t care. Orchid screamed out fresh agony as the spear tongue was finally ripped back through her body. She got only a moment to howl into the Headsnatcher’s open mouth before the monster’s jaws snapped closed around her head. Her body gave off a heavy flail as her face was smashed through the back of her head, neck shredding as the creature twisted away to fully claim its tasty meal. The Headsnatcher wasn’t given long to enjoy its catch, carved in half by one of Mugino’s beams, but the double distraction of Jean’s collapse and Orchid’s sudden snaring gave the Legion forces the opening they needed to come spilling out of the chokepoints in greater numbers, breaking through the remainder of the close quarters combatants.

And just like that, the survivors’ desperate plan went to absolute shit.

Setsuka suddenly found herself in the midst of a target rich environment. The sudden shift threatened to overwhelm her as she was forced to shift fighting tactics on the fly. She slashed her sword through the crowd of zombies closing in on her, at least finding it easy to carve through their decayed meat. The situation was far from ideal, but she felt like she could keep the throng of undead at bay, so she pressed her attack, slashing her way further into the crowd, determined to force them back into the chokepoint.

By pure chance, the zombified form of Saeko Busujima had kept a grip on her sword during the long trek from the mall to the airport. Her murky eyes stared at Setsuka, watching the way the woman weaved her blade through flesh. The style and skill allowed a few decay synapses to fire in her brain. Tightening her hold on her own weapon, she lumbered towards the woman. When Setsuka turned on her, she managed to draw her sword up to deflect the potentially decapitating strike. Setsuka gasped, shocked to see Saeko again and even more surprised that the woman had somehow managed to retain some of her impressive swordsmanship skills even in her undead state. Before she could recover, Saeko responded to her attack, hacking her sword in a clumsy downward arc. The blade met Setsuka’s shoulder, lopping her sword-wielding arm away from her body.

Saeko pulled her sword down and back, jabbing forward to shove the tip of the blade through Setsuka’s gut. Her undead muscles had only enough strength to shove the sword halfway through the woman’s belly. As Setsuka fell away from her, Saeko lost her grip on the weapon. Almost as soon as the hilt left her hands, her fluttering muscle memories faded. She tilted her head as she looked at the one-armed woman bleeding out before her and felt only bloodlust. Dropping to the ground, she pulled the bottom of Setsuka’s flowery dress up and worked her crotch down the length of one of the woman’s thighs until she could mash her snatch against the downed fighter’s. She growled out her arousal, grinding her hips and rubbing her pussy across the fabric of Setsuka’s panties, soaking them with the heavy flow of her juices.

Setsuka gasped for air, hot blood gushing from the stump of her arm and spilling from her impaled gut. She fought to keep her eyes open, staring up with anger at the former survivor who’d succeeded in ending her run in the Necropolis. Anger flowed through her, giving her the strength to twist to the side. Her numb fingers reached for her severed arm, tugging the limb closer so she could pry her sword free from her lifeless hand. The death grip she had on her weapon proved too strong for her, so she instead grabbed firmly onto the bloody stump. With a strained yell, she swung both her lost arm and the weapon it held, slashing Saeko’s head from her shoulders as the dead woman moaned out her orgasmic release. Setsuka’s arm slipped from her fingers as the zombified woman’s body flopped dead between her pale thighs. She dropped back to the ground herself, wheezing as darkness swam into her vision, bleeding out less than a minute later.

Shantae had less success fighting back the oncoming flood of death surging out of the chokepoints. She did her best, swaying her lithe dancer’s physique amidst the zombies to deliver powerful swipes of her full hair to their heads and bodies. The Deathscythe shoved his way through the ranks of lesser undead and set his sights on the purple-haired genie. Shantae’s head whipped back and forth, striking her hair across undead flesh with impressive force. She stumbled as the Deathscythe reached her and knocked her back. The genie turned to face the adversary, shocked face peering up at him to see he already had his bladed arm raised and ready to strike. She made an attempt to hop backwards, only to bounce off of a pair of zombies pressing in from behind her. Forced forward again, she was helpless as the Deathscythe slashed his arm downwards.

The edge of the Deathscythe’s bladed arm caught Shantae across the top of her skull, crunching through bone and cleaving downwards to slash her shocked face away from her head. The blood-smeared blade continued its decent, slicing through the fronts of her breasts. Blood gushed from her head, a bisection of her brain on display as the stump of her tongue flopped about wildly. Her face splatted across the ground, the fronts of her tits splattering over her stunned expression to leave it smeared with blood and fat. Her faceless body arched backwards, piss spraying from between her flexing thighs before dropping onto her back. Her knees bent, muscular spasms thrusting her snatch towards the monster responsible for her sudden death. The Deathscythe eagerly accepted Shantae’s post-mortem invitation, dropping between her spread legs to push his want into her flopping corpse. The zombies she’d bumped into followed the young woman down as well, digging their dirty fingers into her exposed brain to tear free chunks and stuff them into their mouths.

The remainder of the front line of survivors dropped back, fleeing from the overwhelming numbers that had made it through their defenses. The retreat was sloppy and disorganized, leaving Taliyah and Jessica uncertain of how to proceed as their fellow survivors pushed past them. The pair were abandoned to fend for themselves in the face of the onslaught.

Taliyah screamed as she was snatched into the powerful grip of the behemoth who’d barged his way down one of the chokeholds. The male Zombie Factory tilted his squirming victim towards him, drawing Taliyah’s screaming mouth up against the head of his oversized prick. The majority of her teeth were bashed loose and sent down her throat, leaving behind painful gouges across her tongue and esophagus. The pleasant vibrating of her horrified scream against his sensitive cockhead encouraged the Zombie Factory to pull Taliyah further onto his member. Her lips spread to their limits and beyond, cheeks splitting open as her jaw dislocated. Her scream became trapped in her lungs as her throat bulged obscenely. The woman’s legs kicked about wildly as the Zombie Factory fucked his way down into her chest, crushing her ribs between the shaft of his prick and his fingers.

The seat of Taliyah’s black leggings became soaked with blood, bulging as the Zombie Factory fucked tangled clumps of intestine and pulped organ matter through her twitching asshole. The fabric gave way, vomiting out messy lumps of gore. Her legs slumped downwards as the internal damage snuffed her life away, swaying listlessly as the Zombie Factory kept fucking his way through her. Her asshole snapped as the gory cock ripped its way clear of her body. The Zombie Factory tightened his grip on Taliyah, smashing her flesh tight around his shaft and crushing most of her bones into shards. He dragged her mangled remains along his length, masturbating vigorously with the fresh flesh condom.

Jessica found herself ambushed by the Gulper. She wrestled with the creature, gagging as it managed to lean in close enough to shove its bloated tongue into her mouth. She retched, twisting her head away, managing to hold back the urge to vomit long enough to tear herself free from the thing’s grip. “First date, asshole,” she growled, clenching her fist. “No tongue!” She delivered a bone-breaking punch to the Gulper’s chest, sending its bloated form flying back to smash into one of the makeshift barrier walls. The Gulper burst, belly splitting open to unleash a flood of stomach juices and the soggy, undigested body of Chris Yukine. Jessica stumbled back, thankful that she’d not wound up being the woman’s roommate in the creature’s stomach, only to realize that a strange numbness had spread through her mouth.

As the Gulper’s powerful, fast acting neurotoxin soaked into Jessica’s system, she found her throat completely paralyzed. She brought her hands to her neck, gagging on the buildup of saliva. Drool spilled past her lips, draining over her chin as she collapsed to her knees, straining to get her throat to work. Flecks of spittle shot from her mouth as she expelled the air in her lungs. The numbness was creeping its way down into her chest, making it hard for her to even get her lungs to work right, even if she wasn’t being forced to inhale her own drool. She tried to tilt her head forward to let the excess saliva drain from her mouth, but found her neck muscles unresponsive. In a panic, she tried to get back to her feet, only to lose her balance and drop onto her back. The drool sloshed into the back of her mouth, draining down her frozen throat. She attempted to push herself back up, but only managed to drop her arms to her sides before the paralyzing neurotoxin froze her limbs.

Trapped on her back, Jessica could only kick-scoot herself across the ground as her lungs filled with her own spittle. The thick drool bubbled in her mouth, reaching the brim of her lips and pouring out over her cheeks. Her face went purple, bloodshot eyes bulging as she fought wildly with every ounce of her super strength to complete the simple task of swallowing. The numbness was sliding lower to cup her firm buttocks, but as speedy as the neurotoxin was, death moved faster. The light blinked out of Jessica’s bulging eyes, tears draining down her temples to soak into her dark hair. Her mouth – stretched open and frozen into a rictus of pained terror – proved to be an inviting target for a nearby zombie. The pool of drool sloshed over her lips as the zombie dropped his cock into her mouth, finding the woman’s locked up throat muscles a pleasantly tight orifice to rape.

The back line of ranged combatants suddenly became the front line, forced to hold off the advancing horde while the survivors made a sloppy retreat towards the airport’s main terminal. Retreat seemed like it would only be a short-lived stopgap before horrible death, but their survival instinct was strong enough to at least make the effort. The ranged weapons users did their best to thin out the herd of monsters, but so far back from the chokepoints, there was nothing to slow down the Legions.

Kylie Griffin screamed as the mutated Fio caught her in a spray of caustic projectile vomit. She watched her hands and arms melt away around her proton blaster before the chunky slop splattered across her chest. The puke sizzled through her top, melting the soft mounds of breasts into chunky wads. Her eyes rolled back, dizziness washing over her as she collapsed onto her back. The puke leaked through her exposed ribcage even as it ate through the tough bone, liquifying her lungs and breaking her rapidly beating heart into a juicy, frothy paste. Her pale face went slack, head rolling to the side as the goth Ghostbuster expired, spirit sucked away into the void before she could even consider haunting anyone in her afterlife.

The Man-Horse managed to herd Maddie Fenton away from the rest of her group, but the young woman was determined to not give up. She fired a powerful blast from her weapon into the human husk bouncing atop his nightmare steed, vaporizing the grotesque growth in the hopes that it would be enough to kill the creature. The remaining horse bucked wildly as its symbiotic connection with its joined rider was abruptly severed. A heavy hoof caught Maddie under her chin, knocking her head back and throwing her to the ground as her weapon was flung from her hands. Spitting a mouthful of blood and a couple of teeth, Maddie shook off the stunning blow and rolled onto her hands and knees in an attempt to flee the rampaging monster.

The horse dropped over Maddie, its back arching upwards before bucking forward hard, driving the head of its flat-tipped prick into the young woman’s upraised rear. The force of the buck was strong enough to split the seam of her pants and leave the creature’s cockhead wedged painfully into her asshole. Maddie screamed, pawing at the ground as she tried to pull herself off of the massive horse cock. With the pleasure of her clenching hole wrapped around him, the horse’s disoriented rage was joined by primal arousal. It fucked its way deeper up her ass, yanking her body up from the ground as it reared back. Maddie wailed as she was pulled upwards, back smacking against the underside of the horse, before gravity pulled them both back down. Her face smashed into the ground, nose crunching and front teeth shattering. Maddie groaned, blood pouring down her battered face and draining from the gory pit of her mouth. She brought her hands down to the obscene lump pressing against her belly, futilely straining to push the monster’s cock out of her. The horse reared up again, dragging its victim along for the ride. It dropped back down and Maddie’s head smacked into the ground again with enough force to pop one of her eyes and leave a deep gouge across her brow. Her body fell into wild convulsions from the devastating brain rattling. The horse jumped again, whinnying as it fired a geyser of its seed into the nearly dead young woman. When Maddie’s head hit the cement the third time, her skull gave out, face caving in as pulped brain matter squirted through the tears in her flesh and shot from her ears.

In the panic, Sharon Carter wasn’t even sure how she’d wound up with the hulking hound on top of her. The zombified form of Scooby Doo growled and chewed at the woman’s shoulder as he pumped his throbbing member into her snatch. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent chocked back the sobs of pain and humiliation desperate to pour out of her, knowing that she was doomed. She forced herself to grind back against the undead dog’s spirited thrusts, hoping to buy herself a little time as her hands fumbled for the grenade she had clipped to her belt. She managed to pull the explosive free and pulled it up between her breasts as she slipped her thumb into the pin, readying herself for what she was about to do. “You can all go to hell,” she whimpered, finally allowing the sobs to course through her as she flicked the pin free from the grenade. In the scant moments before the grenade blew, the thought of what she was doing allowed a calm fury to settle over her. She grit her teeth and twisted her head around to glare up into the slobbering face of the zombie mutt. “Play dead, you fucker.”

The grenade blew, ripping through Sharon’s torso. The charred lumps of her arms were flung out to her sides, burning head shooting outwards as the powerful blast tore through her and the hound gleefully raping her. Catching the bulk of the explosion to his exposed underside, Scooby’s body was launched into the air and flung back several feet to land in a dead lump, ribs blasted open and belly split open to unleash his putrid innards. Sharon’s lower half escaped the explosion relatively unscathed, death twitches forcing her to hump against the ground until a zombie wandered over to take advantage of her undefended holes.

No more than ten feet away, Peggy Carter had a front row seat to her great niece’s final act of defiance against the nightmares plaguing them. She felt pride for the young woman making the tough choice that overrode her sorrow, but more than that she regretted not finding the time to speak with her future progeny more. She’d wanted to hear more about Sharon’s fleeting relationship with Steve. Even the little she’d heard had been enough to keep her warm at night, masturbating feverishly to the thought of her lost love hammering away at her great niece’s tight little pussy. But Peggy had no time for her regrets. She was in the midst of her own nightmarish downfall, and she lacked any grenades to follow in Sharon’s footsteps.

After bearing the brunt of the survivors’ final stand, the zombies lucky enough to make it through the chokeholds and to the succulent female flesh waiting for them on the other side had reached a frenzied state. Peggy was pulled between a pair of dead men, legs pulled out from under her as her clothing was ripped from her struggling body. She let out a scream as rock hard zombie cock slammed into her cunt, feet kicking at the air as her suspended legs were pulled back against her rapist’s crotch. She made an attempt to hit the thing, only to have the zombie pull his head back and lunge forward, sinking his discolored teeth into her wrist. The zombie clenched his jaw, crunching her bones as he twisted his head to the side, keeping Peggy’s arm fully extended.

The second zombie pulled her upper half away, leaving her awkwardly suspended between the pair, spine arched painfully. Her head was forced back, left to stare at the pendulous swaying of bloated undead testicles as the horny corpse stuffed his prick into her mouth. She cringed with revulsion as she felt the dead men reach forward to grab hold of one of her exposed breasts, rough fingers clawing roughly at the fleshy mound. She brought her free arm up, pressing back against the mouth-rapist’s chest as the zombie hammering into her cunt tightening his grip on her extended right leg and clamped the other around the side of her waist. For several agonizing moments, the pair managed to work in sync, dragging her back and forth along their aching members. The shared rhythm didn’t last long, with the cunt-fucker wanting to pound as fast and hard as he could and the mouth-rapist enjoying the way Peggy’s panicked tongue felt against the bottom of his cockhead.

The zombies growled angrily at one another as they fought to control the speed of Peggy’s movements. The mouth-rapist shifted his hands down to the woman’s jaw, digging his fingernails into her soft skin and held her head in place at the position he liked. When that failed, he began to tug at Peggy’s head selfishly, straining the woman’s spine. The cunt-fucker dug his teeth harder into her wrist, jerking his head to the side to help pull his tasty treat closer. Peggy’s body gave out in spectacularly gory fashion, a gory seam opening up across her throat as her head was pried from her shuddering body with slow force. Her arm snapped loose from its socket, skin stretching before tearing away, leaving the cunt-fucker holding her dangling limb from his clenched teeth. Gory lengths of tendon and sinew kept Peggy’s head attached to her jerking body as the mouth-rapist let out a growl of triumph. Turning away, he snapped the final lengths of overextended tissue and repositioned the woman’s severed head to touch against the area he enjoyed most. His victory was short lived as the final trembles of life worked their way through Peggy’s tongue. With a snarl, he resumed a speedy rhythm, hammering at her slack face while her headless, one-armed body flopped to the ground, shoulders pinned there as the cunt-fucker drove into her from above.

With their plan for survival well and truly fucked, the remaining survivors rushed for the control tower, none of them particularly optimistic about their chances for prolonged survival.

Once the threat waiting for the horde on the other side of the chokepoints had been handled, Psylocke made her way forward. She was amused to find Jean waiting for her, still locked up in her own head. She’d done her best during the attack to keep the helpless telepath from becoming the plaything of any of the monsters, although she’d had some trouble controlling the zombies in their frenzied state. Given enough time to recover, Jean would likely be able to break free from the prison she’d been forced into, but in all the panic, her companions had abandoned her. Now she would be nothing more than a fun reward for Psylocke’s well done job.

Asserting direct control over a pair of nearby zombies, Psylocke directed them to Jean’s body. They lifted the woman up onto her knees between them, forcing her to face the undead general. Psylocke stepped forward, working her fingers into the front of Jean’s tight bodysuit and tearing the front of it open to expose her full breasts. She gave one nipple a prodding, teasing it into stiffness before lifting her hand to pry open the redhead’s eyelids. If she looked closely, she could see the woman’s consciousness hiding behind those vacant eyes, screaming for release. Grinning Psylocke stepped back and sent a mental command to her zombie stooges that would grant Jean’s wish in the worst way possible.

The zombies responded instantly, scooting closer to Jean on either side of her. They worked their cocks against her ears, gathering up fistfuls of her long red hair in their hands to hold her steady. Jean’s passive face showed no signs of distress, but Psylocke could feel the woman’s panicked horror as the cocks pushed hard into her ears. Heavy pants rose into sultry moans as she brought a hand down to her dripping sex, rubbing against the swollen lips of her cunt. She stroked her rigid clitoris as she waited for the zombies to succeed in their task. A series of cracks cut through the air as the undead men managed to shove their pricks into the tight passages of Jean’s ear canals. At the same time, Psylocke rammed three fingers knuckle deep into her cunt, crying out as the first of many oncoming orgasms ripped through her.

The sight of one of the only women strong enough to pose a significant threat to her having her powerful brain skewered with a pair of cocks was more than enough to get Psylocke off. The fact that she’d known the woman before her unlife had started added a particular sweetness to the sight. But best of all was getting to feel Jean’s imprisoned psyche suffering as it was fucked apart within her own head. Trickles of blood leaked from Jean’s nose, running over her slightly parted lips as the zombies pulled her head back and forth along their stiff lengths. Psylocke licked her lips as she clutched a breast in one hand, ramming her trio of fingers into her oozing slit with the other, eyeing the tasty chunks of Jean’s brain matter clinging to the bloody shafts of the pumping erections. Her body quivered through one climax after the next, cunt honey layering the insides of her thighs. The mental connection she had with Jean grew hazy, filled with mental static as the first blasts of undead jizz squirted over her mostly destroyed brain. She forced the zombies to keep fucking the redhead, still feeling the tingles of her life lingering within her. The undead men were happy to obey, thrusting through the soupy contents of Jean’s skull. The blood leaking from her nose had turned a shade of pink – blended so thoroughly with the cum now packing her skull – by the time Psylocke finally had enough. She directed the zombies to stop and they did so, less happily, allowing Jean’s vacant shell to flop face first to the ground.

With her small celebration concluded, Psylocke turned her attention to the control tower, sensing the terrified life cowering within. They were right to cower. They’d all be dead soon enough.


“I’ll take the big ugly one,” Homura announced, pointing to the Child. “Keep the other monsters off me.”

“I shall help you,” Wonder Woman said, stepping up beside Homura.

“Don’t need your help.”

“It wasn’t an offer,” Diana shot back. “You saved my life. I owe you.”

Homura shrugged. “Fair enough. Just don’t get in my way.”

“I won’t.”

The two took off for the Child, leaving Alice and the others behind. So much for me being the one in charge, Alice thought, looking to the others. “Alright, you heard the lady. Let’s clear the field.” She scanned the area, fixing on the bizarre zombie who’d come crawling out of the rubble with the Child. She looks important, Alice thought, her ego demanding she reassert some degree of a dominant role in the oncoming battle. “I’ve got the freakshow zombie. Clear out the rest of these fuckers and then provide whatever support you can to taking down that big dicked bitch. Fuuka, you and Kay-Em stay back and try to stay safe. But if you sense anything else coming down on us, let us know about it.” With the orders given and her confidence in being the group’s commander restored, Alice rushed in to close the distance to the patchwork zombie girl.

Rebecca seemed eager to face Alice, pushing through the loose herd of monstrosities to reach the woman. With her chosen adversary coming to her, Alice focused on choosing the location of their fight. A mix of zombies, Hell Hounds, Blow Hunters, and Hell Flyers littered the street in front of the Bunker, but the rubble-strewn remains of the Bunker itself seemed reasonably clear of alternative threats. Never met a zombie who was fleet of foot, she thought as she shifted in that direction. If I can get her tripping over rocks, it’ll definitely help.

As the Child moved further east, away from her menagerie and prepared to take on the combined force of Homura and Wonder Woman, she looked across the field of combat from her aerial position and sent out commands to her minions. She was confident Rebecca could handle the lone woman, so she let them have their little duel. The pair foolish enough to fight her directly she wanted all to herself. That left the remaining four women. They belonged to her menagerie. With her silent commend in place, the monsters headed to complete their task.

With the crowd of horrors charging down the street towards them, Izumi put her alchemical prowess to work, drawing forth a chunk of the road to create a thick wall that blocked the majority of the street. She pulled up another chunk of asphalt, morphing it into a lance. Her weapon procurement came not a moment too soon, just in time to thrust the tip through the head of the Hell Hound rushing her down. She yanked the lance free, spinning it in her hands before setting herself to face the other hounds spilling in around the sides of the wall.

While Izumi focused on the spillage coming in around the sides, Domino blasted away at the Hell Flyers and Blow Hunters coming over the top of the wall. The Blow Hunters are limited enough in number that they weren’t much of an issue, but the Hell Flyers quickly proved to be a real problem due to their numbers and their quick flight. Domino didn’t waste much time aiming, mostly holding her guns in the general direction of what she wanted to hit and squeezing the trigger. The shots landed more often than not, usually in a speedily fatal spot. One of the Hell Fyers managed to dodge Domino’s shot and took the opportunity to hover above her, pointing and laughing at the woman, not noticing the critical damage the bullet had done to the street sign above it. The metal sign swung downwards, slamming into the side of the Hell Flyer’s head and knocking its body into a wall, killing it. Domino hardly noticed the lucky shot, too busy unloading a few rounds into another Blow Hunter.

Seeing more of the pesky imp-like creatures swooping towards her, Domino blasted away at them until her guns went dry. She ejected the spent magazines, cradling one gun under her arm while working to reload the other. The pair of Hell Flyers lucky enough to avoid getting blown out of the air saw the opportunity and took it. Closing on Domino, one of the Flyers smacked her reloaded pistol from her hands while the other yanked the empty one out from under her arm and tossed it over his shoulder. Domino jumped back, doing her best to beat the monsters back, but her fists weren’t nearly as effective. She let out an angry yell as they dug their sharp claws into the meat of her shoulders and pulled her up into the air.

Even disarmed, airborne, and in the clutches of devious nightmares, Domino kept her cool. She fixed her attention on the Flyers, not bothering to check how high they’d carried her, trusting that she would land safely. Flexing her abs, the woman curled her body upwards, drawing her knees up to her chest and kicking out hard. The heels of her boots slammed into the Hell Flyer’s faces, stunning them sufficiently enough to loosen their grip on her. Domino felt the exhilarating weightlessness of falling claim her and gave herself over to it. “Better luck next time, assholes,” she offered the irate Flyers as she dropped, showing them how nice her middle finger looked.

The force of Domino’s kick added a unique trajectory to her fall, just as she’d expected it would. But instead of the trajectory leading her to a conveniently placed mattress or maybe even a pile of corpses, it sent her onto a flagpole mounted to the side of a building. The pain of the metal punching through her lower back tore the smirk from her face. She cried out as she watched the bloody pole rip free from her belly, her momentum carrying her halfway down its angled length before leaving her helplessly pinned and suspended. Miraculously, the pole managed to impale her completely while only delivering superficial damage, not even so much as nicking her intestines. Domino’s stunning good luck ensured she could recover from the gruesome wound with no trouble. It was just unfortunate that she had two pissed off Hell Fyers swooping in to have their fun with her, determined to not give her the chance to pull herself free.

One of the Hell Flyers dropped onto Domino’s chest, ripping open her top to let her plump, blue-white toned tits bounce free. He grabbed hold of the mounds and mashed them together while speedily thrusting his aching prick through her cleavage. The second moved down to her kicking legs, tugging away her boots before bending her legs inwards, letting the soft soles of her feet drag along the sides of his erection. As she tried to push and kick the Flyers away, three more moved in to play with her. The crotch of her pants was torn away, clenching cunt stuffed full of demonic stiffness. One of them moved behind her, gripping the base of the flagpole to rest his wings as he wedged his way up the woman’s tight ass. The final Flyer dropped over Domino’s face, digging his claws into her scalp as he fucked his way down her throat.

Izumi was too busy dealing with the sizable pack of Hell Hounds to lend Domino any assistance. Taking them out one by one was proving difficult, more of the beasts rushing around the wall faster than she could handle them. She shifted tactics, transmuting a portion of the ground into a deep pit, jagged spikes of cement and rebar lining the bottom. Izumi twisted and dropped onto her back, lifting the lance before her to allow the leaping Hell Hound to impale itself on the tip. She rolled the heavy weight off of her and scrambled back to her feet, stumbling back from the spike pit she’d made to watch the remainder of the pack try and fail to jump over the death trap. She took a breath as she was given a few moments of safety, returning her attention to where Domino was impaled. She couldn’t see much of the woman through the pack of Flyers converged over her flailing body, but the steady drizzle of blood and jizz raining down from her perch told her that even if she could save the woman, there wouldn’t be much left.

Izumi had no way of knowing that Domino’s luck was ensuring that each bite and scratch the Flyers gave her was only superficial, working overtime to keep her breathing as long as possible. Just like the innate power had no way of knowing that it was doing nothing but prolonging its bearer’s suffering.

While the scouts fought for their very survival, the Child was having a delightful time. After spending such an extended period of time trapped in the collapsed Bunker, she was thrilled to have the opportunity to fight two such capable opponents so soon. It afforded her the chance to explore the new abilities her evolved form possessed. Focusing her mind on destruction, her freshly sprouted horns began to glow an eerie shade of dark red, small crackles of psychic lighting jumping between them to create a compressed orb of psionic energy. She let the orb expand, pouring more and more energy into it until she felt like her head was on the verge of ripping apart, and then unleashed it on the pesky women daring to face her.

The Necro-Pulse created a shockwave strong enough to push Homura back. The energy she felt moving through her shocked her and reaffirmed her belief that whatever this thing was, it was responsible for keeping them trapped in the city. She could waste no precious time to fully recover from the attack or check how the others were doing. The Child needed to die.

The shockwave continued its destructive journey down the street, reaching Izumi’s defensive wall and shattering it into pebbles. The zombies on the other side of the wall were dosed with high levels of necrotic energy, forcing them into a wild frenzy with speed and strength to match. Rebecca got a healthy does of the energy, as well. The open wounds Alice had succeeded in shooting through her stitched themselves closed as the cock-worm inside her was imbued with greater strength and even more control over her cellular makeup.

The sudden loss of her wall left Izumi completely undefended against the pack of ravenous, supercharged zombies. They leapt over the spike pit with ease, rushing her down. She did her best to retreat, defending herself with her lance, but the undead overwhelmed her in moments. They dragged her to the ground, tearing at her clothing and chewing away at her soft flesh even as they worked to fuck her in any way they could. Her screams were short-lived, fading away to leave only the symphony of lustful moans, wet tearing, and forceful squishing as her body was raped and devoured.

Refreshed and enhanced, Rebecca made dodging Alice’s bullets look easy. “Goddammit, stay still, you bitch,” Alice growled, finding her choice of battleground working against her as she stumbled her way over the rubble while Rebecca casually pranced her way smoothly from one chunk of crumbling cement to the next. Rebecca used her freshly anointed ability for cellular control to mutate Zelda’s pilfered arm into a far more dexterous tentacle. Ducking and weaving her way closer to Alice, she lashed out, snagging the woman’s weapon and ripping it from her hands. She chucked the gun aside and moved in closer, forcing Alice to revert to hand-to-hand techniques.

Alice did her best to beat Rebecca back, managing to land numerous solid strikes to the zombie general, but her fists and feet simply lacked the ability to cause enough damage to shift the fight in her favor. Alice grunted as Rebecca slammed her knee up into her gut, knocking the air from her lungs and sending her flailing backwards. She shook off the blow and lunged back towards the undead woman, letting out a frustrated cry as Rebecca ducked away from her retaliatory punch and instead snared her arm within the powerful grip of her tentacle. Rebecca pulled Alice close, hammering her fist into the woman’s side, bruising her flesh and cracking several of her ribs. Alice snap kicked across the side of Rebecca’s leg, managing to buckle her knee. She tried to pull free of the tentacle’s grip, only to have the prehensile limb tighten and twist around her arm. Alice shrieked as her arm was yanked from its socket. With her left arm disabled, the tentacled unspooled and allowed Alice to stumble free.

Alice clutched her dislocated shoulder, grunting through clenched teeth as she struggled to fight back the pain. Rebecca advanced, dropping her tentacle limb low and slamming the tip into the crotch of Alice’s shorts. The fabric tore and Alice once again found herself being violated by a writhing tendril. She cried out, leaning forward and grabbing hold of Rebecca by the throat with her working hand. “That head look’s like it’s gotta seam on it,” she hissed, wincing as the tip of Rebecca’s tentacle punched through her cervix. “Let’s see how easy it is to rip your fucking head off, you cunt.”

With a tentacle prodding painfully at the roof of her uterus, her body throbbing with pain, and only one working arm, ripping Rebecca’s head off proved to be not very easy at all. When the undead woman punched her way through Alice’s womanhood and into her guts, the difficulty level spiked dramatically. Her fingers loosened from Rebecca’s throat, hand moving down between her thighs to grab at the squirming length of appendage, struggling to pull it free. She found about as much success as she had when she’d been in the clutches of the Doom Whale, only this time she had no team to assist her. She screamed as Rebecca shoved her way deeper into her body, lifting her off her feet and leaving her suspended, bloody cunt lips gradually pulled further down the length of the tentacle.

Rebecca’s tentacle grew and stretched, weaving its way through Alice’s body. Alice shuddered as pain ripped through her, coughing warm blood over her lips. Her legs hung limply beneath her, occasionally gathering enough strength to kick out at Rebecca to little effect. An agonizing tightness filled her chest as the tentacle reached her heart, curling around the rapidly beating organ and giving it a few firm squeezes. With her prize snared, Rebecca grinned and rammed her tentacle roughly up through Alice’s cunt, ripping the woman’s heart free and shoving it against her breastbone. The bone gave way with a sharp crack followed by a wet rip as her skin split open. A bloody lump formed underneath the cartoonish heart on her shirt before another hard shove ripped the tentacle-snared heart through the fabric to leave one small mound of trembling tit-flesh exposed, thick nipple tightened into a stiff nub from the agony and terror permeating Alice’s body. She shuddered, fighting off the weakness rushing through her as she stared at her own heart being lifted out of her. “Fuck,” she gasped, blood flowing over her bottom lip.

Rebecca crushed Alice’s heart within the grip of her tentacle, squeezing a thick spray of blood over the woman’s stunned face. The cascade of sticky warmth flowing over her was the last thing Alice felt before her life blinked out, slack face staring blankly as her head rolled back.


Kay-Em’s grief-stricken scream shifted Rebecca’s attention to where the android head and her steward were cowering, doing their best to stay out of the fight. Synthetic tears sparkled in Kay-Em’s eyes as she watched Rebecca rip her tentacle free from Alice’s corpse. “Let me at her, Fuuka,” she growled. “C’mon, I know I’m just a head, but I will chew this bitch apart! Let me the fuck at her! Throw me! Whatever!”

As Rebecca started towards them, trying to fight the nightmarish patchwork zombie was the last thing on Fuuka’s mind. Ignoring Kay-Em’s rage, she turned and ran. Spotting a fire escape, she rushed for it, the eerie sound of Rebecca’s perverse giggle cluing her in to how fast the zombie general was chasing her down. She reached the fire escape and leapt for the ladder, snagging the bottom rung. Flexing her arms, she lifted herself up and managed to pull herself mostly onto the ladder. She screamed as the bone-crushing grip of Rebecca’s tentacle snared her ankle, sending a jolt of pain shooting up her leg. She kept her arms locked, muscles already trembling as she tried to drag herself free from the undead woman’s grip. Getting up the ladder with Rebecca insistently tugging at her was impossible. Even clinging to the ladder wasn’t a long-term option. She could already feel her arms giving way. Her mind rushed with thoughts of her painful death, driving her into a full-blown panic. With no other options, Fuuka let one arm slip free from the ladder so she could snag her evoker. Drawing it up, she activated her Persona.

A thick glass orb lined with golden lines encapsulated Fuuka and Kay-Em, neatly severing the end of Rebecca’s tentacle arm and leaving Fuuka gripping a loose portion of the ladder. The statuesque figure of a woman in fancy dress sprouted from the top of the orb, hands held open and featureless two-toned face tilted towards the heavens. The bottom of the statue-woman’s dress fluttered from studs around the circumference of the orb, fabric fluttering as it expanded. The closed off weight of massive glass eye dropped Fuuka and Kay-Em back to the ground, directly on top of Rebecca’s shocked form. The zombie general’s body collapsed in on itself like a folding accordion filled with gore. Kay-Em arched her eyes to watch Rebecca’s remains splattering across the bottom of the glass orb, simultaneously irritated that she’d not been the one to kill the abomination while basking in the knowledge that her lover’s killer had been destroyed. “That’s what you get, you fucking twat!”

Fuuka panted heavily, still in the grip of her panic. Rebecca was no longer a threat, but the frenzied, supercharged zombies had finished with Izumi and closed in around them. Fuuka cowered within her Persona, sobbing as the zombies pounded at the transparent eye, moaning and dragging their stiff pricks across the glass. She could do nothing but wait and hope that Homura and Diana managed to live long enough to rescue her before she became too mentally fatigued to keep her Persona active.


The world melted away in Homura’s mind, leaving only herself and the Child. She held nothing back, convinced that the monstrosity’s death would lead to her escape from the Necropolis. The Child used her ability to fly to its fullest advantage, darting and swooping to avoid Homura’s heaviest attacks while firing off psionic blasts in return. The young woman stayed on the run, dodging the Child’s blasts as she drew weapon after weapon from her shield, unloading absurd amounts of ammo at the creature before chucking the spent weapons aside to pull forth fresh ones. The Child found herself growing more impressed with Homura as she eluded her attacks, while Homura only grew more frustrated that the fight was taking so long.

Diana stayed back, watching as Homura and the monster focused intently on one another. Being utterly ignored in the fight didn’t offend her at all. She saw it as a perfect opportunity to surprise the Child and perhaps slow it down enough to give Homura the opening she needed to finish the job. Keeping her distance from the exchange, Wonder Woman slipped around the pair. She drew her sword, examining the way the Child’s wings worked, identifying a few key ligaments that would cripple them if severed. Dropping into a crouch, she prepared to dash up and do the deed. Only the briefest glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye saved her from the Impaler’s spike-tipped tentacle. She spun aside, slashing at the appendage and carving away its deadly tip. The oversized mutant crustacean looked like it had already been through a hell of a fight. Guess I get to finish what someone else started, Diana thought, charging in to handle the monster.

Ducking and dodging the piercing strikes of the Impaler’s tendrils, Wonder Woman closed the distance to the creature. She got in close, hacking her way through one of its legs on the left side. The Impaler stumbled, tilting awkwardly to one side as it struggled to accommodate for the loss of limb. Diana charged up the angled back, shoving her way through the stocks of the field of thick tentacles. She dropped low to avoid having her face punched through by one of the Impaler’s spiked tendrils, flipping her sword in her hands and driving it through the hard shell. The creature let out a shriek of pain, flailing its tendrils wildly. It curved the tips of its spikes inwards, stabbing downwards to skewer the annoying rider it had picked up. Diana was ready for the creature’s poorly thought out plan, rolling to avoid the spearing. The Impaler stumbled about, continuing to shriek as it accidentally stabbed itself. The flashes of pain across its back only inspired it to strike more, impaling itself again and again while Diana slipped off of its shell.

The Impaler collapsed to the street, on the verge of death. Diana turned to watch the thing expire, unable to resist giving it a smug smirk as she lifted a finger to her temple. “Always think before you strike.”

Almost as if it could understand her, the Impaler responded fast, finding enough strength to whip one of its tentacles at her. The spark of hateful life came so fast Diana could not avoid the spiked tendril. She cried out as the tip punched a fist-sized hole into her gut, sending her stumbling back, stunned. The tentacle yanked free and flopped lifelessly to the road as the monster finally expired.

Clamping a hand to her bleeding gut wound, Wonder Woman turned in time to see the Blow Hunter leap from a nearby rooftop. The air was knocked out of her as the creature slammed into her chest, driving her to the ground. The Blow Hunter hooked his arms and legs around the struggling woman, driving his double dicks up under her skirt and through the fabric of her underwear, violently stuffing her cunt and ass. Diana twisted from side to side, cringing as she was quickly and brutally fucked, trying to throw the creature off of her. The Blow Hunter humped into her tight holes with blinding speed, reaching his point of fatal release in moments. Wonder Woman shrieked as stiff spikes punched their way through her chest and upper thighs, crunching into the ground beneath her. One of the spikes shot into her open mouth, piercing the back of her throat and driving her head back as the Blow Hunter’s body bloated with gallons of jizz. She gurgled on her hot blood, pain radiating through numerous points of her violated body, before the Blow Hunter reached critical mass and popped, shredding her body into numerous bloody, cum-soaked chunks.

Homura didn’t notice Wonder Woman’s demise, just like she didn’t notice the deaths of the women she’d spent such a lengthy period of her time in the Necropolis with. The Child dominated her thoughts and focus. The abomination needed to die. She’d already spent far too much time in the alien dimension. She needed her full power restored. If she could rewind time, she could escape the Necropolis and none of the deaths would matter. She used her timestop ability for all it was worth, no longer concerned with conserving her energy. She’d finally found the fight she’d been searching for since her arrival. Failure was not an option.

The Child found herself struggling to contend with Homura’s strange power. Barely managing to avoid a missile strike, she called in reinforcements. The pack of Hell Flyers left Domino’s bloody, chewed up body without a second thought, leaving the barely recognizable lump of mangled, cum-packed meat to drift leisurely towards oblivion. The Flyers rushed to their mistress’s aid, throwing themselves in front of Homura’s missiles and blowing themselves to pieces.

A flash of resentment shot through Homura as she watched so many of her devastating shots pointlessly wasted. I gave them one job, she thought. The overuse of her timestop had drained her thoroughly, slowing her movements enough for the Child to take notice. The abomination charged a quick psionic blast and fired it, managing to hit Homura dead on. The crackle of psychic energy staggered Homura long enough for the Child to swoop in and grab hold of her, plucking the young woman into the air with her. Glaring into the hideous face, Homura tried to get her hand up to reach into her shield and pull free a fresh weapon. But the Child had been paying attention. She’d seen the source of her adversary’s impressive collection of armaments. The creature dug her claws into Homura’s upper arm, twisting it violently before ripping the shield-bearing limb from her body. The Child lifted the limb to flick her tongue across the bloody stump before impaling one of her spidery limbs through it, suspending it just out of the girl’s reach to mock her.

Trapped inside the Persona, Fuuka and Kay-Em could only spectate helplessly as their last hope for rescue was disarmed. As the crowd of horny undead continued to beat and hump against the smeared glass surrounding them, Fuuka found herself desperately wishing she’d agreed to carry a gun. She’d have only needed two bullets. Even one would do in a pinch, although she’d have used it feeling nothing but sorrow for Kay-Em and her prolonged future of being a conscious fuck-toy for whatever creature happened upon her.

With the fight seemingly over, the Child took a few moments to truly appreciate Homura. The young woman had been quite the thrill to fight. She reminded the Child of Satsuki. They shared a similar fiery spirit. It seemed fitting that the two should meet. Curling one arm tightly around Homura’s back, the Child reached down between her own legs. She flexed her inner muscles, forcing the thick lump of Satsuki’s head down her vaginal canal. She moaned deeply as she gave birth to the severed head. She cradled the gooey mass in her hand, lifting it up and turning Satsuki’s slackened face towards Homura. “This is the last woman to truly challenge me,” she hissed, chuckling. “Give your future a kiss.” She pushed Satsuki’s cold, sticky lips against Homura’s furious face, leaving it smeared with a glistening smear of her juices.

Missing an arm and without the ability to conjure any new weapons to fight with, the Child felt confident loosening her hold on Homura. She flung the woman back to the ground, rushing in after her, bringing Satsuki’s head along for the ride. “This one kept me so pleasantly filled while I waited for my freedom,” she growled, tearing her way through Homura’s clothing. She forced the young woman’s legs open, eyeing the small slit of her pussy. “It seems fitting that she keep you filled while you wait for your end.”

The Child jammed Satsuki’s head against Homura’s cunt face first. The orifice was far too small to accommodate such a girthy intrusion, but the coating of orgasmic goo coating the head paired with the Child’s insistent strength made the impossible a terrible reality. The Child found herself once again impressed with her foe, seeing not even a flicker of agony in Homura’s eyes as her dry cunt lips were stretched to the point of tearing. She shoved at Satsuki’s head, driving it inch by inch into the young woman, watching her slender belly bulging from the penetration. With a sigh of relief, she finished fitting the head snuggly into Homura’s sex. The Child’s eyes lit up with lustful excitement. “Such strength,” she hissed. “Know that I will cherish your death.”

Grabbing the base of her rigid shaft, the Child mashed the head of her cock through the loose lips of Homura’s broken sex. She thrust hard, wedging Satsuki’s head deeper into Homura’s body as she gave herself over to the post-battle arousal. Even loosened by the head’s forceful penetration, the Child still felt immense pleasure as she raped Homura’s destroyed pussy, growling in ecstasy as she fucked Satsuki’s head through the young woman’s cervix and into her womb. She kept thrusting, kept hammering her way through her foe’s body. As the bulge of the head and her own cock moved further up Homura’s body, the Child chittered as she saw the tears welling up in her victim’s eyes. “There it is,” she growled, leaning in to lick away Homura’s tears.

The pain was overwhelming, even Homura could not deny that. But her tears were only partially related to the physical agony ripping its way through her body with each stroke of the Child’s monstrous prick. The frustration at her own apparent weakness and the looming reality that she would not be getting free of the Necropolis hurt far worse. Her shield dangled so close, but still uselessly out of reach, denying her the ability to even try and fight back against the Child. She could only lie there and suffer, feeling as her organs were pulverized against the dead woman’s head and the erection forcing it ever further through her.

The Child did not concern herself with the cause of Homura’s tears. Their presence alone was enough to spur her into a sexual frenzy, pounding into the young woman as her climax rushed through her. With a triumphant howl of release, the Child slammed her full length into Homura. Satsuki’s head plowed through the remainder of the young woman’s chest and partially collapsed in on itself as it was fucked through the gory stump of Homura’s shoulder. The gore-coated cockhead pushed free just behind the head, unleashing violent sprays of jizz as the muscular spasms running along the Child’s shaft destroyed and weakened Homura’s insides. The warm trembling of Homura’s innards teased the Child’s cock, keeping her at the height of ecstasy. With a strained shriek, the creature rolled away from her victim, the rigid length of her cock splitting Homura into two jagged halves, skin splitting and muscle snapping to allow the ruined contents of her body to spill out over the road.

The Child dropped onto her back beside Homura, bucking and writhing through her powerful orgasm. Her cock bounced before her, firing off one powerful blast of jizz after the next. The cum arched high into the air, splattering across both the Child and Homura in thick globs. The Child clamped one hand around her shaft, pumping wildly, milking more and more of her ejaculate out of her. Thick spurts of juices squirted from her snatch, the fingers of her other hand sliding down to pound into herself. Certain that her opponent was finished and that she likely would never find another nearly as impressive, the Child was happy to bask in the glory of her victory.

Homura fought with everything she had to hold onto her consciousness, even as she realized the damage she’d sustained had been far too great to recover from, especially after draining herself so completely during the fight. She was going to die. It didn’t bother her much, especially compared to the sorrow she felt knowing she would never get the chance to save Madoka. Despair flooded into her, pulverizing any flicker of hope she had left. Finding the strength to swallow the sticky blood clogging her throat, Homura found she had just enough air left in her remaining lung to whimper out an apology to her friend. As the words slipped past her trembling lips, Homura’s Soul Gem shifted in color, darkening into a pure black.

A strange charge filled the area around Homura and the spasming, jizzing Child. Reality itself began to blur, smearing into each other as jagged streaks of obsidian lightning rained down around them, cutting through the thick rain of the Child’s powerful ejaculation. A cacophony of shattering glass filled the air, drowning out the triumphant monstrosity’s bellow of release. Homura’s body went limp, the remainder of her life sapped away. The orb of distortion swirled about killer and victim as a third, menacing figure flickered into existence between them before abruptly cutting out. The maelstrom of reality bending chaos intensified into a tightly packed hurricane of madness as a black hole formed. The Child let out a confused shriek as the gravity well sucked her towards its center, the tattered remnants of Homura’s corpse being pulled along with a good deal more ease.

Still cumming, the Child twisted and flailed about, feeling true terrified panic for the only time in her existence as she fought to crawl free from the black hole. Her monstrously powerful figure folded in on itself, bones snapping and flesh peeling away to be sucked into oblivion. Her tits ruptured, chunky wads of fat flowing over her sides to be guzzled down alongside the crumpled ruin of her majestic wings. The Child’s howl of rage ended in a sharp snap as her head shot back, ripped from her shoulders and sucked into the black hole. The mangled lump of compressed meat and bone that remained was swiftly tugged into the gravity well, massive, pulsing prick offering one last small spurt of cum before it vanished.

The loosely contained black hole continued to rage, latching onto the Necrotic energy permeating the Necropolis. Cloudy wisps of red and purple rushed into the void, sapping away the disturbingly alien color of the sky and destroying the barrier surrounding the city. The black hole intensified as it gorged itself on the barrier, sucking every last chunk of it down before finally settling down. The distortion field wavered, pulling tighter in on itself until it took on the solid form of a massive, black egg, leaving behind no sign of Homura, the Child, or the Necrotic energy. The egg hovered above the street for a moment before suddenly vanishing.

From their vantage point, Fuuka and Kay-Em had a clear view of the bizarre turn of events, but neither of them could even begin to comprehend what they’d just seen. What they had no trouble comprehending was that they were alone, still surrounded by deadly danger. Fuuka wiped a thick layer of sweat from her brow, averting her eyes from the crowd of zombies surrounding her Persona. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up,” she told Kay-Em.

The android head offered a sympathetic smile. “I understand.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?” Fuuka asked. “Something to make sure you’re not… alive when they get in?”

“There is, but I’ll never tell you how to do it,” Kay-Em replied firmly. “I won’t let you go through that alone. I’m with you till the end.”

Fuuka fought and failed to hold back her tears. “Thank you.”

“Least I can do.” Kay-Em managed a bittersweet smile. “Hey, at least we got to kill that freakshow zombie cunt. That felt good.”

Fuuka nodded. “It did.” She took a breath, tried and failed to ready herself for what was about to come. “I think I’m going to let them in now.”

“Ready when you are, boss.”

Fuuka turned to face the creatures so eager to fuck her and tear her to pieces, hoping that they’d at least kill her quickly. She was on the verge of deactivating her Persona when she noticed something. The zombies weren’t beating at the glass quite so vigorously. A few of them had even stumbled away, listlessly shuffling about, clearly confused and weak. The shift was enough to bolster her mental resolve, keeping the defensive orb intact. She watched, stunned, as the zombies began to drop away, collapsing to the ground into lifeless heaps. It took some time, but eventually, every one of the zombies met the same strange fate. A thousand questions rushed through Fuuka’s mind, but she didn’t dare ask any of them. She knew Kay-Em wouldn’t have any answers for her and she’d survived in the Necropolis long enough to know better than to question any degree of good fortune. For it to come on such a grand scale at such a precious moment meant too much to squander.

When she finally convinced herself that the zombies were really dead, Fuuka finally let her Persona deactivate. She carefully stepped through the pile of corpses, taking in the aftermath of the battle alongside Kay-Em. A greasy smear on the asphalt with a few chunks of heavily chewed bones was all that remained of Izumi. Domino’s mostly fleshless body hung from the flagpole, still giving off the occasional twitch but certainly dead. Alice’s body lay sprawled across the rubble of the Bunker, blood drying over her stunned face, the mangled lump of her heart lying a few feet away. The tattered remnants of Wonder Woman’s body had been flung across the street, intermingled with the shredded body of the Blow Hunter. Homura was just gone. Although it had cost them their lives, it appeared as if they’d managed to exterminate all of the monsters in the area, with the aftereffect of the battle responsible for cleaning up the scraps.

Sensing something else was off, Fuuka looked up. She gasped, staring into a flawless night sky. A normal night sky, the darkness already beginning to fade as morning approached. “I…” She hesitated, terrified to lend voice to her suspicions in case doing so might draw brutal punishment down on their heads. She said it anyway. Neither of them had much left to lose anyway. “I think Homura was right. I think killing that creature did something. This…” She paused again. This time she thought better of her words and kept them locked in her head. This might actually all be over, she thought anyway, daring whatever cruel all-powerful entity responsible for the nightmare to strike her down. When it didn’t happen, she got around to dealing with the reality that she might actually get to live beyond the Necropolis. “We need to go,” she said, snagging a length of iron bar half her height to help her walk with her broken ankle. “There may be others still alive from the Bunker. We need to see if we can pick up their trail.”


Nestled snuggly within its personal pocket dimension, the Omni observed the strange turn of events. The entity was more pleased than it had been in a millennia. It was not often that something managed to surprise the Entity, but even it had been unable to foresee the result of Homura and the Child’s fight and the resulting transformation leading to the destruction of the Necrotic field soaking through the city and keeping its playthings contained. The loss of the barrier and the hordes of zombies meant nothing to the Omni. Restoring the barrier and returning the corpses to twisted life was a simple matter, but one that the being chose not to do. There were still threats lurking throughout the city and there were still playthings left in the midst of danger.

Let them fight, the Omni decided. If they live, let them live. If they die, all the better.

The being shifted its attention away from its nearly used up playground, focusing on the massive black egg tucked away into a pocket dimension all its own. Much like the effects of the transformation, the Omni had no idea what was gestating within the egg. With the combined essences of Homura and the Child, the Omni knew it would be powerful, perhaps even unstoppable. After an eternity of isolated existence, the Omni dared to imagine the possibility that it might have accidentally made itself a companion of equal strength. The possibility alone was enough to fill the being with tingles of eager anticipation.


vore digestion


Fate let out a yell of release as she unleashed a beam of crackling energy at the necrotic barrier encapsulating the city. She felt a spark of pride when her attack finally managed to crack through the shell, but it was quickly overshadowed by confusion as she watched the entire barrier collapse, sucked in on itself before vanishing completely. Gwen’s voice crackled into her ear a moment later.

“The barrier’s… gone,” she reported. “Can’t be sure how much we helped with that, but our sensors are going wild with readings. Lots of hostiles, although a significant portion of them appear to be dropping like flies throughout the city. I do read life signs, although there’s not many and they’re pretty scattered out. Oh…”

The sudden surprise in Gwen’s voice concerned Fate. “What is it?”

“More readings. There’s a cluster of life readings and hostiles at the city’s airport. Also, the airport appears to be partially on fire.”

“Sounds like someone’s having a party without us,” Fate said, turning and hurrying back to the ship’s hatch. “Think you could get us an invite?”

“Already punching in the coordinates.”


With their barriers compromised and their losses mounting, the remaining survivors fell into a loosely organized retreat into the airport’s main terminal. They fled into the control tower, hoping the narrow stairwell and elevated position would offer them some means of defensive benefit, even if it only prolonged the inevitable. Baroness found her safety nest crowded with the women she’d gone to so much trouble to lead, barely containing the fury she felt. She’d been under no illusion that the Necropolis would play fair, but she had believed she was clever enough to best the damned city. She kept a safe distance from the shattered observation window, looking out at the advancing enemy forces. Some of the creatures would be too big to fit into the tower, but there were more than enough undead left shuffling around to overwhelm them. She didn’t bother with thoughts of hiding. She’d already checked the tower thoroughly for a cramped, tight space to stuff herself into and had come up empty. She did consider using her sidearm to make her own cowardly escape from the ordeal before things got worse.

No, she decided. There’s still time for that. Let’s see how many of these fucking things I can see die first.

A crackling shimmer rushed across the sky, drawing Baroness’s attention upwards. She watched alongside her equally stunned pack of survivors as the necrotic barrier collapsed, streaks of dark energy surging further into the city before disappearing completely.

“The fuck just happened?” Luna muttered.

Freedom! Escape, Luna’s brain fired up immediately. Now we can fly out of here!

No plane, asshole, she fired back.

Who needs a plane? Just jump out the window and into the sky!

I can’t fly, Luna thought at her increasingly irritating brain.

Not with that attitude you can’t, Luna’s brain chastised. Besides, you’ve never tried.

Not happening.

Luna’s brain let out an exasperated sigh. Fine, pull me out of your head and send me on my own then. I’m ready!

Fuck off, brain!

You’re a bitch.

Eat me!

“Look!” Nena’s yell snapped Luna out of her increasingly absurd mental argument. Along with the rest of the survivors, she looked from sky to ground, watching as the wave of zombies grew sluggish and began to drop to the ground. It was almost too impossible a stroke of good luck to be believed, but the thing’s looked to be dying off with growing speed.

“That’s fuckin’ right!” Claire yelled out, stepping away from Xian and Zoey. Considering their shared background in zombie killing, she was amazed it had taken her so long to finally connect with them, although it made perfect sense to her that now that they had, something good was finally happening. She moved up to the shattered observation window, leaning out. “You think you could get us? I survived Raccoon City, motherfu-“

The blunt end of the rod Psylocke had used to construct her Azula banner punched through Claire’s forehead, ripping through her brain before shooting through the back of her head. Her body stumbled back awkwardly, arms waving about as her jaw dropped open. The survivors around her backed away as her body collapsed to the floor, death spasms rolling through her. Xian glanced at Zoey, who only rolled her eyes. Kara subtly stepped further away from the pair before they got any ideas of comradery.

More than cursory observation revealed that only the normal zombies were dropping. The nastier creatures still seemed just fine. Maybe even better than fine if Psylocke’s staggering javelin toss was any indicator. Still, with the zombies gone, the rest of the creatures – although tougher – suddenly looked a good deal more manageable.

“On me,” Baroness snapped, drawing her dwindling group’s attention. “This isn’t over yet. And we just got the best Christmas present we could ask for.”

“I’m Jewish,” Lola cut in.

“I celebrate Kwanza,” Michonne added.

“Life Day,” Zoey remarked.

“I actually think we missed Christmas,” Xian pointed out.

“What the fuck is this Christmas you people keep talking about?” Nena grumbled.

“Something very good just happened,” Baroness snapped. “So I want you all to push down whatever fear you’ve got, whatever fatigue, and get back out there and finish this! They’ve had their fun fucking us. Time to return the favor!”

It was far from the most motivational pep talk, but it served its purpose. The weapons in need of reloading were reloaded. And then it was back down the tower. Baroness followed along, the opportunity for survival great enough to convince her to risk everything to achieve it.

The group charged from the airport terminal with their second wind fully charged. Without the crowds of zombies to get in their way, target selection became far easier. Baroness barked a few orders at first, but she soon realized she didn’t need to. The group was highly motivated and had spent enough time fighting at each other’s side to fall into a smooth, efficient rhythm, carving up Hell Hounds and turning Flyers into mushy lumps to keep them at bay before pivoting to fixate on larger, sturdier threats. But even with the tide turning firmly in their favor, further losses proved to be unavoidable.

Charging recklessly into the hail of gunfire, the female Zombie Factory managed to snag Nena into her powerful grip. She screamed into the behemoth’s hideous face, unloading the contents of her pistol into the thing’s head as her fellow survivors continued to unleash more damage into the thing, careful not to hit her in the process. The Zombie Factory twisted and turned as chunks of her obese, putrid flesh were shredded. Her bulging belly split open, unleashing a flood of pale grey intestines and corruptive amniotic fluid. The pressure surrounding Nena escalated swiftly as a spasm of pain shot through the giant’s arm, forcing her fat fingers to close tighter around her squirming captive. Nena’s ribcage collapsed in on itself as a thick spray of gore shot from her mouth and bulged the seat of her pants. The gore geyser intensified as her torso was crushed into a mangled flesh pole, shooting her eyes free from their sockets before her head finally popped. The Zombie Factory collapsed into her own death, fingers loosening to free the pulped remains of the young woman.

When her own weapon went dry, Sonya called to Michonne, who promptly tossed over one of her katanas. Just in time to block the slash of the Deathscythe. Bone-blade met hardened steel with a sharp crack. Sonya pushed back from the creature, giving herself enough space and time to get used to the weapon’s design and weight. She wasn’t much of a swordfighter, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She fell into a sloppy duel with the Deathscythe, mostly blocking with the katana and delivering the occasional hard kick to the thing when she saw an opening. The Deathscythe’s lack of any formal training made it a test of instinct and reaction time. Riding the adrenaline high of combat, Sonya had plenty of both. As she grew more accustomed to the sword, she felt confident enough to use it to attack. The gashes she carved into the mutant zombie proved far more effective than the concussive blows of her feet. Side-stepping an impaling thrust from the Deathscythe’s bladed arm, she brought her own blade down hard across the creature’s forearm, severing its deadly organic weapon. Drawing the katana back, she delivered her own impaling thrust, right through the thing’s face.

With victory fueling her confidence, Sonya ripped the sword free from the Deathscythe’s head and stomped towards the hideously mutated visage of Fio. She rolled out of the way of Fio’s corrosive stream of puke, closing the distance between them. With a yell, she slashed out with the katana, catching the side of Fio’s neck. The blade carved through meat and bone like it was butter, sending the mutant zombie’s head rolling down her back. Without the guiding force of her mouth, the geyser of Fio’s acid puke went everywhere. Sonya had half a moment to regret getting so close to the corrupted woman before the pain of her melting flesh stole away any ability to think rationally. She stumbled backwards, screaming through her dissolving lips as the thick puke sizzled its way through her face and chest. She dropped Michonne’s katana and made the stupid mistake of trying to wipe the puke away, only to increase her suffering as her fingers were melted down to bony claws. Falling onto her back, Sonya shuddered as her breasts spilled out over her sides, bones popping and sizzling as her ribcage curved inwards to allow the potent acid into her chest cavity. Thick bubbles popped along her decaying teeth as the stump of her tongue became a watery froth at the back of her throat. The bone of her forehead wore away, revealing her brain as it was rapidly eaten through like a lump of soggy cotton candy.

The Child was gone. Psylocke knew that as well as she knew her own reanimated flesh. She didn’t know what had happened. She’d caught only flickers of emotion running through the psychic link they’d shared, but the final flicker had been concerning. Fear. She couldn’t imagine anything capable of inspiring such an emotion in the majestic goddess of death she’d gladly served, but she could not deny that something had. Her fellow undead generals were gone as well. Her connection to Rebecca had been severed in an instant, shortly before she felt the Child’s final moments. Then the barrier had collapsed and the lesser zombies had died. It was all enough to stir a little of her own fear, but she had every intention of finishing the duty she’d been tasked with. Taking out the bragging bitch in the window had felt very nice, but the attack of the remaining survivors was costing her too much. The Hell Hounds were all dead and the remaining Hell Flyers had fled the battle. Not so long ago, the thought of eight women standing against the full might of the Legions would have been laughable. But the Legions were not as mighty as they’d once been.

Psylocke called out to her remaining forces, drawing them back. In order to achieve victory, she needed to get them as organized as the desperate survivors were. As she hastily ran through potential strategies in her head, the roar of engines washed over her. She looked up, spotting the small vessel swooping in from behind. Psylocke let out a snarl, cursing the sudden appearance of reinforcements. Her situation was worsening by the moment, allowing her to feel a portion of what the survivors had felt during their stay in the Necropolis. A portion of what she’d felt herself before she’d been pulled into the undead horde.

Hovering eight feet above the ground, the MVA ship lowered its docking ramp. Fate led her strike team out onto the battlefield, quickly falling into line. Baroness pushed back the annoyance she felt as Fate took charge of her remaining forces, drawing them into her own battle plan. With the relief of salvation running through her, she could ignore the sting that her loss of command caused.

Gwen remained on board the ship, using the weapons to provide heavy support fire. She kept the bulk of the enemy forces at bay, giving Fate and the others the safety to pick off the panicking creatures torn between the orders echoing in their heads reinforcing their natural instincts and the deeper desire for self-preservation. Psylocke’s own sense of self-preservation drew the creatures that still stood closer towards her, using them to shield herself as she committed to a slow retreat. This battle was lost. And while she might not get another chance to eradicate the irritating life that had proven to be so tenacious, her only chance lay in escaping back into the Necropolis to gather more forces, if enough even remained.

The manless Man-Horse charged towards the survivors, an easy sacrifice to buy Psylocke more time to get away. It closed the distance to Veronica in bounding strides, mistaking the unarmed woman as the easiest prey. Veronica slammed her Power Fist into the nightmare horse’s head, knocking it to the side and sending it into a stunned crouch. Leaping onto the horse’s back, the young woman rained down harder punches into the back of its neck as it struggled to get back to its feet and run away. She flexed her thighs around its thick, dark hide to remain in place and kept on punching, jerking from side to side as the creature suffered her pummeling. With a hard snap of bone, the wounded Man-Horse finally dropped. Veronica cocked her fist back and brought it down again, caving in the back of the dying creature’s skull.

“I’ve been accused of beating a dead horse before,” Veronica muttered as she slid off the twitching carcass. “But that was ridiculous.”

With the remaining Legion monsters in a group, Fate was eager to put an end to the fight so she could start trying to work out exactly what the hell was going on. Lifting her staff to the unblemished sky above, she focused her energy – unaware that such a feat would have been impossible for her to achieve if she’d entered the Necropolis via the same method so many others had. Without the barrier in place or the power dampening necrotic energy permeating the air, she amassed the energy required to use her Thunder Rage with little trouble. Crackles of electricity rained down from above. The jagged daggers of shocking force connected with the clutch of monsters, locking their bodies in shuddering place. Deathscythes jerked wildly, one of them seizing so badly he snapped his own spine while another drove his arm-blade into his side before the arm jerked forward, gutting himself. The flesh of the remaining Big Men blackened and swelled before popping into gruesome splashes of gore.

The remaining Male Zombie factory managed to fight through the paralyzing streaks of electricity, taking a couple of unsteady steps towards the survivors. Crackles of energy ran along his massive erection. The agonizing stimulation drew him to release, gushing gallons of jizz across the ground before the creature finally collapsed forward, pinning his spurting prick underneath him. Fate maintained her attack until she was certain the thing was dead. Gasping and wiping the sweat from her brow, she looked over the remains of the creatures to see if she’d missed any of them.

“Are we good?” she called to her team.

The others called in that they were as Quiet casually lifted her sniper rifle up to her shoulder. She steadied her aim and held her breath before firing off a round.

At the far end of one of the narrow pathways through the barrier, Psylocke was moments away from slipping free of the death tunnel littered with so many of her fallen forces and escaping back into the city. She heard the distant pop of Quiet’s rifle only a moment before the armor-piercing round reached the back of her head. Psylocke’s head exploded, flinging chunks of her rotten brains across the sides of the pathway before her body collapsed into a jerking heap.

Lowering her rifle, Quiet nodded that she was now good.

Fate turned to the small group of exhausted, stunned survivors. She offered them an awkward smile. “My name’s Fate Testarossa. I’m with the MVA. We’re here to rescue you.”

“Cutting it a little fucking close, don’t you think?” Zoey snapped.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Fate replied. “Whatever dimension this place is in, something went to a lot of trouble to keep it hidden. They took the same care with your abductions. The good news is, I’m getting everyone out of here. After a short stay at MVA headquarters, we can start seeing about getting you back home.” She tapped at her comms unit and told Gwen to land the ship.

“I think I speak for everyone when I say I’m more than ready to get the frak out of here,” Kara said.

“You’ll be perfectly safe on board the ship,” Fate said. “But we’re not ready to leave yet.”

“What do you want, a fucking tour of the place?” Lola grumbled. “Trust me, the sights here suck.”

“There are still others left alive in the city. Not many, but I have no intention of leaving anyone behind.”

Baroness sighed and started towards the ship. “Just be quick about it,” she called back. “It might feel like this is over, but I can’t help the feeling that it could just be the eye of the hurricane.”

Allowing the survivors to board the ship, Fate turned her attention to organizing her team. “Alright, doing this fast sounds like an amazing idea. The life signs left in the city are scattered, so I want two teams.” She pointed to Susan and Rebecca. “You.” Then to Veronica and Gwen. “And you. Take the ship’s shuttles and go save those people. I’ll get the ship in the air and keep it at the border of the city in case our moody friend in black is right about this only being a brief reprieve. Stay sharp, stay smart, get back alive and the first round is on me.”


Zarya flexed her muscles around the pair of squirming captives she had under her arms, hauling them along in the direction of Bathory and Harley’s apartment hideaway. Rayne strolled along beside her, eyes occasionally turning to fix on the lively blood bags. She ran her tongue along her lips and fangs, her lobotomized brain wavering between Bathory’s control and her desire to feed. It was a battle she was gradually losing, mouth salivating more with each step she took. The bizarre behavior of the mutant zombies that had captured them aside, Samus and Kara knew that wherever they were being brought, nothing good would come of it. But Zarya’s undead muscles seemed to show no signs of fatigue, remaining flexed around them and limiting their range of movement down to the most meager of wiggling.

Then the barrier came down.

The mutant zombies took no notice of the change, Zarya too focused on delivering her cargo and Rayne too busy trying to decide which of the morsels would be the tastiest. The unblemished rays of morning sunlight fell across the foursome. Kara let out a shocked gasp that bordered on orgasmic as the sun soaked into her body, giving her Kryptonian powers a much needed charge. It wasn’t long before she had enough strength to properly struggle against Zarya. A few moments more and she was on the verge of breaking free. Her captive’s surprising strength shifted Zarya’s focus. In order to try to secure the woman fighting free, her dull, rotting brain decided to release Samus and close Kara into a bearhug. With the full might of Supergirl restored, Kara broke free from the iron-like grip with ease.

Rayne let out a shriek and leapt onto Kara’s back, using the woman’s escape as a convenient excuse to begin her feast. Baring her fangs, her head lunged forward, burying her mouth against the side of Supergirl’s throat and biting down with the force of a rabid pit bull. Against her victim’s sun-charged, nearly impenetrable skin, Rayne’s sharp fangs shattered. The zombified dhampir howled in agony as twin streaks of pain shot up through her mouth, dark blood gushing out over Kara’s neck. Rayne’s attempt to bite her pushed Supergirl beyond the limits of what she could take. With her powers nearly fully restored, her fury was unstoppable and deadly.

Bringing her fist up, Kara smashed her knuckles into Rayne’s face, crushing her nose flat and sending several more of her teeth down her throat. She spun, bringing the mutant zombie off her back and throwing her to the ground. A scream of anger rolled up her throat as she dropped over Rayne, taking turns pounding her fists into the undead woman’s increasingly disfigured face. Rayne fought back with jerking movements, attempting to jam her arm-blades into Kara’s sides, only to have them crack against her attacker’s resilient skin. With a wet cracking, Rayne’s face caved in under Supergirl’s assault. Her arms dropped to her sides, jerking as she dug the heels of her boots into the street and bucked her hips up against Kara’s crotch. Kara kept punching, knowing she would not be satisfied until the mutant zombie’s head was fully destroyed.

Irritated by the sudden turn of events, Zarya lifted her cannon-arm at Kara’s back, determined to regain control of her captives. Although it didn’t look like Kara needed much help, Samus had no intention of sitting on the sidelines and watching the show unfold. She fumbled with the lightsaber hilt, making sure the exit port was aimed away from her, and thumbed the button. Her eyes lit up as a glowing yellow blade erupted from one end of the weapon, a cold smirk filling her face as she shifted her line of sight to Zarya. She stepped beside the muscular mutant zombie and brought the scorching heat of the lightsaber blade down over her forearm, cleaving through the thick meat and the solid metal fused into it with ease. The disarming strike coincided with Zarya attempting to fire the cannon. The sudden damage caused the weapon to explode. The fiery force threw Samus back, tumbling onto her back and rolling. She jutted the lightsaber out to her side as the momentum of the blast carried her along, keeping herself from being diced up by the blade.

Being the source of the explosion and too beefy to be thrown, Zarya took the full brunt of the explosion. It ripped the remainder of her cannon-bearing arm away and scorched her chest and face. She backpedaled from the blast, firm breasts swelling as the fat within them was brought to a near boiling temperature even as the flesh grew charred. The damage wasn’t enough to kill her, but it left her stunned and in desperate need of time to recover.

Finished with Rayne, Kara rose to her feet and turned towards Zarya. Her eyes flashed red as she gathered scorching heat within them, unleashing it with another rage-filled scream. The heat beams shot towards Zarya, burning into her half-blinded eyes. Supergirl stomped towards the shuddering lump of muscles, grabbing hold of the sides of her head as she bored her heat vision into Zarya’s skull. The mutant zombie’s brain withered and melted under the intense burning of Kara’s beams, dribbling in gooey lines from her ears and nose. Supergirl waited until the thick body finally dropped away from her before she finally cut her attack.

Panting heavily, Kara looked down at what she’d done. The satisfaction she felt at the results of the brutal attack scared her. She closed her eyes and focused on steadying her breathing, on bottling up the pure hatred that the Necropolis had inspired in her.

Samus was less concerned about Kara’s mental well-being. A good bit of murderous rage once in a while did a person good, as far as she was concerned. And if anything deserved a murderous rage, it was the denizens of the Necropolis. She was far more curious about what had happened to remove the barrier and what it meant for their chances of long-term survival.


“They broke my toys!” Harley pouted, pounding her clenched fists against the tops of her thighs as she stared at the screens filled with static.

“They broke our toys,” Bathory corrected, just as angry as her partner, but containing it just a little better. She dragged deep lines through the top of the desk with one of her scalpels, resisting the urge to jam it through one of Harley’s eyes. Her companion wasn’t making it easy for her.

“First Red, now Muscles!” she whined. “Why do they all leave me?” She turned and stared at Bathory with annoyed frustration. “Is it me? Am I just that unlovable?”

Bathory chose not to answer the question. Partially because the question was utterly insane, mostly because she knew her answer would only send Harley into an even more irritating tailspin. She decided to change the topic of conversation. “They were supposed to be the start of our army. What do we do now?”

The prospect of making a new toy was enough to shift Harley’s mood. “We make more! Duh!”

“With what materials?” Bathory snapped, her fingers tightening around the scalpel. I can think of someone who could make a good drooling corpse, she thought. “I don’t know if you noticed, but that dead city out there is looking more and more dead by the minute.”

“So attendance is a little down at the moment,” Harley argued. “That doesn’t mean it’s over. This is the carnival that never closes, sugar. We just have to be patient and what for some new guests to arrive.”

Bathory rose to her feet, scalpel trembling in her grip. “Well, they’re not just going to come walking through our door, are they?”

The door opened.

The life sign readings had guided Susan and Rebecca to the apartment complex. The raised voices had led them right to Bathory and Harley’s hideout. The argument ended as the pair entered the room. The two blondes made for a bizarre sight, with the one dressed in little more than a heavily bloodstained lab coat and the other looking like some kind of jester.

Bathory dropped the scalpel down to her side quickly, keeping it hidden. I guess it’s good I never got around to fixing that lock on the door, she thought, conjuring a look of relief to show the new arrivals. “Thank god, we thought we were going to die in here,” she gasped. “We’ve been hiding in here for days.”

Bathory’s attempt to play herself off as a scared survivor was far from her best performance. The macabre totem made of Nancy’s pilfered face and chest skin made it even more unconvincing. Susan wasn’t sure who the pair of maniacs were, but it was obvious they were deadly trouble. She moved in front of Rebecca, raising an invisible force field bubble around them to ensure their safety. “Stay where you are! You’re both under arrest for violating Code 2 of the MVA lawbook, committing multi-versal murder. Discard whatever weapons you might have and move up against the wall!”

Harley lifted a confused eyebrow at the woman. “Is this some kinda joke? I’m usually pretty good at spotting jokes.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Susan yelled. “As an agent of the MVA, I’m placing you into custody! Now, against the damn wall!”

Rebecca drew her pistol, not bothering with being stealthy about it. Susan would assume she was simply arming herself to back her up and secure the prisoners. She lifted the weapon, leaving the barrel an inch or so away from the back of her partner’s head, before squeezing the trigger. The round blasted through Susan’s head, sneezing her brains from her forehead before it was flattened into a useless chunk of lead against the invisible barrier now smeared with gore. Susan remained standing for a few moments, face shifting into a look of shocked slackness before she and her force field fell. The chunky slop of her brain matter splattered across the floor as her corpse thudded into a heap.

Harley burst out laughing. “Now, that’s a joke!”

“Now that it’s just us multi-versal murderers in the room, allow me to introduce myself,” Rebecca said as she stepped over Susan’s twitching husk. She extended her hand to Bathory. “Rebecca Chambers. Double-agent for the Conglomeration of Eternal Disharmony.”

More than a little confused by the rapid shifting of events taking place around her, Bathory decided to pocket her scalpel and shake Rebecca’s hand. “I have no idea what all these things are,” she admitted. “But I do like the sound of eternal disharmony.”

Rebecca smirked. “I thought you might. My employers are always on the look out for new recruits who might lend their talents to their goals. And you two look like very good recruits.”

Harley shrugged. “Fuck it, I’m always up for a party. Besides, this place is dead.”

“I agree with my mouthy companion,” Bathory said. “My experiments here have been nothing short of infuriating. How am I meant to perform miracles of mad science in a place like this?”

“Oh, you’re gonna love the CED,” Rebecca chuckled, sliding a hand down the back of her pants to work the butt plug loose from her rear. She activated the secret comm device inside of it, establishing a connection to her hidden headquarters. “This is Agent Chambers. I’ve found two very capable women eager to sign up. Open a portal on my coordinates.” A few moments after receiving confirmation, the air between her and the pair of blondes shuddered before splitting open into a swirling portal. “Go on through,” she offered. “The trip might be a little bumpy, but I assure you, you’re gonna love the destination.”

Harley didn’t hesitate to skip through the portal, wide grin plastered across her face. Bathory hesitated. As a rule, double agents weren’t trustworthy. But with some kind of multi-verse cops creeping around the Necropolis, it seemed her suspicions that whatever was happening in the area was winding to a close seemed to be confirmed. With nothing better to do and little left to lose, she gave Rebecca a nod and stepped through the portal. The tunnel between realities closed seconds after she vanished, leaving the CED agent alone in the apartment.

Rebecca turned her attention to Susan’s corpse, feeling the cock in her pants begin to stir. “Sorry, Susie,” she purred, groaning as she worked the butt plug back into place. “Guess it’s just rotten luck Fate teamed you up with me, huh? Well, no sense letting a body as nice as yours go to complete waste.” She kicked off her boots and rolled her pants the rest of the way down, freeing her stiff member. Leaning down, she hooked her hands under Susan’s armpits and hefted her dead weight up, draping her over the nearby table. She worked her victim’s pants down to the tops of her knees and tugged aside the crotch of her soiled panties. Stepping behind Susan, Rebecca gave her dead partner’s perky ass a hard smack before running her palms over the smooth flesh. She spread the cheeks and leaned in to give Susan’s asshole a thorough tongue prodding, leaving it soaked into her saliva. Mashing the head of her petite cock against the orifice, she grabbed hold of the dead woman’s shoulders for leverage and started working her way into the tight, still warm hole.

As she fucked her full length up Susan’s ass, Rebecca groaned, tugging up the bottom of her shirt so she could pull one small breast free from the cup of her bra. She tugged at her nipple as she bucked into the corpse. Working undercover in the MVA, it had been far too long since she’d gotten to fuck anything that truly satisfied her. She’d given in to the occasional fling with a fellow agent here and there, but maintaining her cover meant being forced to let her partners live through the experience. The sexual release only did so much to curb her depraved appetites. The ones she’d had even before she’d been recruited by the CED, from that hellish night in that monster-infested mansion. She’d had quite a bit of fun in that mansion.

The zombies she’d found there were nothing like the ones that had been roaming the Necropolis. No sexual desire to speak of. Not that Rebecca had cared. They’d been powerless to stop the macabre lust swelling within her once she’d dispatched them. But those had simply been appetizers. The real banquet had come when Wesker gave her the greenlight to eliminate Jill. The look of surprise on the woman’s face when she’d jammed her pistol against her temple had been priceless. The way her body had shuddered as the round scooped out her brains and flung them from the opposite side of her head had nearly made her cum into her pants. Then she’d gotten to experience the delights of violating a fresh corpse, while Wesker had drooled over the Tyrant he seemed to love so much more than her. When the monster awoke and broke free from its gestation tube, slaughtering Wesker, she’d only fucked Jill’s cooling corpse harder, eager to release a final load of cum into the woman’s cunt before she died as well.

But the CED had rescued her before that moment came. Giving her someplace where she could be herself, some of the time anyway. Caught in the lustful haze of recollection, Rebecca realized she’d rolled Susan’s body over at some point, pinning the body’s legs up against her shoulders so she could continue to hammer into her ass while watching her now naked tits jiggle. Her hairless balls were tight with impending release and she didn’t deny it, leaning over Susan’s body to catch her slack lips in a deep kiss. She moaned into the dead woman’s mouth as she slammed her erection balls deep into her rear and exploded into her bowels. Rebecca shuddered over the corpse, hips jerking as waves of ecstasy rolled through her. When she was finally sweaty and spent, she took a few moments to lie there, panting heavily against Susan’s cooling cheek.

Popping free from her dead partner’s cum-leaking sphincter, Rebecca ran her hands over her disheveled clothing, curling her fingers into her bra to free the small vial she kept hidden there. Unscrewing the top, she made sure she was well out of splatter range before tilting it over Susan’s head. The liquid sizzled as it made contact with the flesh, working fast to melt away the evidence of her crime. She emptied the vial down Susan’s back, watching as her stunning body was reduced to an unrecognizable pool of spreading gunk across the table.

Rebecca took a few more minutes to calm down from the exhilaration of her wicked deeds, pulling her clothing back into place. When she was ready, she radioed in. “Commander, this is Chambers,” she whimpered, working up a few tears to go along with the hysterics in her voice. “We found the source of the life signs, but it was too late. They’re both dead. Oh god… Susan… It melted her… She’s dead, Commander. I’m on route back to the shuttle now, but it’s chasing me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to - ”

She let the report end abruptly, removing the earpiece and smashing it on the floor. Let them wonder if we both bought it out here for a little bit, she thought, giggling. It’ll make my miraculous survival that much more of a relief.


Rebecca’s panicked report left Veronica and Gwen more than a little unsettled as they closed in on the life signs they were tracking. Susan’s death was a bit of a blow. The woman had always been so cautious, almost to the point of it being irritating. Whatever creature they’d encountered, it was nothing to be trifled with. They found Fuuka and Kay-Em not far from the destroyed bunker. Thankfully, the pair were just as eager to get on board the shuttle as the MVA agents were to get back into the air. Gwen explained the situation as best she could manage to Fuuka as she gave her a brief medical check, while Veronica fought back her unease with Kay-Em. She’d gotten used to living in a world filled with horrifying monsters capable of killing people in quick fashion, but the android’s head was a thing of technical wonder that could not be denied.

“You guys are just lucky we were able to take down that big ass dragon thing before you arrived,” Kay-Em told Veronica. “The air wasn’t a safe place to be back then.”

“You’re incredible,” Veronica gasped, unable to resist running her fingers along Kay-Em’s face and the torn seam of her neck, doing her best to get a clear look of her inner workings as she could. “Who made you?”

Kay-Em frowned. “Buy a girl a fucking drink first, geez,” she snapped. “I’m not just some talking toaster you can go jamming your fingers into. Consent is important!”

Veronica pulled her hands back swiftly. “Sorry.” She blushed with embarrassment. “I’ve just never seen anything like you before.”

“And you’ll never see anything like me again, honey,” Kay-Em shot back. “I’m one of a kind. The Beta Test that went pro. But you look like the technically savvy sort. I bet you could persuade me into spilling a few of my design secrets. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You make me a new body,” Kay-Em demanded. “And this time, I want some proper nipples, dammit!”

“Veronica,” Gwen called. “Stop playing with the talking head and get back up here. Our job’s not done yet. We’ve still got life signs to track down. Susan and Rebecca were supposed to pick them up, but…” She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

A somberness filled Veronica’s face. “To be continued,” she told Kay-Em before heading back to the cockpit. It was a little crowded with Fuuka standing there. “You should go back and strap in. We got a report of something nasty in that area, so this might get a little dicey.”

“She stays,” Gwen said. “Apparently, our new friend has a talent for finding people. Should make it easier to find these life signs.”

“Is this talent tech based?” Veronica asked as she slid into the co-pilot seat, glancing back at Fuuka.

“Stop,” Gwen growled. “You can drool over shiny new toys later.”


Samus and Kara had spotted Rebecca’s shuttle making a hasty retreat. Their attempts to flag the ship down had failed. Kara had tried to fly after the vessel, but her powers were still returning to her after expelling so much energy in her rage slaughter of Zarya and Rayne. When the second shuttle arrived, they eagerly scrambled on board. They had plenty of questions, but the majority of the answers could wait. The only thing they really wanted to know was how much longer they’d have to stay in the Necropolis.

“You were our last pickups,” Gwen told them. “You said you saw another shuttle? Flying?”

Samus nodded.

Gwen looked to Veronica. “At least Rebecca made it out. Would’ve been nice of her to relay that information.”

Veronica shrugged. “That girl is constantly losing her gear.”

Gwen got the shuttle back in the air and started a loop back around to rendezvous with Fate and the others. As they passed over the bridge, a gentle tickle crept through Fuuka’s senses. It was so weak she almost didn’t notice it.

“Wait,” she cried out. “Down.”

“What?” Gwen asked, confused.

Fuuka leaned over the woman, fumbling with the shuttle’s controls. “I sense another life sign down there.”

Veronica wrestled Fuuka back before she crashed the shuttle, allowing Gwen to regain control of the vessel. “Calm down, damn,” she said, holding her back. “We’ve got the best sensors in any universe. Your talent’s on the fritz.”

“It’s not,” Fuuka insisted. “Please. I know there’s someone still alive down there. It’s weak. Almost gone. Maybe that’s why you can’t detect it.”

Veronica looked to Gwen. “It’s too risky.”

Gwen frowned. “Fate said leave no one behind. And I’m just as familiar with the sensors as you are. We both know they’ve been known to miss things. We’re going down there to check it out.”


No one was more surprised than Samus and Kara as Jack’s limbless body was removed from the Doom Whale’s carcass. After witnessing what had happened to her firsthand, they’d not had any hope of her survival. Even a few minutes later and they’d have been correct in their assumption. Jack’s dark inked looked a good deal darker against her nearly bloodless skin. She’d slipped into a coma that was rapidly escalating into death until Gwen and Veronica lowered her into the shuttle’s med-pod. As the machine whirred to life, it went to hasty work to stabilize the limbless woman, staving off her demise.

“Y’know,” Samus muttered to Kara as the shuttle took to the air again. “It actually makes perfect sense. That bitch is literally just too angry to die.”

Fuuka kept her senses focused on the way back to the MVA ship, but detected no further life signs. Reuniting with the other survivors on board was a bittersweet moment. There were so few of them left, but even the limited number that remained seemed staggering compared to the hell they’d faced. Fuuka and Kay-Em shared the fate of their scouting squad with Baroness, imparting the sacrifices made and revealing the cause of the necrotic barrier’s collapse. Samus convinced Veronica to synthesize some alcohol for her before heading to the med-bay to sit next to Jack’s pod. She’d developed a deep respect for the woman over the course of their nightmarish journey through the sewers, starting with Jack’s decision to spare her life. She was rough around the edges – even rougher now that her limbs were reduced to ragged scraps of flesh – but despite everything, she’d been a good leader. Samus preferred to work alone, but she knew she wouldn’t hesitate to sign up for another suicide run with Jack at her side.

Zoey and Xian couldn’t help but call out Kara’s name to see which of the two Karas would respond. Thrace decided to have a bit of temporary deafness, ignoring the call, while Danvers headed over to the pair. The survivors in Baroness’s group who’d seen the cost of friendship with the pair subtly watched the exchange of words between the trio, wondering just how long the Girl of Steel would last.

As the MVA ship returned to base, Gwen looked over the wild assortment of women filling the ship. They were a mismatched group, to be sure, with their varied outfits. Not surprising, given that they’d all been plucked from different universes. The MVA was filled with similarly varied recruits, but they at least all had matching uniforms. The sight of them all standing around, reuniting and conversing, reminded her of the conventions she’d frequented before her recruitment. They look like a bunch of damn cosplayers, she thought, unable to hold back the soft laugh. After a moment, she corrected her classification of the group. No, they’re more Cosplay Babes. She spared some thought to what they’d been through. She’d only seen a little of it, but that seemed to be for the best. This whole thing feels like some kind of pervert’s sick game. Cosplay Babes versus the Legions of the Undead. She shook her head and returned her attention to her terminal. Stupid fucking title.

Fate’s thoughts were lingering on the survivors they’d picked up as well, although her considerations were more practical. The group had been through a lot. And while they were now safe, she couldn’t give them any answers in regards to what the MVA would do with them or even if they’d be allowed to return to their home dimensions. She imagined at least some of them would get recruitment offers. They’d certainly proven themselves capable and they now had a knowledge of the multiverse. And with the CED growing stronger and bolder in their efforts, the MVA was very much in the midst of a hiring spree.

The Necropolis was an even bigger mystery. How the place had been created, what had powered it and committed all of the abductions, along with thousands of other questions remained unanswered. Fate knew the MVA wasn’t finished with the place. With the barrier down and the pocket dimension seemingly inert, teams would be sent in to investigate. She didn’t doubt the possibility that she’d be sent back in. She didn’t look forward to it. The place disturbed her in ways no other hell hole had been capable of, inert or not. At the very least, she could take solace in the fact that figuring out all the answers was not her job. And for that, Fate was very thankful. She didn’t need that headache.


Taken to the frayed ends of her sanity, Kaya watched the MVA’s arrival and rescue of the Necropolis survivors in a stunned daze, half-convinced she was hallucinating the images. After all she’d witnessed, salvation seemed impossible. Convincing her overwhelmed mind that the sight could be genuine and that, even if it wasn’t, it was worth embarrassing herself a little bit trying to make contact with them, she turned to the communications array, calling out a desperate announcement of her presence and her desire to be saved as well. Once the words started flowing, she couldn’t stop them, tears of relief and the terror of being left behind rolling down her cheeks. Her eyes shifted rapidly, from the communications array, to the monitors showing the ship, to the observation window showing her the glowing orb she was suspended above, hoping to hear or see any sign that her message was getting through.

A dizzying nausea struck her. Her vision swayed. The sound of her own voice grew sluggish and distorted. She screamed into the mic, begging for the same salvation the Necropolis survivors had been gifted with, before vanishing into the swirling reality void.

Disoriented terror forced Kaya to lose consciousness for a few moments during her transit between realities. She snapped awake moments after her journey ended, finding herself no longer tucked into the cramped interior of the observation satellite. She’d grown to hate the place after her long days of captivity there, but one glimpse of the new world surrounding her was enough to make her yearn for a lifetime spent in the orbital prison. She lay in a pile of bones, stripped completely of flesh and scattered out across the entirety of the endless landscape. The only thing to break up the monotony of the grim environment were the towering stone skyscrapers doted around her in disorganized fashion. Craning her neck to look up, Kaya’s dread grew as she realized the structures were not buildings, but massive grave markers.

A city filled to bursting with the dead had been a disturbing enough situation to contend with. Kaya was not prepared to handle an entire reality of the death. Slipping ever deeper into madness, the young woman’s dazed eyes full upon something else. A smooth egg, far larger than she was, hovered just above the surface of the ground. Swirls of shadowy purple crept across the shell, twisting into unnatural patterns that made Kaya want to puke. She’d not seen what had become of Homura, the Child, and the necrotic barrier. The camera showing the encounter had malfunctioned towards the end, allowing her to see only static and – flashing amidst it – nightmare faces screaming in agony. When the first crack split across the top of the egg, Kaya pissed herself in terror.

The flow of urine strengthened as the creature within the egg pulled itself free. Kaya stared openly at the thing, but her mind failed to truly comprehend it. She fought to, hoping that some manner of description might help her accept the thing’s existence, but the best she could come up with was a nightmarishly surreal fuck-up spawned from some madman’s clumsy efforts in Photoshop. Even that description paled in comparison to what she was looking at, but it was good enough to snap her out of her stunned, horrified awe. She turned away from the thing, already feeling the stresses on her mind relenting, although not much. The image was burned into her brain and she doubted it would ever come out. Finding she had the strength to run, Kaya did, although she had no idea where she could flee to offer her any form of safety.

Apophis stretched into its bizarre form, free of the egg. It took only moments to become acquainted with itself and the nest of decay it had been born into. Then it turned its gaze upon the solitary woman futilely rushing from its presence, illuminating her in the glow streaking from its single eye. Even at a distance, it had no trouble tasting her. The bouquet of terror and madness permeating Kaya’s sweat and piss stirred the devious side of Apophis’s fragmented psyche. Her identity felt important to it in some way. Not because of who she was, but because of who she wasn’t. Apophis labeled Kaya in the simplest means possible. She was wrong. Which meant she was prey. The being drifted after her retreating form at a sluggish pace, the hands of the bizarre clockface across the front of its body beginning to tick slower.

As Apophis grew accustomed to the labyrinthian pocket dimension, it discovered its power of creation through purely instinctive means. A glowing humanoid visage flickered into existence behind Kaya, equipped with the speed to catch her with ease. It continued to flicker as it moved, leaving behind afterimages of itself burned into reality, creating a trail of vibrant, dizzying colors in its wake. Even though the familiar’s creation had been a reflexive act, Apophis had an immediate intimate knowledge of what the thing was capable of. It settled on a name for its creation – Rip Van – and continued its slow pace towards the fleeing girl, excited on Kaya’s behalf for what she was about to experience.

Closing to within only a couple of feet of Kaya, Rip Van dropped low before springing into the air. He collided with her back, tackling her to the skeleton-littered ground. Rolling her onto the back, the familiar tore at her clothing. His touch was enough to wither the fabric down to loose, worn out threads, making stripping the shrieking young woman a simple task. Rip Van’s glowing prick rose from between his legs, leaving behind the same afterimages the rest of his body did, showcasing a colorful slideshow of his growing erection at its various stages. Pinning her thighs apart with his knees, he guided himself to her piss-soaked cunt. Both familiar and creator savored the piercing howl that escaped Kaya’s lips as the cock penetrated her.

Trapped in the observation satellite, Kaya had been sickened by the sheer number of violent rapes she’d witnessed on the monitors. At the darkest times of her captivity, she’d thought of those scenes and counted herself lucky that she was at least in a position of safety. Even if she remained there for the rest of her life, she wouldn’t have to experience the nightmare so many other women had. Now it seemed that the satellite had simply been a waiting room for the horror lurking to claim her at the very end. The surreal glowing figure perched on top of her was far from pleasant to look at, but it was better than the giant being looming over it. Her brain throbbed from the explosion of colors shimmering before her as Rip Van quickened his punishing thrusts into her. Her loins ached from the rough strokes, the pain growing worse as the familiar raped her faster and faster.

The speed of Rip Van’s thrusts picked up alongside the speed of the hands on Apophis’s clockface-chest. The being experienced the young woman’s violation vicariously through its familiar, both satisfied and horrified by what it was doing to Kaya. Her body writhed beneath her attacker as a disturbing change crept through her. Wrinkles began to creep across her face, perky breasts losing their firmness until they grew saggy on her chest. Her eyes grew pale with cataracts as shimmers of grey and then pure white consumed her previously dark hair even it as it grew and stretched. Her pubic hair – a mildly unkept bush at the start of the rape – spread and underwent the same color shift, becoming a thick patch of curly grey that covered the lips of her drying cunt. Her nails – finger and toe – grew a sickly shade of yellow as they extended and curled before digging into her gnarled fingers and clenching feet. In less than the blink of an eye, the youthful woman became a senior citizen.

Rip Van was undeterred by the elderly state of his victim. He fucked Kaya with blinding speed, the passage of time continuing to race through them. Her blind eyes rolled back, choking on the crumbling dust that had been her perfectly functional lungs a half-second earlier. Her breasts became flat and loose, clinging to her increasingly visible ribcage. Hair dropped away from her wrinkled scalp in dry clumps as her skin pulled tightly across her skeleton. A pasty cloud wafted up from Kaya’s shifting form as Rip Van’s strokes caused dried out flakes of her skin to peel away. He hammered away at the tight orifice of dried out jerky that had been the girl’s snatch as she was reduced to a fleshless skeleton beneath him. And even then, he did not stop. Kaya’s bones turned brittle, cracking under the force of Rip Van’s rape, until she was finally reduced to a crumbling layer of pale dust.

For Apophis and its familiar, Kaya’s withering murder took only seconds.

From Kaya’s perspective, it took much longer.

She’d screamed herself mute under Rip Van’s unrelenting force. Her battered mind shattered completely, urging the thing to finish already after what felt like hours of abuse. As the hours stretched into days, she found the strength to scream some more. The nightmare rapist remained stiff inside her, never once reaching a climax. She spent what felt like the better part of a month laughing, muttering out insults at her abuser about his inability to get off. When the laughter finally stopped, she picked up screaming again. Consciousness came and went, blacking out for stretches of time and awaking to find herself still in the midst of the never-ending rape. Her inescapable nightmare became a droll stretch of boredom, lying beneath Rip Van and feeling the rhythmic pumping of his erection sliding into her body again and again. She started to count the number of strokes. When she lost track of the number somewhere in the three-thousands, a spark of Kaya’s sanity returned. She’d lost enough of her voice by that point that screaming wasn’t possible, so she settled for sobbing. She went on like that for a while. She had no way of knowing how long. How could she possibly track the passage of time when her existence was limited to an endless stream of pumping. Her abuser didn’t even seem interested in changing positions or trying out any of her other holes. Long after she ran out of tears, Kaya finally slipped into a semi-conscious daze, drooling as she stared up into Rip Van’s glowing face. She remained that way throughout the latter half of her life, barely registering the ravages of time as they took hold and withered her away into nothingness.

When Kaya’s body was reduced to dust, Rip Van was finally afforded the ability to cum. His jizz – possessing the same time-stuttering qualities as the rest of him – fired from his twitching prick, riding a rainbow trail of static images before splashing through the pile of bone dust lying before him. With the familiar’s task completed, he faded out of reality, returned to Apophis. Satisfied with its first destructive act, the being was finished with the timeline it was currently attached to. Its existence was confined to the pocket dimension, but it realized it was fully capable of moving the entire dimension, connecting it with other realities where it could wait for a fresh victim to stumble into its labyrinth. So Apophis did just that, yearning for fresh meat while yearning to discover something lost.

Kaya’s dusty remains were expelled from Apophis’s reality. With a shimmer in the air, a sneeze of milky white powder clouded the cramped observation satellite, drifting in the breeze of the air regulators before settling across the bank of static-filled monitors and control terminals.


The Omni observed Apophis’s birth with keen interest. Witnessing what the being was capable of with Kaya filled the entity with the closest thing it had ever felt to parental pride. It let the creation go, content to allow it the freedom to explore the myriad of universes available to it as well as itself. There was all of the time in existence to make contact and build a relationship with Apophis. For now, it deserved to roam free and play.

Playing was exactly what the Omni was interested in. The Necropolis had been an excellent playground, but the location was used up. The being shifted its thoughts inwards, testing its own mood to see exactly what sort of game it was interested in setting up next. The options – like the Omni’s very existence – were endless.


After a thorough shower to get the stench of the Necropolis off of her, Fate made her way to Director Carter’s office to deliver her full preliminary report. She didn’t have much in the way of details. Most of what she did have had come from the survivors she’d picked up and attempting to piece together their varied stories. “Fuuka and Kay-Em seem to think that the monster they identified as the leader was the source of the barrier and the zombies, but I’m not convinced,” she said. “Although the barrier fell with that creature, as did the zombies, the more complex mutants were not apparently affected. It’s possible they attained enough sentience to separate themselves from whatever psychic link connected the leader to its minions, but – from what they say – the thing exhibited no ability to breach realities. And as capable as they are, I doubt any of them would have been able to actually kill whatever it was that caused this.”

The survivors had already gone through processing. The majority of them had agreed to the offer of psychiatric therapy the MVA offered. Fate figured that would be a lengthy process. She’d only seen a little of what the nightmarish city had to offer and she was considering getting herself an appointment for a session or two just to keep anything from festering. There was also the question of what to do with the survivors long term. Not many lived to walk out of the Necropolis, but there were still enough to make it one of the largest dimensional displacements the MVA had encountered. If they added in the number of dead, it was the largest by far. Fate suspected the number of casualties would only get higher once they got into the city and really started to investigate.

The offers of employment at the MVA were not a surprise. Fate had suspected Carter would do such a thing. Several of the women had even accepted the offer already. Michonne, Xian Mei, and Zoey had signed up without hesitation. With the little she knew about the women’s home dimensions, she wasn’t surprised. She suspected they’d have gladly signed up for janitorial duties at the MVA to avoid having to deal with anymore zombie-infested pits of doom. Samus Aran, Kara Danvers, Fuuka, and Kay-Em had also agreed to join up, determined to do what they could to prevent something like the Necropolis from ever happening again.

The Necropolis itself was under strict quarantine. The investigators assigned to the case were pouring over the hours of video footage Kay-Em had collected during her time in the city. The footage contained plenty of useful information and a fairly complete timeline of events for the party she’d been in, as well as a thorough mapping of the city itself, but so far no clues had been found to tell them what had actually caused the event. The plan to put boots on the ground in the city to conduct a more hands on examination were still in the works, but the process was moving ahead with slow caution after the death of Susan Storm. The MVA wasn’t keen on sending in more lambs for the slaughter. Until they came up with a solid plan of securing the site and exterminating whatever threat still lurked within it, the investigation would be a slow process and the city would remain under lockdown.

After taking in all the information Fate had to offer, Samantha Carter dismissed her. It was a big damn mess, and not the only one she had on her plate. Feeling the tension in her shoulders creeping up her neck, threatening to spawn migraine, Sam leaned back in her seat and rubbed at her temples, fighting the urge to cash in the significant amount of vacation time she’d earned.


After getting through the hassle of processing, Baroness invited Mugino and Lola to the small bunk she’d been given. The MVA Headquarters felt a little too much like the Bunker to give her any sense of comfort. Looking over the pair reminded her of the loyal cohorts she’d lost in the city. She felt little sympathy for the deaths. They’d served their purpose and although she’d promised them survival and power, it had been up to them to reach the finish line. Only Mugino and Lola had managed to do so, and she had no interest in wasting time grieving over failures. But now that they were out of the fire, it was time to see what their next move was.

Mugino and Lola’s minds were made up before they even arrived at Baroness’s bunk. They wanted to go home, as soon as possible. She tried not to take their willingness to abandon her personally, although she did start toying with the idea of trying to arrange their accidental deaths before the MVA let them leave. The cost of disloyalty. But even as she tried to come up with a means of slipping something poisonous into them without it leading back to her, she had to admit the prospect of returning to a world she was at least familiar with was appealing. The fact that she’d almost always had to play second fiddle to incompetent leaders to inevitably watch their plans blow up in their faces made the temptation weaker. Enlisting with the MVA to help them carry out their own missions for the greater good was equally unappealing to her, but a role within the organization was not without benefits. The technology and knowledge they possessed, as well as what could be acquired from an infinite number of realities, could go a long way to bolstering her in her pursuit of her own power-hungry ambitions.

Already sensing which way she was intending to go, Baroness tucked away her desire to murder Mugino and Lola. After all, with the power of the MVA at her fingertips, she would have no trouble tracking them down later, for a far more personal and lengthy slice of revenge for their abandonment.


“They’re not evil,” Kara Danvers said to Samus as they made their way through the MVA’s expansive med-lab.

“I’m not saying they’re evil,” Samus shot back. “I’m saying they’re bad luck.”

“We both saw how fast that place could kill someone,” Kara argued. “Us being trapped there was the bad luck, not forming a bond with Zoey and Xian.”

“Claire hadn’t shared more than a few words with them before the airport battle. Then she gets taken out the way she did? I’ve been around the universe enough times to know that sometimes it’s smart to let a little superstition in.”

“I’ll be fine,” Kara insisted. “Besides, since we’re all staying, we’re going to have to work together. I’d say our bad luck is just about all used up.”

Although Samus still had her doubts, she had to admit that there was certainly evidence of a break in all the bad luck. It only took stepping into Jack’s room to see evidence of that. After being transferred into a beefier medical pod, she’d recovered with surprising speed. The MVA doctors had kept her sedated until they’d finished the surgeries needed to repair the internal damage she’d sustained. They’d also managed to restore her limbs. Where Jack’s inked flesh ended, hard steel began. The robotic limbs were more than a little disturbing to look at as they moved, but they seemed to suit Jack well.

Jack pushed herself up on the bed as Samus and Kara entered. She’d shrugged off her patient gown down to her waist, hating the feel of even the loose fabric wrapped around her far more than she hated showing off her tits to anyone who came into the room. “Who the fuck invited you two?” she grumbled.

“Nice to see you, too, asshole,” Samus shot back, holding up the clear bottle of synthesized liquor she’d brought along. “Guess we’ll have to find someone else to share this with.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “You know that was Jack-speak for ‘I’m so happy to see you’. Now sit the fuck down and pour me some of that before that stony-faced nurse bitch comes back to check on me.”

“It was Jack-speak for ‘The doctors won’t give me any alcohol, so I guess I’ll tolerate you for a while’,” Samus corrected, dragging over a stool and finding a trio of clean specimen jars to use.

Jack gave her an annoyed smile. “See? You do understand me.”

“And you should be licking my slit,” Samus fired back as she poured out a healthy supply of alcohol into each of the jars. “I got Veronica to make up some very good shit here. Good enough that even the Girl of Steel over there is gonna feel it.”

The gears in Jack’s robotic arm whirred as she reached out and took hold of the jar. She sat up straighter, staring at the glass as she slowly worked the new limb. She almost got the alcohol to her lips before a sudden jerk ran through her metal fingers, tipping the container over and spilling its contest over her bare chest. “Fuck you, stupid cunting robo-arm,” she snapped, nearly shattering the glass in an angry grip. Samus was quick to steal the jar back from her as Kara grabbed some towels to wipe up the mess. Jack sat in furious impotence as the booze was cleaned from her breasts and Samus refilled her jar. “The fucks said they could put some synth-flesh over them. Help me blend in with the normies better. I told them, fuck that. These things look hardcore.” She glared at the offending limb as said limb responded with an extended middle finger back at her. “If they ever learn to work right!”

Samus kept Jack’s jar, guiding it to her lips and tipping it back to let her take several deep swallows. She winced at the burn, but sighed with practically orgasmic relief as the alcohol rolled down the back of her throat and warmed her chest. “Oh, that is good shit,” she groaned, laying back. Samus took down a couple of gulps for herself while Kara took a much more modest sip, coughing on the potency. “The first thing I’m doing – and I mean, the first fucking thing – after they let me out of this stupid hospital, is finding someone who’s good with an airbrush. I miss my tattoos.” Her eyes went distant, a cascade of traumas still far too fresh flowing over her. She could feel the urge to cry welling up within her and beat it back down. “Gimme more of that shit. This ain’t a real celebration until I’m drunk enough to teach these robot legs to dance.”

Samus refilled her own jar and Jack’s. Kara was still nursing her own beverage and already looking more than a little red in the face. Jack curled her lips around the rim of the jar, eager to slurp down more of the fluid, but pulled back before it could touch her tongue. “No, wait,” she said, face turning somber. She frowned, annoyed at herself for the emotions and more than a little pissed at Commander Shepard for paving the way for their emergence. She gave a few testing flexes with her new hand before feeling confident enough to take the jar into her grip. She lifted it to the air towards Samus and Kara. “To the ones we lost along the way,” she muttered softly. “If there’s an afterlife, let them spend it kicking the shit outta whatever fucker sent them there.” She clinked the jar with the others and brought it to her lips, successfully this time. Just before she took her drink, she hesitated again. “Except for maybe Joy. She was a total bitch.”

“Jack!” Kara snapped.

“Alright, fine,” Jack groaned. “Her, too.”

They drank.


Rebecca stepped off the elevator on the lowest floor of the MVA Headquarters. She made her way down the narrow, dimly lit hall to the morgue. She used a special function of her CED communicator to override the security cameras, masking her presence in the area, before slipping into the chilly room. Five nude female corpses were laid out on slabs, collected from the Necropolis’s airport. Dr. Woodrow ‘Woody’ Strode was leaning over Jessica Jones’ body, collecting a sample of the paralytic saliva that had ended the woman’s life. Screwing the swab into a specimen tube, he turned and offered his guest a smile.

Woody didn’t work for the CED directly, but his deviant tastes had made it easy for Rebeca to persuade him into assisting her whenever she needed it. She let her eyes roam across the collected bodies, examining each of their toe tags as she moved down the row. Jean Grey lay on the first slab, followed by Kylie Griffin. The busty corpse on the third slab was only labeled as Jane Doe for the moment, with none of the survivors able to identify Chris Yukine. Rebecca had no need of the toe tag to identify the fourth body. She was quite familiar with Claire Redfield’s visage. Another iteration of her was employed by the MVA and Rebecca had developed something of an obsession with her. The way she figured, she’d already had the pleasure of feeling how tight one of the Redfield siblings’ asses had been, she needed to know how tight the other’s was. Still, she did enjoy reading out the name of her obsession printed on a toe tag in black, bold letters. Jessica Jones was at the end of the row. Reaching it, Rebecca realized there was technically a sixth corpse in the room. The last slab was mostly empty, aside from Azura’s severed head. Without a toe to put a tag on, Woody had left the card resting just beneath her torn throat.

As Rebecca admired the Necropolis’ leftovers, Woody gathered the information she’d requested, along with the item she’d thought the CED would be most interested in. She accepted the file and Kylie’s Proton Pack and conjured up a small portal to feed them through. Woody already had paperwork forged that would indicate the Pack had been transferred for disposal. The mix up would cause him some grief, but the MVA was a bureaucracy like any other and those sorts of mistakes happened frequently. Some unfortunate underling would eventually get the blame for the screw up and business would continue as usual.

With her official duty on behalf of the CED satisfied, Rebecca was eager to join Woody in a less than professional but certainly thorough examination of the corpses. She loosened her pants as she moved straight for Claire’s body. The woman’s ass was free to experience, but Rebecca shied away from the orifice, wanting to save that experience for her Claire. She pushed the dead Claire’s legs apart and leaned over the slab, shoving her tongue into her cold snatch as she reached down to tease her erection. She moaned into the woman’s folds before moving up to tickle her lips with Claire’s pubs before wiggling her tongue against the small nub of her clit. She slid a hand underneath the body, digging her fingers into the meat of Claire’s ass as she ate the corpse out with vigorous passion. Worked to a feverish sweat, Rebecca climbed up onto the slab and buried her face in Claire’s cleavage as she worked her aching cock into her lifeless hole.

Woody went to Kylie’s body, tugging it further along the slab until her head dropped over the edge. He pushed his erection into her slack mouth, driving his length down into her throat as his balls smacked against the bridge of her nose. Woody would have loved to get a feel of the girl’s tits, but they – and the majority of her chest cavity – had been eaten away by whatever corrosive fluid had killed her. He settled for grabbing hold of the ends of a couple of her partially dissolved ribs, using them for leverage as he fucked the dead goth’s face. The speed and force of his thrusts grew until the ribs snapped away in his hands. Tossing the broken lengths of bone into her hollowed out chest, Woody slid his prick free, letting Kylie drool his pre-cum over her face and into her nostrils.

Rebecca grunted as she came for the second time into Claire’s yielding cunt, firing off heavy spurts of seed into her lifeless sex. Her cock remained rigid, thirsty for further pleasure. She slid free from Claire’s sex and rose to her feet on the slab, grabbing hold of the corpse’s shoulders and lifting her into a sitting position. She dragged the head of her sticky cock around the rim of the hole bored through Claire’s forehead, rubbing away flakes of dried blood before lining herself up with the hole. Her fingers tightened in Claire’s hair before yanking her dead partner’s head forward, sheathing her way through her skull. Fleshy slaps echoed through the morgue as she dragged Claire’s head back and forth along her length, teasing the woman’s blood-crusted ponytail. The delight of fucking her way through Claire’s dead brain thrilled Rebecca. She regretted not giving Susan’s head wound a similar treatment. Or Jill’s, for that matter, although she’d been a little pressed for time in both cases. She added fucking a freshly made headwound to her bucket list of perverse delicacies to try.

Chris Yukine’s unidentified carcass became Woody’s next target. He’d nearly settled for Jessica Jones, but the Jane Doe’s impressive bust finally won him over. Climbing onto the slab, he dropped onto Chris’ chest and shoved his cock through her cleavage. Her flesh was still sticky from the Gulper’s stomach goo. He added a few wads of his own spit to slicken her soft flesh enough to make tit-fucking her an easy act. His fingers dug into the plentiful mounds, mashing them together around his girth as he watched them ripple from his rough strokes. His eyes flicked up to Chris’ face, drinking in the expression of death she wore while wondering just who she was. Her anonymous state made his post-mortem violation that much more exhilarating. That, paired with the pleasure of her soft tits dragging across the sensitive length of his member, had him painting her mysterious face with his creamy load in no time.

When Claire’s skull was coated in the next orgasmic expulsion she managed to achieve, Rebecca let the woman’s body drop back onto the slab and decided on another plaything. Jean’s was the most tempting, forcing her to admit that she likely had a thing for redheads. With chunks of Claire’s brain clinging to her erection, she rolled Jean over and dragged her lower half over the foot of the slab. She possessed no sentimental obsession for the dead telepath, making her backdoor just as tempting a target for her dark lust as any other ass she’d had the pleasure of violating. Getting into her proved a little difficult, but Rebecca was determined. She inched her way deeper and deeper, giving the redhead’s rump a few hard smacks along the way. Slowly, Jean’s cold, dead flesh relented, allowing Rebecca to work into a steady rhythm of hard pumps. As the slap of her hips meeting Jean’s buttocks rang in her ears, Rebecca couldn’t help letting her eyes wander back over to Claire’s corpse, her obsession overriding her focus on the new body she was sampling.

The Conglomeration for Eternal Disharmony loved to spread chaos and disorder, but they weren’t total anarchists. They paid their operatives and Rebecca, being a very good operative, had amassed quite the little fortune for herself working for them. Looking over to Woody, who was now feeding his renewed erection into Jessica’s tight ass, she decided to bring up some new business. Words of price negotiation passed between them as they filled the morgue with the sounds of dead assholes getting fucked. They came to an agreement before giving in to their shared lust, packing Jean and Jessica’s bowels with their spunk. A few more forged documents later and the bodies were officially being sent for cremation. All but Claire’s body actually made it to the furnace. The busty redhead’s body was instead sent into the waiting hands of the CED, along with Rebecca’s request to have the corpse preserved for her personal use.


Life as a double agent was difficult, but it did come with certain perks. Specifically, twice the amount of vacation days. After the close brush with death she’d had in the Necropolis, the MVA was happy to give her a few days to recover. She went through the proper procedure for covering her tracks, subtly plucking another version of herself out of a timeline even more fucked than the one she’d originated from who was so happy to have an escape from her unending nightmare that she didn’t question the hows or whys of what had happened. The naïve Rebecca was more than happy to spend the next several days at the deluxe spa officially listed as the double agent’s point of destination. It was a trick she’d used several times before and it always worked splendidly. She’d pick up her doppelganger on the way back to the MVA, have a little fun with her, then shove her back into the reality she’d taken her from. Near enough to her point of exit that no alarm bells would go off, but destined to meet an untimely demise almost as soon as she got back, ensuring that there would be no witnesses to her switch.

Once her cover was in place, Rebecca returned to the CED, where she promptly requested more time off. After the work she’d done for them, they had no choice but to give it to her. She made her way to the private quarters she had but rarely got to use. She was happy to see that maintenance had kept the layers of dust from getting too thick. Even happier to see her new toy waiting for her. Claire stood at the foot of the bed, posed with one hand on her hip. They’d stuffed her into a black bodysuit with red denim shorts and vest over top. A note had been left taped to Claire’s head, just below the cleaned-up hole in her forehead, with instructions on how to operate the doll’s various features as well as appropriate cleaning methods. Rebecca pulled the note free, giving it only a casual look before tossing it aside and focusing on her inert plaything.

Rebecca stripped the Claire doll slowly, enjoying the calm stretch of privacy she’d earned. She explored each inch of bared flesh thoroughly with her hands and lips. She sucked in deep breaths from the dead woman’s hair, smelling mostly the lingering aroma of the preservation gels used to transform her body. Moving over Claire’s face, she tapped her tongue against her staring, glassy eyes before slurping at her nose and dropping lower to give her a deep kiss. Continuing her examination, she moved lower and lower, sucking at her collarbones before covering her expansive breasts in dozens of kisses. She chewed lightly on the layer of skin covering her spine while prodding at her bellybutton, dropping into a crouch so she could devote nearly an hour of attention to Claire’s posterior using everything but her throbbing erection. By the time she finished sliding her tongue between each of her toy’s toes, she’d worked up quite the appetite.

Rebecca ate her dinner slowly, gaze remaining fixed on the doll the whole way through the meal. Her cock jutted up from her lap, glistening with the layers of pre-cum draining from the tip. She kept her out of control libido in check for the duration of her meal, teasing herself into a sexual frenzy. As the last bite of heavily chewed steak rolled down the back of her throat, she sprang up from her seat and tackled Claire’s body onto the bed. She made it only half a stroke into her perfectly preserved slit before crying out sharply and exploding within her. Her cock pulsed, squirting more and more of her pent-up seed into the doll. The intensity of the orgasm nearly drove her insane, trapped within what felt like hours of ejaculation that only truly lasted a handful of seconds. The stiff buds of her nipples pressed deeply into the soft meat of Claire’s tits as she worked her way deeper into her toy’s sex, each inch of progression almost painful from how good it felt.

The time off was well-deserved and very much needed. As Rebecca freed herself to engage in every carnal delight she could imagine with her plaything, her mind remained burdened with information and what her duty would lead to in the near future. The MVA was gearing up for something big. She’d not managed to get her hands on many of the details, but the little she did know was enough to keep her on edge. A reprieve from the constant strain of maintaining her cover identity while uncovering as much as she could for her employers was exactly what Rebecca needed. And with the object of her deeply harbored and thoroughly cultivated desires at her disposal, she had the perfect means of distracting herself from what lay ahead. Drenched in sweat and more turned on than she’d ever been in her life, Rebecca decided that even a dollified duplicate of the woman she yearned for so deeply was good enough to fully sample. As she smeared lubricant over her swollen, raw member, Rebecca took a few moments to look over the instruction notes a little more closely. Grinning, she moved up behind Claire’s body – bent over the foot of her bed – and rested the head of her cock against her sphincter. She curled an arm around the toy’s slim waist and down through her patch of pubic hair to find the activation switch installed in her clitoris. As she sank her girth into Claire Redfield’s ass for the first time, Rebecca howled as the fleshy walls began to vibrate and massage her cock. It was a talent her Claire lacked, she was certain, but it made her no less eager for the time when she would get the chance to sodomize her true obsession for the first time.


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