Back in the big smoke! Suntanned & adventure marked
27th June 2018
Away until 15th August
5th August 2018
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THE CURE 14 / Kraken Cock

Chained to a hook in the ceiling, bound by the colonel’s grip on your mind and the leather troopers’ well oiled machine guns, something stirs inside you. Something wild and yearning.

This is worst then being tortured by genetically engineered revolutionaries and a mad scientist. Because, back in the abandoned mental hospital, when you were used and prodded by Mercury Man, Blaze, and her cyborg brother, at least you could almost honestly claim that they made you do it.

Now, with the wolf girl’s feverish body pressing against you, the needles in her cunt piercing your cock every time the colonels’ single tail whip lashes, forcing the two-backed beast dance to her tune, you feel that you just can’t take this any more. She can’t make you take it. But, you never want this to stop.

For this last humiliation, you hate her with every bristling fiber of your being.

Think. Hard. Fast. Fill your mind with other pictures, your mouth with loaded words, before the colonel can pluck this thought and twist it, bend that penetrating mind to fixing the bug in her automated fuck- toy.

Spit, sticky liquid- pink, lands soundlessly on the white bear rag. You’ve bitten your tongue. Never mind. What counts is that the colonel seems to be sufficiently captivated by the writhing groaning spectacle she created to weaken her control over your vocal cords.

You fucking sad sadist. Is this the only way you can get your rocks off?’

Surrounded by the leather troopers, the colonel chuckles.

On the contrary. One of many. But this has the additional merit of being instrumental to completing the hack operation that Rotdong and Tyrel started.’

Who?’

Ah. Poor mutant. You don’t have any idea who your late friend’s were or what they had in store for you? I believe Professor Buck Rotdong, formerly chief scientist with CentralCo, and that formidable red-head, doctor Lyssa Tyrel, were going to attempt removing your chip without frying your brain, that, and turn you into some sort of a hive virus’

So now you have them. Mercury Man and Blaze’s real names. A postmortem introduction. Apparently the only things they didn’t shove down your throat or up your holes were their big fat PHDs.

And they were going to do…what?

You don’t like the sound of hive brain. Or virus. Not one bit.

No clue what this actually means. But right now, you’d rather die ignorant than ask this licensed warlord anything at all, and you can’t, anyway. Not with your torn cock ripping wolf girl’s insides, banging against the needles crowned cunt, and the tip of the colonel’s single-tail whip landing, of all places, right between your arse -cheeks.

You hardly feel the first bite. Only the warm liquid flowing down your arm alerts you to the fact that wolf girl sank her porcelain blade fangs into your shoulder.

A trooper whoops. As if you were fighting dogs, and first blood was drown. As if she, or it, you’re still uncertain if they are fully alive, has money hinging on the winner. This being wolf girl. Or perhaps her handler.

You turn your head. They are all standing in a halve circle around you: troopers and body guards, flunking the colonel and her serpentine whip. Fine. If that’s how they want to play this, you got a few dirty tricks up your sleeve. Or rather, what with being stark naked, coded into your augmented physique.

Will the colonel block your electro-kinetic, receptors scramblers and other handy mutations? You’re almost certain she can. But it won’t hurt trying. Or will, but everything already hurts so much that this hardly matters, on balance.

You zap wolf girl, simultaneously extracting the rows of suction cups embedded along the full length of your prick. She jerks and yelps as the electric current pulses and burns through every needle in her body.

When your fire – kraken prick sucks her vaginal walls she screams, letting go of your shoulder.

She nearly chokes on a chunk of your flesh as you fuck her harder, the current charging through all your moist and wired bits, your  sweat- drenched bodies.

The colonel claps.

Cheating? Well done.’

But you can hardly hear her. You’re beyond caring. You are a rabid Pitbull going for the kill. You will fuck that posh cunt’s pet till she’s shredded to pieces. And make her like it. Show her who’s alpha in this pack of perverts. Special CC or not.

You bite wolf girl’s nipple and rub her clit, dishing out another dose of bio-engineered electricity through your lips, the tips of your fingers, wishing you still had your diamond studded knuckle duster to amplify the effect of your fist unraveling her from inside out, steel, jewels and augmented meat crashing any remaining traces of humanity.

But you’re doing just fine as is. Wolf girl is hanging on to you now. Still putting up a show of struggle while contriving to remain deeply shafted, regulated by your merciless strokes. Her heart is racing, muscles rippling to the rhythm of shocks. Soon, you’ll be able to manipulate her monoamine neurotransmitters and she’ll be yours forever. Or for as long as you want her.

Not yet. First, you extract your cock, maddeningly slowly, letting your hand brash over her angry red clit.

She licks her lips, panting, and looks at you beseeching through the eye -holes of the gilded Venetian mask. You can tell begging anyone but her mistress doesn’t come easy to her.

You treat her to a bruising smile.

Want me to keep fucking you up, feral cunt? To ride you real hard?’

Wolf girl swallows, then nodes. Fast, as if she could take it back, deny this surrender. Under her shaggy white mane, the spikes on her collar dent the soft skin.

Say please. No, actually, say please, Master. Beg me for it, little bitch.’

The handle of the colonel’s whip slaps your chip with a thud. Intent on gloating, you failed to notice the degenerate warlord stepping closer, planting her riding boots right behind wolf girl.

Her exquisite aquiline face harden.

It takes more than a few cheap tricks to make a master, mutant. Your dim wits and pirated bioware are well below par .’

The titanium chain lands on the stone floor with a disturbingly delicate chime. The colonel didn’t lay a finger on it. And yet, the bright metal uncoiled itself at her bidding. The same invisible force freezes the masked feral girl in mid wriggle, her eyes rolling back, showing blood shot white, her stiletto paws scraping the floor as she collapses on the edge of the bear skin rag and curls into a snarling ball.

The colonel advances on you, sword stick raised. You clench and avert your gaze, steeling yourself for an atrocious punishment, this time with no perks attached, possibly terminal, when one of the storm troopers steps between you and the ruthless warlord.

She arches an eyebrow and frowns. You strongly suspect she’s also despatching a telepathic, or possibly electronic, command, which fails to stop the trooper from grabbing the lethal blade.

Gaze down cast, you notice that apart from a pair of swollen breasts, the trooper’s tight leather jump suit clearly outlines an enormous cock, or fabricated phallic organ, as hard as the sword-stick, and twice as thick.

What is the meaning of this?’

The colonel speaks calmly, but you fancy her fingers, shielded with what you now recognise as your very own diamond knuckles duster, tighten around the hilt of her captured weapon. Bare nipples even more erect then her spine.

The trooper reaches up and removes the leather balaclava. Mercury eyes rest on your bound and bleeding body for a millisecond, smirking, than lock with the colonels’ black mirror irises.

Your gasp echoes in the oak panelled hall and you can swear you hear a short sharp intake of breath before she regains her composure.

Professor Rotdong. What an unexpected honour. You are rather presciently troublesome, for a dead man.’