Bugs 2: The Next Mutation
One year.
Twelve months.
Three hundred and sixty-five days, since I helped destroy an entire town.
It was a year ago, to the day, that the small town of Haven, Florida--for all intents and purposes--ceased to exist, and twelve hundred citizens were more than just names in a file. My name is Albert.
Albert Jaxon.
I work at the Red Lake government facility, somewhere in the Mojave Desert. I'm not sure of its exact location, since the whole place is considered to be more top secret than Area 51. My boss, Marston Fransk, is a real pain in the ass. He works us nineteen hours a day, seven days a week, with no vacation, little money, and no recognition for any of our work.
Why do I do it? I have no idea any more.
I started because the government asked me to, and I always wanted to do something important. I had no idea that I was going to be helping them perfect living weapons.
Bugs.
That's not their official title, of course.
Around here, we refer to them as the organic components of Project: Overkill.
But really, they're just bugs. True, they're big, strong, and fast, with an aggression factor so high it can't be accurately measured, but nonetheless they're still insects.
Unfortunately, they have an irrestible urge to propogate their species. Which means, when they go out to hunt they are not looking to kill but to mate. The drones slaughter any males they come across, but they rape women and bring them back for their even bigger, smarter, uglier Queen to impregnate. A few hours, usually, later, they fatally give birth to two more of these drones.
I have no idea where Fransk gets all these women from.
I don't want to know.
I'm writing this e-letter with a preprogrammed setting to transmit it to every major newspaper and media outlet in the world, in the event of my death or disappearance.
I hope to God I can, somehow, find a way to make up for my part in all this.
Marston Fransk, a leathery-skinned, gray-haired man in his late fifties, slapped the DEL key, wiping the words off the screen of the computer. He sighed. "Where is this Jaxon character now?" the Director asked.
"We took care of him," said one of the security guards. "Per your orders."
Fransk nodded. "Well done. Dismissed." He turned to head back into his office. "Oh, by the way. The secretary who discovered this e-mail. What is her status?" "She's being dealt with," the Head of Security replied. "As we speak."
"No! God, please! No!"
Sheila Rosenthall, a fairly attractive redhead in her mid-thirties, who had only been working for the Company for two months, was being dragged kicking and screaming towards a large metal door at the end of an otherwise empty corridor. The two men holding her arms had stripped her naked and slathered her body in a strange liquid which stunk so bad it made her eyes water, and caused her skin to tingle.
"I won't tell anyone!" she screeched. "I promise! Please!"
One of the men used his free hand to type in a code on the keypad, and the door hissed open. "Lady, you don't know how right you are." Both men lifted Sheila off her feet, and tossed her through the heavy meatal door even before it had finished opening all the way. Together, they shoved it closed.
"They're learning," said the other man. "We didn't even have to use the sprayers that time."
"Don't give 'em too much credit," the first replied. "They're just bugs."
Sheila Rosenthall landed on her hands and knees, in a pile of mud and silt.
Raising her tear-filled eyes, she looked around, her mouth dropping open as she realized she had been thrown into what appeared to be a controlled swamp area. She knew she was still inside, as camouflaged walls extended for as far as she could, but it was a perfect representaion of an actual swamp. It even stunk, and she put a hand to cover her mouth and nose as she got to her feet.
"Where the hell am I? What's going on?"
She was a low-level secretarial assistant in a government facility, called Red Lake. She was accustomed to the veil of secrecy, and knew the high-ups reacted very badly to anyone nosing where they didn't belong, so she was always careful not to say or do anything to draw attention to herself.
But that stupid e-mail changed everything.
It had been buried, deliberately hidden from prying eyes, under an automated transmission code, which Sheila had accidently triggered when she was upgrading the system. Not only did she get a copy, which she read before realizing what it was, but so did her Manager, as well as the Head of the Red Lake facility, a very creepy man by the name of Marston Fransk.
Though she wasn't certain, Sheila believed Fransk had ordered her taken from her office and brought here. She had expected some sort of debriefing, perhaps a public sanction or termination; but never had she imagined that she would be disrobed, covered in some strange goop, and thrown into a fake swamp. She felt her heart catch in her throat as she remembered what had talked about in that e-mail.
Insects.
Mutant insects.
From some kind of a swamp.
Like the one she found herself in now.
"Oh no." Sheila's tears started anew as she heard a strange buzzing sound. "Please, no."
Moments later, her fears were realized--as from the nearby brush came two hideous insects. They were as big as dogs, and far uglier than anything she had ever imagined. A freakish hybrid of ant and wasp, they had vestigial wings but were not really using them to fly, instead covering impressive distance in leaps and bounds. They had knife-like mandibles, six hook-clawed legs, and corrugated tails, each of which ended in slimy overpositors she could only envision being used for one purpose.
Sheila took a step back, only to find her way blocked by a tree. She paled. "Leave me alone!"
Needless to say, the insects didn't listen.
"Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit...."
White as a sheet, Sheila turned and, in desperation, tried to climb the tree to get away. But the combination of blind panic, and the slime covering her entire body, made it impossible for her to find a hand-hold. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she heard the things coming up behind her.
"Stop it! Stay away from me!"
Without warning, one of the bugs rammed its pointed skull into the back of her legs, causing Sheila to cry out as her knees buckled. It was on her, literally, even before she hit the ground, its six spindly limbs clawing at her arms and legs, giving her no chance to get up. She could also feel its tail, and that slimy, dick-like thing, poking her thighs and probing around the firm surface of her ass.
"P-Please...no...don't..."
But, of course, the insect didn't understand her words. Or if, by some chance it did, the creature was choosing not to listen. After several aborted attempts it finally found its mark, and jammed the thick, ridged member hard into her tight, hairless pussy.
Sheila's eyes grew wide as she arched her back and screamed.
High above the swamp recreation, Dr. Marston Fransk stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching with a passive resolve as the helpless woman was raped. "Sir?"
Fransk glanced over his shoulder, at the agent seated at one of the monitors.
"What is it, Micheals?"
"A call for you, sir. You can take it over there."
Turning off a speaker which abruptly silenced the shrill screams filling the room, Fransk turned and picked up a nearby phone. He cleared his throat before speaking.
"Fransk here." He listened in silence for a few moments and then nodded. "Yes sir." He nodded. "I estimate the next twenty-four to thirty-six hours." Again, a significant pause. This time, he shook his head. "No sir. Nothing I can report at this time. If you like, I could keep you apprised, however. Yes sir. Thank you." He seemed angry as he slammed the receiver down on the base. "Banks!"
A mousy-looking man wearing a lab coat and thick glasses burst through the door. "Yes, sir?"
"Find McAllister. I need to talk to him. Now!"
Less than twenty-four hours later, Sheila Rosenthall awakened from a troubled slumber.
Blinking through tears, barely able to breath, she raised her head and glanced down to see her lower torso was distended as if she was nine months pregnant.
The insect.
It had attacked her, raped her, and impregnated her somehow. She remembered the pain, the horror, and now it seemed she was going to pay for knowing something she shouldn't have. Tears flowed freely again as Sheila felt the pains begin. There was something inside of her, a monster, and she knew, instinctively, that she was not going to survive its birth.
Sheila Rosenthall began to scream, and she didn't stop until her lower torso virtually exploded outward. Blood and organs were forced out of her now lifeless body as a large, milky-white cocoon-like mass emerged, as well as three slime-covered insects.
But they were unlike any of the bugs currently in the habitat, for they were somewhat larger, with more scale- like chitin, fuller wings and two slimy phalluses on the end of their tails rather than one. They also had a strange red stripe down their backs, as well as a red splotch across their diamond-shaped skulls, with the stingers of the wasp part of their heritage in addition to the mandibles of the ant.
The new insects rubbed against one another and let out a shrill screech. Even as the slime coating their bodies was beginning to dry they were already testing their wings.
Up in the monitor room, Fransk and his assistant, Leonard Banks, watched as the newest members of the Hive actually lifted themselves into the air.
"Well," said Fransk. "This is an interesting development. Call the General."
Banks nodded. "Yes, sir. Right away."
Over the next two days the three new Bugs continued to grow, until they were half-again as large as any of the other drones. They also isolated themselves, seemingly wanting nothing to do with the other drones or even the agitated Queen, who regularly screeched for them, without success.
Marston Fransk, and his people, however, were more interested in the egg-sac. It had not yet hatched, but they were able to make environmental and various other scans, which indicated there was a viable, insectoid lifeform growing within it. They had no idea what it would look like though.
One morning, Fransk wandered into the monitor room with a cup of coffee in his hands, and glanced down at a screen which showed, for the better part of a week, a static image of the egg-sac. He nearly choked on his drink as he realized all it was displaying now was the silky remains of the sac, and no sign of the creature or creatures which had emerged from it. He slapped the one way window.
"Damn it!"
Fransk called in his technicians, and got them to work on locating it.
Whatever it was.
The insect habitat was equipped with the most advanced, state of the art sensor and monitoring systems, and it was capable of keeping tabs on every lifeform in the artificial environment. At least, it was supposed to.
Marston Fransk paced back and forth, across the floor of the monitoring room, as technicians ran their sensor sweeps for a third time. He was becoming frustrated.
"Well? What's going on? What's wrong?"
"Nothing sir." The technician was, obviously, very nervous. "I'm just trying to make sense of these readings, so I can have some more definite to report. Sir."
Fransk's brow furrowed. "Make sense of what? What are they telling you?"
"Well, sir..." The technician cleared his throat. "...according to these readings, there are currently ninety seven insects present in the habitat at this time."
Fransk blinked. "What?" He shook his head. "No, that's impossible. At least count we had a hundred and eleven insects in there. And that's not counting those three, possibly four, new lifeforms that were spawned today." His lips grew taut as he spoke through his teeth. "Are you telling me, in our darkest moment, when my superiors are threatning to cut our funding because we have failed to produce a usable test subject, that we have started losing insects again? By the dozen?"
The technician nodded. "Y-Yes sir. This would seem to indicate..."
"I know what it indicates idiot!" Fransk shook his head. "But why? They're out of cycle."
Every so often, the Bugs seemed to get it into their tiny insect brains, to attack each other. Usually it occured because the Hive had exceeded a certain number of drones, around two hundred and fifty or so, which led to the increase of pheromone signatures and a resulting spike in aggressiveness.
They also did it when a particularly aggressive or disruptive individual was born, and the other drones attacked it in order to preserve the safety of the Queen and the well-being of the Hive.
Fransk slapped his hands down on the desk. "The newborns. Could they be the cause of this?"
"Maybe." The technician pulled a graphic up on his monitor and after a few moments, nodded. "We can't get an accurate reading, sir, because the newborns have a thermal, and pheremone, signature that is unlike any I've ever seen before. Our sensors have a hard time locking on to them."
"We have to find them!" said Fransk. "Our entire future is riding on these creatures!"
"There's something else, sir." The technician shook his head. "Thermals are going crazy. I think there's another anomalous lifeform in the habitat. It's hard to be sure..." He licked his lips. "...but these readings resemble those of the creature we detected in the egg-sac."
"What?" Fransk leaned in closer. "Where is it? Show me!"
"I wish I could, sir." The technician licked his lips. "But according to these bio-readings, it isn't a bug. At least, not like any of the others I've ever seen. It's human DNA sequences register as far higher than that of any known insect, including the Queen. It's a mutation, sir, even among mutations."
Fransk was silent for a few moments. "At last." He reached for the nearby phone. "Assemble a recon team. We have to find that lifeform, and bring it in for analysis at once."
A short time later, Fransk paced the length of the monitor room, trying to make himself understand what both the recon team and his technicians were telling him.
"Dead?" he asked, again. "All of them?" The technicians nodded. "The drones? The Queen? Hundreds of insects are dead, and you can't tell me why? Or how?"
"Oh, I can tell you how sir," said the leader of the recon team, still in the habitat. "They've been torn apart. This place is a war zone. It must have been one hell of a fight."
Fransk shook his head. "This doesn't make any sense. The drones I could understand, but why would the mutant strain want to kill the Queen? Since she was the only one capable of breeding, it effectively ends the possibility of any further continuation of their species."
"Maybe that's why sir," said the recon team leader. "I've heard of animals wiping out their own kind in a twisted sense of self-preservation. No more drones means no competition."
The loss of the Queen was almost too much for Fransk to bear. He had been counting on her spawning dozens, perhaps hundreds, of offspring. He'd hoped to one day assemble an army of the super-insects, usable against the enemies of the United States, external and otherwise.
"And you still can't find any of the newborns?" Fransk continued. "Dead or otherwise?"
"No sir."
"Sir!" The other technician spoke up. "I've been analyzing a forty-seven percent increase in the oxygen level of the habitat, and I think I've finally located the source."
Fransk crossed his arms. "What is it?" He didn't really have time for such trifles, but anything to keep his mind off his current dilemma was a welcome one.
"One of the sealed protective gratings over the air-filtration units has been removed," the technician replied. "I believe it had been allowing too much oxygen to..."
"What do you mean removed?" Fransk's heart skipped a beat. "Those units are housed in the ceiling, and can be accessed only from above. I've authorized no repairs." He leaned in closer to the monitor. "Show me the grating in question. I want to see it for myself."
The technician nodded, and typed in the command. "Coming on-screen now, sir." As one of several cameras in the habitat rotated, a twisted piece of metal came into view. The grate had not simply been removed, it had been torn apart. From the outside. "Oh shit."
Fransk's jaw grew tight as he reached for the intercom controls. "Oh shit, indeed."
Dr. Amanda Packwood, a biogeneticist, was busy with an experiment in another part of the complex, when the announcement came over the intercom.
"Attention! Habitat containment has been compromised! One or more of the test subjects may be loose in the facility! This is not a drill! Emergency protocols have been iniated!"
It might have seemed strange for a female scientist to be part of a project like Overkill, but for the thirty-four year old Packwood her work was all that mattered. She had no direct involvement with the Bugs themselves, and was careful to keep her nose clean so she did not have to see the habitat up close.
"Great. Like I really need this today?" As she went to lock the door of her lab, Packwood's mind raced through the possible repurcussions of a Bug escape. If the high-ups were forced to terminate the project for one reason or another, all of her work would be ruined--she needed living samples of human and insect DNA in order to do her research, the extent of which even Fransk did not understand.
The raven-haired scientist was just returning to her experiment--a form of artificial nuero-transmitters, which she hoped to one day use to use to enhance the base intellect of the insects so they could be more controllable, when she heard the sound of metal scraping against metal. She stood there, trying to pinpoint the source, until a grate was knocked off an air vent behind her.
She turned and screamed. Two of the mutant bugs, which she had never actually seen before, slid out of the air vent, followed closely by a third.
Amanda did the only thing she could think of under the circumstances. Screaming her head off, she turned and ran for the door. Her mind might have been frozen in fear but her body wasn't so encumbered, and for a moment it looked as if she might actually make it.
But that moment ended, as her fingertips were grazing when the control panel to unlock the door, when one of the bugs rammed its head into the small of the scientists back. With a shrill shriek of pain her legs buckled, and she went down in a tangled heap as the bugs leaped upon her.
"Shit! Get off me! Get off!"
In a flash their claws and mandibles had torn the clothes from Amanda's helpless body. She bucked and kicked and screamed, trying desperately to get away, but was unable to dislodge the insects as one of them pinned each of her arms to the floor with their full body-weight. To her horror, the third screeched and buzzed as it made its way between her taut, tanned legs. Her eyes widened in realization.
"No! Oh god, no! Please! Stop it!"
Amanda's cries became a sharp, tortured wail of agony as the insect moved its tail. It thrust one of its leathery tail-appendages deep into her virgin ass, and the other into her tight, sparsely haired pussy. She arched her back, unleashing an almost inhuman scream as the beast began to brutally rape her.
While this went on, and the other two insects continued to buzz in what almost sounded like contentment, the sound of movement in the air vent indicated a new arrival.
Through tears of pain, Amanda saw the monstrous shape over the pounding body of the insect on top of her. A shuddering orgasm ripped through her body as the thing loomed over her, apparently observing the other bugs at work. Surprisingly, it made a sound almost like a laugh.
Amanda Packwood, meanwhile, could do nothing but scream.
Marston Fransk paced the length of the Red Lake lobby, a high-security area where anyone entering or leaving the facility underwent intensive security sweeps. He was not alone either, a half dozen men wearing body armor and carrying cryogenic sprayers also stood at attention.
Fransk knew the three, perhaps four, bugs were loose somewhere in the complex, but he had no idea where, as their sensors still could not accurately detect the creatures. He knew that the main entrance was the only way in or out of the facility, so he was preparing to make a stand there. His men would not kill the newborns, however, since they were far more useful to him alive than dead.
A thunderous buzzing sound alerted the humans to the arrival of their quarry. All eyes turned as the three bugs came sailing around a corner, their wings beating madly. Catching sight of the men, they slowed, then landed, an almost angry glare in their compound eyes as they cackled and buzzed.
Fransk's eyes narrowed, and he nodded. "They're perfect." He knew his superiors would consider these insects a marked improvement over the earlier generation. They were strong, fast and--if their ease in making it this far was any indication--intelligent as well, making them incalcuably valuable as weapons. He envisioned the insects being dropped on an enemy stronghold or village, infilitrating the paltry security systems and taking care of any humans inside before the opposition knew what was happening. "Boys!"
Before the guards could mobilize, something else came around the corner.
It was a hideous mockery of humanity, but there was no mistaking the fact it was not human. It was a short and stocky creature with a clumsy gait, as if it was unaccustomed to walking on two legs. Its body was stooped, with a pronounced hump, and it had a diamond-shaped head with compound eyes and hooked mandibles. Its hands and feet had three 'toes', all with talons, and a longer, thick appendage, similar to the phallic tails of the insects, on a tentacle-like stalk from its hindquarters.
Fransk smiled. "The hybrid!"
For a moment, the insectoid-thing seemed to study the humans before it. Then it threw its head back and made a shrill screech-like sound that appeared to goad the other insects into action at once. Fluttering their wings the trio darted forward, taking to the air before Fransk and his people were prepared.
"Watch out!" Fransk shouted. "They're attacking!"
But his common-sense warning came too late. The men with him had been trained to combat the bugs, but that training was not consistent with the actions of this new breed. They were accustomed to insects which bounded, which ran with incredible speed, not bugs that could fly through the air like miniature missiles. They didn't even have the chance to raise their cryo-sprayers before the insects flew in circles around them, pincers and stingers darting in and out with blurring accuracy and within a matter of, perhaps, a few seconds Fransk was left standing in the middle of a bloody mass of former humanity.
"Oh shit." Fransk was afraid, though he did not want to admit it, even to himself. The bugs were supposed to be his project, his creations, and the fact they were turning on him now meant he had, in some way, failed. His ego, a fragile thing at best, simply could not handle that. "No!"
Trembling, the man who had headed Project: Overkill for over a year went for one of the cryo-sprayers. It was pointless, of course, but that did not stop him. A thick, leathery hand clutching down on his shoulder did, and he gazed up into the multi-faceted eyes of the human-insect hybrid.
"My child..." he whispered.
Cackling, the hybrid leaned in and ripped Fransk's throat out with its deadly mandibles. It continued to feed, in time consuming the entirety of the pompous man's head before it was, apparently, sated. Chittering to itself, the hybrid shrugged Fransk's body aside and headed for the door.
The other insects followed, eager to get their first view of the outside world.
The main doors were sealed tight, thanks to Fransk, and the insects did not have the capability of manipulating the security controls--but that did not slow the hybrid. It picked up a metal chair from behind the front desk and pitched it at the door, which was mostly made out of plast-glass. It shattered easily, giving the insects their first taste of fresh air as they plunged outside.
The hybrid, which had been bounding with surprising speed on all fours, now rose on to its hindlegs and took a deep breath. The other insects landed to either side of and behind it respectively, while the bipedal mutant itself let out a shrill screech and spread its overlong arms.
Something here was different but the hybrid did not yet possess the intellectual capacity needed to understand exactly what was going on around it. With every passing moment it was becoming more and more aware, though it had not actually acheived true sentience. At least, not yet.
Back in the facility, the hybrid had been exposed to artificial nuero-transmitters when Dr. Packwood escaped, very briefly, from the clutches of the other insects. The scientist, having just been brutally raped, was not at her intellectual peak, and had grabbed the nearest thing she could find to defend herself. It turned out to be a beaker of yellow-green liquid, her experiment.
Screaming, she tossed it wildly at the hybrid. The liquid splashed all over the bipedal mutant, and the resulting conflicting sensations drove the creature berserk. It leaped upon the scientist and tore into her chest, where she actually saw her living heart get torn out of her chest and eaten right before her eyes. Before she died, she felt a thick member thrusting deep into her already distended pussy.
Now, back in the present, the hybrid cackled as it detected a familiar scent. Even though the Red Lake facility had been purposely built out in the middle of the Mojave Desert, to avoid prying eyes, it was nonetheless aware of the presence of human female pheremones.
The hybrid turned to its brethren, pointed, and screeched. Buzzing, loudly, in response they spread their wings and took to the air, leaving the hybrid to follow on foot.
Twenty-four year old Mark McHann, college football captain, was sitting against a small boulder. He had one hand behind his neck to support his head and the other clutching his rock-hard dick as he furiously masturbated, with his shirt open and his pants down around his knees.
In front of him, sprawled out on a blanket, twenty-three year old blond Elisa Rayden and twenty-three year old redhead Diana Summers were locked in a passionate sixty-nine. Both girls thrashed and moaned as they tongue-fucked one another, each trying to be the next to bring the other off for the fourth time.
The two girls had been friends with Mark, and each other, since grade-school, had discovered a mutual lesbian attraction in high, and started a relationship the first year of college. Mark was allowed to watch--though not be actively involved--the girls soon admitted to him, because having him there turned them on almost as much as it did him. He also was not a threat to them, or their relationship.
Mark, Elisa and Diana had driven his 4x4 out into the desert, ostensively to collect some samples of the local flora and fauna for a school project. In truth, they were all horny as hell, as this particular little valley was out in the middle of nowhere, so they were assured privacy.
A line of sweat formed on Mark's brow as he gritted his teeth. He was close. A few more strokes, and another screaming orgasm for the girls, and he would lose it. From the pressure building up in his dick, he was sure this was going to be the biggest blow-out thus far.
All of the sudden, the air was filled with a strange buzzing sound. It was enough to even get through to Mark, a look of concern turning to anger as he raised his head and glared behind him. He never even saw one of hybrid's dagger-like talons lash out and rip into his throat, severing his voice-box and leaving him unable to warn his two friends as the three drones rocketed past him.
Elisa and Diana were so involved in their passions, on their impending orgasms, that they completely failed to notice the approaching insects. But their screams of pleasure soon turned to terror, as both of them were swept up in monstrous claws and pulled apart from one another.
The blond, who had been underneath, remained flat on her back as the bug hunched over of her. Its weight kept her pinned to the blanket as it pounded it double-phallus tail into her sodden pussy, and tight ass, bringing her to a shattering orgasm in spite of herself. She cried and screamed.
The redhead, meanwhile, had desperately tried to crawl away. As a result she was on her hands and knees when one of the other insects caught up to her. It clutched her firm, tanned hips with its talons, holding the screaming girl in place as it twisted its tail around and began to brutally fuck her.
Since the other insect had little to do, for the moment, it turned in mid-air and joined the hybrid in feasting on the lifeless corpse of Mark McHann.
The drones continued to take turns fucking the girls, into unconsciouness and beyond, while the hybrid sat and watched with a distracted, almost bored expression on its face. It had made no effort to join the other insects in the rape. It had hardly moved at all, in fact, since eating the boy's body.
Buzzing angrily, the hybrid raised its head and turned eastward. Something was calling it, urging it to go in that direction. It had been sensing it off and on since escaping the Red Lake facility and it could no longer resist the lure. It got to its feet and chittered, bringing the drones to its side in moments.
The hybrid screeched. It turned eastward and pointed.
Under the hybrid's direction, the insects made excellent time getting out of the desert.
They did not encounter any more people since the college kids, however, and by the time they finally came to the edge of human civilization the drones were hungry.
Though it sensed this wasn't their ultimate goal the hybrid led the other insects right to Oasis, a small town on the edge of the desert which was little more than a rest stop to and from the desert. There were plenty of scents for the insects to follow, but it was the hybrid who chose.
Vicki Sandler knocked on the door of the RV, again, and frowned.
Her younger sister, Missy, was inside. She had gotten into an argument with their father, and come back to the RV to pout. Now she was refusing to come out at all.
"Mis? Come on Missy. Dad's waiting for us." No response. "You're being a baby!" Nothing. The seventeen year rested her hands on her hips, and huffed. "Okay, fine Mis! Be that way!" She turned and stomped away, no longer caring if her sister came or not.
Inside, sixteen year old Missy moaned exhaustedly as she did come, again. The little redhead was down on her hands and knees, in the middle of the RV, being violently fucked from both ends by two of the drones. They had gotten in through a side window while she was taking a shower, and attacked her even before she had the chance to try and defend herself, or get away.
The other drone sat up on a nearby counter, alongside the hybrid. It had already fucked the girl once, while the apparent leader of the insect clan merely sat and watched. For once, though, the hybrid actually appeared to be a great deal more interested in what was going on in front of it.
The hybrid leaped off the counter and crawled closer as Missy shuddered in orgasm for the dozenth time. She was in tears but was so worn out she could no longer move, and in fact was being held up by the two insects that were raping her. When the hybrid screeched, the bug fucking her mouth immediately pulled out and backed off, leaving her upper torso to slump to the ground. She groaned.
But the other insect refused to stop fucking the helpless young girl. It screeched back, and the two seemingly began to argue about something. The other two drones moved closer, to watch, as the hybrid lunged forward. Its claws slashed out, severing one of the drones legs. It squealed in pain and pulled out, but that decision came too late, as the hybrid tore into it with claws and mandibles, shredding the drones chitin and throat while Missy slid to the ground, in a pool of blood and bodily juices.
When the hybrid was finished there was little left of the offending drone. The others set out to consume what did remain, while the hybrid turned its attention to Missy. She gasped, shaking her head as the hybrid stepped up behind the girl, and clasped her hips in its scaly hands.
"N-No...please...no more..."
The hybrid, of course, did not listen. It curved the snake-like ovipositor around the side of its body, and thrust it deep into the girl's sore, distended pussy. She arched her back and screamed as it began to fuck her, with even more force than the drones had done. Her tired, sweat-soaked body thrashed around, once more on the verge of a monstrous orgasm, and all she could do was scream.
The hybrid continued to fuck Missy into unconsciousness and beyond, while pausing momentarily to give the surviving drones some sort of directive. The two of them screeched and darted out the window, while the hyrbid pulled the little redhead's hips closer and continued to pound into her.
A short time later the drones returned, bringing with them the unconscious, naked--and, obviously, thoroughly fucked--bodies of Vicki and May Sandler, Missy's sister and mother, respectively. By that point, the hybrid was once again seated on the counter, hissing, as its first victim's stomach began to churn and bulge from something moving inside of it. She was, quite obviously, about to give birth.
The drones deposited their sweaty human cargo on the floor of the RV and joined the hybrid, which screeched and gestured excitedly at Missy. If the thing had been human, one might have attributed its agitation to that of an expectant parent. The drones began to buzz loudly.
Missy abruptly opened her eyes and screamed--one last, agonizing time--as her stomach exploded upward in a fountain of blood and entrails.
The creature which emerged was even less insect in appearance than the hybrid. It was definitely bipedal in its skeletal structure, with with four clawed hands and feet and no visible hump. It had oily red-brown skin, and was considerably more animate in the way it turned its head from side to side and chittered. It pivoted, its coal black eyes narrowing as it caught sight of the hybrid, which leaped off the counter.
Both of the insect-things approached one another slowly, almost hestitantly, as if the two of them were sizing each other up. Each time one would make a sound the other would echo it exactly, and eventually the duo hissed and butted their heads into one another. With that an apparent agreement was reached and both creatures turned, their eyes fluttering as they snarled and hissed.
Unexpectedly, they leaped upon the remaining drones. Claws flashed amid tearing flesh and gouts of blood, as the smaller, perhaps lesser, insects were torn to shreds in seconds. Still covered in ichor, they both approached the human women as they stirred.
Shrill, pain-filled screams filled the air.
A short time later the hybrid crawled out of the side window, followed closely by three of the red-skins. They had all spawned easily, thanks to the peculiar genetic structure of the Sandler women. Not that it had any way of knowing this, of course, the hybrid was only drawn to certain women for reasons it did not understand, though it likely would not have really cared in any event.
The only thing on the hybrids mind at the moment, was continuing their journey.
None of the newborns could fly, any more than the hybrid was able to, but that did not stop them from making remarkable time in their long trek eastward. They still did not know where they were going, or why, only that an unknown force was directing them, and they had to follow it.
Strangely the insects encountered a number of different women along the way, and yet they did not harass any of them. They had an ability to sense whether or not a particular female was suitable for breeding, whether they consciously realized it or not it or not, but so far these newborns did not appear to possess the irresistible drive to mate like their predecessors.
But the bugs were not tireless, and eventually they did have to stop and rest. For whatever reason, they chose a small truckers town on the outskirts of Texas.
Drawn to the heat from the engines of so many big rigs, the insects crawled underneath one and went to sleep; and they did not stir the entire night. When dawn came the next morning they awakened, and as they crawled out from under the truck the hybrid detected a familair scent.
Curious, it gestured for the others to follow.
Maggie 'BIG RED' Beckett, had been a truck driver for over twenty years.
In all that time, it had never failed to amaze her how horny being on the road always made her. At the end of an exceptionally long run, like this last one, she couldn't always wait to get into a hotel room. Sometimes, like this morning, she just seemed to lose control.
Whipping open her Levi's, she began to violently rub her pussy. She didn't care if anyone saw or heard her, not Maggie. Shyness had never been one of her faults. Once, she had gotten herself off in front of a bar full of men, most of whom wanted desperately to fuck her. Instead she grabbed a passing waitress and ate the helpless young girl in front of the other truckers, just for the hell of it.
So when the climax started, Maggie did not try to fight it. Sweat beading on her brow, she threw back her head and cried out. Her entire body shuddered with pleasure.
Without warning, the passenger side window exploded inward. The hyrbid slid into the cab and pounched upon the wide-eyed trucker, pinning her to the seat. Before Maggie knew what was happening, it had shredded her red shirt, a trademark, and was kneading her breasts. Since her crotch was already exposed, all it had to do was twist its tail around and thrust it right into the trucker's already sodden pussy.
Maggie's upper body arched painfully as she screamed. She was being rocked by the creature's violent fucking power, and she shook uncontrollably as it brought her to another orgasm.
The newborns, meanwhile, crouched on the hood of the truck, and watched through the windshield.
A coherent thought was beginning to form in the hybrid's mind.
While it waited for the larva, implanted in Maggie's now unconscious body, to spawn, it glared around at all of the other trucks in the parking lot. It could smell traces of where they had been on the tires, the lower body, and even in the aroma of their exhaust fumes.
On a more instinctive level, it associated one of those scents with their destination.
As the larva emerged from its fleshy prison, the hybrid turned to the other newborns and screeched. All of the other insects leaned closer and screeched in return.
Bill Harwood slammed his eighteen wheeler into park, and shut off the engine.
He climbed out of the cab at the gas station, his face tight and angry. This was the second time he'd had to fuel his rig, on a trip from Texas to Florida he had made dozens of times before with a single tank of gas. Something was causing his rig to use more fuel than usual, and then meant extra weight.
"Fucking stowaways," he grumbled as he headed around to the back. It wouldn't be the first time someone tried to hitch a free ride, he was just pissed it had taken him this long to figure it out. "I gonna kick somebody's ass! It better be worth it!" He flung the rear doors open. "Listen you son of a..."
Harwood's threat died in his throat, as a three-clawed hand lashed out and sliced his face open.
The hybrid leaped out of the back of the truck, even before his body hit the ground, and glared down at him for a few seconds before screeching to the others.
It had been the hybrid's idea, such as it was, to hide in the back of the truck. On a barely conscious level, it had reasoned that it would allow them to cover a great deal of territory, quite possibly even making the entire trip in a fraction of the time--without wasting their own energy.
The hybrid screeched and took off like a shot, and the newborns followed.
Haven itself might have been a quarantined ghost town, a dead zone, but the swamp was not.
On the contrary; scientists and simple curiosity seekers from all over Florida, not to mention the country, had come to view the Haven swamp as a perfect model for the stufy of genetic mutation. It was filled with mutagens and isotopes, and some things nobody understood, that made the water a biochemical soup unlike anything seen anywhere else in the entire country.
Nancy Sheridan was a biology teacher at Red Oak Woman's University in Mist Valley; the neighboring city of Haven. She had been making monthly visits to the swamp ever since it was first cleared it for public access, and had not been disappointed by any of the samples she had brought back.
This particular trip, she wasn't alone for a change. Several of her students had asked to come along, though the majority were doing so only because they were able to get class credit.
Helen Micheals, however, genuinely enjoyed science as much as her teacher. The shy young girl with the dark brown skin was somewhat embarrassed by her own good looks.
Amy Yates, on the other hand, was a staggeringly perky blond cheerleader--with big breasts she loved to show off as much as was humanly possibly. She lusted for her boyfriend.
Doug Conners, captain of the football team and the boyfriend in question, was open about the fact he was only taking the class for the science credit. That, and to be near Amy.
Kate and Lisa Parson were twin sisters, fiery redheads, with an odd sense of humor that made the two of them the banes of the entire class. They were terrible practical jokers.
Stifled by the heat and humidity of the swamp, Nancy Sheridan sat down on a log and undid the top buttons on her blouse. She was sweating heavily and her clothes were stuck to every curve of her body, but it didn't bother her that much. She was used to it.
Helen, on the other hand, sat beside her with both arms crossed awkwardly over her chest. She was trying hard to hide the fact her t-shirt was clinging to her huge, round breasts.
Kate and Lisa were sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of Nancy, their hands in their laps. They'd been busted by their teacher, for putting itching powder in Doug's sleeping bag.
"Where are Doug and Amy?" nancy asked, though she suspected she already knew the answer.
"I-I saw them...they..." Helen lowered her head, her words dwindling off.
Lisa grinned. "They're fucking their brains out." She pointed. "Over there, I think."
"Hey! Watch your language," Kate said, playfully slapping her sister.
Nancy shook her head. "I hope they're at least using protection," she mumbled.
"Miss Sheridan! Miss Sheridan, help!"
Nancy and the other lurches to their feet as Amy came charging into the clearing. The buxom blond was naked and covered in sweat and dirt, and had little scratches all over her body. Tears poured down her face as she tried time and again to catch her breath.
"Amy. My God. What is it?" Nancy asked worriedly. "What's wrong?"
"D-Doug..." The blond was shaking like a leaf, her skin pale and goose-bumped. "He's...he's dead..."
Nancy and her students gasped. "What? How?"
"A-a monster..." Amy was barely conscious, she was so scared. "Killed him...his throat...oh God. I can't believe this is happening. Dougy! No!"
"What do you mean, a monster?" Nancy asked. "A mutation of some kind? What did it look like?"
All of the color drained from Amy's face, and she pointed one trembling hand. "That!"
Nancy and her other students turned.
The hybrid had skittered up a nearby tree, and was peering down at them from a low hanging branch. It let out a shrill screech, and hissed at each one of the women.
Amy was the first one to bolt. Screaming, insane with fear, the young blond turned and ran as fast as she could in an effort to get away. It wasn't enough. She barely got three steps beyond the edge of the clearing, before one of the newborns leaped out of hiding and tackled her.
Its ovipositor--which was located between its legs instead of its hindquarters, and was far larger than any male human's penis could ever be--slid into her pussy and she shrieked as it began to brutally fuck her. The creature's taloned hands roughly mauled her breasts.
Lisa and Kate were the next to lose control of their senses.
Holding one another's hands, they muttered something about the location of the schools van, and darted out of the clearing in that direction.
Nancy shook her head. "No! Come back!"
But her warning came too late, even if they were to have heeded it.
Two more newborns pounced out of the brush and knocked the girls to the ground. Their claws flashed as they shredded the girls clothes like so much tissue paper. In tears, Lisa and Kate were lifted to their hands and knees by the chittering newborns, and left face to face as the insects rammed their ovipositors deeply into once virgin pussies and began to fuck them with animalistic hunger.
Nancy couldn't believe her eyes as her students were being horribly raped. For once, she wished she'd thought to bring a weapon along with her.
Helen stood frozen, trembling with fear, her conscious mind still trying to make some sort of sense of all the impossible things she was seeing.
Behind the unsuspecting teacher and student, the hybrid and the last of the newborns dropped out of a tree and made their way slowly toward them as if they were stalking prey.
At the last moment, Helen heard the sound behind her and turned. She lost her footing and fell as the newborn leaped at her, accidently causing it to sail right over her. It landed face first in the mucky gray water, and started to thrash about madly, screeching and hissing.
The hybrid, on the other hand, had no such difficulties with its target.
Nancy was totally oblivious to its presence, until the hybrid shoved her up against a rotting log and sliced into the seat of her jeans. Her eyes grew wide as her lace-covered pussy and ass were partially exposed, and it wasn't long before she felt the insects ovipositor moving up her leg.
"No! Oh God, no! Get it away! Helen! Help meEE!" The teacher's cry became a tortured scream as the hybrid's ovipositor punched through her panties on its way into her pussy. It fucked her hard against that tree, and in only a few moments she could feel the unmistakable tremors of her first orgasm. She desperately tried to ward it off but to no avail, and her body arched painfully. "NO!"
Helen crab-walked backwards, trying to get away from the monsters. She wasn't crying anymore; in fact, a part of her conscious mind had already shut itself off in order to try and deal with what was happening. The poor girl was just barely aware of her surrounding anymore.
The other newborn finally crawled its way out of the mire. Covered in much and mud it screeched angrily as it charged toward Helen. In desperation she slid back up against what felt much too solid to be anything but a tree; until she felt it moving on its own behind her.
A number of thick, green, vine-like tendrils shot out, enveloping the newborn before it had the chance to even begin formulating the concept of needing a plan of escape. The creature struggled, but the tendrils were just too strong--and they continued to squeeze tighter and tighter, until the newborn's bones gave under the pressure and were slowly ground to powder. It screeched once more, and then was silent.
The hybrid jerked its head up, its eyes narrowing. It flung Nancy's sweaty, half-concious body aside, and stood tall as it caught sight of the massive green shape standing behind Helen. More tendrils lashed out, entwining the insect in their unrelenting, vice-like grip. Its cry alerted the attention of the other newborns, who abandoned the girls in favor of attacking what they could see was a serious threat.
Helen clamped her hands over her ears and closed her eyes as all the insects attacked. She didn't want to know what was going to happen to her, she just wanted it to end. Hideous, inhuman howls of anger and pain filtered in, despite her best efforts, and she felt a chill wash over her entire body.
The attack was over much sooner than she expected. When all the noises died down, she hesitantly opened her eyes; to find that the hybrid and the newborns had all been crushed to death. But in their place, vine-like tendrils were penetrating the pussies of her teacher and classmates, and they were thrashing about and moaning as a new kind of monstrous rape was perpetrated on them.
Helen finally got up the nerve to turn, and look at what was behind her. Her eyes widened, as a sea of emerald- hued tendrils swarmed toward her.
THE END
For Now