Adventures of a Doom Marine

The shores and hell and the inferno

Preparations

I, Flynn Taggart, a humble marine, have been asked to instruct the Deimos invasion force on what to expect.

The force assembled in a huge hangar surrounded by some of the heaviest duty weaponry that I had ever seen, a couple of hundred troops, plus officers, lined up on seats in identical olive uniforms of combat trousers, black boots and shirts with the sleeves rolled up. I leapt on to the stage to present, dressed in a similar borrowed marine uniform, which felt really uncomfortable. Going naked and barefoot had become my preferred and natural animal state for combat.

I looked around the audience of fit young men with their shaved heads, and imagined them being stripped naked and raped to death by the zombies. I was here to prevent that. Mind you, there were a lot I would happily strip and fuck their brains out, but it was time to be professional.

“Good morning, marines,” I began, “Let’s begin with introductions. My name is Flynn Taggart, and I am the property of the UAC, modified to fight the aliens. I was posted to Mars as a punishment after assaulting a superior officer, who ordered my unit to fire on civilians. You space marines now act as security for the Union Aerospace Corporation's radioactive waste facilities, which are used by the military to perform secret experiments with teleportation, by creating gateways between Mars, Phobos and Deimos. One day, Deimos disappeared entirely and "something fraggin' evil" started pouring out of the teleporter gateways, killing or fucking all personnel to death and turning them into sex-hungry zombies. The old Martian marine unit was dispatched to investigate, and failed. With what UAC learned, they began a program to turn me into a successful killer. I single-handedly made my way through Mars and outfought the barons of hell.”

That made them sit up and pay attention.

“To do this, the UAC made a lot of modifications to me, some of which you can see, some of which you can’t see, as I am dressed in my marine uniform. My natural fighting mode is to be totally naked. I spent weeks in the UAC laboratories being modified, and all that time I was kept naked.”

There was a small pause.

The screen came alive with a rotating 3D image of me. When I pressed the presenter, the image stopped. The 3D figure changed into a transparent mannikin. There were various bubbles containing words like “Skin Colour”, “Hairiness”, “Musculature” and “Calluses” pointing at various parts of its body.

“I won’t read the bubbles out, but I will go through them one by one.”

“My skin colour was adapted. I grew up in northern Europe where sunlight is very weak over half the year, and therefore I have a skin tone suited to low levels of sunlight, so I can synthesise enough Vitamin D to keep my skeleton healthy. The downside of that is that my skin burns relatively easily in strong sunlight. My skin now responds immediately to strong sunlight. It goes very dark.”

“Northern Europeans like me have eyes which have evolved to cope with low levels of sunlight and gloomy skies. In some parts of the world, humans have evolved eyes which act like sunglasses, with filters for ultra violet light. I now have natural sunglasses built in which polarise light to reduce glare, but at low light I can see even better.”

“All human beings have the ability to live naturally barefoot. Indeed, footwear is a recent addition to human culture and much of the world still walks around functionally barefoot. I grew up wearing shoes, so the soles of my feet were relatively soft. My feet would hurt out there. In time, of course, I would adapt naturally, and my feet would callus. The gene therapy used on me accelerates callus growth, so that within a very short period of time my feet callused. It will still hurt if I step barefoot on a Lego brick in the night, but my ability to run, walk, jump and climb have been enhanced. My soles are as strong as the soles of boots but sensitive, exactly as we were when we evolved on the African plains.”

I sat on a table and unlaced my boots, placed them side by side on the table, and then removed my socks. I wiggled my toes a little and then invited one or two of the marines in the front row to inspect the soles of my feet. I picked a couple of the younger ones, with shaved heads and mouths made to suck cock. They poked and prodded my soles, which were like tractor tyres.

“Are they tough, lads?” I asked.

They nodded and shyly grunted agreement, and returned to their seats.

“Hair was an interesting problem. We all have hair on our head. I don’t, but that’s thanks to the UAC.  We all have eyebrows, eyelashes and pubic hair. Pubic hair seems to act as a broadcasting system for female fertility, as it helps broadcast sex pheromones, but males have it too. It seems to provide protection against some STIs, but also encourages lice. Eyebrows and eyelashes also have protective purposes. In fact, all of us have hair follicles all over our body, which are triggered by hormones. If we all had high levels of this hormone, we would all be very hairy, a legacy of our Neanderthal genes. UAC decided in the end to turn the hormone off for me. I retain all of my hair follicles, but thanks to the therapy, no hair grows. Anywhere. This allows me to sweat freely and of course adds to the sensitivity of my skin”

“My reactions have also been enhanced. Whereas before they were average, I now react considerably more quickly. Let me show you.”

I motioned a couple of other marines to come up on stage, a beefy black lad who looked like a middleweight boxer and a Chinese lad who moved like a gymnast. Both looked quick. I held up my boots at my eye level.

“Catch them,” I said. I let go. The boots crashed to the floor. The marines were clearly not ready.

“Again”.

This time the marines were ready, but still weren’t quick enough.

“Not bad, “I said. “Third time lucky?”

This time the black lad managed to make a grab at the boot, but missed.

“My turn.” I handed the boots to each marine and made them stand about a metre apart. “So..when you’re ready…”

The boots fell. I took both of them in one swoop and stood up.

There was stunned silence in the room and then I thanked the marines, who sat down again.

 “UAC also increased my musculature. I am naturally a mesomorph, and although this part of the gene therapy can be applied to ectomorphic and endomorphic physiques, it’s just that the results are not quite so spectacular. They also changed my metabolism so that I tend to put on muscle, not fat, if I overeat, not that that’s likely on UAC rations.”

That brought a ripple of laughter.

“The results are impressive, I think.”

I began to unbutton my shirt, taking it off. I placed the shirt on the table, next to the boots. I undid my belt and trouser zip, and let the trousers fall to the floor before placing them on the shirt. I turned around.

“These muscles aren’t from working out or steroids,” I declared, “but thanks to UAC.”

There was a murmur around the room, and I noticed a number of marines who had gone a bit glassy-eyed at the sight of my body. No matter: it didn’t matter to the zombies whether you were gay or straight. They fucked you to death and you became one of them.

“There is something else, “I continued. “Some of you may have noticed that there is a bulge in my underpants.”

I whipped off my underpants and stood in front of the marines, stark naked.

“This is also thanks to UAC,” I smiled, showing off every inch of my slack cock and outsize bollocks. “I was a big lad anyway, but I have been upgraded. The average human erect penis is just over thirteen centimetres from tip to base, and I began at nearly sixteen centimetres. I now reach twenty centimetres with an appropriate girth. My testicles have grown in proportion, which means that my production of sperm has almost doubled. My blood flow has also increased, and I can remain erect for nearly two hours, enjoying several ejaculations.”

“So, marines, what’s the point of that other than the UAC saying thank you for allowing them to make all those changes?”

The question was rhetorical, and there was silence in the room. A number of marines were wondering if they could have the same treatment. A few were hoping to get the UAC’s latest weapon down their throats or up their arses. I would be happy to oblige after the upcoming battle.

“One weakness the aliens have is that contact with human spunk is like throwing sulphuric acid over them. It actually burns through them and kills them quite quickly. For the next month you will all be wanking every day and catching the spunk in a jar. This will be kept cold and fitted to a gun to fire over the aliens. That brings me on to what will happen in those four weeks and a couple of days.”

I had forgotten that I was naked as I began to explain what would happen now. The marines would get some of the gene therapy: what they got would depend on whether it was necessary and able to be delivered in time, which meant that they would only get the muscle and cock and balls enhancements. Where we were going was indoors and man-made, so there was no reason for built-in sun protection and feet like tyres. The night-and-day vision therapy took too long, so they would have to use night goggles, but indoors the sun would be no protection. They were, however, all ordered to use depilatory creams on their bodies, so that apart from eyebrows and eyelashes, each was as hairless as me. Every single one of us was tattooed in exactly the same place on the right and left shoulders so that we could identify each other. Every marine, me included, had to wear a cock cage to stop us from wanking – or having any other form of sex- until we were allowed to remove it and wank ourselves off into a jar. Once that was done, we showered, cleaned the cage, and put it back on. The levels of frustration were huge. At the end of this I reckoned even the straight ones would be at it like rabbits with other marines.

We trained and trained at how to spot different aliens, how to kill them (if spunk failed), and how to survive a zombie gang-rape.

In the end, we were all ready, a team of superbly-muscles warriors, stripped to the waist like the zombies, apart from me, as I fought naked.

Invasion

The invasion force was a fleet of ten transports accompanied by star fighters for protection, although the alien force had so far shown no capability to destroy incoming crafts. We landed and disembarked. The marines took their shirts off, and I have never seen a finer sight, of two hundred young, fit, muscular men bursting with testosterone.

It did not take long. The marines set off to clear the aliens and zombies, room by room. The zombies were rounded up, as nobody knew what to do with them, but killing marines was not our remit. The aliens were hit whatever we had, shot-guns, machine guns, rockets and the BFG, the big laser that could even take out the giant flying tomatoes in one go. The others were corralled into one building for the final encounter.

It must have been the biggest wanking orgy ever seen in the solar system. We focused on the aliens first. Those which we could not kill with lasers, rockets or shotguns, we herded them into a building with a huge ground floor and a first-floor walkway, looking down. I showed the marines what to do, grabbing my cock and wanking it furiously. I motioned for a marine to come up behind me and work my nipples to speed me up, and in a couple of minutes I shot a jet of spunk out over the aliens. It hit a couple full on, and it was as if I had thrown sulphuric acid over them. One died immediately. Others were screaming with their injuries. Panic set in. They were firing at each other. Suddenly, we were the masters of Mars and its moons. The other marines began to load the spunk guns up and fired a volley over the aliens. The boys had been wanking themselves off for days before the assault and storing the results: ribbons of spunk were destroying the aliens. It was chaos, but they were being wiped out.

We fought through to the last room. I was first through, though a few more marines soon came in.

All that now stood between me and the vanished moon was a Cyberdemon, a raging machine-cum-demon alien which looked invulnerable to every weapon I had. It was about twice my height and moved on thick robotic legs, but its upper body was animal, furry, armoured.

Its cock was a good forty centimetres long, with a girth to match, and it was erecting before my eyes. The Cyberdemon roared with laughter as it bounded over to me, picking me up in its huge hands, ripping away my weapons, pinning me down on my back and lifting up my legs. The lubrication was flowing like a river in flood, but I hoped that UAC had extended my operating range to taking an outsize baseball bat. The machine thrust its cock deep into me with one push. I felt my guts being wrenched apart, but my arse was holding. My hole opened to take this monster, and as it began to pump, I felt its length rubbing my prostate gland. Once my fear of being split in two faded, I began to enjoy this. The mechanical hands held me tight. The creature’s backside was pumping furiously. It was getting angry that its violent thrusts, which would have ripped an ordinary man in two, were making with writhe and howl with pleasure. He fucked me harder. I gripped him harder. The pleasure rising in my prostrate suddenly became the most intense orgasm I have ever had, a tsunami of extreme pleasure washing over me, and a jet of spunk shot out of my cock up on to its chest. It was like I had burnt it. The creature screamed. Its cock shot out of me, and I was dropped on the ground. My spunk was burning its way into the creature, and it howled and raged in agony as I lay on the ground, my cock swollen and red, and my arse feeling like it was on fire, with lubricant seeping out. The creature went into a frenzy, randomly running here and there, blinded with pain, until after a few minutes it collapsed and went very still whilst the other marines fired on it.

That left the mastermind, the Spider Demon, on Deimos.

Other marines were now pouring through, most stripped to the waist, some as naked as me. We all saw the vanished moon floating above us, ours to take back. The remaining aliens had been killed off, leaving the zombie marines on Phobos, who still seemed to be controlled by something else, which we assumed was the Spider Demon.

The victorious marines had rounded up the zombies, keeping them penned in. There were about a hundred of the poor souls, who seemed to want to do nothing except get one of the marines in with them and fuck them to death. I wondered what was going to happen to them.

Of course, we could have travelled to Deimos and taken on the Spider Demon. We did not know if it reacted to spunk. I was not sure whether even I could survive being raped by it, as the intelligence we had was that it had three huge cocks. The marines brought a nuclear torpedo up to the teleporter, and set the timer. It contained enough explosive power to devastate a small planet like Deimos. The device could be switched off by a marine at any time, but once it was teleported there was no way of stopping it.

The teleporter started up. The nuclear torpedo disappeared, and thanks to the wonders of quantum mechanics and entanglement its identical twin appeared on Deimos, but the original was destroyed forever. We watched through a screen linked to a telescope, and waited. The time it took for light to come back was added to the countdown time, as that was controlled by the general theory of relativity, and exactly at the calculated moment in time the surface of Deimos lit up.

Of course, Deimos would be a radioactive wasteland for years, and nobody would ever be able to visit and confirm that the Spider Demon had indeed been vapourised. The confirmation of its disappearance came from the zombie marines, who suddenly came back to life, as if their apparent death and zombie behaviour was actually the influence of the Spider Demon. They became confused, emotional and began to ask why they were held in a pen, and what had happened. They were back with us.

Victory

I was promoted straight to Major, and given a troop of twelve, hand-picked marines devoted to keeping me happy. I made sure that all twelve finished their gene therapies, and found myself with twelve willing subs whose mission was to provide me pleasure. Every possible perversion was available to be, and with so much time on my hands now I could just enjoy being pleasured by twelve of the fittest, most muscular and most virile men in the universe. Life could not get better.

I had my new posting on one of Jupiter’s moons, and my team were coming with me. We were on the verge of being put into stasis for the journey when all twelve suddenly rushed me. They tied me up so that I could hardly move, my arse up in the air, ready to receive their cocks. It was then that I suddenly realised that they were not talking, and I struggled as the first cock entered me. It was beautiful the way that big cock pumped and shot spunk into me. So was the second. One by one they queued up to fuck my hole, once, twice, three, four, five times.  Still, they came at me. I was starting to tire. Six times. Seven times. Eight times, I was the man who had outfucked the barons of hell and the Cyber demon, but my own men had turned on me. I felt weaker and weaker as I was raped for the hundredth time, and the two hundredth time. I lost consciousness.

And that was that.