Black. White.
The alarms began to fade into his mind. Sharp, electronic, distorted noises playing over the intercom. Blaring. He had to stop running - had to get a hold of himself. He had to think on who the fuck that lady, that goddess was. How did she know his name? His real, true name? How did she make him remember things? How the fuck had she changed him, and where the hell was he meant to go?
He shook his head, grinning as his own name came back to him. Benjamin. Benjamin Oliver Walker. More memories, fragments. Flashes still, but more pieces. He was beginning to assemble them in his head, slowly forming a timeline - a chaotic spiral that might've given him insight as to how he came to be at the site. Yet still, even with this second boon, he couldn't ignore that building heat in his body - that urge to fuck.
Where there was silence, a spare space for idle thoughts in his mind - they were of the Sculpture. Of a hole, to annihilate - a dumping ground for his wild seed. It was this urge, this thought and this rut that drove him now. Before departing from that square, he returned to the top walkway, securing his jumpsuit. Empowered by his feelings of lust, He tore out a pocket, and strapped it to his thigh with another strip of cloth from the suit.
High-visibility and decency be damned - if he was going to traverse through hell itself, at the behest of the Imperatrix - then he'd do it as naked as the day he was born!
Collecting the keycard he had previously, he looted a few things more - a half-eaten bag of chips, a crushed water bottle, and a belt he'd seen laying on the ground - all from where the bodies used to be. Where they'd been before the Queen took them away, to god knows where. Benjamin, or "Ben", as he started calling himself, darted down a curved path to a carpeted office block.
Ah, good. More blood. More black, corrosive, bubbling shit on the walls. No bodies, however. The lights seemed to shine brighter here - the humming buzz hitting Ben's ears in just the wrong way. The air was the only reprieve from the onslaught of sensory dulling - tinged with the faint scent of sexual fluids, still as strong as they were when he was pleasuring 173. At the end of the hall sat an armoured door, locked tight - and two rooms either side, both with windows.
One was shattered - point of impact lined with darkened, filthy blood - and the other was spotless. He looked closer, past a smear of that caustic cream - and saw another SCP - or rather, it's page, on the room with the unbroken window. 1162 - the hole in the wall. Designation; Euclid. He scoffed at it, eyes darting past the room quickly, and skittered to the end of the hall, mashing his card against the reader.
It errored out, blaring with an angry noise, until he stopped. Sighing, kicking the door, he turned around, and weighed his options. As he took just one step towards the broken-glass room, his mind flashed with a thought.
Danger. Death. Grey.
He skidded back a step and shivered in fear - not knowing what caused that reaction - catching his breath. Ben then looked back at the SCP's room, and sighed, darting his gaze about for any and all stalkers.
Seeing none - he forced his card against that door's reader, and got in. Quickly locking it behind himself, his breath caught in his throat - and he sputtered at the peculiar thing in front of him. The room looked like any other office, complete with desks and a nearby station with tubes, clipboards and computers - no doubt for recording what the hell the hole in the wall did, but…
There was no hole in the wall.
Correction - if he thought about it, in a way - there were now two holes in the wall. Stacked atop the other, contained neatly in the package of a squirming, athletic ass. Squashed against sad ass were two thick thighs, toned to perfection - trying desperately to pull and tug away from its position in the cement. All that movement - that trapped writhing, energised him like SCP-173 had done prior.
Guided by his ghoulies, he strode forward, noticing a nearby document explaining the anomalous thing before him. With one hand already gliding over the stuck creature's ass, his dick hot-dogging her thick cheeks, he perused the paper in hand. As he skimmed over it's contents - more and more of it became clear, like he'd seen it, or heard of it before. He knew of its original property - finding things which had once been deemed lost, in exchange for an item on the possession of the tester.
He mused, focussing his ears on the keen, quiet moans that came from that wall - dragging his thumb to circle around the being's asshole. It shrieked, though muffled, and he chuckled, tossing the paper aside. His grip was noticeably softer, kinder than his encounter with the Sculpture - but he couldn't quite figure out why that was. Perhaps it was because this unfortunate thing had just been granted sentience? All it knew, was either the other side of that wall, or the darkness in between - and all it could feel was a veiny prick, sawing between it's newly found asscheeks.
The least he could do was be gentle.
But Ben wasted no time - as with 173, he slid his already-dribbling cock into the folds of the womanly creature, moaning loudly with that complete sheathe. He had to catch his breath halfway through, not expecting the pleasure to envelop him so quickly, so easily. But, nonetheless, he picked his pace up - inspired by the muted moans coming from the wall - fucking her.
He tried his best, his very hardest not to cum immediately, but ultimately failed as 1162's cunt clamped tight around him, undulating his entire length, as if edging every bit of blood it could to keep him erect. And then he felt himself slip again - a frenzy oncoming as he recognised the submission of the beast before him. He got quicker, the slaps of his crotch echoing off the butt of the battened babe. He got harder - those clapping slaps getting louder and louder, and he got rougher. His fingers dug into her hips, and her ass - thumb slipping quickly inside her unprotected asshole.
If her sudden contraction - her sudden constriction gave away anything - she'd just orgasmed, her thighs jiggling as her body shook, as best it could. That only energised him further - spurring on rougher and rougher strokes, thrusts. In the midst of it, Ben reached for a nearby marker, and bit the cap off, marking the SCP's flesh.
"If no one's around to claim you..." he joked, slapping her ass, disappointed that it's jiggle did not compare to that of the Sculpture's. He brought pen to flesh, and wrote to his heart's content.
Property of BEN
CUMDUMP
SPLIT ME
FUCK-MEAT
LOAD COUNT - PUSSY - III
LOAD COUNT - ASSHOLE -
Taking inspiration from himself, he pulled out of her pussy, head swimming at the sheer amount of jizz he'd loaded into the being's womb, and teased her asshole, kissing his tip to her puckered entrance. Stroking his cock, lubricating it evenly with his own baby batter and 1162's pussy-juice, he slipped right in, growling with relief. His rut temporarily abated, he thrust at his leisure, quickening again as his balls churned and rumbled, expanding.
Plap, plap plap...
Her moans, though choked still, got louder. She must've had a penchant for anal, he mused - a penchant which he was more than willing to indulge. Ignoring the brief flicker of the lights, and the dying of the alarm around him, he thrust wildly, hips like a piston. A piston built for breaking, loving, fucking. His testes slapped against the cum-spilling pussy of 1162, battering her, squirting just a little bit more cum out of her with each thrust.
Slap, slap, slap…
He continued until he felt his dick hit something - tip pressing against some smooth, foreign object, wedged deep inside the SCP. Quickly slipping himself out, he inspected the gaping, freshly-fucked hole of the hole-in-the-wall, marvelling at his own work. He stroked the small of her back as she tensed, and relaxed - the object just poking out of her. Ben chuckled as he retrieved the item, marvelling at his luck - and at the little movements 1162 made as she came again, spilling more of his seed onto the floor. Though wrought with his own warm cum, he recognised it as a keycard - a head scientists' keycard!
It was marked for containment of Keter-class SCPs, which significantly increased his exploration range of the chaos-struck site. Blushing, filled with a thankful spirit, Ben brought a wet, splooge-soaked hand down upon 1162's ass, slipping his cock right back inside her. He brought his forehead to rest against the cool concrete, mumbling growling "thank yous". Being sure to keep track of his progress, his mark burned again at the sign of conquest - invigorating him just like it did for 173.
So, with renewed vigor, with the intent of thanking this helpful, greedy little set of holes, well…
He fucked, as the Queen commanded. And came. And came, much like he did last time. Came so much and so quickly that he found himself getting light-headed, only to have his mark burn him to keep going. He made a new tally - finding clear spaces on the thigh of 1162 - "SLUT ORGASM COUNT - 卌 卌".
He didn't quite notice how ridiculous he looked until he felt a gentle wetness pooling to his ankles. He didn't notice until 1162's cries became so loud that he could hear them clearly through the wall. Words were forming in his ears. He didn't notice until pulling out of one of the hole's holes spurted cum back at him, like popping the cork off a champagne bottle.
The Ben he knew just hours ago would've been repulsed at the sight of his own chest and crotch getting blasted back with his semen. Well, D-9341 would've been. Now, he revelled in it as a job half-finished, but well started. He could hear 1162's voice getting weaker - begging for him to continue in that pleading tone. And the Imperatrix filled his ears - as if she were right behind him, encouraging him. Cum, she said. Cum, then cum again, then cum some more!
Cum until this whore breaks.
And so, ears filled with those rough-throated moans, the chorus of slaps, and the delicious spurt and squelch of his swimmers, firing out the abused holes of the SCP, he ejaculated. Dumped his fat fucking load into the asshole and cunt of the stuck creature. Pounded her with a brilliant, loving force, inspired by the Queen of the Whores herself.
When he was done, much to his blurry-eyed surprise, and to the weakened joy of his lover, their combined sexual fluids had pooled halfway up his shins. The room reeked of their coupling - sweat and spit and that slight office scent of carpet freshener dwarfed by the quadrillions of sperm swimming in that room. It was disgusting to him - so wonderfully disgusting, like a tribute to the Imperatrix herself.
With one final, ear-piercing roar, he slipped out of her, spurting a final load onto her back - cum marring the ink of the markers. When done, her displayed body was barely recognisable - pale pink flesh mixed with pearly white goo, and blackened streaks, dripping down onto the floor. Her final tally read as such;
LOAD COUNT - PUSSY - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌
LOAD COUNT - ASSHOLE - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌
SLUT ORGASM COUNT - 卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌卌
He had to rest against a wall to catch his breath - ignoring the flicker of the lights - the attention of the site's cameras upon him. And Ben beamed, as that red portal appeared again - almost tearing through the air in an instant. His mind was clouded with the vision of her, too occupied oogling to notice his own fucking torrent of cum, deposited into the SCP, and onto the ground. As she stepped out again, biting her bottom lip, giddy with excitement, she blew him another kiss.
"Another. So quick, my hunter! So… Thorough…" her gloriously smooth hands roamed mesmerizingly across the impossible curves of her body at the sight at her feet - and of the cum-blasted hole in the wall. She shifted her gaze to Ben with a loving look - pride and lust and adoration, which all quickly shifted to horror.
A blackness - a stark and clear contrast to the white of his seed - had appeared behind him. And, in the middle of it - a face, stuck in a ghoulish grin.
Before he could inquire about what troubled his Queen so vividly, he was gone from this dimension.