The time spent in the Pocket Dimension of the Old Woman had taken a toll on him. So, at his Queen's behest, he slept. And as he slept, mouth wrapped around the teat of the goddess' breast, a face appeared to him. A voice, too. A dapper lass dressed in some 1940s era getup, taking a drag of a cigarette. It made the rest not so restful.
"You look afraid. Don't be afraid. This is a dream. The last dream you may ever have, for nightmares are coming."
"I wouldn't want to wake up, but unfortunately, you must."
As he awoke, Ben was left questioning his reality once more - noticing his environment had changed slightly. He was stuck still in 1162's former chamber, but had noticed his own seed was no longer up to his shins. It had gone, perhaps at the Queen's command, alongside 1162. Patting himself down, inspecting his mark to ensure it remained, Ben sighed, and left the room - clad still in a single strap, tying a pocket down to his thigh.
He fiddled around with the bag, noting his research assistant card had been taken - that 1162 had swapped it out in the midst of their rawdogging. He allowed himself a brief chuckle as he pressed the rectum-sourced card to the main hall's end point, and found himself somewhere worse than the offices.
Gone were the fluoro lights, the pure white tiles. Replaced by thick slabs of grey concrete, and ominous yellow warning lights. Gone was the carpeted, cum-stained floor, replaced now by metal grating. It would do hell on his feet, but, Ben pressed on, past the occasional blare of a warning tone through the PA, quickly. He tried not to let his thoughts catch up, instead riding the slick, pulsing motion on his cock, channeling his lust. That was another affirmation for him.
Either he wasn't going insane, or he'd gone so fully off the deep end that he thought it was all real. Those were the fucking Old Woman's insides, 106's! He knew them, knew that sensation of those billion licking tongues, tracing every inch of his rod, slicking down into his body. It was putrid. But so very arousing to him, the thought of the Queen's power, and how quickly they had shut down a Keter threat.
And he mused on that. Keter. Like the Queen had told him - a forgetting god had made things hard to remember - was she talking about the amnestics? He knew of other D-Class personnel being subjected to them before, but had he been given any? He certainly wouldn't remember if he did, but…
His past life was there. Pierced through that cloudy, murky veil in his mind, and brought into the light by Imperatrix's hand. He was a scientist. A researcher. But he wasn't tied to an existing SCP, he knew that much. He now knew he was discovering new ones? Or perhaps evidence of them - something like that. It also made him remember a name. One he recognised, as his tenure as a D-Class.
Doctor George Maynard. He, now probably a she, if she was still alive, was on site. He had to find her. Had to remember more. He had to fuck more things in service to his Queen. Had to fuck her. Had to continue, in the Heavy Containment Zone.
It was dark. Dank, too, and full of noise. Ambient, groaning creaks and creaking groans. Of metal, of men, of those creatures that lurked in the dark. How long had he been in the Pocket Dimension? Just how long had he been asleep? How fresh was the suffering he was hearing - and those cries?
On the cusp of hearing, he recognised that wail. The Shy Guy. Shy Gal, whatever the fuck. 096. They had to move it once - a bag over its head, scramble gear affixed to every camera pointed at the thing. The wail was higher pitched than usual, but still as inhuman, as hurt as ever. He couldn't bear to hear it. Benjamin closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and put a hand to a wall, trying his best to discern the labyrinthine maze before him. Just as the feeling of navigating the Old Woman's realm struck him, so too did he find that here.
A divergent path. Left, death. Her face is right there. Can't see it. Right…
He took a step forward, hearing the lumbering steps of what he could only assume was that emaciated, gangly abomination to his left. So, striking his gaze to his right, Ben pressed on, pressing his keycard against the locked door, breathing a sigh of relief as he came to a clearer sight. One room - one chamber - with one entrance. 096 couldn't stumble in, and whatever the fuck that was stuck in the chamber on the opposite side of the room looked passive enough.
Until it turned around.
She - it - the goddamn mask that had taken over D-1940's will and melted him from the face downwards, had taken another body. Another hapless, easily corruptible researcher, with a surprisingly curved, tempting figure, open to the world. A scientist's coat was loosely draped around it's shoulders, the middle open to reveal nothing underneath - just dark, juicy skin. Blinking, Ben swore he could've seen the mask's expression change, from a dramatic frown to a smile.
Fuck, he thought. He'd closed in on it without even realising. And as he got closer, more warning signs fired in his brain, telling him to get the fuck out of here. It motioned to a red button on the other side of the console, a microphone-controller. Ben pressed it, keeping his eyes squarely on the mask, ignoring the phantom feeling of the Old Woman's pussy 'round his member.
"Oh my gosh, oh thank you so much! G-Gosh, i-it's been so long since I've been stuck here! I-I, please… You've felt the wave too, right? The one that changed all the bodies? W-Well, maybe not, seeing that y-you're naked, but…"
The mask trailed off as Ben's gaze darkened. It began nearing the glass between them - reinforced to buggery and back, no doubt. Fixed in expression, with another blink the mask was unhappy again - grinding its body against the pane, putting itself on display. Darting his gaze down, Ben noticed a trail of blackness coming from the masks' eyes and mouth, plus glistening juices trickling from it's pussy.
"L-Look, I know you're scared, I-I am too, and… I wouldn't trust me either, b-but… I-I'm so horny right now~..."
Ben didn't respond. Silence lingered between them as the mask willed the body to do filthier things - gyrating it's hips upon a non-existent dick.
"I-I need to be let out, this… This wave, I… I need you, mister… I want to get out~..."
"No," he intoned, "you don't."
He noticed streaks. Lip marks. Greasy impressions of a human form upon the window in other spots. There was a fog in the room - but he could see past it. Bodies, too. At least 5, all in various states of decay. The mask had done this before - it may have truly been getting antsy, cooped up in it's cell.
"M-My body is on fire, mister… Y-You've got a keycard, you can just slip in," she said, diving fingers into her pussy, moaning, "and out…"
Focussing on the gentle burn of the Queen's mark upon his neck, Ben smiled at the mask. "No. How long have you been connected to your current host?"
He blinked, and it smiled at him. "Longer than usual."
Ben let the mask stew for a bit, noting any reactions, and movement. It was always so stiff, even when it mimicked human motions - but now it was fidgeting, like the Sculpture was when touched by the Queen. Perhaps her influence was getting stronger? It didn't matter, for 035 appeared to be fixated on his neck, his cock - and the pulsing motions it was currently going through.
"Whose body do you inhibit, 035?"
"Doctor Michael Harp, though," it jumped, jiggling it's bouncy chest, observing keenly, "I think I'll go by Michelle for now. My offer still stands, by the way. You look like you could use a good release."
Ben ignored the comment, breathing deep to release the tension off his loins, sighing. "Harp's body changed as you two were connected - what did you notice?"
"Come inside, then cum inside, then I'll tell you, stallion."
Turning heel immediately, Ben kept a calm facade as the Mask observed his movements, clambering against the glass as he began walking away. He'd almost made it to the door before she gave up, growling.
"Wait, just- argh, wait, god damn it! You can't leave me in this boring dump, I'll-"
"Answer me, Mask."
There was a pause as 035 backed away from the glass, shifting it's now-frowning gaze around, landing back on the lip-mark on Ben's neck.
"A breach. Lights went out, people started screaming, you know, the whole deal. Then, a flicker, after the backup generators came on. A red wave. A familiar one, too. Then, before I could get someone else in here, I noticed these," it said, motioning to it's tits, cupping a hand around it's mons.
"Familiar?" Ben asked. Did it know about the Queen?
The Mask stiffened again, unable to hide it's squirming, glaring at Ben's neck. "Alagadda. I know that mark from anywhere. You're being used, dickhead!"
Ben appeared shocked, hand coming to his neck, tracing the throbbing, glowing lips. "What!? T-Tell me, then," he implored the object, "what reality bender? I just woke up like this!"
035 appeared shocked, itself, shaking it's head slightly as it backed up, catching itself instantly. "The Woman in Red. I'm surprised she wasn't part of your little database, she's been a part of history as a meddler for millenia!"
Ben had to hold back a smile. "W-What? T-Tell me more, please!"
"Only if you unlock that door, and come in. Just unlock it - I won't move until I've answered you, I swear."
With a paused, hesitant click of the button, he nodded to her, eyes wide in shock.
"The Woman in Red has appeared to many before - often in times of great despair. She selects a certain few, and uplifts them to her level, bending bodies and whatnot to reap them, for a harvest. She appears with pure skin, as white as snow, covered only in a red night dress… That is who's done this to you. Now, i-if you're done interrogating me…"
Ben looked down to his pulsing, undulating dong, standing straighter than it ever had before. He had to fight every step to keep himself from cumming - and he could feel his balls 'bout ready to burst. So, with willful ignorance and hardened mind towards the words of the Mask, he strode at her command, into her chamber.
With those steps of his, he felt an aura exude. An aura of lust, of hate, and of love. One that promised pain, pleasure, and that deliriously delicious mix of both. He hoped, to high heaven, and to his Queen, that the anomalous object could feel it. And as he stepped into the steamy, muck-filled chamber, smiling as the bodies disappeared in clouds of red, he let Michelle's body approach.
Her hands roamed around him, bashfully, coy, and the Mask did it's best to lick him, with whatever blackened, oil-drenched tongue it had. It was moaning, mewling, putting on an act of submissiveness to him, one he could see through.
"Th-There's one thing I forgot to tell you," it whimpered, moaning as Ben's hands played with her ass, her nubile bod, "I lied."
It giggled thereafter, raising thin black tendrils to strike him, balking as it noticed the lack of other corpses, it's claim. And it certainly didn't appreciate as Ben laughed at her, continuing to paw at her body, her ass and breasts.
"And there's something I forgot to tell you, Mask."
He gripped her throat, and pushed her hard against the glass - ensuring that if another scientist or card-wielding creature was keen enough to walk in on them, they'd be greeted with a wonderful sight. Ben hiked one leg up with a free hand, and brought his tongue to the object's cheek, lapping her poisonous tears. Like licorice.
"I know you lied. And I'm gonna make you pay for it. For the people you killed. And if you don't answer me, I'm going to make you."
He guided his veiny, angrily pulsing dick to the Mask's host-cunt, and slammed into her, roaring with glee at that resistance. He praised the body's tightness, compared to the Old Woman's loose holes, and revelled at the attempts of resistance.
"I-ahn~-no! Fucking, get the fuck off me, you-"
He slapped it. Hard, getting more of that blackness on his hand, making it cry more tears in an attempt to hurt him. But he continued with his fucking, unrelenting and unending, filling the chamber with a chorus of flesh. Plap, paf, slap went their groins, colliding with vicious, dominating force, squeaking moans out the destroyed throat of 035's host.
"And," he grunted, body quaking in preparation for his release, "if somehow you don't answer my questions, I'll break your fucking mask. Or I'll leave you to the Queen. Only god knows what she'll do to-uhn~-you!"
He reached that orgasmic peak, pouring and dumping his wild seed into the creature's host body, howling again. He continued thrusting, past her tries at stopping him, past the distinct wetness of the once-deadly liquid the Mask secreted. And, with a blink, the mask's expression changed again. Happy.
A tendril whipped at his back, and Ben cried out in pain, leaning further forward into their awful embrace. 035 attempted again to push him off her, but, found her strength failing. Her body was still in prime shape, still standing, despite her corrosive nature, but it failed her. Or gave in. She cared not which, but willed another two tentacles to begin whipping at the D-Class's back, trying her hardest to ignore that wonderful, penetrating feeling.
"Do you really-ah~-want to-fuck~-die!?"
Ben answered by prying himself off her, only to force her down upon her knees. He ignored the searing pain on his back, the warm trickle that slid down afterwards, and the hundred tiny restraints desperately trying to hold him back. He fought through them, seed spewing forth from his fuckstick as 035's body pushed against him still. He positioned his jetting, squirting sex in front of her face - marking her - and made her meet his gaze.
"You lied about my mark," he panted, "but you know it, I can tell!"
His vision was beginning to blur, the edges of his sight fading and warping and wriggling with things, people. Ben focussed on the bounty of the buxom bachelorette before him, intent on harnessing his lust to strengthen his resolve, but still found his mortal body shaking. Too much had been taken out of him, and it felt that the Mask was only getting stronger, her whips deeper and deadlier. Still he took grip of the back of her head; hands digging into her scalp and tingling with morose delight as that liquid poured from her very pores.
Ben panted, roaring, "what do you know about the mark? Where's it come from, and who?"
"Fuck you, you waste of skin!" 035 bellowed, feebly striking at Ben's cock, his balls, recoiling as cum fired from his dick, marring her further. "You'll just attack me anyways! No wonder you're in here, you're a fucking monst-!"
035 was silenced with a thundering slap from Ben's energy-infused, red-pulsing, cum-spewing fuckstick. Doing so left Ben buckling at the knees in pleasure, mind reeling and head warping with pain, but he pressed on, ignoring the sweat bucketing from his form. He relished at the cracking along the masks' cheek, as more and more of her foul fluids mixed with his, marrying in a grey sludge that permeated the containment cell.
"If you're, uhn~," Ben grunted as he marked her cracks, sparks crackling alongside it, "not willing to talk, then you'll die. And I can't think of a fucking, uhn, worse death than being broken to pieces by a dick!"
035 answered, in a most polite fashion, by plunging a black appendage deep into Ben's back, splitting muscle and weaving past broken skin. It elicited a pain, choked gasp from him, yet still, he held a firm grip. Ben was sure that blood had been pouring down his back alongside that secretive secretion; but no such injury had fazed him like this. He would've been paralysed by such a colossal amount of pain, but something willed him past that. With every move he made he breathed a new world of torture unto that intrusive, wiggling spike inside him, bloodying his insides and damaging him permanently.
His vision flashed white and with a blink the Mask smiled, so he responded in kind. It tried to close it's lips but found his hands strong still, stronger than they had any right to be. Ben found her insides dazzlingly, dizzyingly delicious, the resistance of her once-human throat providing more than enough pleasure. And that wasn't even including that sweet, kissing tingle of the sludge pouring from the mask, coating his groin and legs.
"Of," he growled, biting past the taste of copper in his mouth, "of all the ways to die…"
Ben brought every bout of strength forward with every bob of his cock, thrusting in 035's mouth as if she were but a thing to be used. No, Ben corrected, destroyed. With each blink, each flash and contortion of the cracking, crying lips of the Mask, more memories leaked in. D-1940 was but one of thousands corrupted and corroded by her hand - she was as bad, if not worse than the Old Woman!
At least there was something primal, animalistic about 106, Ben thought. This thing beneath him, masquerading on a poor scientist's puppeted body, sought her pleasure in the act of turning humanity against humanity. In convincing, in lying, manipulating. The Mask was a conductor of chaos, and it was a wonder that it hadn't been unleashed yet, released from the site in the initial breach.
"C'mon, c'mon," he urged it, himself, "is this all you've got!?"
The Mask's body failed to resist. "Gllk, gllk, grrk-plf!"
Soon more cracks formed 'round it's lips, so full and plumpy they were, liquid seed pouring in to fill the gaps. 035 sprouted one, two more tentacles to reach forth and pierce Ben's skin, and found him easier to hurt directly. Soon those choked roars and horrid grunts turned to open yowls of pain, though he did not falter. He didn't stop. Primed by rage and moulded by lust, Ben continued thrusting his hips as hard as he could, until he felt that wonderful touch of his Queen fade.
Oh how awful reality seemed now. The Mask's body was still, though panting and shivering, the facade having been split down the middle. On the left half was drama; frowning and falling, and the right held comedy; soaring and smiling. Those tentacles slipped from his back, and once the cold, plagued air hit his lungs in the wrong way, Ben gasped. He collapsed to the floor, panting and shivering as he attempted to reach for his mark, finding only a sapped heat beating from it.
In his final moments, the former D-Class, former researcher of the facility, faced fear and foulness directly in it's cracked eye. The Mask continued staring, as it fell, sounding out with a hollow clink. It made it's moves, like a dying insect, tendrils of blackness reaching out and feeling for something, anything to latch onto. And so it was there that Ben died, in a pool of primal muck and rage, bleeding.
As his vision began to dim, fade entirely, he spared one last look at the scientist, Harp. His, her face was mottled, but not disfigured nor injured. The remaining half of the mask twitched it, willed the resisting body back into place to stare at the dying man, and just smiled.
"I know…" it spoke, cold. "If she chose you… Then I really am fucked… S-Sayonara…"
In that blinking instant, blackness awaited him. A cold, infinite void stretching beyond the halls and walls of the underground sepulchre. They couldn't hold him, hold his soul, but he stayed there. Ben stayed in that spot, perhaps shifting just a little, as if it were instinct. He was sure something laid before him; behind him, as well, but they were odd things. Odd places. Filled with odd people.
No, Ben thought, I am not ready. I can't die like this. How did I fail? Why did her mark fade? He asked these questions and so many more in that cosmos of nothingness, asking until his world began to spin. The last thing he remembered from then, in that dreamlike state, was a spiralling white thing, coming for him.
And within another blink, Ben awoke.
His eyes were closed and all around him croaked the Heavy Containment Zone. To his left again he heard the Shy Gal cry her awful wail. He dared to question what just happened; and why it felt like a fleeting thought rather than a memory, but pressed on, to relative safety. The screams of the site staff still echoed throughout those claustrophobic hallways, cascading in an unending, awful chorus, but he went on, back to 035's containment chamber.
Eyes snapping open, hands snapping to his back to inspect his wounds, Ben found himself free of muck, though not of the mark. He felt it thrum with renewed vigour, and breathed a painless sigh of relief as he inspected his back, finding no injury. In the cell in front of him stood Harp's body, once more, oddly human in it's idle movement. But Ben remembered. And bit by bit, he unravelled what he was researching, at least in his mind.
He had to stop himself from fucking shaking, ignoring the whispering words in his mind, to steady in reaction to what had just happened. Benjamin Walker had just reset himself, or at the very least, experienced the most vivid hallucination he'd ever felt. Knowing his former line of work, both were equally possible, along with those amnestics having messed with his head still.
It was easier to shut the whispers out, with that past in mind. That dream. So he stepped forward, of his own volition, eyes sharp on the Mask. It still unsettled him when it turned, when that beautiful, buxom body bounced, jiggling those jugs of hers so gently. Ben pressed the mic-button, and let out a guttural, throaty moan at 106's pussy, still jerking him.
"H-Hey! Oh my gosh, oh thank you so much! G-Gosh, i-it's been so long since I've been stuck here! I-I, please… You've felt the wave too, right? The one that changed all the bodies? W-Well, maybe not, seeing that y-you're naked, but…"
"...List the names of the bodies in that chamber," he ordered it, "and release Doctor Harp's body this instant, 035."
Instantly the Masks' stance changed, from pleading and pressing and rubbing to stiff, confrontational. It eyed him up, staring down, down for quite a while, then finally, meeting his gaze.
"Doctors Evans and Miller, guards Watson, Baker, and Troy. And unless you want to see dear old Michelle here die, then no, I won't release her. I can't," she spoke, using a mix of the doctor's voice and some ungodly rasp that emanated from the Mask's blackness.
"The wave changed you," Ben noted, dryly, "changed Harp. Her body is still alive under there, isn't it? How long have you been here, inhabiting her? Did you try to jump to those other bodies in that chamber?"
The Mask backed up a single step, Ben blinking and seeing it change from a smile to a frown.
"I've been here, on Harp, since the breach started. These others," she motioned, "were unfortunate byproducts. Heroes and horny helpers, like yourself. And no, I've been able to jump to them, I just-"
"-You're bound to Harp," Ben finished for her, scratching his chin. His mark throbbed, and he darted a gaze to it, seeing 035 fixate on it, as well. "This is some kind of joke."
"What is?"
Ben shook his head. "What's your endgame here, Mask?"
It chuckled, pinching the bridge of it's porcelain nose. "Not this shit again. Don't you have a site to escape? It's clear to me that I won't be able to get you to open that door, not even if I put on the doe-eyed girl act. Why don't you get out of here while you still can and leave me to stumble across some other schlub?"
Rage pricked at his skin, his fingertips, but Ben closed his eyes, and lifted his finger off the mic-button. The voices were stronger now, suggesting things, awful things, playing into his rage. One dared to speak as himself, and from that moment, Ben now understood what the Mask was trying to do. It's destruction was secondary, and it was already fragmented, battered. It could reform without a second thought! If it knew, truly knew of the mark on his neck, then of course it would try and incite his rage, anger him.
Anger was not the way to access the mark's potential, Ben reminded himself. It came from a lustful goddess, a loving goddess, one who was compassionate and showed mercy to the monsters he presented her; even one-oh-motherfucking-six! 035 was manipulating him even when he thought he was stronger than that, and it was working. So he breathed. Sighed. Rubbed his face and calmed himself, tapping into those lovely feelings he felt inside 173, 106, and 1162.
He held the button again. "Sorry, I had a brain freeze there. How have you been feeling since you've been bound to Harp?"
"Why do you care?" she asked. "If you're so concerned with data at a time like this, then-"
"-Not the data," Ben clarified, "you. I asked you how you're feeling. Good, bad?"
The Mask quirked it's head, staring at the man oddly. "A naked guy walked into my room and started asking me a bunch of questions. I'm bad. Some shockwave rattled the whole facility and now I'm stuck with some body that can't move past it's own fucking itch."
"Itch?" asked Ben.
"I'm not putting on the act just for the show, dickhead. I'm trying to ride out a high here that this body won't allow - the others here are a testament to that. You're more than welcome to join me in here if you think you can help," she said, propping her breasts up with her crossed arms, revealing to Ben those massive areolas.
He swallowed a lump in his throat, body quivering as the Old Woman's insides spasmed around him, indicating a climax in some far-removed dimension.
"Alright," he said. "I don't think you deserve the help, but, allow me to try my best."
The next few moments passed quickly, for he'd seen them before. The entrance, the disappearing of the bodies, the heat and the desire, the admittance of a lie, and finally, the whips. Ben ignored them, and pressed 035 deeper into the glass as he fucked her, unbothered. She feigned moans at first but he could soon tell when they were replaced with the real thing. As if Harp herself had come to the fray, and would soon fray to cum.
"Y-Y-You, ahn~, f-fucking-"
Ben silenced the Mask with a kiss. Sloppy, sucking, and sweet though it was, it didn't continue for long as Ben found his mouth overflowing with her blackness. The Mask contorted, nibbling back submissively after they broke, gyrating her wide hips upon his supernaturally throbbing cock. He brought their heads together, supporting her with one hand, and stared deep into those abyssal eyes as slid into her.
Whether or not she willed the body to hug him, it didn't matter. She loved it, by the sounds, and found the whips relenting, gently slapping instead of harshly striking. It served to egg Ben on, to make him fuck harder, longer, to tap into that mark of his and all of it's carnal glory. In hearing her moan, Ben's balls quaked, audibly, pouring a wave of cum into the doctor's tight pussy. In hearing, feeling their slaps and the sheer heat from the Mask, Ben's cock hardened further than it ever had, trembling of its own accord and vibrating deep against her love canal. And in seeing the sweat drip from the nape of the doctors' neck to her tremendous tits, Ben felt his vision focus on sweet spots.
Her shoulders, nibbled until they were marked with gentle teeth marks. Her neck, slathered and smeared with kisses, trailing the Mask's blackness back and forth. Her breasts, now splayed and bobbing in rhythm with his thrusts, were sucked and pinched and played with until the Mask sang a weary note, jittering over the strong body of her lover. With her fat ass pressed against the window, coat transparent and soaked from her sweat, the Mask felt all resistance leave her mind, until all she could think of now was pleasing Ben back.
He reacted at first with shock, at the tentacles playing with his ass, but he continued. Energised. Motivated. Full of lust and love and adoration for the body in his control, Ben thrust and came and fucked until the poor doctor's pussy could take no more, until she was bloated with that astral seed. It pooled beneath them, turning that black muck grey and leaking a distinct scent and foul heat into the containment chamber.
Ben let his moans be heard, whispering gentle debasements and tender cares into the doctor's ears, tracing kisses along the porcelain's patched cracks. In slipping from 035, letting her spill herself silly over his groin, his legs, and the floor, he sat her down gently, and stood. Still his cock stood tall, rigid, quaking with an unnatural heat and wondrous ambient light, throbbing in gentle sync with his balls.
Harp, the Mask, could barely keep themselves up. Their legs felt numb, like tingling jelly that refused to obey their commands. Their pussy, their insides were lit with rousing fires that only seemed to enrage when doused in Ben's jizz, and their top, their chest and bust felt so fucking sensitive. She looked up to Ben, as he held his dribbling fuckstick, as he jerked himself over her curvy, sweating body, and smiled.
"Stand up," he ordered her. "I left that tight little ass of yours unattended."
The Mask laughed. "Yes, s-sir. Though you m-may have to h-hold me."
035 took the time Ben spent holding her, covering and hugging her, to formulate a plan to get him. To kill, strike, maybe ride his body out of the joint and fuck everything she wanted to. 035 then gasped as she felt that plan shatter to a million and more pieces, at the hiking of her robe, the grip of her arms, and the quick, ramming thrust of his cock in her ass. Like a bullet piercing glass she felt herself crumble; her control be split into Harp and her.
Ben took note of her indecision; her meandering and playfulness, and pressed her tits against the glass, fucking her ass with reckless abandon. He made that hole his, lubricated by whatever black secretions the Mask produced and his own sperm, thrusting with glee. Their breaths fogged the glass, and Ben roared with pleasure as he felt his balls ripple again, bounding carelessly against the body's dripping cunt.
An alarm tone played, and if either partner gave a damn, they would've noticed the cameras stop and leer at them. They cared not, noticed not, and made aggressive love in oblivious spite. Ben took grip of the body's neck as he came, bottoming out against the doctor's fat cheeks and releasing himself like an animal, staring deep into the Mask's pits again.
"God, you're so fucking hot," he mumbled, thrusting gently, "you're so warm, you're fucking milking me…"
"I-I-I… I-"
The Mask cut herself off as Ben slid out of her, and slammed back in again, for one final stroke. She squirted a most torrential pour of mixed juices from her cunt, staring down at her distending stomach, shaking her ass around that veiny prick inside her. He pulled out, finally, and let her collapse once more, falling gently on her back, splaying her heaving breasts. 035 tried her hardest to will that body to move, moaned with the modicum of progress she made, and decided further resistance wasn't worth it.
Ben knelt over her, and began playing with her sensitive, tingly tits again. He pinched those nipples oh-so-lightly, and humped them, panting as the Mask attempted to regain just a mote of her willpower. Cum soon sprayed over her face, allying with the porcelain and seeping into her, onto her facade, and still he used her, fucked her, loved her.
"Y-You," she spoke, shaking her head as she held her breasts together for him, sticking a black-slickened tongue out of her mouth to lap at the infinitely spewing member.
"Gooooood girl," Ben growled, playing with her sludge-slathered hair, spurting a gentle rope of seed with every thrust. "Good girl."
A familiar sound, a rip-crackle in the fabric of spacetime sounded out just near them, but Ben continued on, as he stared at his Queen. She smiled to him, and knelt by his side, stroking the Mask's face, smirking as it frowned.
"...Alagadda wasn't enough for you. Nor were the courts you found yourself in… Well, dear Black Lady, you'll find yourself a court and more in my realm. A place where you can plan to your heart's content… And where you'll find that plan drenched in the seed of my lover... We could always use a jester!"
"N-No… No, w-wait!"
Snap, and Ben was left resting against the wall of the containment cell - the Queen and the Mask gone. He reclined, sighing, steadying his heartbeat and firing a final, disappearing ray of cum, shocking his body into a warming overdrive. It was the Queen's embrace, he felt. A kiss not of this world, one more monster to her ranks and 5 more bodies to her servants - so he was given his reward.
Ben lingered on the memories she revealed to him, and a new boon; a quick recovery and focussed sight, changed sight. He rose from the ground and thought of the person most likely to start all this; a familiar name from his past. Maynard. George, now probably still going by George if she wasn't dead or mind-warped, had started this. It was instinct, it was that lingering supernatural grace that had kissed his mind and left behind an imprint which told him so.
For his Queen, he had to thank her personally. For himself, he needed some answers. Why was he demoted? Did it have anything to do with him being reset?
He brushed the fog away from the glass, and heard a familiar wail before feeling his heart drop. A long, pale form, hiding a cosmically gorgeous face between it's hands. Breasts larger than her head sagged slightly down, bouncing with every step it took towards him. The thing was thicc, unnaturally so, and that fueled a fire in him that dared rival the amount of adrenaline pouring through his veins.
And then, once the gal let her hands drop, and stared at him, Ben heard her scream.