Notes were scattered about, some surely left by George. Ben could still hear the sounds of suffering all around him. He could still feel the uneven pain under his feet as his heels dug into the metal grating. Ben could still feel fear pierce his poor heart as he stumbled forward into darkness, broken only by awful red lights. Despite his previous scientific standing, and how the Queen spoke of him, he had no fucking clue what was going on.

But Ben knew a few things. He knew he couldn't die, not easily at least. It didn't move the fear of death away from him, and that unending black abyss was not somewhere he ever wanted to go again, but, he was certain of something fucky going on with his mortality. Ben knew as well that he'd been betrayed. By who or what he couldn't figure, as his mind still clouded itself, still lingered with those drugs. Ben also knew that wave that the Queen caused - or did she? - the bending of the gender of every thing in the site.

And holding onto this knowledge helped guide him through the maze of the haze in his mind. How many SCPs were kept here - he knew that, now. Of course he did, he was a senior researcher, he was around anything important coming in and out of the site. He knew of their large numbers, and Ben remembered thinking it odd - how many had been transferred recently, and how the security systems had suffered because of it.

A note in hand, salvaged from some nearby checkpoint station, told him the why. Maynard had been behind the restructuring of anomalous security, and it seemed Ben was left following a trail, deeper into Heavy Containment. He tried first following the blood trails left on the note, but gave up once he found them splitting off into multiple directions at inconceivable points, or just rolling and rotting into black pits of nothingness.

He stopped.

Ben pressed his fingers against his neck, like a tic, and heard something. It was brief, lasting only as long as he'd laid his digits upon the pulsing mark, but it was unmistakable in sound. It was a chorus of rapture; a sonorous moan into the aether from a million pleasured voices, all singing praise to one, no, two things.

Imperatrix was the first, he couldn't make out the second. Sounded like a million things, oddly enough.

He put his finger to his neck again, and spoke, gasping, eyes wide at the realisation. He could hear her realm. Meaning some part of something in her realm was tied to him, inexplicably. As he spoke, he felt a surprised lull in the whorish choir, and a tiny spark of fear jolted within him at the knowledge that something heard him.

"My love?"

He heard her, and felt that fear melt away. Her voice like honey, words like an all-arming assurance.

"Hey," he greeted, "I… This…"

"...It's working much grander than I'd anticipated," Imperatrix giggled. "A temporary thing, I've erected a statue of you, here in my court. It's a pale imitation of the real thing, but…"

Ben whimpered as he felt a lightning-hot hand trace all the way from his mons to his breast, as a gentle, wet kiss was placed on his lips from nothing. It fueled the fire in his loins, like kerosene on a bonfire. His cock pressed almost needily against his chest, throbbing and begging to be inside something.

"With them," Imperatrix crooned, "the maidens, my realm grows, and I oversee much of it. Would that I could be with you every step of the way, I am occupied, in my own right."

"I understand," he breathed, stabilising himself against the cold metal of the HCZ.

"That being said, you sound troubled," she continued, voice losing all of it's mirth. "Enlighten me."

Fuck she was keen, Ben thought. He couldn't even put the feelings into words, but just hearing her gave him clarity. "I'm angry."

"Mm."

"I've been betrayed," he said, "you showed me that much. I wasn't… I don't know if I committed any crimes to be thrown in with the D-Class, but… I'm so angry. So god-damn angry."

"You had thought it before," she sighed, "when looking upon the Mask. It was poison. What did she do to you?"

"Killed a man I knew," Ben answered. "Called to him. Knew that he was desperate, and targeted him, made him pick her up and just wear her, for… I don't know. She doesn't think like I would, she's not human, but-"

"-She's more capable of emotion than you think," his Queen said. "Awful emotion. Twisting feelings, and turning them against oneself, but… She's capable. But that's not all, I can sense it…"

"..."

"...If it's too hard to bring to the light," Imperatrix whispered, pausing to take a quiet breath, "I understand."

Ben shook his head, feeling as if he and she were the only two people in this world; and knowing the sheer oddness of that feeling. He was surrounded by untold death and destruction, and she was out of reach, beyond his touch. It made his heart ache, that love he felt for her.

"Wasn't just the Mask," he said. "My memories were bleached from my brain until… Until only a number was left. We had sit-down meetings, f-fuckin'... Indoctrination. Had to sit and watch government-produced tapes from the 90s that told us what monsters we were, and just… We had to operate knowing that we were serving a sentence, but not the crime."

There was a pause, again. Ben could still hear the light slaps of flesh to flesh, could still feel a lingering hand on his upper chest, and could hear Imperatrix's light breathing. Just as she could read into his feelings, his mind with ease, he too could sense trepidation in her. There was something she wanted to say, but couldn't. Or wouldn't.

"This won't abate your anger," she said, "but perhaps it will give you some peace. Your crimes weren't against any soul. You were tried for crimes against reality."

His eyes snapped wide open then, and his heart began thumping in his ears. Such a distinguished dread filled his heart that he was sure he was about to die then, simply at hearing the words. They were the same that Maynard had repeated, that the Ethics Committee…

…A blur. Nothing beyond that. He couldn't dig too far back in that memory, for it hurt his head.

"W-What-"

"I want to tell you everything," she said. "But if I do, there is no telling what it will do to your mind. I'll lose you."

"How?"

"Through hatred. I can feel it just as readily as I feel your heart pounding for me. I know how you judged them, how the maidens were treated, while you were jailed."

"Like humans. And we were like dogs, to the Foundation."

"That rage will kill you," Imperatrix warned, as dire as Ben had heard her in their short time together. "It will corrupt your heart and purge the love from it, and… You will be a blight upon the world. Hating. Undying."

Undying, he heard. He gripped either side of his head as he delved into the meaning of the word, keeling over in pain and trying his hardest to remain connected with his Queen. Another memory, he reasoned. One he could access yet.

"Love will save you," Imperatrix elucidated. "And that mark imparts my soul, so that no matter where you are, a little piece of me is with you, always."

"...Alright," Ben sighed, as his voice quivered in pain. "Okay."

"I love you."

He said it back. And suddenly his heart felt lighter, his head clearer. She left the communication with another kiss, and Ben was back to his mission.

He kept his breaths quiet, and followed the sound of chaos. There were overlapping yaps and yells of horror, people screaming for help only to be cut violently short, and others, asking if any survivors were nearby. But above all, Ben could pick out the thick, deliberate thuds of boots, against the floor. They were close, but fading quick, hurried and heavy. Along with those steps were the almost-mute sounds of shuffling cloth, and masked breaths.

Then a smell hit Ben. Perhaps it was the wondrous gift of sense that Imperatrix had given him, or perhaps that lovely scent of lavender just hit differently over the coppery stench of blood. He followed after it, bare feet dull against the metal flooring. Alarms still screamed here and there, and cameras still tilted his way when he walked past - was someone watching him? He shook his head of the unnerving thought and pressed on into darkness, on the hunt.

"...None here," he heard. In a dulcet contralto a voice murmured to itself, impatient and worrying. "The pestilence is everywhere here and yet… There are no patients to administer my cure… Must find a subject… Must find its source…"

Ben had to beat down the rage that erupted within him, and his pulsing prick. Now was not the time to lose his head at the Plague Doctor, no. He had to suppress the sheer impotence of the treatment the good doctor received while the D-Class slaved away at their stations, worked to death. Prisoners they were, Ben rationalised, all of them prisoners of the Foundation.

But it was hunting now, as he was. He found it, her, stalking the halls and peaking her bird-cowl around with prying eyes, blinking and fussing with her clothing. Even beneath those thick, ragged robes, he found her form breathtaking. As if she stepped out from the old plague as the most well-fed stock of maidens, just jiggling with every step. Supposedly the cloth once grew from her body, given previous scans, but everything just seemed so much more loose now.

"...Strange," she mused. "Redness in the distance… Pustules, yet, not infected… Hah…"

Ben peered past her, and into a large ventilation room. The fans of course were busted, or jammed with corpses, half-eaten and mutilated, but in those rooms lay predators. Instances of SCP-939, the fucking Dogs. Even the Doctor stopped to look at them, their moulded forms, to play with herself. She didn't know what danger she was in. And so Ben smiled.

He came from behind, and before she could turn, he clamped his hand around where he approximated her mouth would be, pressing the mask into her face. His other wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight to his groin, and he shushed her.

"Don't say a word," he whispered, feeling a distinct twinge of dread as he remembered the Doctor's deathly touch. "The Dogs will tear us apart if they know we're here. One bite-"

"-To the cranium, and death is instant. I'm aware… Hah…"

Ben felt a filtered hot breath on his hand, and it made him tweak. His cock jutted deeper and harder between the clothed legs of the Doctor, and she had to lean back into him to stabilise herself.

She sang back to him, humming. "...The Pestilence is everywhere, my malady'd man. But not you, no… You are free of it, inhibited by another disease… Something overbalancing your humours..."

"I know," Ben calmed her, hands roaming daringly across her body, feeling the chubby curves beneath the robes. "I was hoping you could help me, Doctor…"

She was frozen, staring at the patrolling, seeking, sensing pair of hounds, as Ben's burly hands dared to touch her, her clothing, her heavy robes and heavier, heaving tits. Ben gripped them tight, and took in the Doctor's scent, cock 'bout to burst as it hiked up a bit of her robe's skirt, wetting it with precum.

"Have you found Maynard?" Ben asked. "Seen her here? I owe her a visit."

"...The doctor is alive," 049 answered. "Running. The eyes on the wall were upon her as she ran… To where, I don't know, but, she is rife with the Pestilence-"

"-Good," Ben cut her off, shifting his hips to the side and taking grip of the Doctor's hand, guiding the gloved digits to his dick, pumping himself. "I've got the cure. You just have to… Extract it from me."

"...V-Very well."

His hands went to the protruding mass of - oh yes - flesh. The inquisitive side to Ben's mind wanted to ask just how it felt to have one's clothing grow from their flesh, only to have it shed so suddenly. The other, much hornier side of his mind had since consolidated the inquisitive side, however, and had taken it to probing the Doctor with filthy questions.

"How much noise do you think we can make before they hear us?" he began, slipping 049's gloves off, finger by finger. She gasped as she felt his cock, the undulating warmth and sheer density of the thing. "How much fluid do you need from me, Doctor? I can produce all you need, you can extract this into your jars, flasks, sample it at anytime you want…"

"Oh~, it runs deep in you," 049 shivered. "So much of it. Your glands swell with… With a life-giving essence. It must be extracted… Harvested… I-If I'm without tools, I must use my body…"

Ben squeezed her hand tight over his cock, and thrust into the softness of that makeshift hole, purring and growling deep into her ear. "A good doctor shall make do."

He let go of her hand then, and she continued jacking him off as he peeled the thick robes off her sweating body. That lavender scent only got more intense the more he revealed of her, that soft, supple, pale skin that hadn't seen sunlight in god knew how long. Touching her was like touching the Shy Gal; like he'd broken some natural law and was defiling something in the process.

It felt good. So very very naughty, and perhaps a way for his rage to come to light and befoul the Doctor, but, good.

He continued with her mask, lifting it and jostling the strap off her head. The second it was free and gently lowered to the ground, Ben's hands were upon her huffing face, stroking her cheeks so gently and caressing that peach fuzz of hers. 049 had a warmth he so desperately sought. He tilted her head, catching a hawkish, sharp-jawed and beautiful gaze, and took her lips in a kiss.

His dick was dribbling the makings of the essence, the cure. It pooled at the ground in calm wet drips, keeping the dogs at bay. As Ben oh-so-tenderly nibbled at the Doctor's lips and cradled her head, thrusting into her hand, he undid the crisp brass clasps of her coat, slipping his hand in and feeling no undercloth.

"To think you were running around naked under this coat, for the time that I knew of you," Ben crooned, mumbling through lip-biting teeth. "You little whore. Were you hoping some sick, sick man like me would come along and dominate you?"

"Y-Yes, n-no… No, I-I'm a respected physician," she moaned. "I-I simply felt more c-comfortable i-in-"

"-Hush," Ben silenced her, bringing a finger to her lips and breaking away from her, tasting that pork-and-cheese salt on her saliva. "You worked with peasants and knights, out there under the burning skies, sweating and just fantasising how much hotter it would be to have someone… Infect you."

"N-No… N-Never!"

He pressed his lips into hers again to silence her, and continued fondling the Doctor under her dress, wrapping both arms under the coat and sliding it off those cute, bare shoulders of hers. Her hood fell, revealing a matted mop of short, black hair, tapered off at the back of her head like raven's wings. She began shivering in the stale air as more of herself was revealed, but Ben was there to steady her, heating her body with his and growling into their embrace.

"I'm going to release," he teased, "uhn~, you tell me if I look any better after, Doctor!"

Before she could release the grip of his cock, to steady or distance herself from the encroaching heat in her cunt, 049 bore witness to Ben's ejaculation; a virile shower of cum spiriting forth from his cock, puddling in the grates on the floor. She felt it pulse in her hand, felt him buck into her digits, and simply gaped in awe as it poured, and poured.

"So… Much," she moaned, as Ben bit a soft spot on her neck and nibbled. "So much of the… Cure. I-I-"

"-With no coat," Ben interjected, "I'll need to cover you in something else, dear doctor. The cure! Imagine it, just sliding and pouring all over your body… And tell me, confess that that's something you don't want…"

She hesitated as she felt him harden further in her hand, and answered by pumping his cock. 049 kissed him again, and Ben knew he had control. He ordered her, and she obeyed - kneeling, peeling her dress off and revealing her form to him - like a good submissive. He dared not enter her; and dared not question how the hell he survived her bare touch. It killed men before, ceased all vital functions and rendered them putty for her to mould into experiments.

Ben didn't know what the Pestilence was, and the Plague Doctor had issues before, describing it. Many things were infected with it, and she'd whispered to herself about it travelling through the site... The fact that he was now cured of it, or that it had been transplanted something else frightened him.

Still, he did his duty, for his Queen. He stood tall in front of the kneeling SCP and guided her hands to his cock once more, keeping an eye on the dogs ahead of them. She then slid, up, and down, in time with his thrusts - her hands forming another hot, tight hole for that sickly cock to infect. She panted, eyeing the prick; biting her lip and daring to taste it, stopped by a gentle hand on her forehead.

"Ah-ah-ah," Ben hummed, "no good doctor would dare sample something orally for their first test. Save yourself, and savour it. Imagine the taste of this cure and let the thought of it drive you wild… Hn~, yes, that's it…"

"It's viscous," she noted, whimpering as a fat drip of cum jerked out of Ben's tip, alongside a throaty moan from him. "Pungent, too. Smells like… Like… Callery Pear. E-Even now I can feel the heat lingering from beneath… It's… Marvellous."

"And think of how many could be cured by it," Ben groaned, "think of all the sick we'd be able to heal, all the diseased sluts that we could just douse with this…"

"...Y-You're close to release," she huffed again, staring up at him with those shiny eyes of hers. "I can tell. Your heart quickens. Breaths are getting shorter. A p-pleasurable humour is rising, rising, a-a-and~-!"

She closed her eyes, braced herself for the impact that was Ben's unbridled load. He bucked, foreskin slid back and held in place by the doctor's death-grip. He found it difficult to keep quiet in that eruption of pleasure, and the sick satisfaction of having it described to him so clinically. Of course, with every wave he caked her, blasting her hair, her face, lips, neck, breasts, trickling all the way down every curve of her thick body.

Her body spasmed, and Ben took grip of her to make sure she didn't fall, feeling his own legs bend at the intensity of his release. It just didn't fucking stop. The dog's ears pricked at the kerfuffle, but disengaged quick as they heard no response to their human calls. Ben kept his breathing under control, panting quietly as the doctor trembled, looking like she'd just ridden out the best orgasm of her life.

"It's… There's still so much in you," she sputtered, tongue eking out just a tiny taste of the super-semen. "I… I need more… I-I-"

"Then lie on your back," Ben ordered. She looked behind herself, into the puddle of cum forming on the floor, and obeyed, shocked and appalled with herself that her robes were in such a soiled state now.

Ben erased that feeling quick, putting a single finger on her head to lower her to the ground, taking grip of her soft breasts. He played with them for a little bit as he lorded himself over her, shivering his hot breaths in the air as he felt her heart beat. It thrummed against the underside of his cock as he toyed with her, pinched and twisted her nipples so gently before letting them pop out of his grip, jiggling back to her chest.

She shied away from him, his gaze and that lustful draught of splooge pouring from his prick. Ben held her cheek, and stroked it, smiling.

"Quiet now," he said, "you may cough with this next one."

He pressed her tits together, wrapping them against his cock, and began thrusting. With each thrust he fired a hot rope against her chin, and when she peered down at his dick, her face, again. Ben's voice rang clear over the whirring and hum of the HCZ, ordering her not to taste it still, not to slurp the spunk down like the cum-drunk harlot she was.

It was like layering rain over farmland; seeding the crops; and feeding the Lady of a land, with a hot shower of seed. Every rope jolted ball-tingling, ass-clenching joy from Ben, and every one that landed against the doctor's skin lit fire on her nerves, tangling them in quiet messes that left her spilling her pussy's juices like a geyser.

"You're so soft," he grunted, "so messy. So fuckable. But you look pale, darling… Do you need to drink my cure?"

"I… I do," she pleaded. "May… May I drink, ahn~, m-may I drink it down? P-P-Please!"

"You may, doctor. You'll need no spoonful of sugar!"

He leapt up, thudding against the floor, and took grip of 049's jaw, opening her mouth up. Ben took grip and masturbated himself, firing consecutive, fiery rounds of jizz into the SCP's mouth, letting her swallow and spit and sputter as more and more came out. His testes flexed up and down in a sight she caught only briefly, before being blinded by the stuff - and his cock erupted with a luminous heat that made her cum all over again.

Kerosene, he reminded himself, remembering the phantom feeling of the Queen's hands upon his body. He was the firestarter to 049's kindling, an inferno of lust, pleasure, and rapture!

He didn't know when they stopped; only that he felt limp afterwards, that the HCZ now oozed with his essence. As if he'd been drained by the Pocket Dimension and 106 once more; his vision blurred, his legs gave out, and he was left kneeling over the squirming, whimpering, cumming form of the Plague Doctor. He leant back as she looked up to him; eyes bleary and blinking, breaths hot on his sac and schlong.

He slid his fingers into her thoroughly-soaked cunt, starting gently, and ramping up at the slowest speed he could manage. She tried to take grip of his thighs, to do anything but marvel at the prick before her, but failed. 049 couldn't put thoughts to word, she could only feebly tongue at the sweat dripping from him. That alone was enough to make him dribble again; and as his mouth drooled at the form before him, more of that arcane effluence egressed from his fuckstick.

049 wasn't just marked; wasn't just condemned in a liquid portal that would open up in seconds - Ben could sense Imperatrix's approach now - she was fucked without him ever having to enter her. She was drenched, layered and damn-near sealed in a thick, treacly sheen of the cure for the Pestilence.

She knew she was his; she didn't have to say a word.

049 began to sink in the jizz-puddle, looking around with an alarmed expression before looking back up at Ben, who nodded, assuringly. A pair of dark, silky hands reached from the puddle's depths and laid themselves over the doctor's face and pussy, Ben's fingers slipping out so easily.

"I'll continue to spread the cure, doctor," he assured her. "And should mine wear off, well… I'll be back soon to inject you directly, alright?"

He was cleaned, his spirit and energy restored in a phantom-kiss. It was shakily that he stood, and dangerously that he took steps again, but he stood, prideful at having beaten down whatever hatred he once felt for 049. And then a whisper sang in his ear.

"Thank you," his Queen moaned. "Though she might not have held as much power as Corporal Lawrence, her expertise shall order this place like no other could… I shall lick her clean, and yearn for you. On the other hand, I sense some new pets nearby…"

The hounds had heard him. Had sensed him. Could see him now, if the direction of their elongated maws were anything to go by. Were they smiling, or was that just the way they looked?

"...And pets you shall have," Ben whispered back, clutching his heart as the image of Imperatrix and the Doctor pressed together in some cum-cradling embrace flooded his mind.

He whistled, and felt his skin prickle with goosebumps as he beheld the twin hounds' revitalised bodies. Red their skin was, dripping with a faux-sweat, too, and long their heads were - still filled to the brim with dangerous teeth and licking tongues. They had no eyes, but didn't require them to see, as far as he knew, anyway. But a love for the pair of them flared in Ben's heart as he caught sight of their curves; one lithe, skinny and tall, and the other, short, round and firm.

He could see the bodies in the room, clear before his eyes now, whisked away with red energies and no doubt transported to the Queen's realm. It was ghoulish, yes, but Ben surmised they'd be happier in the rutting afterlife-equivalent Imperatrix had built for them, worshipping a goddess worthy of attention.

His eyes were upon the tall one first, who rubbed pleadingly against her sister with a wide, wild grin. "Oh, there you are."