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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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Halo: Combat Evolved
by Francis (address withheld)

***

Halo is a sci-fi shooter that takes place on a 
mysterious alien ring-world. Master Chief, the last of 
the Spartan super-soldiers, has landed with the rest of 
his marine unit on a mysterious ring-world known as 
Halo, only to discover that a species of monsters, the 
flood, have started taking over the bodies of his alien 
enemies and marines alike and now look set to spread 
death and destruction throughout the universe. They 
have to be stopped, but he's the only one who can do 
it. (nc, v, murder, computer-game-parody)

***

He was out of grenades; his shields had been knocked 
out and he was badly out of breath. He hunkered down 
behind a chunk of concrete and unshipped his assault 
rifle. Out of ammo. He threw the useless lump of metal 
away and pulled his pistol out of his belt. Two rounds 
left. Great. He closed his eyes and leant back against 
the support, trying to catch his breath. 

He'd been running for what felt forever; his muscles 
burned and cramped and all he wanted to do was rest, 
fall asleep, and never wake again. And he was very 
alone – his radio had been destroyed and he was lost. 
He was going to die. Just like everyone else, just like 
all those marines he'd seen pulled down, screaming and 
fighting until the last.

He was a super-soldier, but he was still human. He was 
frightened. He tried his radio again, trying to keep 
the sob out of his voice, knowing that the black-box on 
board the Pelican would be catching every inflection 
behind his words, everything he was trying so hard to 
deny.

'Unit's dead. Requesting evac. Requesting immediate 
evac.'

He sat and listened for a full minute, but he was 
getting nothing but static. There was no way of knowing 
whether Foehammer was receiving him or not, but he 
prayed that someone was. Anyone. Right now, he didn't 
much care who.

He tucked his radio back into his belt and stole along 
the wall, praying nothing saw him, praying that those 
things he saw moving in the shadows were nothing more 
than hallucinations. But he was seven-foot tall, 
glistening camouflage green in his heavy armour, armour 
that even now sapped his strength. 

He was not an easy target to miss. He was heading along 
the wall in the vain hope of reaching a shuttle-bay, 
grabbing a banshee, and then… what? Getting off this 
godforsaken ring. Being court-martialled for allowing 
the rest of his team to die. For single-handedly 
fucking up the mission. For bringing destruction 
raining down on Earth, the one planet he had pledged to 
protect, though he'd never even set foot on it.

A flood monster, what had once been an elite alien 
soldier, staggered out of the shadows, making him stop 
dead in his tracks. Chief stumbled back, tugged out his 
pistol, and loosed two rounds. They hit the monster 
square in its hideously deformed chest, but didn't so 
much as slow its awful progress. 

Chief tossed the useless gun away and turned to run, 
but the monster lashed out viciously, catching him a 
blow around the helmet that sent him sprawling. As 
Chief rolled onto his back and tried to push himself 
up, the monster was upon him, reeking of stinking, 
decomposing flesh. He hit out at the monster, but his 
struggles were futile.

A couple of others had emerged from the shadows and now 
crowded around the Chief. One of them snapped at the 
monster even now pinning the helpless Spartan to the 
floor; its head, resting over its back on a weak, 
shrivelled neck, snarled uselessly at the aggressor. 
The other flood reared backwards and lashed out with 
its claws, claws that the Spartan knew could rip 
through his armour, and tore into the first monster's 
side. It screamed and struggled to get up, but another 
one had closed its jaws on its thigh. 

Chief saw his chance. He rolled over and kicked up at 
the beast, his heavy boot catching it in the pit of its 
stomach, or what had once been its stomach. It leaned 
back, but absorbed most of the impact; Chief's foot 
sunk into its decaying internal organs with a squelch 
audible above the bickering and snarling of the flood 
monsters. A flailing claw ripped along his thigh, and 
he screamed as hot red blood spurted from the wound. 

The others stopped fighting and turned their blind, 
decaying eyes to him. The second flood tore – urgent 
now – at his breastplate as the first one pinned him 
down. Suddenly seeing what was about to come, he 
struggled and just managed to push himself up on his 
elbows, dragged himself to his feet, and staggered away 
from the claws. Most of his armour was gone; he was 
having trouble catching his breath and the wound in his 
thigh, still spraying blood, was a cramping flush of 
agony. 

The third flood pushed forwards and, seeing it, 
something froze Chief dead in his tracks, just as he 
was about to turn and run. A huge cock was swinging 
between its legs, testicles the size of tennis balls 
emerging out of a slit in its groin. The bloated, green 
head of its cock was dribbling thick white liquid, and 
it pulsed as the flood neared the terrified Spartan, 
tasting his fear and blood in the air.

Only now could he turn, but the flood tensed its huge, 
muscular thighs and leapt. It hit him in the small of 
the back, sending him sprawling, and, before Chief 
could roll to his feet, was upon him. The flood monster 
was at least eight feet tall, taller by a full foot 
than the giant human in his battle-gear, and the 
massive cock was only just smaller than Chief's 
forearm, the head roughly the size of the man's 
clenched fist. 

Chief's heart spasmed in his chest as the claws dug 
into his sides and the weight pressed down on his back, 
crushing him. Something butted roughly at him, then 
stabbed forwards. The head of the monster's cock slid 
off Chief's now naked and bloody skin, leaving a 
stinking trail of cum, then pulled back and thrust 
forwards again.

Chief screamed in agony as the monster's cock found his 
sphincter and jammed itself forwards, but it was too 
big and he only opened up a couple of inches under the 
assault. Claws dug deeper into his sides, forcing him 
to relax his muscles in sheer shock and pain, and 
slowly, the full head slid into his anal canal. 

The monster growled in gratification, then reared back, 
dragging Chief to his hands and knees by its cock now 
lodged firmly in his guts. Chief was sobbing, but his 
cries went almost unheard through his thick visor. He'd 
bitten through his lip and now swallowed his own bitter 
blood. There was no way he was going to get out of this 
alive.

Roughly, the flood shoved forwards, forcing Chief's 
sphincter open wider, forcing him to take another few 
inches of its blood-engorged cock. Few of the marines 
had ever been anything over seven inches long. This was 
sheer agony. He could feel the monster's cock throb, 
spewing thick gouts of sperm into his torn and bleeding 
bowels, and, though he couldn't know at the time, 
scraping off ribbons of mouldering flesh as Chief's 
muscles tightened around the invading lump of rotting 
meat. 

Just as he thought it might be over, another few inches 
were fed into his broken bowels. He didn't feel the 
head rip through his colon, but did feel the river of 
blood rush down his thighs. Nor did he feel it when the 
flood stopped meeting resistance and shoved forwards, 
shrouding its full length in Chief's bleeding guts.

He was going into shock; he could barely sense the 
light around him as his eyes clouded over. The flood's 
claws ripped open his sides. He was too tired and in 
too much pain to scream, trembling uncontrollably as he 
was slowly disembowelled by the constant thumping 
motions of the monster's hips. Suddenly, his knees went 
and he fell into the flood's grasp, impaling himself on 
the creature's claws. 

He could smell the stink of his own death hanging heavy 
in the air as his dying convulsions chewed up the 
disintegrating cock still lodged inside him. The flood 
reared up, carrying the now half-conscious soldier up 
against its chest, still humping away into the first 
warm flesh it had felt for days. Other flood monsters 
clustered around them, chattering and snarling amongst 
themselves. 

Chief's belly hung open; not that he knew it, but the 
monster's cock reared out of his abdomen at every 
thrust. The smell of blood in the air was driving the 
rest of them mad with lust; suddenly one careered 
forwards and ripped into the 
Spartan's chest. Chief threw his head back and let out 
one long, last, despairing cry of agony.

Back on board the Pelican troop transporter, Foehammer, 
the pilot, listened to the radio crackle into silence, 
then turned to the remainder of the marines, her face 
white.

'I don't wanna know what happened down there, but 
Chief's unit is dead and I can't establish two-way with 
any of the others. You guys better get on down there 
and check out what's going on. And be careful, for 
god's sake.'

END

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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 44