The Telemachus Story Archive

Resident Evil - T Redfield
By Wolfpek
Email: Wolfpek

Resident Evil T-Redfield

Disclaimer: The story contains themes of male on male nonconsensual sex. The author in no way condones rape or torture. This is a fantasy only. If these themes do not interest you, or you are under eighteen you have no business reading this. If they are of interest to you as an adult reader, then please enjoy: Wolfpek


His entire life was spent looking through crosshairs. Even when not on a mission, sheer habit made it impossible not to see every detail surrounding him, as a target He lived a world, upon which avaricious, power-mad,bio-terrorist corporations, such as Umbrella,Veltro, and WilPharma, had unleashed a Pandora’s box of, chemically engineered, virus’, and genetically engineered mutations utilized as weapons. Animated corpses, commonly known as “zombies” and other nightmarish former humans, called “Bio Organic Weapons” or “B.O.W.s,” crawled out of their laboratories to roam the Earth, feasting relentlessly on the living. Chris was always on high alert. Any moment not spent in combat, was spent training, and shaping, every muscle of his body into a hard, lean, perfectly conditioned machine, a living, breathing weapon. Every part of his body was as sleek, beautiful, and deadly as an AR-15 The only thing soft about Chris was the unruly dark hair, a boyish contrast to the battle-worn chiseled contours of his masculine, yet beautiful face, the heavy brow furrowed by intense concentration, and the veil of stubble shading his square jaw line and, sexy full lips.


Though an uphill fight under a hail of bullets, it wasn’t much of a challenge to take the perimeter of the hive. These guns for hire weren’t risking their lives for some ideology. They fought for a paycheck, and intended to stay alive to cash it in. Heavy casualties convinced the remaining mercenaries were easily convinced to retreat, and the hill was taken. The conglomerates liked to dig deep. The hive was buried 1000 meters under ground. Piers Nivens, the auburn haired special-forces sniper, was able to hack past the security code allowing access to the high speed elevator, and they were in They entered, weapons drawn, what once had been a high security bio tech medical facility where U.M.B.R.E.L.L.A. efficiently brewed it’s mutations, viruses into a homemade horseman of apocalyptic pestilence.

Something had gone terribly wrong in this place. In the dim glow of the emergency lighting ,they saw smashed vials, overturned desks, and a slick coating of blood, but no bodies. Chris tightened his grip on the 909 handgun, his huge hands sporting fingerless “hobogloves”clutched at the handle, trigger finger at the ready. His massive biceps, straining the sleeves of his skin tight B.S.A.A. official t-shirt tightened and flexed.

The men stood in back-to-back formation as the entered the lab. A grid of white light descended on the invaders. “She knows we’re here” Burnside whispered into his mouthpiece “Who?” Cohen asked “The Red Queen” As if summoned by the spoken name, a hologram of a little girl shimmered into being. “None of you will ever leave here” “What the fuck?” “It’s the avatar for the computer system in the hive” said Kennedy; “ It’s a holographic representation of the Red Queen, modeled after the head programmer’s daughter. Anything she says is designed to deceive and confuse us. She’ll say anything to stop us shutting her down” “None of you will ever leave here.” repeated the snotty British voice. “None of you will ever leave here.” “We’ve got to shut her down” barked Chris

Luciani and Cohen entered the mainframe corridor, while the rest of the team headed for the console to override the security program. Nivens stationed himself at the keyboard while the rest of the men kept guard. Parker Luciani and Billy Cohen, who shared similar swarthy good looks, had served together, as marines, with Force Recon, during the Arklay incident. They made a formidable team. As soon as they entered the corridor, the portals shut on both ends “Fuck!” shouted Cohen “Get them out of there!” Nivens was typing frantically “She’s locked me out captain. I’m trying to override” A grid of laser light swept the room forming itself into solid nets, which immediately covered Luciani. Cohen shot at the door with no effect. A second net enfolded him as well, and the two struggling studs were lifted off the floor like trapped fish. The laser nets burned away most of their uniforms leaving the two swarthy specimens, all but naked pushing against their bonds. Luciani’s broad chest strained against the webbing, while his impressive cock, hung down, toward the floor. Cohen hung away from them, his smooth, tight ass, bent toward the window. Cohen and the rest of the team shot at the glass separating them from their comrades, but it proved impenetrable. “Goddammit, Piers get me in there” “Trying sir” A trap opened into the corridor out of which crawled five “Marcus leeches” Once men, who had been infected with a progenitor virus, they slowly became leeches in humanoid form. They slimed toward the luminous nets and onto their muscular prey.

The first reached Luciani and wrapped it’s mouth around his impressive dangling cock. Another unceremoniously mounted Cohen, pumping into his exposed hole. Both men screamed, as Luciani was also anally violated .

The soldiers gaped horrified. They had seen B.O.W.s eat their prey in the past, but had never before witnessed, or heard of a rape, particularly a gay ass rape. As their comrades suffered a fate worse than death, they could only look on, helplessly. A leech bit into Luciani’s inviting tit, and another into Cohen’s neck. The two hunks slowly undulated into stillness and hung limp. Their eyes rolled back into their heads, and both spoke in unison into their mouth-pieces: “It’s you he wants, Chris.” The leeches dragged their prey back into the trap they had from which they had oozed.

The corridor doors swung open and the surviving men ran in. The creepy baby doll voice continued. “You see? I told you. None of you will ever leave this place” There was no seem or door where the trap had been. “Jesus” whispered Ryman; “What the fuck, Captain???? What the fuck are we gonna do??? I don’t want to get fucked by one of those things!!!” “Hold it together.” ordered Chris. “We’ve got to find the virus. There are four corridors. Ryman, go with Aiken, you take south. Burnside with McGivern, east. Kennedy with Oliviera, the west. Nivens, you’re with me. We’ll take north. Each team checks in with me on headset every ten minutes. We meet back here in two hours. I’ll get us out of this” “None of you will ever leave here” “Got it” shouted Nivens. “Fuck this bitch.” He hit a button and the Red Queen shimmered into nothingness. “Let’s roll” -- Chris glanced at Piers as they headed north. He had to admit his friend was “a dude”, who had no problem scoring chicks. Like the rest of the team, he was a perfect physical specimen. His blonde –reddish hair, and all-American features, gave him a deceptively wholesome look, which belied his ruthless skill as a sniper, and as a womanizer. Any pervert, human or B.O.W.’s inclined to rape human men would find him a most enticing target.

Chris’ own face was not so classical. Brooding, dark eyes, unruly black hair, ears a little too prominent. As much as he shaved there was always a thick layer of stubble coating his square jaw. He figured he was less of a target than his comrade. He’d have to look out for Piers. But still the haunting phrase; “It’s you he wants, Chris” stayed with him. He’d never faced a challenge like this before. This would be a tough mission “Captain” Piers had spotted a body lying next to an upturned barrel. They approached cautiously. The poor creature stirred, and slowly rose dragging one leg twisted off at the knee, it’s arms reaching hungrily toward the two young men, and then fell backward. A bullet hole pierced the exact center of it’s forehead. Chris’ aim was always perfect. He felt hands at his back. How could he have been so stupid? A group of them had formed behind them while they were focused on the one. One ghoulish hand cupped on the hard curve of his butt.

He whipped around firing, and took ten out before he completed the turn. Piers wasn’t as quick. The ginger stud was engulfed in grasping arms, ripping at his shirt, and groping his cock. A long, zombie tongue licked at his, suddenly exposed, nipple. Chris noticed they didn’t bite. Not yet any way. Chris shot his friend free. Piers grabbed the knife from the sheath at his back, and decapitated another, shooting back the crowd.

Most of the sad un-dead, creatures were down, when Aiken’s voice came in over his earpiece “We need some help down here Captain. We got Hunter’s. Rymans dow… uughhhhh” They dispatched the rest of the zombies quickly. And raced down the south corridor, too late. A horde of zombies rushed toward them as they entered the chamber

Aiken lay naked, bent, ass up, over a railing his thick arms hanging down swaying with each thrust, a Verdugo, a B.O.W.S created through a combination of human and insect gene splicing, was pumping it’s venom into his ruined hole. Its scorpion like tail also served as it’s penis. It’s segmented, chitinous, limbs ending in razor sharp claws tore into its victim’s muscular back.

Ryman was valiantly holding his own against cloud of zombies. So far he fared better than his clothes, the ghouls had ripped away all but his boots and harness. Three of the creatures lost their heads with one stroke of his knife. What he did not see was the Chimera, a human-fly mutant hybrid which had silently climbed up the duct behind him during the battle. The studly warrior noticed it’s presence, only when it had sunk it’s probiscus stinger into his neck.

The beauty went limp, falling forward over hungry zombie mouth, which closed around its victim’s thick cock, presenting his luscious big ass to the winged mutant, who wasted no time in injecting it’s hairy member into the hunk’s virgin hole, just before Chris’ bullet ripped through it’s brain. Chris slashed his way over a mountain of dead zombies, and imbedded his knife between the Verdugo’s eyes. It continued thrusting into Aiken as it died

Aiken’s head raised up slowly, his face without expression; “It’s you he wants Chris. It’s always been you”

“Captain!!! Man down!!! We need backup” Burnside’s voice filled his earpiece. Chris dispatched the last zombie with his knife, and looked toward the east corridor. He turned back to help his fallen men, but they were gone! He looked a the shirtless Nivens, massive pecs covered in sweat and blood. “CAPTAIN!!!” As the two warriors fought their way toward the east corridor, picking off various zombies, which seemed to jump from every shadow, as they went

They met Kennedy and Oliviera running toward the from the west with athletic grace and speed. Oliviera’s shirt and one pant leg had been ripped off. Leon was completely naked. “No time to explain, Captain.” After what he had seen, Chris could easily imagine how. What was happening here? A crowd of zombies blocked entrance to the chamber. McGivern lay, face up, on the ground, his knees on either side of his ruggedly beautiful face. His big butt faced up toward the ceiling, his hole gaped open to receive the giant stinger lodged inside of it. A “Stinger” a man sized scorpion held his wrists down with its pincers, and injected it’s venom deep within his bowels.

Burnside, his shirt gone and pants torn away above the knee, felled a Gamma Hunter, an amphiban hunter B.O.W.S, nicknamed “frogger” for obvious reasons, which lay twitching at his feet. Believing it dead, he turned toward the B.S.S.A. cavalry without noticing eight zombie octopi had crawled from the hunter’s body. The first octopus, with silent, lightening speed wrapped its tentacles around the soldier’s ankles, pulling the hunk to his knees. The second octopus encircled his wrists, yanking the powerful arms behind his back. A third octopus embraced his neck, pulling his head to the floor, forcing his round muscle butt, up to the ceiling, Two more monsters attacked his nipples with their blood-sucking, suction cups. Yet another claimed his cock The next crawled up the back of his thighs, and deep into the crack between those creamy white cheeks and impaled the writhing stud with it’s thorn like member . The last simply wrapped itself around his waist and bit into the quivering six pack abdominal muscles with it’s beak. Burnside screamed and fell limp.

Before he was able to kill the B.O.W.S, three more zombies, had ripped off what remained of Oliviera’s tight pants. Unnoticed, a greenish ooze crept up through a crack in the floor attaching itself to the Latin stud’s heels, up the back of his exposed legs, growing in size, seeping into his exposed, and vulnerable, asshole. By the time it morphed into an eyeless man shape, the ooze, already embedded in his chute, grew to an immense pulsing cock. A tubular tongue inlaid with rows of tiny fangs, cascaded from it’s throat, and down the struggling hunks torso to wrap around his meaty cock, sucking blood wherever it touched. The hunk went limp, and dropped his weapons, as he fell into , and was absorbed by, the gooey arms folding around his chest.

As Leon turned to save him, he did not notice the tendrils reaching out to wrap around his neck. It was a Plant-42, suddenly growing from a crack in the wall. Also called an “Ivy”, Plant-42 was a semi humanoid plant with a large blooming, tooth-rimed, pod in place of a head. It had no arms in a traditional sense but a number of tentacle-like vines, used to whip and strangle prey, or drain the victim’s blood. Leon slashed away at hundreds of the little vines, until by sheer volume they incapacitated his arms, and began to feast on his blood. A massive root like vine pushed it’s way up to violate his hole.

Chris took the creatures out with two shots Together with Nivens, he fought his way through the forest of zombies toward their fallen comrade. Chris noticed a shadow fall over Nivens. A Gulp Worm, had come out of nowhere and about to leap on his last remaining comrade from behind, until a bullet pierced it’s brain casing.

As it fell, it grabbed the unsuspecting stud, pulling him to the ground, and bit into his left Tit. “Piers!!” Shouted Chris With some effort Nivens pushed the worm corpse off, and holding his bleeding pec, rose to his feet. “I’m fine Captain” They ran toward Leon and Carlos, both still impaled on their dead attacker’s cocks. Chris stroked the matted blonde hair, soothingly from Leon’s beautiful innocent face, while feeling his neck for a pulse. The pale blue eyes flew open; “It’s you he wants, Chris. It’s always been you”

Nivens, overcome by his wound fainted into a pile of dead zombies. “Piers!” He ran over to help his friend He was still breathing. He heard Carlos’ voice one last time; “It’s you he wants Chris. He’s waiting for you”

He looked back. Carlos and Leon had disappeared He helped the feverishly mumbling Nivens to his feet. “Its you he wants Chris… he.. he’s.. he ..wants..He’s HERE!” A door opened, piercing the darkness of the end of the chamber, with a cold bright light. He had to follow. The area seemed suspiciously clear of mutants. Whatever was beyond that portal was giving him unchallenged access to enter. It had to be a trap, but he had no choice He placed the sleeping Nivens inside an open crate, and covered it with a tarp. He hoped any curious mutants would overlook the stashed stud, until he faced whatever was in there, and returned to help. Knees bent, pistol cocked, he approached slowly.

The Red Queen hologram, once gain shimmered into view blocking the door. “I told you. None of you will ever leave here. It’s you he wants, Chris. It’s always been you.” Impervious to the threat, he walked through her as she disappeared. As his eyes adjusted to the brightly lit chamber, he made out a large black chair turned away from him, next to what seemed to be some sort of a weight bench, the sight of which filled him with an instinctive revulsion. “Chris Redfield, at long last” Chris raised his gun toward the very familiar voice in the chair.


“Who are you, motherfucker? Why did you kill my men?” “I haven’t killed your men. In fact they are all very much alive, and, I must say, in peak condition. Didn’t you find it odd that none of the B.O.W.S. even tried to eat them?”

A hand appeared from behind the chair and clicked a remote which opened a wall They were all there; Ryman, Aiken, Burnside, Luciani, Cohen, McGivern, Kennedy, and Oliviera, was well as many more perfect specimens of ideal young manhood, on display, in what appeared to be glass tubes, like valuable statues in a museum. Only young men, no women, and all, even Chris had to recognize, very hot dudes “Exquisite, aren’t they? Yet none of them are quite as beautiful as you, Chris. I’ve been waiting. It’s you I want, Chris. It’s always been you.” The chair swiveled around, and Chris gasped. Albert Wesker! Chris had almost killed that blonde traitor, in hand to hand combat, at the Arklay laboratory, when a T-002 Tyrant mutant burst in and took that satisfying honor from him. Inexplicably, the bastard sat before him in a flawlessly tailored black suit and wrap around ray bans “I saw you die” Wesker chuckled; “Yes, Chris, yes, you did. You have to admit it was one hell of an exit” “You won’t be so lucky this time. Let them go” Wesker’s smile broadened “I’m sorry. I’m afraid that’s quite impossible. You see, they have been infected with a very special experimental virus, which has bonded with their delicious bodies on a cellular level. Even if I let them out, they couldn’t go anywhere. Unless, of course, I command it.” Chris raised his gun to shoot


“Tsk tsk..if you do that, you may never find the antidote. You see, this virus is new, so until it is perfected, I have stored an antidote in a medical facility at the top level. As you know, Chris, while mutants might have a little memory of their former selves, with little intelligence left, they’re driven by the basest of impulses, and the most basic needs. Needs which can become so powerful that they are difficult to control. The need to feed, is of course always there. Also, as we’ve recently discovered, the need to fuck. It would seem their tastes discriminate in the direction of young men, at peak of strength and virility such as your crew, and yourself. As you well know, B.S.A.A. and S.T.A.R.S. have consistently been the greatest obstacle to our company goals, and they are made up of some of the finest specimens of manhood. You are some of the most perfectly developed young men on the planet. By providing our mutants with exactly what they desire, we can also get your kind out of our way. You might call it ‘killing two very muscular birds, with one stone.’

Unlike every other virus we have developed, this one does not kill. Rather, it leaves the subject, very much alive, very much himself, and completely aware of the world around him. However, the victim’s body is programmed to override free will and submit to the perverted whim, of any mutant who desires it. It also adds the blessing and curse of immortality. The bodies remain at peak physical condition, and desirability, indefinitely. The victim is given eternal life…as a sex slave. It first it was only administered by injection, but can now be spread by a bite, or hmmm mmm by rape.

Rather than decaying a re animated shell. It actually enhances, and preserves, the most attractive physical attributes of the subject. Your men are still in there. They’re, frankly, just too horny to react. It must be hell. You will soon discover that this virus infects the subject’s sexual impulses, making arousal so overpowering that free will is overridden, and a symbiotic connection is made between the subject and anyone who desires it. What ever the subject thinks or wishes, his body is now wired to provide whatever is asked of it. You might free them from their display cases, but they are completely under my control. You should be honored to know that it was you that inspired this brilliant invention. Ever since the day we met, I have dreamt of having control over your body. Since it was created specifically with you in mind, I have named the virus after you; T-Redfield, it’s prime subject, and ultimate goal”

Chris was disgusted to the point of retching. How could any human betray his own race? “You sick fucking faggot! You’re human, just like them. Is the money worth selling out your own race?” Wesker grinned and tossed his sunglasses at Chris. His eyes glowed bright red. “Did you really think I was still human?” He opened his mouth unnaturally wide, and a lizard like tongue shot across the room. Chris rolled, only just out of its path Wesker had become a Licker, one of the vicious and devious creatures developed by the U.M.B.R.E.L.L.A Corporation, as an early Bioterrorism weapon. It derived its name, of course, from it’s tongue which could extend several feet, and is strong enough to impale or decapitate human prey.

Chris let loose a hail of bullets, blowing off Wesker’s right forearm, which immediately grew into a vortex of leech like tentacles shooting toward him. Rolling again to evade the tendrils, he kicked Wesker’s legs out from under him and fired into the torso. The tongue knocked Chris’gun from his hand. With lightening speed, he unsheathed his knife and began chopping at tentacles, which was also knocked away. He found himself, in bare-knuckle, hand to hand ,combat with the monster. He didn’t have time to consider that it was impossible to hold his own, unarmed, against such a creature. Maybe it was his rage, or grief for his men, or superior strength, but he managed to get Wesker on the ropes, tongue and tentacles flailing uselessly, pounding the face into a bloody lump with his hobo-gloved fists. Convinced he had felled the beast, he rolled out, grabbed his gun, and stood over his the power-mad nemesis. His internal crosshairs focused on he center of Wesker’s forehead. A hand closed around his wrist, he turned. A dead eyed Piers Nivens stood behind him “It’s you he wants Chris” He elbowed him off and turned to take a shot. In that split second, a bloody, nearly defeated, Wesker raised his head and spit out a viscous goo, which hit the stud square in the face, knocking him on his back, and grew to envelop his head and shoulders, followed by projectile tentacles which pinned his massive arms, outstretched, to the floor. As Chris frantically kicked and struggled, to avoid suffocation, he realized he could see and hear perfectly, as well as breath the stuff which sent intoxicating tingly waves though his solar plexus and made him, embarrassingly aroused, slowing his movements.


Wesker motioned to Piers to approach. He grabbed the back of the ginger head and kissed the vacant eyed Nivens passionately before gently pushing him toward the nearest empty tube. His new slave obeyed. Wesker, wounds healing and returning to human form, turned back toward his squirming prize, and smiled. “For all your training and strength, the one weakness you heroes never take in to account is your own beauty” He fell to his knees straddling the fallen hero, and with great relish pushed the skintight B.S.A.A T-shirt up to the clavicle, exposing the exquisite bare torso. “You’ve always been a thorn in my side, Chris, but goddamn, you are fine”

Framed as they were by the leather gun holster and sheath, Chris’ pecs released from the skin-tight shirt, crowned by temptingly pert, slightly oversized nipples, were so full and round, that they could be described as tits. In contrast to the heavy facial stubble, those tits were only lightly covered by masculine hair which grew a increasingly dense, midway past the eight pack abs inviting the viewer inexorably down the treasure trail toward his stiffening cock.

As a Licker, Wesker was able to control the size of his tongue, from human sized to several meters long. He chose a froglike motion to whip out and tease the left nipple and savour a drop of Chris’ blood before he closed his mouth around to suckle and flick, while a tiny stray tentacle tormented the other nipple. The restrained stud writhed pushing his chest up toward the assault followed by his stomach and groin. His cock painfully restrained by tight pants pushed for release. Never taking his hands off the freshly exposed skin, Wesker lovingly kissed his way down over rippling abs to the roadblock on that hairy train. He was in his stronghold, guarded by an army of mutants, and a platoon of supermen sex slaves, on display in their cases. There was no need to rush, and no intention. He slowly pulled the pants off the lean hips, down past the thick thighs. The tentacles tore the rest of the fabric away. Chris’ only remaining attire, were his sneakers, gun holster, pushed up T-Shirt, those fingerless hobo gloves, and silent ear piece, with no one on the other end to call for help. These items only enhanced his vulnerable nudity. His beautiful cock extended rock hard to it’s full twelve inched pointed leaking pre cum.


Wesker whispered in his ear “ You never suspected, did you, when I was human, how I looked at you? How I longed for those big pecs and thick hard ass. As a human, I could never admit to this attraction but now I AM A GOD. I can take what I want.” He closed his mouth around his victim’s raging cock, and let his tongue twirl around it constricting like a boa. Chris Redfield’s cock now belonged to him. Chris felt as if his entire being drawn up into that sucking vortex and exploded into Wesker’s gulping maw. He fell limp as the nightmarish tongue squeezed every drop of seed out of his pulsing cock. “Now, my beauty, it’s time to make you all that you can be. All mine, that is” Wesker produced a syringe and injected the virus into both nipples. He allowed a Tentacle to wrap around the sack and injected the egg like balls. Chris barked in pain, then shuddered as his body mutated, finally falling still. No longer needed, the goo and tentacles released the naked soldier. The fight was over. Chris Redfield belonged to him, and him alone. Wesker lovingly stroked the dark hair from his forehead and looked deep into Chris Redfield’s blank brown eyes. “It’s you I want, Chris. It’s always been you. From the time we worked together, I knew I had to have you.”

He leaned down and kissed the full lips at first gently, then passionately, forcing his tongue down his prey’s throat. Through his revulsion, Chris felt his mouth, as if someone else’s, kissing back with equal fervor

Wesker wrapped his arms around the limp heroic torso, pulling it toward him and laying it back on the ground. He stood, pulling Chris up to a sitting position by his soft black hair. Leaning his shoulder into the tight stomach, He pulled the helpless stud onto his shoulder and stood. Chris Redfield. Chris FUCKING Redfield hung, heavy, over his shoulder. Swaying, gargantuan, arms grazing his back, as they hung limply toward the floor. Human or mutant, he had longed for this. Chris Redfield’s magnificent meaty ass, bent over, helpless, and raised up, completely at his mercy. He held the muscle thighs tight together, further accentuating the meaty curve of the perfect round muscle hams. He felt, the still hard leaking cock pressed into his shoulder, the cool granite curve of the super-soldier’s butt against his cheek. Savoring every step, holding his precious victim, he finally laid the hunk over the spanking bench Chris had noticed upon entering the room. He had felt a premonition it would be the last time he would be free and strong, like a young god.

He sat for a minute to admire the perfect mounds of hard muscle before him, then slowly fell to his knees, laying his hands on the creamy white muscle cheeks. He pulled the beautiful cock out between the legs. Chris Redfield’s ass, balls and cock laid out nicely for his exclusive admiration, and for his exclusive use. He raised both hands up, and down again in a hard slap.

Then again, and again, again, enjoying the way the tight creamy, white globes blushed painful red, and then grabbed each cheek firmly. He had never felt anything so delicious, as those hard constricting muscles in his hands. He pulled the cheeks apart, and marveled aloud; “Look at that sweet pink hole. No matter how tough, or lethal a stud is, he’s always tender and vulnerable in this secret place, and that sweet pink hole is aaallll mine”

The elongated frog like tongue flickered out of the mutant’s mouth, and vibrated at the slit of it’s victim’s cock, and danced up the engorged vein that throbbed along the shaft, slobbered over the balls, and up the defenseless crack, causing Chris to shiver. It pulled back, and pushed its way past the clenching pucker, and deep into the stud’s hole, burying his face in the crack. Chris was making soft grunting noises. The stud was primed.

The Licker tongue shot out again, wrapping around the stud’s neck. No longer able to wait, Wesker pulled the beautiful cheeks apart, pulling the hole wide, his grotesque oversized mutant cock against the hole and rammed in without mercy. Chris’ eyes rolled back in his head, unable to cry out in pain, he gasped for air, as his enemy slammed into his helpless chute.

In life or death, Wesker had never known such intense pleasure. Chris’ hole constricted so tightly around his raging member it seemed to have been made for this purpose. Perhaps it was. He gripped each steely mound of muscle pushing them together to increase the snug sensation, pulled them apart to enjoy the view of his cudgel finally claiming the hole it had hungered for, all that time. Rotating the muscles , he enjoyed the hard feel of them in his hands. Watching them manipulated and groped by his greedy groping hands drove him wild. He pistoned and rammed frantically, deep inside Chris. The soldier’s body jumped, and jigged like a rag doll in a hurricane with every thrust. Chris felt he might explode. Orange pustles began to form on Wesker’s arms, from which, once again burst, the leech -like tentacles, wrapping around Chris’ arms and legs, impaling him further onto his rapists rod, latching onto his sore nipples, and wrapping tightly around the base of his cock. The sight of this ideal specimen of manhood, this flawless young god of war entangled within a mass of blood sucking tentacles, every beautifully formed muscle straining and flexing, with reptilian tongue wrapped around his neck, and that hard round ass raised up in the perfect position to receive the cruel, invading thrusts of the monsters cock buried deep between those lovely violated mounds made him insane. No longer concerned whether he injured this helpless beauty, he pounded in with all his superhuman strength. Chris gasped out a strangled moan, which sent Wesker over the edge, shooting mutant seed deep into Chris bowels. Chris too, exploded simultaneously and both men collapsed, spent. Tongue and tentacles receding back into human-formed Wesker. Both men lay still for, what seemed an eternity. Then somehow something stirred within Chris. A part of him still seemed to possess free will. Every part of his body aching, he summoned all of his remaining energy, and elbowed his rapist off of him. Wesker sprang to his feet. Before he could unleash his tongue, Chris knocked him down with one, punch. He lunged for his gun, and fired a round into the body. This slowed the mutant, but the tentacles began to emerge. He was in no condition to fight. He ran, stumbling back to the elevator. The doors closed just before the tongue could reach inside. Chris crumbled to the floor, as he shot toward the surface. Warm natural light flowed in. A team of hazmat suited medics placed his ravaged beautiful body on a stretcher. He passed in and out of consciousness muttering, trying in vain to warp his mind around the fact that he, and his men, had been raped. He slipped into a dreamless sleep, and woke to someone touching, no, someone groping at him. His eyes shot open. Three hazmet masks peered down at him. They removed their masks Zombies!

He lay, paralyzed on an operating table, laid out like a feast, as they moved in.

He felt their hot rotting breath and drool on his bare skin. They moved in close, slack jawed, as if in awe of the flawless beauty so completely at their mercy. Head back, Chris’ stubbled jaw pointed to the ceiling. His massive hair dusted tits seem to swell in response to the ghoulish adoration. He felt a cold zombie tongue tentatively touch his nipple, and another just below his belly button. He shivered violently. In reaction, the undead began to lick, every inch of his body, for what seemed like days. Finally, ravenous mouths began to lightly nibble at his underarms, perineum, eventually closing around his nipples and cock. His traitorous body, mutated to offer itself up to every rapist’s lustful whim, arched up to welcome the molestation.

After slurping down his cum, they lifted him up off the table. A zombie lay in his place. They laid him face down, his head resting next to the zombie’s which panted rotting breath into his ear. His thick arms hanging off the sides, knuckles dragging on the ground. They pulled his hips up, so he rested on his knees, head down, big meaty ass up at the apex of the triangle, the focus of desire. His muscled ass was presented, as he understood it always would be, violated, by all three zombie cocks at once, thrusting mindless need into his ruined hole. He would never get used to the pain.

Wesker’s voice purred into his ear piece “My turn next, Chris “ He opened one eye and saw Wesker smiling at him through the glass of the operating theatre window. He was wearing Leon’s headset. It had all been a trick. There was never an antidote. It was all a game. Wesker had allowed him to escape, to believe for one moment he was free. Just for the fun of watching him captured and raped again. The evil mutant grinned; “Game over, Chris Redfield. Want to play again?”

The End.