Work Text:
Smoke rose in two thick columns, lazily drifting northeast with the wind. The wasteland was no stranger to such things; even now, two decades after the Fires, humans had not stopped fighting over their differences. Today, at least, it had been Muriel who had won. Barely, true, but the ranger was still in one piece. More than could be said for the drivers of the bandit trucks that now bled black into the sky.
She was a small woman, lithe and ragged. More than one fellow ranger had called her rat-like; not just because of her appearance, but her reserved personality. It was meant as an insult, but she had always chosen to take it otherwise. Rats were survivors. She was trying to channel that energy now, desperately rooting through the back of her buggy. It had been shredded by a machine gun, leaving her transport and radio both far beyond repair. This far from HQ, out on the border, an emergency flare was far more likely to bring trouble than help. They would assume she was dead, anyway, when she failed to report in on time. The only option Muriel had now was to set out alone into the wasteland.
Long odds. But not impossible.
She had already dumped her combat armor; the bulk was just going to get her killed. Instead she threw a beat up duster over her camo top and shouldered the prepacked survival kit. The rifle would stay too; if she was fighting alone out here she was dying anyway. The holdout pistol would be enough deterrent for hungry mutants. Then it was the spare gas, spilled in the trunk. A match, a flare, a conflagration. No sense leaving anything for the scavengers. And she was gone, leaving a third finger of smog to claw at the afternoon sun.
Her immediate destination was a small ruin a short distance back down her patrol route. The pre-war town had been a minor footnote when she first passed it, tailing her bandit marks, but now it would provide invaluable shelter from both the scorching sun and prying eyes. Burning wrecks drew danger like blood in the water; laying low for a few days would let trouble disperse and give a lone wanderer the best chance of escaping without altercations. Even with the short distance, Muriel was struggling with the brutal heat by the time the ruined town came into view. The cracked earth radiated the sun's heat back in her face, and the sparse landscape offered little shade or cover. Still, the promise of relief kept her strides confident.
The distant sound of rumbling motors burned that confidence away and pushed her, almost instinctively, into a run. Not fast enough.
A bike leapt into view, then a second. The red banners left no doubts towards their allegiance, and they came in screaming behind the desperate ranger. She didn't bother looking, or slowing; she sprinted at the speed of pumping adrenaline until the roaring engines overtook everything else. A spin and lunge, one desperate movement, and the bike sped past her, its twin biting at her heels. Neither was foolish enough to stop, and then she was dashing along the tracks, racing the last hundred meters to the ruined foundations ahead. The scouts swerved away, leaving the path tantalizingly clear, but the rear driver skidded to a stop, kicking up enough dust that Muriel couldn't see them drawing their gun.
The first shot went wide, spinning away into the distance. The second bit into the ground, spraying a jet of dirt into the air. The third hit her pack, the impact causing her to stumble at the edge, desperately scrabbling for cover. And then she was clear, pressed against ruined stone for support as she drew ragged, gasping breaths. She fumbled at her holster for a moment, before the comforting weight of the iron was in her hands. The next step would be to ambush the bandits when they followed her, steal a bike, and...
Thunder rumbled in the distance. They had friends on the way.
New plan, then.
This town had a name, once, but it was burned away in the Fires along with everything else. The skeletal remains of concrete buildings made it a maze of crumbling architecture. The streets were mostly clear of debris, at least; between scavengers and the elements there was little that hadn't been cleared away. It meant Muriel didn't need to worry about leaving an obvious trail as she pushed into the ruins, searching for anything to hide in. The thunder was growing louder, the single rolling sound splitting into the pitches of many distinct engines. It was a massive party - some petty warlord's retinue, no doubt. Just her luck.
Around another corner, the street ahead had collapsed, revealing the infrastructure beneath. The far wall had crumbled away, revealing a basement complex underneath a concrete building whose bottom floor, at least, was mostly intact. It was perhaps too obvious of a hiding place, but Muriel was running out of time and options. Down she went, landing with a thud and a grunt. A maintenance tunnel, likely for sewage work; it was collapsed ahead but turned behind, following the contour of the road. Almost certainly a dead end. The basement level was a parking garage, it seemed, but her eyes were struggling to adapt to the gloom after spending the day above ground. More corners and little pockets to hide in, at least.
There was a rustling sound coming from the cavernous space. Skittering, more like; something insectoid that she had disturbed with her presence. She hesitated, hand nervously on the hilt of her dagger, before the crunch of boots above made the decision for her. Bugs were easier to deal with than bullets, and she darted inside as quietly as possible. The waxy sheen of a carapace revealed her new roommate. A cockroach, hound-sized in its mutant gigantism. Still, it was a relief to see the creature; a scavenger wouldn't be interested in living prey. Even as a second and third set of antennae probed into the darkness, Muriel turned away and refocused on hiding from her pursuers. They weren't far behind, as someone jumped down with another thud that startled the roaches further back into the darkness. Muriel couldn't help but hold her breath, pressed behind a support beam as tightly as possible. A moment of silence followed, drawn out in agony by the pressure.
"Just bugs down here!" the bandit yelled. "Help me up before they jump me."
The ranger didn't breathe again until the sound of boots on asphalt had faded away completely.
It was only now that she was noticing the wetness seeping into her back. She bit the curses from her tongue and quickly undid her pack, desperately hoping it wasn't as bad as she feared. It wasn't, if only barely; one of her two canteens had taken the shot from earlier, spilling itself into her pack. Nothing else was ruined, but the prospect of hiking on half water rations was bitterly unpleasant.
Well, one thing at a time. For now, the prime concern of her survival was the hunters above. She sucked out as much of her spilled water as she could before cautiously moving further into the garage, hugging the streetside wall. There were still wreckages choking the floor, the scrap metal long abandoned or forgotten. While any wayward sounds could be easily attributed to the roaches, Muriel still forced herself to move gingerly, taking the time to calm her pounding heart and adjust her eyes to the looming dark. There was a rectangular room in the corner, jutting out into the floor. The door gave way with gentle pressure, revealing a short hallway, collapsed stairwell, and another small door. That too was unlocked, revealing a musty service closet whose contents were difficult to discern so far from natural light. It didn't matter, either way, as anything still left here was going to be of no use to her. After doubling back, closing the outer door, and checking she could see the crude exit through the dusty glass, the lone woman started settling into her temporary shelter.
- - -
Muriel would have loved nothing more than to slip away once night fell. Her limited water placed immense pressure on her to return to the safety of a settlement. Patience, though, was the virtue that would most likely ensure her survival. The war party above hadn't left that day, which meant scouts would be posted throughout the ruins. One unlucky turn and she'd be back to fleeing on foot from motorized warriors. The roaches were of minimal concern, at least. They were far more active at night, and several times came over to the door to scuttle at the border, probing for her scent. They had no way past the door, though, and so Muriel laid down on her pack and tried to find some fitful sleep.
The war party didn't leave the next day, either.
They weren't looking for her, as best the loner could tell. They had likely chosen this place as a staging ground for attacks into ranger territory; the same settlements Muriel had been considering for her own escape. Part of her knew it was her duty to try to get a warning out, or disrupt the operation in some way, but she had never been interested in playing the hero. Her disappearance would serve as enough of a clue to put her comrades on alert; her job now was to survive.
That meant hiding down here, conserving her strength and moisture.
After another day of lurking, however, Muriel found herself getting too restless to stay still. She left the safety of the little corridor, creeping back into the garage with the flimsy justification that there might be something useful hidden amongst the wrecks. She didn't make much noise, but it was enough to attract fresh attention from her insect acquaintances. While she kept one hand on her dagger, the roaches were staying at a respectable distance, observing her with caution equal to her own. There were still three of them; the only ones she had seen down here. While the mutants had smaller communities than the household pests of the past, it was still strange to see so few. Had something happened to the rest of their brood? Or perhaps they were the ones that had been separated. It would explain their curiosity, if they were used to larger groups.
One of the three crept closer, chittering a little. Perhaps it was boredom, or the stress of her situation, but the human felt like reciprocating the gesture. She took a slow, gentle step forward, cooing a nonsense word, reaching out to offer the roach her hand. Waving antennae poked at her limb, rough hairs prickling through her fingerless gloves. Sensing nothing to fear, the creature kept going, scuttling up on a nearby wreck for the height to continue probing the ranger, up her arm and to her face. She couldn't help but flinch at that, hand up to protect her eyes, but the inquisitive creature passed over, testing the rest of her body. Its fellows followed suit, surrounding her with soft rustling and tickling feelers.
Muriel reached out, intent on returning the favor. Her hand glided over the smooth, hard shell of an elytra, avoiding the delicate membrane of its wing and resting on the spongy abdomen beneath. Involuntarily, she gasped at the sensation. It wasn't like a human heartbeat, pounding away, but almost like a current, swelling back and forth as the roach pulsed with life. The ranger had seen many things in the wasteland, but had never stopped to consider these ever-present creatures so closely. They were beautiful, in their own way.
Eventually, the insects were satisfied with their inspection, and left the human to her own devices. She returned to the task at hand, and while there was nothing she could find in the scrap it was difficult to consider it a waste of time. Eventually she returned to the hall and her pack, breaking out half a nutrient bar to nibble on while her mind wandered.
When was the last time she had touched another person? Years, at least. She was not well liked by the other rangers, content with her own company and confident in running her missions solo. There was always some kind of festivity or party, celebrations held in defiance of the brutal world the people lived in, but Muriel could never force herself to enjoy them. The crowds, the expectant faces, endless empty words... it was suffocating. And so she stayed in the shadows, the little rat picking away at the margins.
Would anyone actually miss her, if she didn't make it back? Was anyone waiting for her, beyond the rigors of duty?
It was a bitter thought that the dry rations did little to assuage.
One of her new friends was scuttling by the door again. This time, she let it in, thankful for any distraction from her dark thoughts. It came in alongside the right wall, around the hinge of the door, before maneuvering down and poking at the ground curiously.
Muriel took a piece of her bar and crouched down, brushing it against an antenna. It took a moment for the bug to realize she was offering food, and began to nibble at the crumbs, mouth unfurling like a blooming flower as its mandibles scooped at the food. With her other hand the human reached out to stroke the curved head, fingers running over the sensitive bristles. Her hand caught against a particularly resistant hair at the base of its neck and the roach flinched, wings twitching involuntarily. Muriel stepped back, for a moment worried she had hurt it, but the roach made no move to leave; instead, it twirled around and unfurled its elytra, wings spread wide enough to fill the hallway, pulsing abdomen revealed completely to her. It was chirping a little song, its melody pleasant but meaning lost on human ears.
This was not in any kind of animal behavior booklet Muriel had ever read. She simply stood, for a dumb moment, watching the roach sway and sing at her. It was confusing, but this felt... exposed.
Intimate.
The air in the small space started to fill with a sweet scent, and the ranger found herself drawn closer. Was it dehydration? Stress? The loneliness she had been drowning in for so long? It certainly wasn't the ranger's rational mind that willed her body forward. Indeed, it felt like sanity was bleeding away, replaced by a haze of cloying pheromones. With her legs spread wide, she could tuck in behind its hind legs and straddle the creature, hands reaching out to gently trace the hardened inner edge of a forewing. The scent was overwhelming, now, and the source revealed to her. There was a glistening wetness on her partner's abdomen, seeping from pores in the bronze carapace.
She brought a hand down, gently stroking the segmented body with a finger. As she picked up a trail of syrupy excretion she brought to her lips, leaving a strand drifting between them. The taste was overwhelming, chokingly sweet, beyond anything she had ever tasted in the wasteland. Was this what honey had been like, in the old world?
The roach was emboldened by her embrace. Its abdomen was no longer pulsing, but flexing, stretching slightly to reveal pale yellow flesh between the seams. It twitched up, hitting the human on her rear and eliciting a soft gasp from the touch. Again, it thrust up against her, and there was no mistaking its desires.
Any path she chose now would be insanity, but the thought of pulling her pants down was too much even for her addled senses to contemplate at the moment. Instead, she shuffled back on her knees, gently stroking the abdomen which was beginning to writhe with more urgency. The roach tried to follow her, clinging to her warmth, but gentle force kept him in place as Muriel's ass cleared the twitching tip. It trailed along the bottom of her pants for an agonizing moment before popping up in her face, eliminating any doubt this was a male.
A pair of dull claws flanked the brown-black tip of the roach's aedeagus, twitching in excitement. With its - his - abdomen resting on her chest, it was difficult to get a direct angle, so she firmly supported it with her hands while bending down, bringing the extremity to her lips. Tenderly, she kissed it, bringing more of the length out of its protective sheath. Its tip was hooked, color quickly fading to the same off-white as his inner flesh, his shaft smooth and unblemished. As her tongue traced against the tip she discovered it wasn't sharp or even particularly hard. It made her think of a glans, at least in position, but presumably it was meant to latch into some complex internal anatomy. The idea of it digging into her flesh was intoxicating.
The syrup was still lingering in her mouth, in her mind, driving her forward. One last kiss on the tip, and then she took it into her mouth, tongue tracing the joint between the barb and shaft while she suckled on it. It was warmer than she had expected from a cold-blooded creature, swollen with heat stolen from the scorching sun. Just like his abdomen, his penis was pulsing with the rhythmic force of his hearts, swelling to fill her warm embrace.
She pushed down, then, savoring the smooth surface of his shaft. The tip dragged along the base of her tongue, pushing into her pharynx and forcing her to choke down a gag. It wasn't thick enough to hurt, but it gently stretched her throat open, massasging it with his heartbeat. It was all too easy to take his whole length down to the base of his abdomen. Warmth and vibration were driving her chitinous partner mad, twitching against her clothes, and his clasper pinched against her cheeks, holding her there while his throbbing member filled her with warmth.
If it came to it, she could have pulled away; the styli weren't so tight as to hurt her face. Muriel simply waited a moment, savoring the sensations while breathing in more of the honeyed aroma through her nose. The roach seemed to be waiting for something, though; perhaps some unique internal structure she didn't possess, to finish the pairing and drive him over the edge. With her face clamped to him she couldn't use the usual human trick of friction, so she would have to get creative.
Muriel began to hum, using the resonance to vibrate her throat and the insect cock inside. The sound was indistinguishable from a moan of desire, muffled as it was, and the roach began writhing again, pushing against and just a little deeper into her. So the woman redoubled her efforts, thrumming and gagging as the twitching tip probed her esophagus and drool trickled down her chin to drip on the ruined ground.
Her reward was soon at hand. The roach spasmed, nearly knocking her over as fresh warmth flooded through their bond and fluid pulsed into her stomach. It was filling her, cutting away at the harsh edges of thirst that had been temporarily forgotten in the throes of lust. Her stomach burned with new heat as he pulsed in her throat, depositing more fluid into her eager body. Quickly, though, his pace slowed, and the pair settled into the afterglow, the human trying to steady herself with ragged nasal breaths.
She wasn't prepared when his claspers released her, pulling the length from her body and leaving the woman feeling empty and cold. She whined, involuntarily, and sucked at the tip as it passed her lips, leaving a bitter taste of seed in her mouth which quickly faded away into the syrup that still clung to her senses. Belatedly, Muriel realized he had been supporting her with his hind legs, and without his stabilizing presence she had slumped to the broken concrete, dazed and empty.
And the last lingering taste of his nectar whisked her away to a wistful sleep.
- - -
It was a complex whirlwind of emotions that met Muriel when she woke the next morning, sprawled on the ground with sweat-damp clothes sticking to her body. The night's events seemed a dream, or strange nightmare, but the stubbornly cloying taste was enough to anchor the events to reality. Disgust, shame, fear, all churned inside her gut as she blearily reached for her canteen and stole a sip.
Almost empty. Time was up.
She stumbled to her feet and made her way outside, to the crumbled entrance to listen to the sounds of the morning. Distant shouting and mechanical clanking confirmed she was still trapped down here. At this point, though, the curse was a blessing in disguise. Without water, and the nearest villages almost certainly victim to the warlord's greed, setting out on foot would mean an agonizing death by dehydration. The only realistic chance Muriel has now was to steal a vehicle in the dead of night. To call it dangerous would be a polite understatement; death or worse would be her prize if she made a mistake and got captured. But there was no other course of action to take. The only other avenue of escape would be self-inflicted.
All she could do right now was wait for the day to bleed away. Soon, though, her mind wandered back to the previous night's debauchery. In a survival situation, that kind of behavior was beyond irresponsible. The possibility of transmitting disease or infection, of the creature injuring her while in such a submissive state, of losing precious hydration to the throes of lust... the reasons were countless. It was easy to explain away as the effects of some pheromone, driving her mad. But nothing in this world could control someone's mind, and none of the risks that crossed her mind truly frightened her. No, the simple truth was that Muriel didn't regret what had happened. She had enjoyed it.
Idly, she wondered how much water she had actually gained from the exchange. Not enough to matter, realistically. She certainly couldn't survive down here by fellating insects. But the thought was enough to spark her heart again. It was entirely possible she would die, tonight, and the whole day would have to be worn away before she could try anything.
Rustling came from behind nearby wreckage. The roaches wanted to be near her, but the morning light was making them too nervous to approach. The memory of that sweet nectar flitted through her mind, and her body began to tingle with desire. There was no question now about how the day would be spent.
Quickly, the woman began to strip her clothes. The jacket was first, minimally soiled, followed by her holster and belt. After that the rest came off quickly; gloves first, then her boots and socks. The camo top and pants were next, leaving the woman exposed to the rising heat from outside and giving her pause for just a moment, lingering in her underwear. One final mental effort pushed her hands into motion, undoing her bra and leaving her meager breasts exposed to the morning air. Her equally meager ass was already in plain sight, so Muriel felt no fresh embarrassment when her panties slipped off her feet, leaving the ranger completely naked, lithe frame silhouetted against the bright light outside. There was little that a human would find attractive about her body, but her lovers today wouldn't care about her appearance.
She took a moment to spread her clothes over a nearby wreck, leaving them out of sight of the road. As the day wore on they would dry out in the arid air. She kept the bulky duster folded under her arm; it was probably going to be ruined by what came next, but it would be worse to cut herself on some stray piece of rusted metal. The holster came too, slung over her shoulder. Nobody had come down here so far, but unexpected company was always a possibility.
That concession to sanity caught her mind one last time. It would be best to give up this foolishness now, before the point of no return and while the voice of reason was still whispering desperately in the back of her mind. But she ignored it, bare feet plapping gently on concrete as she walked naked back into the darkness towards the bustling insects waiting for her.
Maybe those pheromones had done something permanent to her brain.
Once Muriel had walked far enough for the shadows to deepen, the roaches were at her side, probing with their antennae. The sensation was much sharper without clothes to dull it, sharp pricks and scrapes that left her tingling afterwords. The sensation of her naked body was enough to embolden the curious insects, as they paced around, crawling up on nearby wreckage to gain access to her upper body. They scraped against her thighs, her rear, her breasts, each touch heightening her arousal as they crowded around her.
The rising heat quickly became too much to bear, and the ranger gently pulled away to find somewhere to rest. The hood of a wrecked car seemed a good enough perch, so she threw her garment over the rusty metal, dropped her pistol to the side, and sat down, critters at her heels. They renewed their efforts to map out her body, surrounding the human with gentle rustling, chittering, and scraping sensations that were driving her mad. It wasn't a conscious decision for her fingers to stretch down, pressing against and then into her inner lips; she was masturbating before she realized it, drowning in the chitinous sensations around her.
One of the roaches settled on the hood in front of her, straddling her leg and nuzzling at her breast. Her gentle moans intensified as the creature gave her an experimental nibble, mandibles brushing gently against her sensitive nipple. He liked the sensation enough to press up against her, mouthparts grasping at her pliable flesh and leaving Muriel to writhe with pleasure, caught between the twin sensations of the insect's mouth and her own fingers. She had to bite down on her voice; if she got any louder someone outside might be able to hear.
Her need was leaking from between her legs freely, now, and the insects seemed to understand what her musk meant. They pulled away from her, just far enough to spread their wings and begin their cute courtship displays. The closest, the one that had been nibbling on her, was pushing up towards her face; he must be the one from last night. It might not be fair, but Muriel was in the mood to play favorites. She pulled out of herself, stifling a whimper, and leaned forward to massage the tip of his abdomen with her fingers, bringing the pale penis twitching out into the air. She took the opportunity to squat forward and lick his copper abdomen, trailing over the texture of his segmented body and catching the honeyed nectar he was secreting. She spent a moment lapping at the sticky fluids, gently massaging his tip as her mind was filled with fresh sweetness. Eventually she leaned back he shuffled forward, chasing her touch, and after spreading her legs it was easy to guide him down towards her moist opening.
And then he was pushing past her folds, filling her with his warmth and forcing a breathless moan from her lips. The hooked tip was digging into her lower walls, probing forward for an opening her mammalian genitals didn't possess. His member was pulsing along with his heartbeat, throbbing inside her even as more of his length unfurled and penetrated deeper. Her slick vagina easily accepted him, stretching to accommodate his girth. She couldn't help but push back, trying to grind against him and causing the poor bug to stumble, slipping at the edge of the hood. Once he got his footing he countered with increased vigor, claspers clinging to her groin and pinning him inside. She lay there for a moment, gasping away, and his pulsing length kept creeping into her, keeping the cresting edge of pleasure ever-closer. Idly the human's hands flitted down again, gently tracing circles around his shaft and her delicate pearl. The lack of thrusting penetration was certainly strange, but Muriel was still embracing every intimate moment, lost in the sensations and drowning in a fresh haze of honeyed pheromones wafting from her insectoid lover.
Soon, though, the roach stopped making progress, throbbing away deep within her body. For a moment the human began to worry, as there were no tricks she could pull to replicate the success of last night. The fear was for naught, though, because as soon as she began to focus on the issue her body pushed the bug over the edge and he began to climax. This time, locked in intimacy, his spasming aedeagus drove her wild, drowning in rapture as the vibrating member stimulated her walls in a way no human penis could hope to. Her body writhed as she whited out for a moment, and he began to pump white-hot fluids into her womb. Again and again, the vibrations stretched out her ecstasy and fed more seed into her eager body, until eventually the throes died down and the lovers settled, physically locked into their shared afterglow.
In her life in the wasteland, Muriel had never used a powered vibrator. The delicate electronics were hard to maintain, and batteries were far too precious for such shallow entertainment. That meant she had no context for the experience, no frame of reference that could ground the bliss that still burned in her gut. All she could think in that moment, with her mind addled, was that an insect's cock had pleasured her more than any human or toy ever had.
Seed was gently trickling out past his embedded shaft, dripping onto the ranger's coat. When he eventually pulled out, more fluid spilled out, soiling it completely. She couldn't care less, though; its loss was already expected. While the first roach stayed by her side, gently nuzzling her, the other two were pressing in again, courtship displays back in full swing. Muriel needed a moment to collect herself, catching her breath, but she couldn't calm her beating heart and eventually decided to move back into action.
An idea bubbled up into her lustful mind, and as soon as it was there it lodged firmly in place. She wanted one of them on top of her, pressing down with its weight. She didn't know if that was feasible, considering their mating habits so far, but reason was far from her addled mind and she quickly resolved to try. Rolling over was made only slightly more difficult by the need to shuffle midway, to avoid the bare metal surface to her left. With her ass in the air, still coated in insect cum, she felt more exposed - more exited - than ever before, panting heavily as she stretched her legs out to stroke a lucky insect with her toes. It was awkward, using her feet that way, but she quickly found her balance and massaged the pale tip of his abdomen, pressing her soles into his rapidly stretching cock.
It was only meant to tease him, though, and she soon pulled back, leaving the poor creature to chitter in annoyance. The human brought her knees under her body, then stretched her hips out, leaving her glistening pussy exposed for them all. The annoyed roach scuttled backwards, hitting her thighs; after a few annoyed thrusts which failed to connect with her body, he turned around and climbed up her rear, tarsi scratching her skin. He wasn't as heavy as his size suggested, but the weight was still enough to make Muriel feel pinned, enveloped by his chitinous grasp.
For his part, now that he had trapped the rebellious female his abdomen began thrusting down, tip grazing her vulva before it caught and dug in. He had to thrust, in this position, his aedeagus stretching her in fresh ways as it pushed down towards her belly. She was moaning again, releasing little high-pitched gasps as he pushed and pulsed deeper into her body. Her fluids mingled with those of her first lover, letting the new cock slide easily. The ranger couldn't stay still, writhing in pleasure, but that caused the creature to slip, claws scraping down her arm as it struggled to stay upright. His thorax slapped into her back and his member twisted out, forcing more pleased whimpers from her lips as he readjusted and thrust back inside.
It took a few more adjustments and thrusts for him to become satisfied, and his claspers came down to bond the pair. This time, Muriel just relaxed and enjoyed the sensation of his throbbing member buried deep inside her. The two were content to hold there, soaking in each other's warmth and the pulsing life of their beating hearts. Eventually, Muriel felt the roach's orgasm coming, but still wasn't quite prepared for the roiling pleasure as he vibrated inside her, the sudden and intense energy easily pushing her into her own mind-blanking climax. She lost the strength to stay propped up, slumping into the covered hood; the insect's claspers weren't strong enough to maintain their hold through the torque and he slipped free, leaving a trail of hot seed in her womb before the tip popped free and spurted white fluid onto the human's belly.
Without his tenuous hold, Muriel's knees gave out and she collapsed onto her side, twitching in the last throes of her second orgasm and leaking fresh semen down her thigh. She was still lying there, gasping, thoughts blanked, when the third roach pressed against her. He had lost patience with the usual courtship ritual, driven mad by the lust choking the air, and wasn't waiting for the woman to initiate before his probing abdomen pressed between her thighs and his barb slipped into her folds. He was struggling with the weight of her leg, but she had gathered enough strength to lift it for him, allowing him to push flush against her groin. She started to whine, riding on the sharp edge between pleasure and pain as a third penis forced itself into her overstimulated vagina.
She didn't have the strength or, more importantly, the heart to stop him from using her body. All she could do was try to relax as he drilled deeper, pushing past two layers of virile fluid and spilling more out of her. He was bigger than his broodmates, stretching her just that little bit more than they had been able to. She couldn't see much in the gloom but still clenched her eyes shut, folding her arms and trying to steady her breathing as his probing tip scraped against the side of her walls. Again she whined, as he hit her cervix and ground against her hips, trying in vain to force his way deeper. There was still a short length of his shaft that couldn't penetrate, and his claspers couldn't secure a grip on her flesh with the distance between them. Again, she began to worry that this would pose an anatomical problem; would he be able to cum without first locking onto her body?
He wasn't satisfied with the position, at least, little microthrusts churning his mate's insides and preventing her from settling into a comfortable rhythm. His hindleg was pushing against her elbow, the other scrabbling without a brace; his midleg was similarly pressed against her knee, stabilizing him enough for him to continue his efforts. Their bodies weren't colliding to create the plapping sound of flesh on flesh, but the human's half-pained moans mixed with the soft squelching of their mingled fluids to fill the basement with lewd noises.
The roach continued like that for a short time, long enough that Muriel was afraid she would have to pull him off of her and finish the act some other way. Eventually, though, his efforts were enough to push past his instinctual limits and he began to shudder inside, driving her to new heights of aching pleasure as a third wave of insect sperm filled her womb. Ecstasy mixed with agony as her used body climaxed for a third time, legs locking onto her bug lover tight enough for him to squeak in protest. Consciousness slipped from her grasp, and it was only with time and great difficulty that she pulled herself back together enough to return to awareness.
One arm was still draped over her chest, the other lying limply against the padded scrap metal. Cum coated her thighs, cooled on her belly, pooled on her ruined jacket and ran in little rivulets down the front bumper. Her gut held a deep-seated ache that belied her profound satisfaction. For a while she simply lay there, basking in the dregs of her afterglow and recovering after the great ordeal.
The trio of insects had let her be, but were still rustling about close by. Finally, the human found enough will to push herself up, trying to avoid getting too much more of the rapidly cooling fluids on her body. The sleeves were unsoiled, at least, and she took the opportunity to roughly wipe the worst of the love from her lower body. The rest would dry off in time to be scrubbed free; in the meantime there really wasn't any reason for her to dress. As best she could tell from inside, it was only early afternoon; plenty of time left to gather her strength and prepare for the night.
Carefully, Muriel picked her way back to her little hole, intent on grabbing some lunch. Belatedly, she realized there were still a week's worth of rations left in her pack. Without water, they were irrelevant to her survival; with one tucked into her mouth, she brought the rest outside, unwrapping and presenting one to each of the curious insects following her. As they all ate, she took the time to stroke their smooth heads, once again marveling at their beautiful bodies.
No other person would ever know of what she had done down here, but the ranger didn't feel lonely in that knowledge. The bonds between her and these roaches may be ephemeral, but the connection felt like far more than temporary lust. Perhaps it was the honeyed taste that still clung to her senses, lingering in her thoughts, but she felt satisfied, cleansed in a way nobody else would ever understand. Even the thought of dying tonight seemed a distant fear; for now, she was happy, another member of their little brood.
Besides, if the impossible happened and she succeeded tonight, there was no reason she couldn't eventually return. This place was on the border of ranger territory, true, but it was nominally their territory. Patrol routes had brought her here once already; it would be trivial to find an excuse to come this way again. More than any plan or iron in her hand, that thought comforted her, warded against the dread of what was to come.
- - -
When the waning moon crept into the night sky, Muriel drained the last of her water and left each member of the brood with a soft kiss. They tried to follow her, up and out of the crumbling building, but she gently pushed them back down and fled, silent strides carrying her through the ash-scorched ruins. As far as she could tell, the basement lay within the raider's security perimeter, and she had no trouble creeping towards their staging ground.
A dozen vehicles were parked on the edge of the old city, towering like monsters in the darkness. There were guards about, but they were huddled around fires to ward against the chill, ruining their night vision and allowing the intruder to dart between the vehicles unseen. She chose a smaller beast, one of the technicals that formed the backbone of their cavalry force. As with all wasteland engineering, the bandits favored reliability over security, and the only trouble the ranger had was going slowly enough to avoid making any noise as she dug out the right wires to spark the ignition.
It roared to life, engine pounding in time with her adrenaline-spiked heart, and she wasted no time screaming out into the desert, leaving behind dust and confused screaming. By the time they had gathered their wits enough to mount a pursuit, the wasteland had swallowed her, gone into the night.
She drove in the dark as long as she dared, slowing down rather than using the headlights until the moon was high above and she was certain nobody was following her trail. Navigating was both easy and impossible; she knew what direction to travel, but the theoretically familiar terrain was alien to her in the darkness. All she could do was press on, hoping to find her way come morning. There was no doubt the rangers knew of the threat on their doorstep by now; it was just a question of returning to HQ to debrief and then joining the effort to drive the warlord and his posse back into whatever hell they had crawled from.
As she drove into the night, thinking about the future, Muriel was unaware of the complications that would face her in the coming months. There was no way for her to know of the consequences that this morning's actions would carry, or of the quickening within her womb.
That knowledge would only come with time.