Chapter 24: Chapter 20: Cat Rescue

Day 17(46) - Morning

Fort Matthew - Royal Residence 

Eleven Days

 

"Breed! Me!"

*fwop* *fwop* *fwop*

Damn, even fucking, catwoman's a demanding bitch. But it's our first time. So I'll go easy on her.

"Rowrrr!♡"

*sploosh* *splurt*

Cono's brown and gray fuzzy tail sticks straight up in the air and quivers with the rest of her bent over naked body. Legs are stretched wide. Toes spread. Claws extended. Fur, already soaked, is completely drenched as her honey floods out again. Mixed with my thick seed.

Each thrust sending a new ripple up her trembling back.

"Yowl!♡"

After our euphoric mind melting explosion. Tingling hot electric waves pulse through us in sync. I pump one last white rope deep inside while holding her shivering butt tight against my waist.

Kitty's arms give out and she collapses face first onto the operating table. Her rear still up in the air, impaled on my cock. That fuzzy twitching tail flops, now limper than a wet noodle.

Yes, you read that right. Operating table. We're in the Royal Residence’s infirmary. Another room in the cellar that I added for the staff. And where I just finished giving soup nazi's sister a cybernetic eye and hand.

I visit the basement every day. Checking on the vats in the lab and making adjustments. The genetic, cybernetic and magical alterations I'm doing to the volunteers would probably be considered crimes against humanity. If organizations like the United Nations still existed. Or maybe war crimes?

I don't know. Nor do I care.

Humanity is on the ropes.  By my estimates, in less than two months, nine out of ten people have died. The survivors experiencing death and loss on a global scale.

Many are now too traumatized, or to disabled, to fight back against the horrors beyond the walls. Carrying physical and mental scars that will haunt them for the rest of their days.

Hopefully this procedure will give these damaged people the strength and courage to fight back. Or it may fail completely. Creating unresponsive vegetables. Maybe uncontrollable psychopaths. Don't know. I've never actually done this before.

Same with Cono. I've had plenty of cyberware put in me. Even did some myself. But never installed hardware in someone else. So it took a few days of testing and checking before I was confident enough to try.

Put a lot of effort into making her new eye and hand look natural. And feel I did a good job too. No, she didn't want to go into the vats. Catwoman feels she's already strong enough.

The doctor's orders were to rest for the day. No, she didn't really need to. Combining [Recovery Magic] and [Technomancy] should leave zero issues. But there's also playing it safe, right?

Apparently her people's prescription for rest is doggy style. To be applied immediately to the rear. Or in this case, I guess, kitty style? Anyway, I believe in respecting a culture's traditional medical practices. So I filled her prescription. Several times.

*splat*

Soften myself enough for her hips to slide off and flop into a puddle of our fluids. Leaning forward, I lay down on Cono's back, intertwine our fingers and kiss the nape of her neck. Aftercare can be even more important than foreplay. Especially with virgins which, surprisingly, she was.

*chu* *slurp*

Cono turns her head enough for us to kiss. Love catkin with rough tongues.

"Husband." She looks at me lovingly. "You chief now. Must save tribe."

*record scratch*

Uh… Excuse me?

<BledWhiteHeart: Do you ever think before sticking your dick in?>

Now that's not necessarily tr-

<Nina: He doesn't.>

Hey! That's… well… dammit. 

Somehow, kitty's tail found my penis and stroked it hard again while I was distracted. Even coaxing it back into her snatch. Try to pull out but those very flexible legs bend to pin me in.

"No. Wife duty. Drain seed."

Really gotta work on your English skills.

"That's nice Cono but you really should-" *squeeze* "-oh… That's uh… that's some impressive muscle control you got in there. *squeegee* "Mother of god."

Two. Hours. Later.

So, with the purest of intentions. I agreed to help save her tribe. Which is supposedly now my tribe. Pondering the fucking bizarre journey my life has been, even before getting isekaied, I check vitals on another tank's screen.

<Nina: Roadtrip!>

Eh?

<Nina: The Saints are ready for a field exercise. This is perfect.>

We should come up with a different name.

<Nina: Why?> Pout. <You're keeping Space Marines.>

No I'm not.

<Nina: Why not?>

Because one, this isn't space. Two, they're not marines. And three, I don't want to get sued.

<Nina: Wha? Hehe, master, there's no one left to sue you.>

Please, if decades of mismanagement and incompetence wasn't enough to kill that company. A little thing like a global apocalypse won't either. So, yeah, they need a different name.

Moving on. Honey, what can you tell me about catwoman?

<BledWhiteHeart: …> Flustered. <Ahem. That bitch in heat> Spicy. <is from FN268U1. A recent integration. Her race fared poorly and had a low population to begin with. No native nations survived. They are now considered a slave race.>

Slave race?

<BledWhiteHeart: A race too weak to stand against settlers. Fit only to serve their betters. Where is her tribe hiding?>

Weren't you listening? Dragonfang Labyrinth, the Brooklyn dungeon.

<BledWhiteHeart: I am a goddess, remember? So I cannot just stay here and admir-uh observe! Yes, observe. You. All the time. Yes, right… B-but that makes sense. Starter dungeons expand with each break. But a demigod level portal would spawn with multiple floors.>

She says they used some lost civilization tech to reopen the dungeon's portal. They are hiding in a corner of the second floor.

<BledWhiteHeart: Impressive. Reopening closed portals is possible. But very difficult. Such a device would be valuable.>

Yep, see? I don't only think with my dick. Want to link my harems together and that tech could help me make portals of my own.

<Nina: I believe that still counts as thinking with your dick.>

Hush you.

<BledWhiteHeart: So how many are there?>

I don't know, she said tribe. Maybe a couple hundred? It's a dungeon after all.

<BledWhiteHeart: Fodder starter dungeons spawn with one level and a few chambers. Demigod starter dungeons spawn with multiple levels and can be a mile across.>

Hmm… should probably ask about that then.

<BledWhiteHeart: …>

Jet walks into the laboratory. The milf is armored up and in urban camouflage. Carrying a 40 cal bullpup assault rifle. "Boss, we're ready."

My mocha skinned aeromancer nervously eyes the tanks. Each cylinder is five feet high, ten feet long and filled with a thick purple fluid. You can barely make out a hazy humanoid outline through the thick glass lids.

And there are dozens in here.

"Be there in a minute." She bows, showing off her short black afro, and beats a hasty retreat. Yeah, this lab may be brightly lit. Clean room level clean. And the fluid is too dense to really see through. But her subconscious is screaming that something unnatural is happening here.

And it's right.

Rest my hand on the lid. "You'll be the first to come out, sergeant. I'll only wake you up one at a time. In case something goes wrong." Check the panel for the umpteenth time. "Not sure if I should give you new names. Guess we'll wait to see how much of your mind survived."

Talk to the air while walking out. "Which would be worse? To live as a monster? Or die as a man?"

[ Laboratory Sealed ]

Cono is waiting in the hallway outside. Along with several Royal Dept guards armored in silver, white and blue. Catwoman's been actively recruiting among the people Abraham Lincolned when I made slavery illegal. They have to sign a strict system contract to join. But they are not slave contracts.

Her orange eyes look behind me, at the now locked door, distastefully. "Husband, tribe, many warriors. No need fake monsters."

"Hopefully they will just be stronger people. Not fake monsters." And if your warriors were that strong, they wouldn't be hiding in a dungeon. "Cono? How big is your tribe?"

She tilts her head, pointy ears flick, thinking for a moment as we head upstairs. "Kelam. Eight."

Crap, she's not a system employee. So her language isn't auto translated. "And how many are in a kelam?"

"Buris. Four." Oh, well that makes perfect sense.

"Nevermind." Reach the entry hall where the expedition has gathered. "Hello!"

""Your majesty."" ""My king."" ""Your honor.""

Different people spout different things. Some bow, others kneel, a few even salute. 

Let's see… There's the squad of Blackhearts. One squad of catwoman's "royal guard." A platoon from the army. Specifically the 1st platoon of 1st company of 1st battalion of 1st regiment. All crowding the room.

You are reading story And Back Again at novel35.com

Yeah, I never liked dumping regiments for brigades. So they're back.

The Minutemen, Crushers, and Chaingang parties from the guild are here too. As well as two dozen porters who will be hauling carts with supplies.

Most are in versions of my body armor. Though many of the adventurers and porters still have that football clown suit look. Also, besides their various melee weapons. Everyone is carrying one or more [Barton Magearms].

So, yeah, over a hundred folks are coming. Welp, better get this show on the road.

"Alright! The marching order is already settled so let's roll out!" Wave at Iva Bier as I pass. "Hold down the fort. Should be back tomorrow."

She nods as I step outside and, "No disassemble."

!!!

Jesus. Well that took a decade off my lifespan. Okay, maybe adding that track to the crab bots was not the right call. Their deep booming robot voice just isn't a good fit for a line from Number Five.

The crab bots are, well, picture a spider tank from a sci-fi movie. But with six legs and add two combination shield pincer arms to the front below the cannon.

"Hello." "Hi." "I see you."

Me leaving town for a day or two right now is risky. So I've deployed two crab bots and eight turret bots. That should keep the Club and Rook honest.

With the ruins, flooding, and monsters. What should be a two hour walk is actually four. So the sooner we get started, the better.

Flooding? Yep. Besides the backed up sewers. You also have to think about the underground rail and roadway tunnels. None of them were perfectly sealed. So had pumps to take the water away. With those pumps not working for over a month now?

All the subway lines are at least partially flooded. Some overflowing and turning the blocks above into swamps. Some streets are rivers now. Channeling the runoff into the sea. And also undermining roads and buildings along their coarse.

It's like one of those Life After People episodes. Except with monsters.

Two. More. Hours. Later.

"Contact!"

"Gigi!"

*zBrrrap*

On my left a Tin ranked helmeted soldier fires a burst into a green Copper ranked goblin trying to jump on him from a third story window above the street.

Three 30 cal jacketed lead magefire longballs, each weighing an ounce, traveling around three thousand feet per second and delivering twelve thousand joules of energy, rip through the monster. Nearly tearing it in two.

The FMA, Fort Matthew Army, rifleman is wearing [Barton Body Armor] with an urban camouflage pattern. Carrying a [Barton Viper Assault Rifle] with fitted bayonet. And a [Barton Hand Axe] on his hip. The rucksack on his back and LBE are my designs too.

What can I say? Steam planet let me flex my creativity. And while some were commercial failures like [Barton Body Armor]. Most of my products, besides the ridiculously successful [Barton Magearms], at least broke even.

"Fire in the hole!" Yells a corporal.

*Whoomph* *Bang*

Two grenades had been thrown through windows and go off before the squad storms the half demolished building. Knowing that the one thing you'll never find just one of?

*zBak* *zBrrrap* *zBak*

Is a goblin.

*Whoomph*

Sigh…

No, those aren't mine. Yep, something without [Barton] in the name. Shocking, right?

Barton Industrial Group Charter Union Munitions Development Incorporated Limited Liability Armaments does make grenades. But not this wimpy leftover army crap. Remember the stuff about resistance and elasticity? Well that applies to indirect fire too. In fact, a flash-bang is more effective against Iron rank and above than fragmentation grenades.

At least a flash-bang has a chance to disorient them.

You need a lot more oomph to damage the big boys. Which is why my hand bombs use magic circles. And without needing [Propel]. [Barton Grenades] can deliver the two-ring goodness of [Fireball], [Storm] and [Blizzard].

So while you don't get the flexibility and accuracy of a mage. You can still do the damage of one.

There's a beep next to me. Ce keys the shoulder mic of her walkie-talkie. "This is Queen Alpha, go ahead."

*chatter*

Yeah, my ladies started using "queen" as their radio codenames. The second half is the order I fucked them in. So Ce is Alpha, Lez is Bravo, Carly is Charlie, etc… Chen lobbied to count blowjobs too but was out voted.

And why walkie-talkies? Well, this far in the ruins we are way out of wifi range. And no cell networks so walkie-talkies with a mile or two range work best.

"Radioman!" Ce's short brown curls bounce as she shouts.

A soldier, can't be older than sixteen, with a manpack radio runs up. "Ma'am!"

"Advise command." Looks at a folded map. "King Actual is rerouting to… 23rd Avenue. Marina Cemetery is underwater."

"Yes ma'am." Of course a bigger radio will have more range. Able to reach back to the barracks where the army is headquartered. As long as the mana count is low enough.

Aren't my women amazing. The squad exits the building with freshly cut out monster cores and cut off gob ears. Our company hangs a right at the next intersection and keeps moving.

"Thank you, honey." Might as well bring this up now. "But shouldn't you be with your party?"

"I, uh, quit." Her green eyes suddenly start avoiding mine.

Eh? "You quit?"

"I found replacements." Defensive and fidgeting. "Are you… mad?"

*chu*

My hand turns the temptess's olive skinned chin my way and our lips meet. Ce quickly leans into the kiss. Savoring it. I check her tonsils before coming up for air.

"No… I'll like having you on my dick more." Raise an eyebrow. "But what about your friends?"

The pyro smiles. "Lez is looking for a replacement too. So is Carly."

"And your family?"

Embarrassed. "Mom really wants to see you again." Evasive. "Really, really."

Louis met her mom a couple of times after rescuing them. Publicly though. Not, wink wink, privately. If he had? His v-card would have definitely been cashed.

"And your sist-ow." I get pinched.

"You just want to fuck them." Pouts the G-cup sorceress. Both her mother and sister are hot too. One an older, the other a younger, version of my twenty-three year old Cecilia. So, yeah, oyakodon baby.

But my lover has a bit of an inferiority complex when it comes to those two. Plus I've been super busy. And already buried in pussy. Meaning I haven't pushed it. Of course, I won't say no either.

*grab*

Give her ass a firm-

"Swarm!"

A shout from up ahead.

*foooozh*

[ Spidion | Male Junior | G-grade ]

Yeah, super weak mix of a spider and scorpion. But there's hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. Unfortunately, for them, their rush out of another wrecked building is met by a stream of flames.

A jet of mana infused liquid fire coats the insect horde with magic napalm. A second soldier quickly brings his flamethrower to bear too. The roar of the flames mixing with the screeches and popping of burning exploding bugs.

Currently, each squad has eight members. Six riflemen, one machine gunner, and one flamethrower. Led by a sergeant.

"[Fireball]" My annoyed pyromancer tosses a ball of flames at the intruding insects.

The smell of cooked creepy crawlies is seriously fucking unpleasant. But before long we are on the move again.

…

The Brooklyn dungeon portal is on the western edge of Brooklyn College. Inside its Heating Plant. Stepping through a collapsed wall the entrance comes into view.

And it's big.

Got to be a good twenty-thirty feet in diameter. Destroyed machinery and alien looking plant life surrounds it. In fact, several blocks around have been turned into an alien forest.

Has the same reality defying edge though this one seems more unstable. The rippling border expanding and contracting slightly as we watch.

Before I can say anything the female lieutenant shouts. "Form up! Scouts forward! First, second and third squads take the flanks and rear!" Listens to something through an ear piece. "Keep you heads on a swivel! Including up and down! Death can come from anywhere in there!"

The radioman speaks up. "Sorry ma'am, unable to raise base. Too much interference."

Ce and the officer nod at each other as the Chaingang walks into portal. Entering the strange dark woods that can be seen beyond it. The porters, who have already had to leave their carts thanks to tree filled streets, enter after the silver royal guard squad.

Our journey through the dungeon is smooth though slow. The first floor is a massively overgrown nighttime woodland. Roots big enough to drive cars on crisscross the forest floor.

The boss before the second floor portal is only an E-grade, Iron rank, treant. It does not last long against our firepower. Ba dum tish. 

Level two is a wide open twilight plain of rolling hills. Sadly, for the ambush monsters hiding in the five foot grass. It's also flammable.

Hours later, cresting a hill, I finally get an answer to the question I'd been wondering about as the large valley filled with grass thatch huts comes into view.

"So kelam means thousand…"

The refugee city has been expecting us and thousands of cat people point spears and arrows our way.

Oh boy.

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