F.E.A.R. 2: Sinners' ConcoursebyMJKA©
They were everywhere and they were nowhere: demons, ghosts, victims of Aristide's unholy experiments. Whatever they were mattered very little to Sergeant Michael Becket as he pushed through a chain-link fence and hurried after the naked woman taunting him with her long black hair and flawless figure. To him they were mere impediments, nuisances keeping him from what he desired most.
He slid to a stop, firing at a transparent specter that vanished in a swirl of plasma, and slapped the light on the end of his weapon. It wouldn't stop flickering, and the darkness seemed to take on a life of its own as it slowly enveloped him.
Becket shook his head, trying desperately not to focus on his growing unease, but always in the back of his mind was one question: What the hell was wrong with him? That woman, that creature, had murdered half his unit. Yet here he was, risking everything to be with her.
His comm crackled to life, breaking into his thoughts, and an image of Keegan appeared in his HUD.
"Becket," the frazzled man grunted. "Where the hell are you?"
He was low on ammunition in the basement of Wade Elementary, that's where he fucking was.
"You're close to the common," Keegan said. "Get moving. Stokes is in trouble; Armacham mercs everywhere!"
That got Becket's attention. He took his eyes off the end of the hallway, and what he was sure was Alma Wade, and focused on the static-filled image of Keegan.
What the hell was Stokes thinking? She was supposed to be supporting Keegan, not running around on her own. She knew better than to leave a wounded comrade without back-up.
"Becket man, fuck if I know. She started babbling about a woman and her kids and just took off. Radioed me for help not thirty-seconds ago." Keegan paused for a pained breath. "It's up to you, buddy. Get moving. We can't afford to lose her."
The transmission ended and the lights came on. The specters were gone, the cavernous halls silent. Becket was free to save Stokes.
Minutes later, having put down teams of Armacham mercs in groups of two, three, and four, he burst from a burning elevator and put his sights on the double doors directly in front of him. The common was just beyond.
His comm crackled. Stokes' fragmented image appeared before him.
"Becket?" she whispered. "Becket, can you hear me?" She sounded alarmed, but not frightened. Almost curious.
Becket crouched behind an overturned desk and put a hand to his ear. What the hell was going? Why wasn't she with Keegan?
"I--I can't explain it, Becket. She was calling to me, in my head, and I couldn't--"
The lights flickered, and for one heart-stopping moment Becket's HUD shorted out.
"It's her!" Stokes gasped. "Alma's here! She's here, right now!" A burst of static. "She's killing them, Becket, killing everyone! Oh, my god!"
More static. Becket tapped his earpiece.
"She's looking right at me! Now she's calling to me! Christ Becket...she's so beautiful. Sad but beautiful. I have to--"
The transmission ended.
Becket adjusted the receiver and gave her a few seconds to reconnect before breaking cover and hauling ass. She was only yards away: if he could reach her in time there was a chance he might distract Alma long enough for her to escape. It was their only chance. Even with Stokes at his side, fighting something so powerful was simply out of the question.
He was close enough now that he could hear Stokes without the comm. "Alma," she moaned. "Alma--"
Becket burst through the double doors and rolled, coming to his feet behind a pillar of thick red brick. The air was charged, smelling faintly of sulfur, and dark gray clouds swirled overhead. Becket pressed his back to the pillar, took a deep breath, then very slowly poked his head out.
He was so shocked by what he saw that he nearly squeezed the trigger on his rifle.
Lieutenant Kiera Stokes, the woman he had longed for since she joined the team as their communications liaison, stood naked from head to toe on the opposite side of the common. Dark-blonde hair pulled back in a thick braid, her body tight, tanned, and curvy in all the right places, she was perfection in female form. Yet the first thing Becket noticed, his mouth suddenly dry, was not her shaved pubic mound or heaving breasts, but her stunning blue eyes.
Alma waited for her at the center of the common: long black hair fluttering in the wind, her own incredible body on full display. Becket tore his attention from Stokes to study the supernatural beauty--his gaze lingering over the pale but curvaceous figure, large breasts, and smooth pubic mound--and found himself at a loss for words when it came to describing her. With her carefree manner and pouty, almost bee-stung lips, she reminded him somewhat of Angelina Jolie, the actress whose posters adorned his bedroom walls. But that didn't quite convey the sheer power that seemed to flow out with every breath, or the overwhelming magnetism that left Becket ready to put down his life to protect her.
"Becket," Keegan crackled. "What's happening? Have you located Stokes? Becket!"
Alma turned her head and looked directly at him. Becket quickly switched off his comm and tightened his grip on his rifle. Her vacant stare was almost hypnotic.
Stokes, breasts jiggling, hips swaying, stepped down and slowly closed the distance between her and Alma. Her beautiful eyes found Becket, and remained locked on his face even as she put her arms around the pale woman's slender waist and began to kiss her neck. She uttered a soft moan before running her tongue over Alma's pale flesh.
Becket, his cock twitching, was forced to stifle a terrific groan.
Stokes slid a hand up Alma's flat belly and fondled her breast. She circled a fingertip around the hard nipple, moaning more and more the longer she remained in contact with the ghostly beauty, and seemed almost on the verge of losing control. There was no change in Alma's expression.
Stokes shuffled around and filled her mouth with Alma's creamy breast, flicking the nipple with her tongue and gently tugging it between her teeth. She squeezed its mate as she worked, leaning over to give it an occasional kiss and lick. Alma didn't move, didn't make a sound. She stared at Becket, pouty lips pursed, and silently taunted him.
Stokes pulled away from her new lover and stood up straight and tall. She looked into Alma's eyes, one obscured by silky black hair, and ran a hand down the front of the woman's body. She moaned pathetically as she caressed soft flesh and eventually found a sopping-wet pussy. That finally got a reaction out of Alma, and she turned her attention to Stokes while the beautiful blonde stroked her juicy vulva.
A bright light exploded in the sky above.
Becket fell back, his head bouncing off the concrete, and found himself suddenly staring at bright overhead lights. He sat up, temples pounding, and watched as across a sterile room Alma, her eyes blindfolded, was orally pleasured by a thirty-something Genevieve Aristide. Both seemed to take great pleasure from it.
The image faded away. Becket opened his eyes to see whirling clouds and a gray sky. He took a moment to gather himself, then sat up and immediately began to question his sanity.
Stokes and Alma were floating at least six feet in the air, their bare crotches pressed tightly together. Alma was her usual unflappable self, but Stokes was covered in a sheet of sweat, her hair loose and damp as she ground her pussy against Alma's.
Becket blinked. How long had he been out?
"Oh god," Stokes grunted. "Oh god!"
Becket came to his feet and shifted his weapon. As incredible as all this was, he wasn't sure if he should let it continue. Alma had shown a remarkably finicky moodset as of late, and there was no telling when she would suddenly decide that he and Stokes were a threat and use her incredible mental abilities to reduce them to ashes.
Stokes stopped him with an exhausted shake of her head.
"No, Becket, don't!" She licked her kiss-swollen lips. "Please, don't hurt her. I've never--huhh!"
She ran her hands over her body, over her rounded hips and taut stomach, and cupped her breasts, kneading them and moaning in time with their lovemaking.
Alma stared at Becket, and seemed almost to smile as she took the one woman he had always wanted but could never have.
"Aw fuck," Stokes cried. Her eyes went wide, and a shudder rolled through her wet body. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" She bucked wildly, then just as suddenly went limp.
Another bright light exploded, forcing Becket to turn away. He heard Stokes grunt and caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye as she landed heavily on a nearby tabletop, slid across the surface, and rolled off the other side.
"Oh god," she moaned.
Becket slapped a hand to his throbbing temple and let out a pained grunt. He staggered into the common as memories flicked through his head like pictures in a photo album: Alma kneeling in front of a middle-aged man in a lab coat and bobbing her head; Alma on all fours, taken from behind by the same man; Alma on her side, sandwiched between two men obviously enjoying her tight feminine charms. After seeing that, it was no wonder Aristide was so terrified of her.
Reality came painfully back to Becket, and he found himself in the center of the common, mere feet from Alma. He turned his weapon on her--only the weapon wasn't there. He looked down, and saw that neither were his clothes.
Alma came to him and shoved her fingers into his mouth. He nearly bit down, but stopped when he noticed the taste. She had been exploring something wonderful recently, and he had a very good idea who that something belonged to. Alma removed her fingers and slid them into her own mouth. Becket licked his lips and sighed as his eyes tracked down the length of her body.
He crouched down and ran his hands over her long legs. Alma spread her feet wide and placed a limp hand atop his head.
She didn't make a sound as Becket slid his tongue up and down her juicy slit, but somehow he knew she was enjoying it. He dragged his tongue over her silken folds before dipping between them, attending to her thoroughly, licking and sucking until she acquired a sterile taste, then drew back and spun her away from him. Alma arched her back and squeezed her breasts while he went to work on her asshole, his face buried between the pale but firm cheeks.
Stokes slapped a hand on the tabletop and pulled herself up. She rested her chin on her arms, looking wonderfully exhausted, and watched as Becket took his turn with the ghostly slut.
He pulled Alma's cheeks apart, spit on her asshole, then pushed a finger inside. He smiled, surprised to find her so warm and tight, and placed a hand on her belly and held her firmly while he fingered her. He bit the supple cheeks hard enough to leave teeth marks and ran his tongue over the smooth flesh. She tasted great, but it was something of a disappointment to do all this work and not get any encouragement in return.
He came to his feet, spun her around, and pulled her into a deep kiss. Alma parted her lips as if she didn't quite know how to kiss him back, and went wide-eyed when he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She gave it a tentative suck, then began to bob her head. Becket let her go a moment, then pulled away and kissed her pouty lips. How he longed to feel them on his aching cock.
Alma reached down and gave his erection a good squeeze. Becket tilted his head back and groaned, almost delirious with pleasure. It wasn't just physical: Alma was doing something with her mind, touching the pleasure synapses in his brain to make the experience that much more enjoyable for them both.
Becket laughed. If this was what Snake Fist meant when he warned that Alma wanted to absorb him, then maybe the fussy old nerd needed to get laid, because there was nothing wrong with this at all.
Becket lifted Alma's leg into the air, gripped his cock at the base, and pressed the swollen head to her pussy. Alma put her arms around his neck and closed her eyes. Neither spoke. Becket eased into her body, then took her by the waist and pushed completely inside. He wasn't huge compared to some of the other men in the unit, but he was bigger than average, and it took him a moment to get entirely inside. Alma stared into his face, something resembling admiration reflected in her eyes, until Becket began to wonder if she'd ever had consensual sex in her entire tragic life.
He pressed his face against her neck and took deep breaths. She was very tight, very warm, almost virginal. He drew back, easing to a stop as his cockhead cleared her lips, and gently pushed back inside. Alma slid her hands down to his arms and dug her long nails into his hard muscles. She smelled wonderful. Becket groaned, feeling her pussy grip his cock as he drove it deep, and lifted her leg higher into the air and placed her foot over his shoulder before proceeding to give her a vigorous working-over.
Alma brushed her lips across his and flexed her fingers in time with his pumps. Her bouncing breasts captured his attention, and he reached up to play with them. Alma shook her head, a frown creasing her brow as he humped her. Supernatural or not, she was starting to feel it.
She pushed against Becket as he fucked her. She didn't moan, or groan, or grunt, and Becket wondered if she knew how, the poor girl.
He humped her faster, faster, until his scrotum grew tight and his cum boiled. He drove himself into her body with one more great push, then held her close and moaned into her neck as he spurted into her pussy. It wasn't until the after-shocks began to fade that he pulled away and gave her a kiss on the forehead as he eased himself from her body.
Alma, so beautiful, so trusting, looked into his eyes until Becket was forced to turn away. He felt dirty, heavy with guilt, as if he had taken advantage of someone not quite there.
Alma's eyes went wide, and she looked as if she were about to cry.
She pushed away from Becket and looked from him to Stokes and back again, her eyes growing wider, pouty lips parted almost in horror. She shook her head several times, looking so pathetic that Becket wanted to reach out to her, but before he could there came yet another burst of light that sent him reeling.
He had no idea how long he was out this time, but when he finally opened his eyes and looked up, Alma was gone.
"You okay, Becket?" Stokes was standing at his side, back in uniform, her hair perfectly braided.
Becket shook his head to clear away the fog and let her pull him to his feet. He was back in uniform as well, his weapon slung over his shoulder. But where was Alma?
Stokes shrugged. She blushed, unable to meet his eyes. "I was, um, a little busy."
Becket didn't press. He had caught a glimpse of her masturbating atop the lunch table while he fucked Alma's ghostly brains out.
They needed to go, he reminded her. Armacham mercs were swarming through the school, and Keegan was out there alone.
Stokes flinched at the name. "Look, Becket, about what happened here...." She hooked her thumbs into her belt and kicked at the gravel. "We should probably keep it between us. It's a little embarrassing, you know, Alma getting the drop on me like that."
She cleared her throat, then readied her weapon and hurried to take point.
"Besides, no one would believe it anyway."
No, Becket thought, they probably wouldn't. He glanced back, at the spot where he had taken Alma Wade, then hoisted his rifle and hurried after Stokes.