-*WARNING! There is vore involved in this piece of literature. Please read at your own caution!* And now, enjoy-
*
"Lana!" A masculine voice called out in the worn down, aging control center belonging to a middle aged, gray bearded and balding man with a more presentable attire of old war veteran. Various rusting medals of wars long past rested on his chest, with badges representing a title that used to have meaning. The jagged scar crossing his jaw and left cheek and the crow's feet adorning his once handsome features spoke of only foreboding and grimace.
"Yes sir!" Came Lana, a beautiful blonde haired freedom fighter that jogged across the expanse of the metalic, aging floor plates. Her exuberant attitude was only a match for her incredibly endowed cleavage, as it stretched her worn and oil-stained white shirt, which was near the edge of breaking and revealing more than necessary. As a personal precaution, she always made sure to unbutton several buttons to allow "breathing" room, which unfortunately for the rest of the male staff, showed the tops and dividing line of her cleavage.
The aging military commander gave a raised brow, as he humored her by asking, "Do you need another size larger, soldier?"
"Not at all sir," Lana gave a cute, know-it-all smirk with her succulent pink limps on her strong jaw and plump cheeks, emphasizing by propping her hands on her curvy, toned hips that were only covered by incredibly short jean shorts. "I'm actually quite comfortable in this attire."
"Yes well, with myself as an exception I think most of the men in this operation are quite," he made a once over across the control room, scowling at a couple of young rookies who were caught looking a little too long before looking back tiredly at Lana, "distracted."
"I really think its more of their problem controlling their natural urges, with all due respect, Sir," Lana retorted, shuffling her white soot covered tennis shoes with just as grimy socks fit into them.
"Don't make it sound like its entirely their fault, Lana," the Commander sighed, before rubbing his eyes tiredly, his rough calloused hands felt almost comforting to himself trying to argue about uniform ethics.
"Honestly sir," Lana crossed her arms across her hourglass waist, her navel and lower back exposed due to the nature of her upper torso's garments, "what did you call me here for? I know it wasn't for reprimanding me for my choice of clothes..."
"Yes well, I did want you to do something for me," the Commander nodded, waving her over to a monitor with various controls and switches, but more specifically a beige colored keyboard resided in front of it, "nearly several hours ago, we sent some men to do some regular patrols to check on the perimeter locks and ventilation systems, mundane routine inspection at best. However while we sent three men in, one of them disappeared-"
"And naturally you picked me to go find his sorry ass, right?" Lana picked up on where the Commander was telling her. She visually saw three ordinary men dressed in ragtag combat clothes with bandoleers stocked with ammo, grenades and the like. Despite how wet behind the ears their maneuvers and mannerisms were, they looked like they could handle any unknown threat with ease.
"Blunt, but yes, Lana," the Commander fast-forwarded all the footage to the point when they were leaving the area to make their reports. Only two of them exited the area and met back at the lobby, with the last one left behind in a dark series of corridors and what looked to be near a meat locker, "one of our rookies, Daniel Weathers, went MIA within the corridors on the Northeast area of this base, near the freezers. Despite how much we regulate this base, every once in awhile we do get infestations, potential saboteurs, and other possible threats, so just-"
"Keep my guard up, I know," Lana sighed as she raised herself up from the console, stretching her back int a almost U-shape as her breasts bobbed and jiggled underneath her stretched near transparent shirt, before standing at attention, "I'll haul his ass back and kill anything that might be chewing on his boots."
The commander gave a crisp salute, to which she returned dutifully, before giving her a nod, saying, "Good hunting and Godspeed."
_
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
"Dammit, Weathers!" Lana growled as she finished pumping several rounds into something that looked like a rat, though she couldn't be sure, that was just about to bite her foot off if it wasn't for her quick reflexes, "you're really slacking if you missed all this crap and vermin lying around!"
She huffed, walking forward with her handgun primed and ready to shoot anything else that wasn't whimpering or human. Her chest bobbed with each step she took as she turned her blonde locks with her gaze from left to right as she entered a dark section of the corridors. With barely any light save for some flickering halogen bulbs that had been smashed long since before the inspection, Lana believed that Daniel must've fallen into a hole or something with how bad the lighting was.
"Ugh!" She placed a free hand onto her nose, covering her nostrils as best as she could as a noticeable stench crossed between rotten flesh, curdled milk, and surprisingly sweet fruit which made her immediately think of fruit cakes, causing her to gag. The stench seemed to be pretty common in the deserted corridors, as stains and vermin were found almost every other 3 meters. She almost regretted not bringing a flamethrower or something that would burn all the crap she saw around her.
This continued for the next 20 minutes as she combed the dark corridors, her chest jiggling with her suave, confident steps as her voluptuous curvy hips moved in sync with her well defined and toned hourglass waist. Every time she encountered another mutated pest or fungi, her gun rounds briefly illuminated the dark corridors with flashes of blue and red light as gore sprayed over the floors, walls, and even ceiling. With each pull of the trigger, her large cleavage bounced within the recoil of her high caliber handgun.
However, Lana still saw no sign of Daniel Weathers or any sign of him leaving or being eaten by something. As she closed towards the meat locker, she then began smelling a...strangely enticing scent altogether. As she saw what looked like a separately dim-lit corridor head past the perimeter, she caught whiff of the scent again, and felt almost unknowingly pulled in the direction of the mysterious corridor.
As she stepped warily through the corridor, she suddenly saw what looked like a shoe left behind on the floor, just beyond a open storage compound. She bent down and began scaling it with her smooth hands, briefly picking up a web-like sticky residue that had a slimy texture to it. It was warm to the touch and made her hand tingle strangely, feeling herself breathe in and out the eery air that had slowly become intoxicating within the corridor's exit.
She shook her head, snapping out of her reverie briefly before wiping the webbing onto her shirt, staining it indefinitely making her swear lowly to herself.
"Weathers, I swear I'll make you clean this with your tongue once I pull you out of whatever crap you fell into!"
She raised her gun, flicking on the blue-tinted flashlight as she began sweeping the area for her missing comrade. Each of the boxes were about 5 meters by 4 meters in length and diameter, all of them metallic and rusted over years of abandonment and aging. Most of them had weird Bio-hazard symbols on them, the words spelled in foreign languages long forgotten, so any warnings that would've alerted her to the approaching danger would've been without merit.
She walked towards what looked like the center of the storage compound, finding what looked like Daniel Weather's uniform and backpack. Strangely enough she also happened to find his-
"-Damn underwear?!" She swore slightly, not wanting to embarrass herself inside the vast room as she realized that nearly all of his clothes were purposely and consensually stripped off, along with signs of sticky resin that looked the same as the shoe from earlier.