Editor's Note: like the previous chapter this one containes some very graphic images of sex, this is your first and only NSFW warning

---

Route 223, twenty kilometers southeast of Bakersfield, Vehicle Zero-Zero-Five, Sergeant Amy DiCaprio’s quarters

“Commander?”

“Mmmmm hmmmm?”

“Did I kill the sergeant, or was that your fault?”

Commander Barbara Wallace opened her eyes and lifted her face out of the huge breast that had been squished around one side of it. She peered down at the naked body of her staff sergeant, Amy DiCaprio. Then she pressed two fingers against the busty blonde’s neck, feeling for a pulse.

“No, our dear sergeant is not dead yet. Clearly, we have not been trying hard enough.” >The Commander gently pressed her thumb against Amy’s eyelid and slid it upward, revealing one dilated pupil that focused on nothing.

“She’s still out cold. What’s our score now?”

Lieutenant Wendy DeKalb, the sergeant’s second tormenter, released her mouthful of delicious Amy titflesh and laughed. “Sorry, Commander! I lost count hours ago. We’ve chewed her out, what, eight times? Twelve? Twenty? Commander, she’s an insatiable lunatic!”

Wendy plunged her face into the sergeant’s huge breast yet again, sucking its swollen nipple deep into her mouth where it belonged.

Unlike me, the breast-crazed muscle goddess thought happily. I’m not an insatiable lunatic. Oh no … “Well, lieutenant, she seems reasonably sated for the moment. Let us share the delights of the sergeant’s excellent nipples again …”

The Commander and her lieutenant pressed their mouths together, with the sergeant’s twin torpedoes squished in between.

Tongue lashed against tongue, faster, harder …

Wendy suddenly drew back, her eyes wide. The Commander read her stunned expression and grinned. “It’s about time you figured it out, lieutenant.”

“The sergeant has turned super!” Wendy exclaimed. She gingerly poked her tongue at the thick nipple she had crushed against the Commander’s tongue a few seconds ago with enough force to shatter marble. Then she plunged her face into that entire tit again and gave it a superwoman megasuck.

“I don’t think she has become stronger,” the Commander observed. “At least not yet. But she’s definitely invulnerable. We have been chewing on her like we were eating the armored walls of this van. You didn’t even realize you have been doing so until just now.”

The Commander plunged her own mouth into Amy’s other breast, and the two muscle goddesses feasted in silence for several minutes, each trying earnestly to out-suck the other. Amy’s thick nipples amazingly failed to end up inside the muscle goddesses’ lungs.

“But how?” Wendy asked after releasing titflesh from her mouth with a jiggly plop. “Did we do this to her?”

The Commander gave Amy’s swollen nipple another playful tug with her teeth before responding. The force she applied to it with her jaws would have ripped the nut right off a thick metal bolt.

“That is the million-credit question, isn’t it? I am certain that it’s not simply coincidence. Her proximity to us, or at least to me, must have had something to do with it. Exchange of bodily fluids, magic breath, who can say at this point? I started ‘playing’ with her the evening after our convoy of delights left the base, and observed significant changes in her sleep pattern and stamina almost immediately afterward.”

“But what about my girls back at base? Leigh and Carol? I’ve been chewing them out for weeks now! I don’t think they’ve turned super.”

The Commander raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?” Wendy bit her lip. “Well, I admit I haven’t tried to test them. I don’t have that much confidence in my intuition about that sort of thing. ‘Oh! Ooops! So sorry I killed you. I was just trying to see if you’ve turned invulnerable on me …’” The Commander smirked as her fingers played with Amy’s other delicious nipple. “Well then, lieutenant, that will be a research task for you to take on when we return. We cannot have brand new supers running around the base exploring new powers on their own, with no guidance from us.” A deep moan issued from a full-lipped source between the two muscle goddesses. The massive breasts underneath their groping fingers heaved.

Sergeant Amy DiCaprio gazed up at her two amazing lovers with undisguised adoration mixed with savage lust. Her hands reached up and dug into her lovers’ hair, then clenched into fists. As she tried to pull their heads down her body toward her slightly spread thighs, her lips (the ones surrounding her mouth) formed one single rasping word:

“MORE!!!”

The Commander looked at Wendy. Wendy looked at the Commander. They both wanted exactly the same thing …

“Sergeant,” the Commander said to her slavering sex toy, “I think it’s time for your ‘come to Jesus’ moment. Prepare to be amazed.”

Springing to her feet beside Amy’s already damaged bed, the Commander scooped up the super busty sergeant in her massive arms. Roaring with savage hunger, the mighty redhead leaped right through the van’s armored steel wall, totally unconcerned as the sergeant’s head and legs slammed against the razor-sharp edges of the shredded metal. She carried her plaything across the road and into the desert beyond. Wendy gleefully followed right behind, grabbing fistfuls of the van’s blasted wall as she passed through the gaping hole, for no reason but to add to the delightful destruction.

Soon thereafter, the moaning and screaming sergeant enjoyed her first crater-making experience, her voluptuous body employed as the hammerhead against the helpless desert ground beneath the pistoning crotchageddon of two mindless musclebeasts.

Several hours (and one huge new crater in the desert) later

The Commander reached through the huge ragged hole in the side of Zero-Zero-Five and deposited her staff sergeant’s sweaty naked body back on her bed. The busty blonde flumped down on her face and stomach, pancaking her breasts across the ripped mattress. Once again, she was utterly passed out.

On the road behind her Commander, Wendy turned and started to walk toward the lead vehicle of the encamped Expedition containing the Commander’s mobile office. The latter, however, reached out and grabbed her upper arm.

“Hold on, lieutenant. We need our new leotards first!” Wendy giggled as she suddenly remembered that she and her Commander were still stark naked. They had been so ever since the Echo Charlie bomb had vaporized their old outfits right off their super muscle bodies.

The Commander touched her finger to her ear, activating the comm link that was thankfully still wedged deep inside her ear canal.

“Private Andrews! Are you near Zero-Zero-One?”

“I’m in Zero-Zero-One, ma’am! The sarge posted me here early this morning, as soon as she saw you and the lieutenant heading toward her quarters. I guess she …”

“Understood, private. I need you to fetch something for me.” A few minutes later, the eager private came jogging up in full fatigues, carrying a box. He tried very hard to not stare at his superiors’ magnificent naked bodies (or the equally magnificent body of the still passed-out Sarge) as the Commander ripped the box open and pulled out their new replacement leotards. As the two ladies donned their new outfits, the Commander rattled off a series of orders to the flustered soldier, including the task of arranging for a repair crew to patch up the mangled wall of Zero-Zero-Five. Then she ordered him to return to Zero-Zero-One to resume his post.

Now dressed in their new (and apparently more revealing) nanofiber leotards, the two muscle goddesses set off toward the rear of the convoy, passing vehicle after huge armored vehicle.

It was now the middle of the day. Folks milled about the parked trucks, nearly all of them hard at work dealing with the massive influx of recovered cocoons. They waved and/or cheered as the two muscle goddesses strode past. The muscle goddesses waved back, with an occasional stop to inquire about the status of the recovery process.

“Soon we will turn this party around and head back to base,” the Commander said to her lieutenant a few minutes later. “Nearly every van is going to be stuffed to the gills with these cocoons, and we haven’t the equipment or manpower to process them here. We need to return these poor souls to base for Medical to deal with.”

The lieutenant nodded as she waved to a nearby group of cheering admirers.

“I will need to formulate a new plan and build a larger Expedition, one fully equipped to process these cocoons in the field. I have the feeling we have only seen the tip of the iceberg so far.”

There seemed to be rock music coming from somewhere ahead, growing steadily louder as the two battle beauties strolled past more of the parked vehicles and the bustling activity surround them.

“You and I will need to— Horny humping hippos, what did you do here???” Wendy broke into a fit of giggles as her Commander gaped at the “creatively modified” Expedition vehicle Zero-Six-One.

The captured abbie was splayed out across the floor of the van, its various tentacles and claws extended. Long strips of the walls and ceiling had been ripped at regular intervals (presumably by one very happy muscle goddess whose name began with ‘W’), pulled toward the middle, and tied around the abbie’s various appendages, effectively chaining it down with thick steel. The sides and top of the van had the appearance of a giant ribcage. Tubes ran from various scaly appendages to monitoring and IV equipment hung from one of the overarching steel ribs.

Next to the abbie’s new digs, a large sign had been hastily erected on steel poles mashed into the ground (no doubt by the same demented superwoman). The Commander slapped her hands to the sides of her face as she read the huge letters:

THE INEBRIATED ABBIE

Then the Commander’s eyes traveled to the next vehicle in the line. It was an act of madness, genius, or both. Some troopers with too much time on their hands had cobbled together an actual functioning bar.

Zero-Six-Two’s main cargo door, nearly as long as the van itself, was swung upward as high as it would go. Inside, the far wall of the armored vehicle’s cargo hold was lined with dark wood and a wide mirror. Brilliantly lit rows of colorful liquor bottles (where did they find those?) lined the mirrored shelves above it. Wine and beer glasses (and those too???)hung from wooden racks suspended above. The Commander had to fight a sudden, nearly irresistible urge to walk up to the bar and sweep her arm through all that glittering glass – a delightful fantasy she had never had the opportunity to indulge.

Metal folding tables and benches covered the width of the road in front of the makeshift bar. Each of them was packed with soldiers and civvies, and more milled around in the spaces between. The road itself was covered with wood chips, presumably to soak up the inevitable spilled alcohol.

Blasting over all of this was a continuous booming soundtrack of vintage rock anthems, issuing from enormous speakers mounted high up in the corners of the van’s cargo hold.

The lieutenant’s full lips brushed against her Commander’s ear as she whispered, “oh I can’t wait for you to punish me …”

The Commander gripped Wendy’s upper arm and growled in her ear, a low rumbling tremor emanating from deep within the redhead’s massive chest. Wendy could have dropped down on the ground and orgasmed right there on the spot if there weren’t so many potentially breakable bar patrons nearby.

“I’m going to go have a closer look at the abbie,” the Commander whispered. Then, with a deep Austrian accent: “I’LL BE BACK.”

She turned and sauntered toward the heavily restrained creature with her thumbs tucked into the barely-there-at-all straps of her leotard.

Wendy bit her lip as she watched her go. Then the lieutenant turned toward the throng of soldiers and civilians gathered around the armored flagon wagon.

“Ma’am! Over here!”

A group of soldiers eagerly waved her over. The lieutenant strolled over there and sat on an unoccupied stool. A large mug of ice cold something immediately materialized in front of her, its foamy head slopping over the side onto the table littered with peanut shells and the remnants of hand-rolled cigarettes.

Something else appeared next to it: a large cloth bag of peanut brittle.

“Okay, you win,” Wendy said as she greedily snatched up the bag and tore it open. “Whoever this is from gets to play with my tits and muscles all they want!”

Cheers and laughter rose up around her as she stuffed her mouth full of the tasty morsels.

“That would be me, ma’am,” the soldier standing to her immediate left said with a grin. “Sarge said you really like this stuff.”

Without saying a word, Wendy took hold of the soldier’s hand and slid it inside her leotard, mashing her own titflesh around his fingers. With her other hand, she grabbed the back of his head and pulled it forward so she could kiss him full on the mouth. She left crumbs of peanut brittle on his face when she pulled away.

The poor guy blushed redder than a beetroot as ebullient cheers rose up all around him.

“Oh, wait ‘til Shauna hears about this!” one of the others yelled over the loud music. Wendy’s new buddy blushed even deeper (if that was possible), his hand still clenching the very same invulnerable breast that he had witnessed tearing through thick tank armor the day before.

“Invite Shauna to join us,” Wendy suggested, to more cheers and the sloshing of frothy drinks.

As the soldier reluctantly slid his hand out of her leotard (but still remained standing very close), the lieutenant picked up the mug from the table in front of her and took a swig. It was amber in color, bittersweet, and quite tasty.

“What is this stuff?” she queried as she slurped yet another mouthful.

“Dassault’s special brew,” one of her new companions said, pointing at the grizzled soldier working the bar. “He calls it ‘RJF’.”

“Which means?”

“Repurposed Jet Fuel,” the guy said, accompanied by more laughter.

Wendy took another unconcerned gulp. Actual jet fuel would not have any more effect on her super body than whatever this stuff was, other than a bout of seriously bad breath. Besides, jet fuel (and anything else made from old-school petroleum) was rarer these days than liquefied hen’s teeth.

“Is that a new outfit, ma’am?” one of the nearby soldiers asked. “ It looks, um, skimpier!” His eyes unashamedly crawled all over her amazing muscle body.

Wendy smiled. “Yeah, the old one didn’t survive the Echo Charlie blast. This one is supposed to be tougher. Want to help me test it?” She nodded toward the automatic rifle slung across the soldier’s back.

The man grinned hugely. “You want me to shoot you, ma’am?” The lieutenant matched his grin with a fierce one of her own. “Hell yeah! It’s nearly as good as sex …” All around her, soldiers suddenly straightened in their seats (or stood straighter on their feet) as their eyes snapped toward a single point well behind the lieutenant’s back. The noisy bar was suddenly very quiet.

“Welcome back, Commander!” the lieutenant said cheerily, without even a glance behind her.

“I’m looking down the line of trucks,” growled a voice that was definitely not the Commander’s. Wendy mouthed a silent “oops” and just stared into her mug, trying not to grin.

“I see fucking cocoons still piled alongside them, waiting to be loaded. Why the fuck are you all gathered around here? Sergeants Massey and Vasquez! Corporal Hughes! Assemble details and get those cocoons loaded yesterday! MOVE YOUR ASSES BEFORE I KICK THEM BLOODY PURPLE!!!”

Soldiers all around scrambled to obey the fiercely scowling Amy DiCaprio. In less than a minute, Wendy sat alone at the table with her nearly empty mug. Sergeant DiCaprio slid up behind her, bent down, and took Wendy’s earlobe between her teeth.

“You know, the three of us are going to have so much fun,” the staff sergeant whispered hoarsely as she chewed on her superior’s ear. Then she sat down next to the lusty lieutenant, a smile stretching from ear to ear.

“Shouldn’t you still be comatose?” Wendy asked through her own grin as she looked the Sarge over. Though she was in full fatigues now, the staff sergeant looked hotter than ever. The lieutenant seriously wanted to rip all that clothing right off Amy’s delicious body and hammer the desert with her again.

“She apparently recovers very quickly now.” The gruff voice came from behind them.

“Welcome back, Commander!” Wendy glanced back this time, just to be sure.

The massive musclebeast ambled up to the table, her thumbs hooked into the straps of her leotard at her hips, just like they had been when she had wandered off earlier. Her huge breasts thrust proudly outward, driven forward by pectorals that could crush an asteroid if given the chance.

Sergeant DiCaprio looked around, saw that nobody (other than the two muscle goddesses) were looking, and grabbed one of the Commander’s melons, giving it a tight squeeze. Grinning, the lieutenant followed suit. The Commander stood there and glared useless daggers at her naughty subordinates. Then she sighed and sat down between her two favorite lovers.

“Jiminy Christmas, I have two ‘Wendys’ now. I’d ask someone to shoot me, but it would just be a waste of a perfectly good bullet.”

Wendy and Amy kept right on groping their Commanders ginormous globes and giggling like schoolgirls. After a half minute more of that, the Commander grabbed their wrists and dragged their hands off her heaving chest. Then she steepled her fingers and rested her chin on them.

“So, lieutenant, your abbie. Good work on restraining it. Even though it did cost us one good cargo truck.”

“Abbies are strong. I needed a lot of metal to tie this one up!” The Commander waved a dismissing hand. “Yeah, it’s fine. I did add a little embellishment of my own, however. In case the beast somehow manages to escape, I put an explosive collar around its neck. Send the proper command, and sharp tungsten blades blast inward, severing one very ugly head.” Wendy and Amy both nodded. “Seems like a reasonable precaution,” the sergeant said.

The Commander gazed off in the direction of the city twenty kilometers distant.

“I am eager to return to base and free our rescued civvies. But first, there is one thing we need to check out.”

The lieutenant just listened, her chin cradled in one hand. Sergeant DiCaprio sat at rapt attention.

“Our scout drones initially reported no signs of life anywhere in or around the city, other than some possible small clusters at certain points along the 99. Those are likely to be bandits or scavengers. Other than those clusters, no movement. No heat blooms. Still no bodies visible anywhere. Bakersfield itself looks completely empty. Or it did look that way, anyway.”

“I take it that’s changed?”

“In the past couple of hours, the drones have been picking up visible movement and new clusters of infrared signatures, centered on a large building that we’ve identified as an old country music hall, probably abandoned. Something is there now that wasn’t just a few hours ago, and we need to go see what it is.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?”

Wendy started to stand, but the Commander reached across the table to place a hand on her shoulder.

“The two of us cannot just dash in by ourselves and tear up the place. If there are civilians present, we need to be ready to help them. So we’ll be joined by a squad of mechfighters and robot infantry under the sergeant’s command. We will take six vans from the head of the convoy. I suspect we will have to skip Zero-Zero-Five due to its unfortunate run-in with my own body, unless repairs are completed in time. I have already given orders to prep the squad and vans for departure.”

Sergeant DiCaprio stood up. “With your permission, ma’am, I’ll go kick some asses and make sure we are ready in record time.”

The Commander nodded. “Remember, sergeant, I want everybody suited up in Mike Foxtrots. That includes you. Invulnerable as you are now, you will still greatly benefit from the powered armor’s strength and speed.”

Amy grinned as she turned on her heels toward the front of the Expedition. “Oh yes, ma’am! I have a special suit of my own, all ready to kick abbie ass!”

The Commander raised an eyebrow as she watched her sergeant head off in a jog. Then she looked at her lieutenant. “She does? That’s news to me.”

Wendy smiled. “Makes sense to me! Can you imagine her chest jammed inside standard battle armor?”

The Commander licked her lips. “I am imagining it right now, lieutenant. Thanks a lot for putting that image that in my head. Come on, let’s go.”

Wendy got up and followed the Commander in the same direction that the sergeant had gone. As they approached Zero-Zero-Five, the Commander was pleased to see that several of her troops were already hard at work on its ravaged wall, welding large metal panels in place to cover the hole and serve as temporary armor. One of the workers glimpsed the muscle goddesses approaching, grinned broadly, and flexed a pretty decent bicep of his own. Then he pointed at the nearly completed repair work. “This must have been some explosion, ma’am! But we’re going to have it fixed up for you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

The Commander nodded. “Excellent, private. Carry on.” When they reached the lead van, they entered the Commander’s mobile office through the van’s rear door. Sergeant DiCaprio was already there, perched sexily on a task chair to one side of the Commander’s desk.

“Sergeant, I order you to stop looking so damn sexy,” the Commander growled.

“I can’t help it!” Amy moaned as she puffed her huge chest outward, seriously straining her fatigues and threatening to make its fasteners pop.

“Are you disobeying a direct order?” the red headed musclebeast rumbled as she sat down in her sumptuous leather chair.

“Yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!”

“Fine, I’ll figure out a way to punish you later. There must be some way to make you suffer.” “You could forego having wild crater-blasting sex with her for a month,” Wendy suggested helpfully. She remained standing as she gazed at Amy’s expansive chest, imagining ripping all that fabric off yet again.

As Amy’s face took on a pained expression, the Commander grunted, “I don’t think even I possess that much willpower, lieutenant. Now then …”

With a wave of her hand, the desk’s holographic display appeared. The Commander gestured with her fingers to bring up the screen she wanted.

Wendy walked around to the Commander’s side of the desk so she wouldn’t have to read the floating display backward.

“This is where we are,” the Commander said as she pointed to a particular spot on the displayed map. Her fingertip traced the road heading west, then the larger one heading north. “We’ll take our little mini-Expedition to the 99 and turn north. Exiting here.” Her fingertip stopped at the off-ramp to Buck Owens Boulevard. “This is right where the drones are picking up activity.”

“The 99 is probably going to be a real mess,” Wendy said with a grin.

“Nothing you and I can’t handle, I’m sure—”

A light blinked on the Commander’s communications console. She pressed the button next to it.

“Tell me we’re ready,” she growled.

“Zero-Zero-One through Zero-Zero-Six are loaded for bear and ready to rumble!” Private Andrews’ voice seemed to grin right through of the console’s speaker.

“Very good, private.” She punched the button to kill the link, then turned to her succulent sergeant.

“Sergeant,” the Commander said, “you’re my driver again. The lieutenant and I will take point and enjoy some more road clearing.”

“And I will enjoy watching!” Amy replied with a brilliant smile.

“Then let’s get the party started.”

The Commander got up, and her subordinates did likewise. All three of them exited the rear of the van, and the sergeant headed for its cab. The two muscle goddesses stood with their hands on their hips and gazed at the road ahead. A surveillance drone whizzed by overhead, no doubt preparing to record the musclebeasts’ upcoming escapade to add to the growing library of same.

“We will be moving quickly, lieutenant, and we won’t be collecting scrap. Eliminate the roadblocks as fast as you can. There’s no need to be tidy this time.”

“Yes, Commander!” Wendy flexed a bicep and licked it. The Commander smirked, then flexed her own monster guns and dragged her tongue all over one, then the other. Both ladies looked up at the hovering drone and snarled fiercely for the camera as they pumped their muscles.

Zero-Zero-One started to move forward, and the five vehicles of the new convoy followed behind. Wendy and the Commander ran ahead and began to clear the abandoned cars and other debris off the road with great enthusiasm. Great chunks of debris flew left and right with wild abandon, accompanied by delightful howls and squeals of tortured metal.

Sergeant DiCaprio, driving the lead vehicle, had the best seat in the house, and she had to will herself not to slip a hand inside her fatigues to pleasure herself while she watched the destruction unfold ahead.

Several hours later (and a minor detour across some dried-up farmland to bypass the wrecked turnoff from the 223 to the 99), the convoy idled, the Commander and her lieutenant standing side-by-side as its sexy vanguard, surveying the scene ahead of them: the remains of a street overpass that had been turned into a barricade.

They had not encountered much in the way of roadblocks since turning onto the 99, and now the Commander could see the likely reason: much of the wreckage was right here, piled up around, underneath, and on top of the overpass to form a quite impenetrable wall of jagged metal. Small gaps and holes were visible that could very well be gunports. Nothing moved or clanged to indicate the place was still occupied.

The two superwomen casually strolled toward the barrier.

“Do you think anyone is—?” Wendy started to ask.

Answering her question before she could complete it, chain guns within the great heap of wreckage erupted in a thunderous fusillade, blasting their super sexy muscles and heaving breasts with a horizontal hailstorm of heavy lead projectiles.

The battle maidens grinned wickedly. The Commander rubbed her hands together, and Wendy licked her lips. One white-hot round slammed between the lieutenant’s tongue and upper lip and lodged itself in the back of her mouth. She chewed on the steaming mass for a few seconds, then spat the remains out hard enough to spang it against a protruding chunk of the barricade, breaking off a large portion of it.

“Well, lieutenant,” the Commander rumbled with undisguised pleasure. “Let’s get to work.”