Powergame (/tg/, gangbang, hetero)

The pattering of innumerous steps echoed a metallic cacophony through the claustrophobic maintenance shafts.  A small squad of sec were in hot pursuit of an infamous greyshirt, who sprinted through the pitch-black tunnels without a problem.  She rounded a corner, and the sound of a squeaky spray bottle covered her next few steps.

The smarter members of the sec squad stopped in their tracks.  It was too late to shout to the rest of the crew before they sliced the pie and found themselves sliding headlong through the next hallway.  The mixture of water and grease from years of neglect had turned the maintenance tunnels into a slippery deathtrap.  Most of the officers stunned themselves as they foolishly tracked their suspect with their live batons at the ready.

As they laid on the grimy floor, utterly defenseless, they looked up to see their mortal foe in the dim glow of their seclights.  She had a natural, if plain beauty about her face, accented with parted black bangs and faint splatters of blood.  She hauled up one of the officers and, with an expert Judo throw, sent him skidding back towards his hesitant allies, absorbing several volleys of their taser rounds in the process.

She had counted the shots throughout the chase, and knew she had nothing to worry about.  They'd have to get in melee range with her now, and that's exactly what they dreaded.   With a plethora of batons at hand, she bludgeoned the officers at her feet as the rest of sec tiptoed their way across the slippery sludge.  The first one that made it past the water hazard shouted to the high heavens and dashed at her with his baton held high.  The girl dropped something out of her pocket and stepped back.

Slip.

The rest piled on in suit, thinking that their cautious steps would save them, only to end up in a quickly-rising heap. Soap.  Not even the best treads on the station could save someone from that.  With the entire force down, she took her time bashing all their brains in.  Such murder sprees were almost routine for her now.  Surely there had to be a greater challenge than this?

Right on cue, Oldman Robustin, Head of Security, finally reared his head.  Keeping his distance, he primed a flashbang and chucked it to the Greyshirt's feet.  She didn't quite have enough time to grab an officer's shades to protect herself from the blast, and thus proceeded run around a corner further down the tunnel.  Just a few steps and she would be out of harm's-

Slip.

What.

She found herself crashing down the hall, halting at the feet of another greyshirt.  He looked down upon her through his opaque gas mask.  Bits of frayed pink hair  stuck out from around the mask's straps.  In his hand was a bottle half-full of blue oil.  Space lube.  Of course he would go the extra mile.  He jammed a spray can into her pocket and chucked her back across the lube, where Robustin was impatiently standing by.

Zap.

Cuff.

In one of the rare moments in her life, Emily Ranger was caught.

---

She laid on a prison bed, strapped and stripped clean.  They didn't even bother throwing a bed sheet over her nude form, letting any passerby of the brig get an eyeful of her bruised goods.  The spray can in her suit matched the color of the Waffle Co. graffiti that dotted the station.  Robustin had conveniently misplaced the brig's supply of loyalty implants, thus the only option left for a captured potential gangster was either perma, or death.

The sec squad shuffled into her cell.  A menagerie or brute patches decorated their bodies, and every single one of them had a broken nose.  Her handiwork brought a slight smile to her face.  Wordlessly, they dragged her off the bed and towards the execution chamber.  Death it was, then.

Something was a bit off about the way the officers handled themselves.  They all kept making side glances and shut the door behind them as fast as they could.  One produced a blindfold that must have been nicked from the medbay and covered Emily's eyes with it. Before she could protest, the familiar sting of a stun baton washed over her body.

Emily collapsed to the cold floor in a shuddering heap.  She felt multiple hands begin to hold her down.  One pair roughly grabbed at her small breasts while another worked at prying her legs apart.  Something started to prod at her crotch, but her powerful pelvic muscles strained to keep the intruder out.  She shouted for help, only to have her mouth quickly gagged by a huge penis.

She eased up slightly.  Blowing her boyfriend back at home never failed to get her excited.  Instincts took over for a brief moment, and she found herself getting slightly wet.  It was just enough to finally allow her violator to wedge himself into her muff.  The pain was immense, causing her senses to immediately snap back.  She bit down hard on the meat between her lips.   This resulted in yet another stun and a quick application of a muzzle.

The first person inside her didn't last very long, and there was a slight relief that the huge load he left in her love canal would make the dicks that followed a little bit easier to bear. Something warm splattered over her chest as realized that the officers waiting for their turn were jerking themselves over her prone form.

As each officer helped themselves to her battered pussy, Emily never shed a single tear.  There wasn't a worry in her head about what her boyfriend would say about this, or how today was not a safe day for her.  All that clouded her thoughts was how every single person on this station, sec or not, was going to be dragged onto whatever flat surface she could find and she will botch a sex reassignment on every one of them.

The sixth officer that had their way with her must have been a lizard, judging by the prodding of two tapered dicks against her swollen vulva.  She was slick enough, but the strain of the double-pronged assault wrung out a long, hateful howl through her clenched teeth.  Just as she felt like her was about to tear in half, an automated announcement blared out through a nearby intercom.

"CODE DELTA.  Security breach in progress at Arrivals."

The officers quickly zipped up their jumpsuits and stumbled over each other as they frantically piled out of the brig, leaving Emily still cuffed on the floor.  Alone, she let out a long, tired sigh.  Her legs were numb, so she put what little strength she had left into wriggling out of her cuffs.  She was just about free of them when she heard the door to the execution chamber opened once more.

Whoever it was that arrived spoke not a single word.  He grabbed her bound arms and dragged her out of the room and towards the Perma wing.  She first thought that it had to be Robustin, but the familiar crinkling of armored leather and the stench of Old Spice were both absent from her abductor.  Once inside, he turned on a shower head and slammed her into the bathroom's tiled wall.  Emily was still brimming with fury, but the cold shower calmed her slightly, along with washing off the crusted seed that covered her body.

The stranger knelt down beside her and picked up her wrist.  She felt a tiny prick, and suddenly, all loyalty towards Zero G washed away, leaving only the dominance of Waffle Co. in her mind.  Her blindfold and muzzle were finally taken off, and a blood-stained Dante graced her vision once more.  In his hand was the severely-burnt ID of Oldman Robustin.  Syndicate nanomachines sparked in her retinal veins, signaling that he was, in fact, the boss of the Waffle Co. gang all along.

Before she could speak, Dante raised a single finger up to his masked face.  She had to obey.  He pulled her back up to her knees, and unzipped his grey jumpsuit, letting loose the huge, throbbing dick that tented against his clothes.  She gazed at the beast, and then back at its owner.  She knew what he wanted her to do.

Still cuffed, she leaned over to Dante's dick and slathered it with her tongue.  It was one of the finest specimens she had ever seen, and she worried about how much trouble its length was going to give her.  She acted reluctant, but the manly sweat that permeated from his pink-hued crotch caused her head to spin with primal lust.  With his johnson sufficiently cleaned, Emily devoured much of the length with ease, bobbing her head up and down the shaft with an almost professional level of expertise.

This wasn't enough for Dante.  He eventually grabbed her head and viciously shoved his cock down her throat.  Her eyes bulged out in shock, finding herself taking him all the way to the hilt.  He facefucked her without letting her catch a breath at all.  Thankfully, she had a well-trained gag reflex, but she was quickly fading from the lack of air.  Just before she could pass out, he withdrew and  shoved her back to the floor.

As she was face-down on the cold tiles, gasping for breath, Dante propped her rear up and drizzled a small amount of his trusty space lube onto her tiny starfish.  She wanted to protest.  Backdoor play was something that not even her boyfriend was allowed to do.  She could only grit her teeth as Dante's one-eyed monster rammed against her taut sphincter.   The space lube eventually won over, and his veiny dick violently took her anal cherry.

She cried.  Dante gave not a care as his hips bashed against her tiny ass.  Her insides felt like they were on fire, with each thrust serving only to stoke the flames.  She was terrified that her insides were going to be pulled out at this rate, which only made things worse as  she refused to unclench her torn anus.

While normally a man of endurance, Dante couldn't hold out long inside her virgin ass, and let loose like a fire hose inside of her.  She couldn't let go, letting the internal pressure around his dick get him hard again.  It didn't take too long for him to continue his assault once more.  He didn't have to worry about his actual gang duties.  The Dominator he placed in Arrivals was behind several reinforced walls laced with hidden C4 traps.  With all of security focused on dealing with Emily during this shift, he had all the time in space to tag up the station on his own before initiating the takeover.  With his old rival out of commission, and his newest one swiftly becoming his personal cocksleeve, Dante could not have asked for a better way to celebrate yet another successful conquering of Space Station 13.