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A different type of warrior	By : ItchyTasty Category: M through R > Predator Views: 12967 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Predator movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
It's a bit big but you'll just have to deal with it. :P Oh and as per request I'm breaking the paragraphs apart to allow for easier reading. If you don't care for the story, sex is at the end of this chapter feel free to skip ahead.
Four: Hunted

The Ooman was strong, his biceps flexing, shoulders straining and then suddenly still as the realization that his death had come overwhelmed him. The blades of the Ki'cti-pa disengaged slowly from the man's chest. He slumped to the earth leaking his bodily fluids over the dry ground. Ka'ja'rand roared, his fury echoing among the hills. The detachment of marines had picked up his footprints while he was hunting the small four legged mammal. They had cornered him while he was cleaning it. He had killed them all but he was furious at himself. He had not wanted to engage the Oomans yet. They would soon know of his presence. If they called for help from off world... the planet would become a very dangerous hunting ground indeed. Worthy of the greatest hunters of his clan's memory. He lifted the heavy male's corpse and carried it back to where the others had died. The Ooman had fought bravely, though his defense had been futile. His father had warned that Ooman's were most dangerous when given time to prepare. In this situation they had been careless.

The little one had stepped on soft stone which had cracked. The noise echoing through his ears. He had engaged the plasma caster and continued his work for a moment allowing them to think he was unaware. Then turning he activated the weapon blasting apart one of the men and showering one of his pack with hot liquid entrails. The latter man had convulsed on the ground for a few moments, the heat from the blast and the debris of his friend flash cooking his flesh. The last man raised his burner and fired a lengthy burst from the weapon. The staccato of it's refire echoing among the hills. He had dodged the fire, his agility making the Ooman spray the hillside as the he closed the distance between them. Not wanting to destroy the weapon Ka'ja'rand had brought his elbow around crushing the man's arm and sending the weapon flying. The man then tried to grapple with his good arm attempting to choke Ka'ja'rand into submission one handed.

He thought the attack over again, as he felt the burn for the first time. He looked to his arm to find that his plate had been pierced by a still smoldering round. It had just began to burn his flesh beneath. He quickly disassembled the armor and went about removing the round before it caused any more damage. Dangerous prey indeed. He felt a thrill at the thought, the small female would be pleased at his prowess. He shouldered the big man's corpse, he would collect his skull, for this was the first worthy Ooman kill. He longed for a chance to hunt the soft meat, their burners firing into the night air as he stalked them on their own terms.

Using his netweave sack he gathered the Ooman burners and the meat from the mammal. He slung the bag over one shoulder and the dead man over his other. The added weight slowed him a bit, yet he made good time back to the hardened ground where they wouldn't be able to track him.

The damn door was stuck, she'd been trying to fiddle with it for nearly an hour. Not because she thought she could open it, the damn barbarian had probably wedged it with something from the outside to keep her safe from... Well whatever was out there to keep her safe from. The problem was, she was thirsty, and couldn't find where he kept that magic canteen of his that seemed to hold limitless water. The damn freezer was confining as it was and she still felt like she had a permanent hangover. Not that she wasn't grateful, the bastard had saved her life. It was just... Well, she was getting rather tired of venison. Tired of the dark, hell she was tired of not being able to get out and do her own thing. She was contemplating seeing if the last two rounds in her Cytech would blow the damn thing open when she heard a noise. It was like a vast scraping. She realized that he was back.

“About damn time.” She said

The door swung outward and she watched him come in, the bag over his left shoulder was normal. However she stopped to gander in the dim light from the kitchen at the other thing he brought in. The green of fatigues couldn't be mistaken. Nor the twin holes through the man's back.

“So you bagged a marine did you?” She asked, pointing to the corpse on his shoulder. He dropped the man to the ground for her inspection. She didn't recognize him. She knew she was bad with names, but she never forgot a face. This wasn't one of the marines that had escorted her. He looked to have been a tough son of a bitch too. She surveyed his gear, taking his night vision and flashlight. She noticed his arm was bent inward and checked it.

“Took this one out close in didn't you?” She asked

She tried to sound approving. She didn't like the thought of killing marines, but marines on company orders were company employees in the end. The big guy was busy unpacking the meat and hanging it on the racks he'd been using as storage when something caught her eye. She ran over to his sack and lifted them out cradling it like it was the best present she'd ever gotten. Under the circumstances she would have preferred some painkillers, but the feel of a pulse rifle in her hands was more than enough.

She could feel him watching her from under that mask. His chest puffing up a bit. He seemed pleased with himself. The one rifle was far from usable but she managed to eject the grenades from the launcher. After securing the other eight on the marine that left her with a total of fourteen grenades. The magazine was jammed into the gun however and try as she might, she couldn't muscle the thing out. Then she got an idea.

“Hey handsome, want to open this jar for me?” She asked

When she had his attention she made motions to show what she wanted done, he took the rifle from her and pulled the mag out handing it to her gingerly.

“You didn't have to make it look that easy...” She grumbled and proceeded to eject the rounds. All told she had thirty eight usable rounds from the battered mag and another fifty six from the functional rifle. She ejected the mag on the latter and stocked it with her salvaged bullets. She began field stripping both weapons as much as she could and cleaning the actions. These boys kept their gear in top shape it seemed. After securing the parts that were salvageable off the battered rifle she threw the rest in the corner and turned around to find the warrior had stripped the marine and flipped him over on his back. She wasn't sure what he was doing till he did it. In a quick motion he took that nasty looking extendable claw blade on his wrist and stabbed it into the man's back at the pelvis and ripped it upward all the way to the base of the skull then gingerly almost he dipped his hand into the man's back and with a yank ripped the entire spine free with the skull attached. Gore dripped everywhere and she found herself looking away trying not to puke. For all the bastard was, he was still human. He produced a small gun looking item from one of the cavities in his leg armor and began spraying the dismembered head with it. The spray ate away the blood and flesh leaving the bone pearly white and polished to a dull shine. When he was finished he dropped the newly cleaned trophy on top of one of the support pegs of one of the racks. It stared grimly toward the door, it's spine just hanging there like an afterthought.

The Ooman's head had strong bone structure, it was a worthy trophy. After he'd mounted it he took a moment to look at it. The female was looking at it too. She didn't seem to mind that he'd killed one of her own, she'd seemed most pleased by the looted burners he'd salvaged however. Perhaps she was a weapon smith of some kind for her people? Females held that honor in his society as well. Suppling the hunters with the tools necessary for their trade. He took his ceremonial dagger from his hip and set the Nok long blade to it's task. Skinning and cleaning the meat of the dead Ooman. He was curious to find out what it tasted like.

The warrior removed something in the half light that she hadn't seen before, it took a moment for her to realize that it was a blade, just over a foot long and he was skinning the marine. She moved to the door of the freezer and opened it slowly stepping out into the cooler air of the kitchen. The large mess hall spread out in front of her, with it's heavy dining tables. She noticed a large galley range knocked over by the door.

“Bastard can lift a six hundred pound gas range by himself...” She shook her head thinking about it. He was so immensely strong, he could snap her like a twig. Yet she found herself looking at his chest and thinking about whether other things were proportionate in size. “No wonder the thing wouldn't budge.”

When she went back inside the deed was done. The bones and other useless viscera were piled neatly in a corner where he promptly disintegrated them with some type of blue liquid. She set up the flashlight on one of the racks and began policing the man's clothes. She found a combat knife with a six inch blade. He would have been a hand to hand fighter with a body like that she thought. She knew the type, longer blades were fine for cutting, but in close quarters, a stab was a sure kill. Anything over a medium length blade was too long and unwieldy. Sure someone with a machete could cut your arm off, but if you dodged it and got inside their reach, they were dead. The funny thing to her, and others was that if you engage an opponent using a knife, you were bound to get cut, the idea simple enough, was let them, but kill them for it. Stupid thinking as far as she could see. However it was an important lesson to learn, up close confrontations got a person injured or killed. This man had no chance, his instincts frozen from the moment his arm was broken.

Mallory was the first. They found her tent open in the morning. Body missing, blood everywhere. Mallan was not a happy chappy. However it didn't seem like foul play to him. Company wouldn't have one of it's own killed off by their new pet marines. She he handled it like what he thought it was.

“Damn bugs are still alive Dutch.” He said to his gunsmith.

“They don't exactly lie down and die when we want them too.” Said the man

“What do you figure, food, or breeding stock?” Said the Sarge

“Both. They must be hungry, they don't normally cause this much blood when they look for hosts.” Said the man behind the cigar.

“Shit.”

Their new CO Mr. Darklight, instead of Vander... Had had them pack their shit and move closer to the wrecked terraformer. Defensive position wasn't as good, and they had a wider perimeter, damn bug had gotten into the camp and dragged Mallory down some hole without the motion tracking guns picking it up and dusting it. No he was not happy.

“Fool's going to get us all killed.” He said

Dutch merely shook his head. They had all heard about the patrol that had run into their prey. One bastard barbecued in the guts of his friend, and a third man missing save for a puddle of blood big enough to say he bled out where he stood. Now he stood not more than fifty meters from the edge of the pit, knowing it was crawling with xenomorphs and under orders not to get the fuck out like he was dying to do.

“Shit.” He said again.

A marine from Vander's unit poked his head in, only to have the man shove him out of the way. The look on his face could only be read as pleased.

“Xenos” He said

Mallan could only nod, Dutch tried not to make eye contact. He hated the bug hunter type, the military whored out to the company on such a regular basis they might as well be Company anyway.

“We're going to send three squads into the guts of this thing see if we can't find the nest and eliminate it before it recovers.” Said Darklight

“Sir,” Said Mallan, least the bastard was quick to act.

“I want you leading one squad, my boys will take the other two, pick your best, you'll need em.” Said Darklight

“Shit.” Was all Mallan could manage, the bastard smiled when he left the tent.

…

The insides of the Structure was ripped to shreds. Gutted by the blast of the tower going nova. God damn bugs left evidence everywhere. They ate the bloody walls with their excrement forming it into some kind of near living undulating goo. Mallan kept his squad of six tight. No need to lose a man because they weren't watching their shit. They went in hot, the other two squads bringing up their flanks. He had Sarah bring as many tanks for her incinerator as she could. They set fire to everything hoping against hope that they'd make it to the nest before the hissing started. Unfortunately they only made it about half way down in to the grid before they heard it. Fucking bugs hated the flames. They didn't worry too much, they had enough fuel and once they found the nest the bugs would come to them. No need to hunt them down.

Dutch cradled his smartgun tight against his chest, Mallan could see the veins in his neck tensing. He hated it too evidently. The damn air was thick with an acrid post explosive smell like gunpowder and shit layered with ozone. He didn't envy the salvagers that would come once the nest was dead. They were just beginning their descent down another stairwell when everything went to shit.

Their comm units snapped to life with a squawk then.

“Oh shit it's got Johnson!”

He could hear the gunfire from where he stood, the place seemed to come alive with the breathing of the Xenos, he could make out their coiling shapes further down. It was an ambush.

“Light it up you sons of whores, everything you got, check your lines of fire and watch the walls and the ceiling!” He said before splattering one of the drones with a quick burst from his rifle. Sarah's incinerator came to life bathing the lower area in fire as he and dutch helped the men retreat into the hall. Gunfire rattled around him, he could feel the vibrations in the floorboard. The hi-pitched screaming of the drones as they rushed to attack his men and those of the other squads. He checked his movement indicator. Hammersmith's squad where Johnson had been attacked was standing still. Except for one who was moving very rapidly downward. Mallan had to assume that Johnson was being taken back to the nest.

“We take the next left, we have to meet up with Hammersmith and help him get his men out.” He said over the mic.

Dutch took the corner his smart gun coming up briefly to spray the hall, a drone exploded in the hail of bullets it's corpse quickly eating holes into the ruined floor. Mallan led the troops past quickly, checking his corners while Sarah flooded the hall behind them with flames. The drones behind them stopped following for the moment and scampered off in the other direction. Arron's team on the display appeared to be holding their ground. So he ignored them for a moment, if they needed something they would ask for it.

When they finally broke to the hallway. Bullets whizzed past his head arcing into a Xeno he hadn't seen rending it from end to end in a spray of acidic goo. Only four of the men were left standing, another lay on the floor the blown off tail of a nearby Xeno corpse still protruding from his chest.

“Hammersmith move your shit this way, we'll keep you covered!” Said Mallan

“Hammersmith's gone sir!” Said their heavy gunner “Fucking bugs carried him off man.”

“Good enough, pack in your shit, follow me.” Said Mallan

His now enlarged squad moved down the hall slowly edging back toward daylight. Only to cut a corner and find themselves trapped. Ahead seemingly in wait were several drones and something he had never seen before.

“Fucking hell, frag the hall and retreat, someone find me an exit!” He said

One of his men launched a grenade into the hall and the explosion ripped into the shrieking drones yet the thing was unimpressed and ripped around the corner. It's massive head dipped low, it's tail poised to strike, large gripping hands with talons out stretched to grab and rend whoever was in its enraged path. It bore down on one of his new acquisitions tail lashing out as it did.

The ground came up in a rush and he could feel the arterial spray as the new man's chest was punctured strait through his aorta gushing blood to coat the room. Mallan felt his consciousness leaving him and for a final thought had something like this to say. “Fucking company.”

She could hear the gunfire from where she stood at the end of the galley. It was a dim thrumming sound, unmistakable to someone who had seen more than one firefight. She fidgeted with the knife wondering whether they were firing at the hunter or if they had run into the Xenos.

The big guy was starting to recognize her language. He picked up what she said much faster than she understood him. At least she knew what to call him now. Ka'ja'rand was a mouthful, but then so were other things considering his height and weight... She couldn't understand why she found him attractive. It was something to do with the fact it was wrong for her to want him. It just made her more inclined to... pounce.

He'd told her to wait in the freezer again. She'd defied him on that not particularly caring to be locked up. Now she found herself wishing she'd taken his advice. Those gunshots couldn't be more than a few hundred meters to the west.

“Hope the big bastard is ok.” She said

As if she summoned him, he materialized not far off looking at her like she was a disobedient puppy.

“What, I can't stay cooped up in there all day.” She said

He clicked and growled something that sounded angry toward her. Then went about his business. She watched him as he worked on his gear. He seemed to have a small version of everything. Medkit, repair tools for his armor, which was dented and scratched to hell even with that. She found the wire mesh he wore covering his entire body interesting. She had gotten close enough on a few occasions to feel the heat radiating off it. She wondered if he had to use it to thermo regulate or whether it was simply a comfort issue.

The Ooman was looking at him again. Her small form looking so much like a diminutive version of his own females that he found himself trying to please her as he would one of them. He cautioned himself lest he do something foolish and chase her off. Her species and his would be difficult to make compatible at best. Although, there were things he could do to change that...

“Pyode Jehdin” He said, testing out the name he had given her. She didn't understand it yet, though it was fitting. He pointed to a haunch of the mammal he was busy cleaning and then to her, she might as well make herself useful and clean her own meat. He would have to teach her many things if she was to survive on this planet.

He said something to her, the guttural clicks and growl sounded pleasant enough, then he pointed toward the carcass of he deer. She didn't understand what he wanted from her. Then she realized that he was asking her to clean part of the corpse. She'd killed men, but cooking was out of her realm of knowledge. She moved over by him, watching how he did it with his large blade, making it look simple. She unsheathed the combat knife the soldier he'd killed had had and began slicing the skin away from the meat of the leg. It didn't smell particularly good but she couldn't complain with the end result. The big guy made tasty jerky, and it wasn't too bad raw either.

Days went by slowly for everyone. Ka'ja'rand the Yautja fussed over his Ooman female as he tried to breach the language barrier and come to terms with his desire to please her, and his desire for her. Kara, knowing what her body wanted, what her mind craved, spent as much time with the hunter as possible, going so far as to exercise in the kitchen so that she might soon be able to keep up with his vast looping stride while on the hunt. The Sargent sat in a corner with a bruised skull and several cracked ribs with the five marines that had escaped the Praetorian. Their sanctuary was not up to the task of keeping the bugs at bay. They would have to move soon. Dutch was out of cigars, that was enough of a problem for him to make the rest of their issues seem moot. He was tired of sitting around, and needed nicotine badly. The Sarge was out for a bit, his injuries stable for the moment, the others were busy about their business so he went to the door of the supply closet and checked it.

“Where do you think you're going?” Said one of the new guys.

“Rescue mission.” Said Dutch

The marine said something and started to lift his pulse rifle only to be staring straight into the barrel of Dutch's side arm.

“I know what I'm doing, I'll be back before he wakes up.” He said motioning at Mallan.

He opened the door and went out slowly backward. Young pup would have voulentiered a few years ago to go with him. He must be looking his age. He'd never wanted to move up in rank, though he could have had the sergeants' job if he'd wanted it. He just liked machining weapons and firing them a bit too much. It wasn't his style to try and order people about. He preferred to do things on his own. Which was just what he was planning on doing.

“Right, Betty, let's go wake the neghibors.” He said, hoisting his smart gun and starting toward the stairwell.

The others had let their squad leaders worry over the diagrams. He had made sure he had a blueprint to look over for himself. The rest of the squad had followed him, dragging Mallan behind them while he lead them to their current hold out. The air still smelt like ozone. He liked that. It was better than the muggy damp gooey heat of the area he was headed to. He looked at the locater he'd taken off Mallan when he'd fallen. Still a clear signal.

Sarah had been the reason the big fucker hadn't killed Mallan, she was the reason Dutch was going down into the pit. He liked the girl to much not to try. They'd never breached the comrade in arms barrier but they both knew something was there. She was nearly thirty now... How was he supposed to keep her interested anyway as he pushed forty five, damn marines would make him retire in another five years... Bastards.

The stairwell was empty, aside from the blood, and the blown apart remains of the bugs which hadn't eaten through the metal. He went slow, taking his time, trying not to make any noise. They didn't have eyes he knew. He'd seen the one Kara had bagged up close. That had been good shooting considering the circumstances. He hoped the hunter hadn't killed her. Probably did though.

The beacons leveled out, so he stopped descending. Still no sign of the bugs. He went forward, the corridors down here got narrow, bad place for close quarters with acid for bloods. Pipes around him hissed and whirred, it seemed that something down here still worked. Steam hissed out of a broken coupling down the way blocking his view. He kept an eye on the motion tracker, all quiet. It was another twenty meters then a fork to the right, they were clustered, bugs stockpiled their food in stores, also their breeding stock for the next generation.

He checked the corner when he reached it, and had to take a moment to breathe. They were strapped to the walls, most of them had huggers latched to their faces, fucking their throats for all they were worth. He couldn't see Sarah yet, so he took the corner and got closer. She was there all right, yet no face hugger in sight. Damn egg was sealed up tight near her, best to keep an eye on that. He slipped his dagger out of it's sheath and crept across the room keeping low. Where were the damn bugs anyway? She didn't move when he touched her hand, she was still warm.

“Not bug food yet, are you sweetie?” He said

She didn't wake, must be out pretty cold he thought. He cut the goo cords keeping her tied to the wall and pulled her out over his shoulder. Slinging the smart gun behind him and pulling his pistol. The motion tracker beeped. He could see it, just poking it's head out from a side alcove. Bastard was ugly as fuck. He put the pistol back in it's holster, the drone stay still a moment. He felt for the dagger and flipped it in his hand catching the blade and reading himself, he would only get one chance at this if the drone came at him.

He kept backing up toward the corner, if he could just get around it, he would have a clear shot to the stairs. The motion tracker beeped, there was a moving dot in the narrow hall.

“Shit.” He said, as the drone in front of him charged.

She'll forgive me later he thought as he flung Sarah to the ground and threw the knife in almost a simultaneous motion. The blade didn't hit quite where he'd aimed but the bug went down in a heap for a moment giving him time to lift Betty and bring her to bare. He sprayed the entire hatching area tearing apart the new births and their human hosts and wasting the wounded drone with a sick crack pop as it turned into explosive acid juice. He cut the corner into the hall and fired blindly trusting the motion finding bullets to hit whatever was on the tracker before turning back to grab Sarah. She was coming out of her coma, the gunfire would wake a marine any day. He hoisted her again carrying her with him and holding the massive gun with one outstretched arm. He wondered for a moment if he would have enough ammunition to make it back... He realized that it wouldn't be an issue, she weighed around a hundred and forty pounds, and the gun was another sixty considering it's rig and ammo. He sure as hell couldn't carry both up the eight flights of stairs he came down.

“Wake up sweetie, or Betty will be plenty pissed with me for leaving her behind.” He said

Ka'Ja'rand watched the bull male from his perch. He made good progress considering his load. The Kainde Amedha had abated for awhile, yet he could still see them amongst the pipes. The male had left his pack behind, preferring to seek out the female alone. She was not yet a host, so his instincts had kicked in and he was attempting to rescue her. Ka'ja'rand could relate. Then the Ooman warrior did something interesting, at the base of the stairs he dropped his heavy weapon in order to make better speed carrying the female. In his hesitation the hard meat attacked. The Ooman's small burner came to life dropping two with accurate shots. Here was a powerful warrior and a worthy trophy. Yet he did not let go of his female, sheltering her from the onset of his foe. Then the fires in his burner were out, and he was weaponless. Ka'ja'rand felt conflicted. The warrior was failing in his hunt and should die, yet he had killed many and earned great honor in rescuing the female.

He'd made his decision and lept from his perch free falling for meters before landing squarly between the Ooman and the advancing hard meat. He would bring it's head back to Pyode Jehdi and make her a shield out of it. The drone snapped it's inner jaws and leaped for him. He turned into it removing the creature's arm with his blades and sending it flying into the grating he tackled it and wrenched it's head sideways tearing it clean from the neck and roaring his triumph.

The Ooman male stood silent watching all this. He said something in his simple speech and continued up the stairs undisturbed. Ka'ja'rand collected the skull and retreated from the nest. The Kainde Amedha would soon be back to investigate the disappearance of so many drones.

The big guy brought her a drone skull.

“So let me get this straight, you killed a drone and you've brought me it's head as a present?” She asked. “Somebody is trying too hard.”

She put her hand on his chest to feel his strength under the wire mesh of his suit. Here was a male to envy. Yet he brought her trophies like a cat bringing dead mice back to it's owner.

He felt strange when she touched him. It was similar to when a female desired mating, but it was not the same. Yet his loins came to life at her soft touch. She was pleased with his gift. Yet he was filled with more pride in the method of acquisition than the fact he had done it. She pressed herself against him the soft mounds on her chest cushioning against his torso. He could feel his arousal building. Yet he did not smell the musk of her need to breed. Was this a mating ritual among her kind?

She was in tight against him, she could reveled in his warmth, he was just so huge compared to her. Nearly three feet taller than she was, and massive besides. Her eye level was on line with his navel which was why she noticed his loincloth tenting. She smiled, thinking to herself about the possibilities. Then she decided to go for it.

The female's hands dropped from him and she hunched a bit. Her scent changing faintly. He was unsure of her intentions not having seen her act this way before. Suddenly she lifted his cloth away from his member, it stood half erect, blood throbbing down it's length preparing it for a mating he was not sure was coming. She made a soft noise with an intake of breath it's sound was pleasing to him.

“Oooh, my...” She said, before taking his prick into her hands. She had been with sizable men. Yet here, they were all surpassed. He was packing a meat monster if she had ever heard of one. It was as long as her forearm and slightly thicker and it wasn't fully hard yet. She could feel her breath catch a bit as she touched it. It's heat radiating over her hands. She began to stroke it with a gentle pressure from bottom to top her hands just cresting the glans. The cock came alive for her, hardening as she played. It was veiny, the tissue in it engorged to a tempered and nearly steely hardness. He stood there mute, she realized he didn't know what to do. Well she would show him.

He began to smell her arousal, he was ready to mate, and she was close. He knew it by the way her breathing had changed, yet she was not assuming the proper position, perhaps she was altering it because she was so much smaller than a Yautja female? Her small hands cupped his balls and stroked along the length of his cock. His breath came quicker, she was doing things he had never experienced and then she stopped. She straightened her stance a bit and then took her top piece of clothing off. He had seen her do this once or twice before in order to make the ground softer to sleep on. However what she did now was unexpected beyond anything he had ever imagined. She took the large milk glands on the front of her body and spit on them. Then put one on either side of his swollen dick and began to apply pressure and slide them down his length. They were so soft against his flesh, his body was crying out to mate and here she was teasing him. Suddenly he felt a small warm wet sensation and realized she was putting the tip of him inside her small mouth. He couldn't take it anymore, he could smell her need and he desired release more than life itself.

He was tensing she could see that as she milked his cock with her tits, taking the salty tip of it into her mouth, he was getting close but holding off for some reason, she wanted him to bathe her in his cum. Then suddenly she found herself lifted off the ground and cradled to his chest with one arm. He lay them both down quickly. She realized what he was intending as he ripped her pants clean off of her. So her big boy wanted everything did he... Well hopefully he could hold off his fury till she could get hers as well. All thought of that however left her as he entered her. She was wet, but it was a tight fit at best. The pain of it rocked through her causing a moan like she hadn't had in years. She felt him stretching her, her walls struggling to accommodate him. She was fairly certain something had ripped, but she wouldn't have asked him to stop even if she knew the words. He set a hard pace, hammering her mercilessly from above her butt smashing into the ground at the force of his thrusts. His claws dug into her shoulders causing blood to well up and trickle down to the ground. He hit her cervix with every thrust, bruising it with his barbarism. Yet she could feel nothing but the Ecstasy of it. The pure wrongness and the delicious pleasure of how good it felt filling her and washing over her as he rammed himself home. Punishing her little cunt for ever assuming it could take something his size and ruining her for regular men in one go.

She was writhing beneath him, her body responding instinctively to his, as he rode her. Pounding back with as much force as she could manage as he pulled away for a new thrust. Only to be sent smashing back into the ground when he switched his momentum forward. Her tits swaying uncontrollably due to the jarring impacts, nipples hard with fresh blood from the excitement. She felt him tensing, every muscle in his body going rigid and knew he was close. She came her muscles squeezing down and trying to trap him, to take his seed as she was engineered to do. He roared, something primal and animalistic from ages past as his orgasm rushed to meet hers. She could feel the heat of it, so much and so thick as it gushed into her in a forceful torrent. If they were genetically compatible she wouldn't have to worry about red week for the next months... Her body trembled, the blood loss coming up to the surface, she tilted her head up to look down, as he pulled out of her, his cock larger if possible and covered with commingled juice and blood from where she had torn. She could feel the warm sticky puddle forming below her as everything leaked out. Yet she didn't worry about it, she was more content than she'd been in years. She was happy.

“Well, I may not be able to walk for a week...” She said “But frankly I don't give a damn.”

He had done a terrible thing, his clan would look on him with shame if they knew. He had taken the Ooman female before she had shown her readiness by assuming the proper position. Yet he no longer cared. His breath came in large billowing lung fulls. This female would carry his pups if he could get his hands on a gene splicer. It was an uncommon practice, yet not unheard of. In his previous matings, it had never felt so right, nor had those females been so eager for the pairing. Here he had one of another species, yet superior, she made him feel different. He would hunt the queen for her if she would still accept him.
Thanks for reading this far. Fifth chapter coming soon!
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A different type of warrior