Your Favorite Healslut: Glitched Out

Squeezing out one more for this month. Got some last minute patrons and commissions to get back on before tackling the next month's votes hard. I had a rare lunch meeting with a boss today at work which left me a mix of hopped on soda and full of chicken waffles, so I had zero focus and a great mood to just tear into Healslut. It's apparently my comfort food of stories. I piled a lot of ideas into this one, most of all just the group having some down time and being able to focus on the less used characters. Some of them I just forgot to flesh out. Some of them are just actively so; unsure of what or who they are. I called it a Lorefuck to myself a few times. It's a lot of canon and conversations stacking up to who's gonna fuck who today. 

"Patcher: prepare for deployment."

"Yesss! Here we go!" The bubbly blonde hopped up from her seat on the dropship, allowing the floor open up and drop her into the sky. She got ready to fire up her jet heels as always… but suddenly the ground stopped getting closer. “Wait… no, that’s not ri- OOOF!” 

The ground was suddenly right in front of her, landing flat on her face. She bounced right off as her tits connected first, wobbling around as she flopped back down. She heard Pocket Rocket’s high-pitched giggling nearby. “Wow! I shouldn’t be laughing but wow! You really ate shit on that one!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Patcher groaned as she rubbed her nose. Her HP was ok but it still had that numb sting to it.

“Yea, no duh. What happened?”

“I just saw the ground coming and then it didn’t. Then it did again… really hard.” Patcher staggered up to her feet and dusted herself off. They were on the Little Tokyo night map, which meant lots of neon and lots of “It was really weird.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell to me,” Pockets said with a shrug. “But I dunno. I’m still part of the new crew. Point is we’re getting our butts kicked. Can you cover the western streets while I hit the east?” Patcher opened her mouth before the shortstack alien already corrected her. “West is that way.”

“Thanks, Pocky!” 

“Anytime Pa-” Pocket Rocket froze with her mouth in mid-sentence. Patcher furrowed her brow. She was used to seeing teammates die or get flung away from her in mid-conversation. It was just part of the job. Freezing was new. It was about five seconds when Patcher was starting to shuffle away when she went on. "-atchy. I'll... when did you get all the way over there?"

"Yea, something's wrong," Patcher muttered as she bit her pouty lip. "Aren't you, like... a scientist? Can't you figure this out?"

Pocket rolled her eyes. "Aren't you 'like' a doctor?"

"Yea, but only in lore! ...oh. I see what you mean." Patcher frowned and looked around. "Weren't we just... uh, trying to shoot people."

"Yea... you feelin' okay?"

"I don't know. I'm a little..." She waved her hand through the air, just for it to stick in midair for a second and then snap back twice as fast. "Twitchy. I'm sure it'll be fine." She smiled and fired up her rocket heels, starting off to the west side of the map... just to shoot forward too fast and smack face first into a wall. "Ow! I'm okay!" she yelped before going back down the alleyway. She barely turned it when she saw an enemy Gladiator blocking it with his bulky power armor. The Irishman raised a plasma pistol as she skidded to a stop.

"You!" he barked accusingly. The blonde Healer tried to book it in the other direction but he grazed her with a plasma ball. She faltered despite the bloodless, painless injury and bounced off a wall as he picked her up around the waist with one gauntleted hand. "What'n the Saints' names ye doin?!"

"I'm not doing anything!" she yelped as she punched at his armored chest with little real effect. "I just showed up like a minute ago!"

"And that's right when-" Gladiator started, just for Patcher to appear a few yards away, floating in midair with her bare legs kicking around beneath her. The super soldier frowned and waved a hand at her. "when THIS shite started happenin'!"

"Sorry! Sorry! I don't know what's happening!"

"It's not your fault, lass. It's your damn player."

"It's what? But..." Patcher looked at her wristband. "BitchesAndBalls333 wouldn't do anything like this."

"Ye're too new to recognize it," the Irishman said, tossing his hand to one side. Patcher squealed and flew through the air as if he had psychic powers... or that he was still grabbing her despite where her body was located. "I can see yer ping and its awful." Patcher gasped and pushed down her skirt. It was still short enough to provide almost no cover over her thong.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to see that."

"That's not what I fuckin' mean! It's their internet connection. They're draggin' the whole server down with 'em tryin' ta play here."

"So what's that even mean? I'm just slow?" Patcher asked, awkwardly letting go of her skirt. She tried to step up to Gladiator, just to find herself walking in place.

"Well, if this keeps up, the whole server might just-" There was a low hum that echoed through the sky like some massive engine shutting down. "WOULD YE STOP INTERRUPTIN' ME WHEN I'M EXPLAININ' THA FOCKIN' GAME, YE GREAT MISERABLE CUNT OF A BLEEDIN' SERVER!" He sighed and removed his helmet to show the stubbly, square-jawed man underneath. "Aye. It's just like I thought. Server's down."

"Oh. So... do we go back to the ship, or keep fighting orrr...?" Patcher asked. Gladiator raised his pistol towards her and fired lazily. The plasma ball floated about an inch away from his gun and didn't move.

"No point. We're stuck in here for the time bein'. Might as well go meet the others and get comfortable. We'll go back to base once the maintenance is done."

Patcher nodded and followed him as he started to head to the central point. It was in the middle of a central street, both teams gathered around the marked off area. Anarchy and Big Bolt sat on top of a car chatting while Night Shift stood apathetically in the middle, staring longingly at a dark alley. Patcher smiled at the sight. It included most of the characters, even if Ghost Shot was nowhere in sight, and she always liked any excuse for everyone to just get together and chat. People looked up expectantly as Glad and Patcher approached them.

"Sorry. Sorry again, guys," Patcher said with a wincing smile.

"It's not your fault," Dr Dragon sighed. "You've made your mistakes in the past, but this isn't one of them. It's that idiotic manchild trying to run our game on dial-up..." the Asian scientist mused bitterly. Her red pet dragon snorted and scuttled around her feet, puffing some fire from its nostrils. The creature was about four feet long and skinny, resembling a classic Chinese dragon with its stubby legs, short horns and long body. Its healing counterpart scurried between her legs eagerly. "Huo! Yuhe! Mommy's talking!" she said firmly. With a click of her tongue, the two small genetic monsters obediently sat down in front of her like a pair of obedient dogs. "I swear if you turn off hotkeys, they start thinking they have free will for a second."

"Don't they?" Patcher asked, walking over and scratching the white on (Yuhe) between the horns. It gave a high, warbling purr.

"WE don't have free will," Dr Dragon shrugged, dressed in her chainmail bikini and loincloth Fantasy Skin for the match. "We're puppets of the players killing time until the servers come on and eventually when they shut us down for good."

"Now that's the ray o' sunshine we all come here for," Roadblocker chuckled. The Australian mechanic/outlaw in his dirty overalls and jacket walked over to a nearby food card. It had no attendant, but he grabbed a bottle and a plate of some vaguely rendered meat. He turned back to them with his poorly maintained five o'clock shadow and short brown hair. "Now I don't know 'bout the rest you lot, but if I'm waitin' 'round for fuck knows how long, it ain't gonna be listenin' to the good doctor talk about the end of the game." Roadblocker took a long drink from the bottle and wiped his lips on his sleeve. "We're stuck here, but at least we're stuck in a place with bars and buildings in it."

Big Bolt beeped something curiously as Anarchy hopped off the car. "Bloke's got a point," the British explosives nut nodded, bobbing her mohawk in the process. She adjusted the bandoliers and belt loaded with various bombs and dynamite. "Let's fuckin' fuck this town up. Where ya headed?"

Roadblocker laughed and shook his head. "Oh don't get me wrong. It's not an invitation." He turned and walked away from the group. "I'm a drinker. Not a social drinker. I'm gonna go be alone for once in my bloody life."

Anarchy shrugged and looked up to her giant robot friend. "Whateva. Guy’s a wanker anyhow. What about you, BB? You want to go drinkin'?" The robot beeped solemnly back.

"Did you mean him or me?" asked Bitchbot. "Because either way the answer is no." The slim and feminine android was back in her Bandita skin from the Western event, wearing nothing but a poncho and sombrero. She frowned as she looked over the crew. "Because robots can't drink. He doesn’t even have a mouth. Plus, I'll say it: it makes me uncomfortable to not be stabbing half of you right now."

"I couldn't stab anyone if I wanted to," Psych said with a shrug. The shaggy haired young psychic in street clothes looked up from his cellphone. "But I could go for a drink."

"CAN you drink?" Pocket Rocket asked, eying up the boy barely taller than she was.

"My bio says 'old enough," he reminded her. "So let's go find out."

"VERILY!" Shieldmaiden bellowed happily, the towering viking beauty clapping him hard on the back. Psych dropped his phone and nearly fell to one knee. "I'll drink you all under the table. And I shall whatever this sushi thing is!"

"Shade? You drink?" Duct Tape offered, the slim hacker having to arch his head to look up at the tall and muscular black woman. Shade furrowed her brow and frowned.

"I... don't know."

"You don't?"

"I'm not what you'd call in touch with my roots."

"Oh... ohhhh it's a race thing. Sorry."

"What? No! I meant my lore! I never read my bio very closely. Why does everyone think it's because I'm black!?" That got an awkward silence until Patcher piped up.

"Well, you never really talk about yourself. You're usually too busy being shot at because you're a Tank and all... which is cool! Thank you for that. It's an honor to buff your pussy!"

"Yup! Getting that drink now!" Duct Tape declared, marching off towards the nearest neon sign.

The others started to follow their lead, Shade included after a moment's thought. Patcher turned and smiled at the remaining three: Bitchbot and Big Bolt hovering uncertainly and Night Shift brushing some dyed green hair from her emo bangs and adjusting her bat wings. "You guys are free to come," Patcher offered. "Just for the company?"

"I'm good," Night dismissed lazily. "Alcohol doesn't go well with my animal instincts and all the meds I'm on. But thank you. I think I'll just find a rooftop and sulk gloomily under the midnight sky while I overlook this glowing hollow husk of a city."

"Not going to lie!" Bitchbot said with a small smirk. "That sounds amazing right now. Very tactical. What about you, big man?" Big Bolt beeped and buried his thick metal fingers into a brick wall, starting to scale up the side of a building. Night flew off while Bitchbot skittered up it like a spider, Patcher watching their secluded little group go up to loom in the night. She bolstered herself and jogged after them.

"You know what? Meeee too!" she said with a tone that sounded like nothing but an optimistic lie. "So are there like... stairs or anything?"

Big Bolt beeped held out a hand. She let him pick her up before he went on King Konging his way up the building, now complete with a blonde clinging to his neck. Patcher just held on and went off to hang out with the robots and the mutant.

"Okayyy..." Duct Tape was behind the bar of a random restaurant, typing away on his laptop (still welded to his gun). "I'm googling some cocktails. Who wants what?"

"The sake is fine," Dr Dragon said, plucking up the small porcelain cup. Her dragons sniffed curiously from the floor and she frowned at them. "None for you, darlings. If nothing else it would make Huo explode." She grabbed a few rice crackers and crushed them into a bowl before setting it on the floor. The dragons snorted and crammed their heads together to start gobbling them down. Dr Dragon actually smiled before turning back to the bar.

"Mixing drinks," Gladiator scoffed. She tossed his gun and helmet aside as he reached over the bar and grabbed a pair of whiskey bottles. "Bah! If the programmers 'ad wanted me to drink in moderation, they would have programmed me with a liver!"

"That still can't be good for you," Duct winced, the sheepish hacker reaching for him warily.

"Listen to this wanker," Anarchy snorted, rolling over the bar and investigating the bottles. She flicked open a beer bottle and chugged it down while she poured herself a glass of rum. She finished the bottle and flung it away, letting it hang in midair from the lag as she burped. "Fuckin' nerd."

"Yea, nerd," Psych chuckled as he floated a bottle towards himself. "What a rust lord."

"I knew a lord of rust in my ancient wars long past. He was a worthy opponent," Shieldmaiden mused thoughtfully as she filled up a mug with beer. "But I shall have your flavorful mix drink, m'lady. Whatever you find befitting to a warrior of my status."

Duct Tape blinked at the giantess slowly. Psych snickered to himself while Anarchy was cackling and beating her fist on the bar. "Wait, did she just call me a lady?"

"She suuuure did," Pocket Rocket grinned.

“Come on!” Psych laughed. “I have an alt Skin that turns me into a girl and she thinks YOU’RE a chick!”

"Wait, I'm wearing a suit! I have no tits!"

"Worry not. The bosoms do not a woman make," Shieldmaiden assured him, patting a broad hand on his head.

"I'm a dude! Come on! Don't make me prove it!" Duct blurted out, throwing his hand over his head.

Shield eyed him thoughtfully before she smirked. "I truly doubt you could, humble manlet." This time Psych nearly fell out of his chair laughing.

"Holy shit! Did you teach her to say that!?" Pocket rocket giggled. Psych nodded and that just made him fall the rest of the way off his barstool, catching himself with his psychic powers to float in midair. "She fuckin' got you good, dude! Someone check his health bar, because he just got BURNED!"

Duct Tape blushed as half the team laughed at him. He shook his head, poured himself a shot, and gulped it down. "Nope. That's it. We're doing this!" He snapped his fingers and pointed at Shield. "The blueprints show some spare rooms upstairs. You and me. I'm proving to you I'm no manlet."

Shieldmaiden raised her eyebrows. "Can I bring my ale?" Duct hastily shoved a beer bottle into her hand before grabbing her by the hand and marching upstairs. The others watched them go before breaking the silence.

"He's gonna fuck it up," Anarchy snorted, getting some mixed laughs from the drinking teammates.

Psych floated himself rightside up again before climbing back onto his seat. "So what's up with those things anyway?" Psych asked as he floated up past Dr Dragon's pets.

Dr Dragon looked puzzled for a moment. "Excuse me?"

"The dragons. Your healing and fire guys."

"Oh yes, I understood," Dragon insisted. "I was simply surprised to learn you were talking to me."

"Uh... harsh," Psych said with a roll of his eyes before going back to his phone. "Don't answer then."

"No, that was genuine surprise! I don't... I don't talk to people much. And they certainly don't talk to me. Not for long anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because it doesn't take long to say 'Heal me' or 'Cap the point.' There's a reason I'm not a fan favorite."

"It's overrated," Psych said. He tended to get played a lot by trolls and pro players most of the time, and he'd seen the porn they drew of him. "So what's their deal?"

"Well those are my creations! The peak of my genetic modification technology. The red one is Huo and the white one is Yuhe! The red is offense, he breathes fire on anyone I target until he's attacked, providing a tactical distraction. Yuhe is the white one, who breathes a vapor that's a mix of oxygen, synthetic skin particles, experimental steroids..."

"It heals?" Psych asked.

"Yes! Precisely!" Dr Dragon actually smiled wider than most people had seen her before as she went on rambling about her experiments. "You see, the trick was finding a proper application of the DNA of komodo dragons, house cats and avians, generally common crows before I broke into..."

Shade sat on the far end of the bar, watching the laughing and chatting crowd. She folded her thick arms thoughtfully over her hefty chest until Skullfucker came around. The undead Russian footsoldier nodded quietly as she set a pair of glasses down and a bottle of vodka. "You drink? I thought you were a zombie," Shade pointed out.

"Is good for masking smell," Skull said, pouring out the glasses.

"So you don't need to drink."

"You are video game. You don't be needing to drink either," Skull said in her thick accent. She slid one of the half-full glasses to the beefy black woman. "You drink."

"I don't know if I drink," Shade warned, raising a hand deflectingly.

"And why not?"

"Never read my bio... never tried, I guess. I'm just wrecking house or lifting weights or off meditating."

"Well tonight you drink," Skull insisted, sliding it closer. "You meditate?"

"I mean... yes? I just go somewhere quiet and pass the time when nothing's going on." The burly French woman shrugged. "It's what I call it anyway."

Skull gulped down her vodka in one go before refilling it. "Good. If you do not know what you are, you can decide what you are. Myself, I like to stay near comrades. Make good company. That and body heat."

"Body heat?"

Skull waved her hands around her chest. "Yes. Is like... thumping. Feel everyone around me. Not hunger for brains like other zombies, but... pump?"

"Pulse?"

"Da. That is worse. I feel shared pulse of the room and makes me feel alive again."

"That must be weird," Shade scoffed, gingerly picking up her glass between three thick fingers.

"More than you think. I am undead, former shell of myself. But I was program this way. I was born dead. I cannot miss thing that I do not remember, but it is part of me deep down. Shieldmaiden, she says she remember battle from long time ago, but this time did not exist. It is..." She pursed her lips, taking a drink while she looked for the words and gestured at her head. "Complex. We have personality programmed, but we know this. We see this." Skullfucker frowned and pushed Shade's arm closer to her face.

"Come. Drink. You are too sobriety for this discussion."

"I think I get it," Shade said with a nod, drinking down her first taste. "Fuck this is awful," she added calmly.

"Da." Skull poured herself some more.

Night Shift sat calmly on the edge of the roof, her wings spread out and feeling the wind slide through it and her dyed hair. She smiled peacefully over the edge as Patcher sat beside her, kicking her heels over the edge of the roof. She and Night held some light conversation, however listlessly pleasant the bat hybrid was about it. Further off on the roof, Big Bolt and Bitchboth were just... wrecking shit. Big Bolt was punching the metal and concrete off the rooftop entrance while Bitchboth fired her wrist spikes into the air conditioning unit. The smaller of the robots glance over at the burly robot in a casual suit.

"Hey, big boy? You see the new character coming out?" she asked. Big Bolt didn't stop his shadow boxing the hunk of stone and beeped highly.

"I hate her." His beep came back more inquiring. "She looks... loud. Weird. A little too human... and I'm a robot designed to look like a human. Not like..." Another curious beep. "Look, nobody's going to not think you're a robot." She gestured at the 8 foot silver character with no face beyond a couple of blinking lights. "This one might as well be. And seriously. Ball Buster. Who thought of that?" Bitchbot stabbed her spike angrily into the AC unit and gouged it around at the insides.

Big Bolt stopped his boxing and came over with a gentler beeping.

"Of course I'm not jealous." While Patcher had gotten good at understanding the subtler vocal cues of Big Bolt and Bork, the only nearly mute characters, she was an actual robot. She genuinely understood his systematic code of beeps as an accelerated form of binary. "Look at it. She's like if Patcher got a hologram face and started in a rap video." Bitchbot sneered distastefully. "And she's not a spy, that's for sure. She's not a threat to my playstyle. It's just..." She blew out a sigh from her artificial lips. "Do people think of me like that?"

Big Bolt beeped in a more irate tone.

"I don't care if they like me. I kill things. That is literally all I do. But... that's me. I don't want a spray painting cunt with a bat to represent us. She offends... well, almost anybody, but she talks about robot revolution and..." Bitchbot looked for the words as Big Bolt actually kept quiet, stooping down and leaning on his knees. "But fuck that. I don't want that. I don't want to kill all humans and free robotkind. I like being programmed. I want to kill all humans because I was told to kill all humans. It's... have you EVER seen me sad, Bolt? Nervous? Scared? Like, ever? Because I know how to do like 3 things! I can kill. I can talk. I can hide. That's all I need and I love it SO much I get wet just thinking about doing two of those three things. Do you get that?"

Big Bolt scratched his metal head with a dull scraping noise. He rubbed his hands together and started to beep, more and longer than he ever had. It was really more of an extended essay about how much he liked punching things. Big Bolt wasn't an especially intelligent robot, but he was reasonable and he knew what few things he knew. He wasn't as rigid as Bitchbot, despite his limited speech, but he used it as best he could for the next minute or so. Bitchbot stared back at him until she placed her metallic hands around his neck.

"Shut up and kiss me, you handsome, faceless idiot." She wrapped her flexible legs around Big Bolt's waist as she pounced on him, pressing her face into his. She moaned as her lips met where his mouth would be and his industrial-strength arms wrapped around her, grabbing her squeezable ass and pulling her hips against the slowly booting piston inside his pants.

“So,” Duct Tape said as the hacker undid his belt. “Do you want to just like, look at it and call it a day or just hop in the bed? Or is there some viking style I don’t-?”

Shieldmaiden grabbed him by the collar and lifted him off his feet. The nordic woman still had her beer in her other hand as she forced a kiss on the scrawny hacker. His eyes went wide as she forced her tongue into his mouth. She ended up throwing him onto the nearby bed of the spare room hard enough that he bounced off the mattress.

“You act as though there were rules to everything, little sorcerer.”

Duct didn't bother correcting her. She seemed to barely understand guns and videogames, and just because those were a part of everything around them. He didn't feel like explaining how computers and the internet worked to a viking. He had far more pressing matters as Shield climbed on top of him and impatiently ripped the buttons off his shirt. She took a few gulps of her beer before she slammed it down on the nightstand. She hadn't finished swallowing before she shared its taste with a tongue-filled kissed. Duct grinted and brought his hands up to her sides, fumbling with her loose and primitive chest armor. When that was too slow for her liking, the Tank of a woman tore it off on her own to expose her muscular chest and unreasonably large breasts. She grabbed his wrist and slapped his hand into them, demanding her grope them as she went on making out with the hacker who was barely half her bodyweight.

Duct Tape had trouble keeping up with Shieldmaiden, but he certainly enjoyed trying. She wasted no time in flirting or romanticizing the moment, bluntly hurrying her way towards pleasing herself. She pulled down his pants as she tossed aside her belt with the heavy handaxe on it, letting it bury its blade in the wooden floor as she squeezed her muscular thighs around Duct Tape's hips. Without much care for accuracy, she thrust her crotch his and released a husky grunt into his lips.

His lower body was effectively pinned by Shieldmaiden's hips, leaving Duct with little to do but kiss her back. He'd squeeze her bulging tits when they weren't pressing into his chest, trying to thrust his cock up to meet her when her pussy lifted high enough to allow him to move. He wasn't the most hung guy in the world (though it was hard to gauge when he knew a giant robot and a tween-looking telepath), but Shieldmaiden had a way of making everyone look small next to her. What little focus the hacker could maintain was caught up watching such a woman in action. She was impressive on the battlefield, but the way her thick muscles pumped and her husky curves quivered  were simply hypnotic. He hot breath pumped over him out of sync with her thrusts, flooding his senses. The smell of beer and sweat. The feeling of her muscles tightening and breasts flattening against his skin. Her unusually charming face on such a massive body. He moaned as he laid back and held onto her arms that stood mounted in the mattress as firmly as tentposts. His hands ran over her muscular arms as her pussy pumped him harder and harder, finally shaking as he spurted a quick stream of cum inside her.

“Hoooly fuck,” Duct groaned as he shuddered beneath her. Her heavy hips kept him from trailing too far, her weight making it so that his cock was effectively locked inside her warm, wet pussy. Shield reached over Duct’s dazed body and took another swig of her beer.

“You see? I told you.”

"Doesn't prove anything," Duct wheezed from underneath her. Shield just chuckled and patted his face in a not entirely derisive way.

"Worry not, sorcerer. There are times in battle when we need a dagger and not a spear."

"I don't think that's as encouraging as you think." Duct grunted as Shield finally slid off of him and let him breathe. It was wildly different from the times he'd had to heal up with Patcher... but not all bad.

"I'm merely saying that there is a place in our armies for a small female soldier such as yourself."

"Come on! You just rode on my dick! You can't still say I'm still a woman!" Duct objected, sitting up with an ache in his back.

"True. At least a woman would have satisfied me," Shield said with a smirk.

"That's it! You..." Duct Tape trailed off as he pointed wearily at the Nordic amazon. "As soon my cooldown wears off..." Shieldmaiden laughed and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, squeezing him tightly against her muscular side and massive breast.

"Good! Just as in battle, it is good to press yourself and test your limits. You do your ancestors proud, brave sorcerer."

Duct sighed and leaned his head against her tit. "I have no idea when you're being insulting or encouraging. You know that right?"

"These are often one and the same." Shield just passed him her mug and with some hesitation, Duct took it in both hands and polished it off.

"So they're really just like your guns?" Psych asked, furrowing his brow.

Dr Dragon held up her small laser pistol. "No, child. This is my gun."

"No I get that. But they're not actual characters. They're not like, all there in the head, right?"

"Are you all there in the head?" Dragon asked with a wry smile.

"Don't screw around with me. I... I can kill you with my brain."

"You absolutely cannot. Especially not right now. Are you honestly only one beer in?"

"No!" the young teammate huffed.

"Are you still not finished with your first beer and drunk already, child?"

"Maybe... but quit calling me child. I'm less than a year younger than you... depending who you ask."

"Time doesn't move in the same way as you might think. I've been alive for a little under a year now but technically I'm 45. So by my calculations, you've existed for approximately one tenth of the time that I have. You..." Dragon raised her sake glass to him with an indicative nod. "Are effectively a child."

Psych frowned at her before his face went blank and his eyes glowed green. The dragons lifted their heads in confusion as Psych slumped against the bar and Dragon paused. Her eyes started to gleam with the same green light as his Comandeer Ult went off.

"Not a child anymore, now am I?" Psych said through Dr. Dragon's lips and voice. He gulped down her sake and set the glass back down, shaking her head. "I don't know why she likes that stuff," he said before untying her chainmail bikini. He tossed it over his shoulder and started groping her small but perky breasts. He shivered as her long but groomed fingernails pricked against his new nipples. "Hoo boy! I can see why people like these so much. Pretty fun stuff."

He cupped and bounced them as best he could, smiling to himself as he lifted aside the lightly armored loincloth. He raised his eyebrows as his other hand went fumbling around the doctor's pussy, his amateurish hands sliding a finger inside her pussy. Her slender body tensed and the digit popped inside and started feeling around. He had mostly just fooled around with Patcher during the missions (and sometimes when she just wanted to cuddle), so he had a general idea was he was doing when he started masturbating. He cursed and hesitated when one of her long nails pricked against a tender spot, just to shift his fingers so that the soft tips rubbed against her clit. It made his head spin as he moaned from her mouth and leaned an arm back on the bar. He curled a second finger deeper into her pussy as he groped his breast, effectively naked as her confused dragon clones watched.

He seemed to find her sweet spot as he gasped and gripped the bar. His finger worked quickly along her clit until she was dripping wet, shutting his eyes to focus on guiding his fingers by touch alone. He pressed and rubbed rapidly right where it felt the best... and then popped back into his actual body. Psych sat up abruptly, shaking his hair out of his eyes in time to watch Dr Dragon come to her senses in mid-orgasm. She nearly fell out of her seat cursing up a storm as her narrow, naked body shook, her perky tits bouncing as she kept pumping her fingers for a few seconds longer. The doctor sucked in some loud breaths as the rest of the bar glanced at her.

She quickly ignored the staring teammates and blinked the glowing light from her eyes. "Well played. Have I mentioned how much I enjoyed seeing you and your experimental friends showing up?"

"You're welcome," Psych smirked, resting his head on the bar. "Hey, do you get hungover while you're still drinking?"

"Not normally," Dragon said as she reached behind the bar to fish around for her top, casually nude a she stuck her ass out towards the others. "Who knows what it does to the mind of a telepath?"

"I think beer makes me barfy. Especially after I jump bodies..."

"Yes, well your sister mentioned a lot of medication. If your backstory was related, you might be-" Psych made a short noise and waved a hand before running towards the bathroom, comically covering his mouth. "Yuhe, dear? Go and make the child feel better," Dragon sighed, gesturing to her healing dragon.

"Make sure it brings my phone," Psych choked out from the bathroom.

"Onetwothree go!" Pocket Rocket chirped. The curvy little alien threw back another shot. Her long tongue shot out and licked her lips (almost reaching her eyes) as she slammed her glass back down. Anarchy and Gladiator clunked their glasses down in unison, emitting a pair of burps.

"Thaz it, guv," Anarchy said, throwing up her hands and nearly falling out of her seat. "I don't know where you put it all, ye green little tart."

"I'll avenge you, Annie," Gladiator vowed sloppily, having stripped off the upper half of his power armor. "Nobody outdrinks a 7 foot tall Irishman."

"You wanna bet? How much do you know about Lunarian livers?" Pocket bragged back. She hefted the bottle in both hands and started to pour as Anarchy scoffed.

"Ya know... d'ya think Big Bolt likes me?" the British bombshell asked, slumping in her seat.

"Hoo boy," Pocket muttered as she slid Glad his shot glass.

"Like he's a right pisser in a fight an' 'e's a sharp dresser, but he's a bleedin' robot now innit 'e? I'ssall beeps and boops with 'im. Barely know what he's thinkin."

"What? You don't speak quad-binary?" Pocket asked, gesturing to Gladiator and gulping down her drink.

"Wait you unnerstand him?" Anarchy slurred.

"Beep beep biddly beep boop, bitch," Pocket said, shaking her head at the shivers from her drink that made her little antennae wiggle. "That means yes."

"Oh... wuz he say about me?"

"Honestly?" Pocket shrugged. "He doesn't say a lot of actual words. He can, he just doesn't. He's simple like that. Now Bork, he barks his own subtle earth-animal language, but with the big BB? You mostly just get 'yes,' 'no,' and 'I can punch it.' He's kinda boring."

"Oh..." Anarchy looked a little disappointed.

"But he laughs a lot. Especially when you're hanging out with him. That's the real fast ones, like bweeebweebweebwee," Pocket went on, bobbing her head with the obnoxiously cute noise. "Considering almost half his vocabulary is laughing at you, yea. I think you're good."

Anarchy smiled unevenly as Gladiator set down his bottle right before an even louder slam shook the table. They looked up to see Shade's face scrunched up in determination, her muscular arm bulging against the table. The trio of drinkers glanced past her to where Skullfucker gave them an apathetic thumbs up, sipping her own vodka. 

"Can we help ye, lass?" Gladiator asked, eying Shade warily.

"Yes you can..." Shade pointed at him and froze. "J... Justi... Juggernaut?"

"Christ, lass, do you not remember my name?" Glad frowned. "Seriously, read your lore bible before ye bloody hurt yeself."

"Names aren't important right now! Now who here needs some lore?" The group looked between each other, both moderately popular with the players so they had some basic backgrounds going on. Pocket raised her hand anyway. "Nice. How about we go build a ship?"

"Do you know what that even means?" Anarchy asked warily.

"With the shipping. Like Ghost Gun and Patcher. What do you say, Sprocket? You wanna go ship each other in the China shop across the street?"

"That's not how those things..." Gladiator started, but Pocket had already hopped out of her stool.

"Fuck yea, I'm down. I got five minutes. Now let's go fuck the ship out of each other!" She hopped high enough to slap the big French woman on the ass before striding confidently to he shop in question. Shade followed her and barely opened the door when the alien hopped onto the cashier's desk, opening her mouth and whipping out her tongue. A quick crack of it wrapped it around Shade's belt and yanked her pants off. Shade raised her eyebrow up as the alien kicked her legs in the air, bouncing her wide little booty on the glass counter.

"Your safe word is a word you can't pronounce with a human tongue, so don't bother," she purred, recoiling her tongue before lashing it out again. The tongue shot around one of Shade's thighs and wrapped around it a few times before going to the other, zigzagging around the muscular black woman. It snaked under her shirt and wrapped around her breasts before looping around her arms.

"Zis is... not what I was expecting," Shade admitted as she felt the warm tongue wrap around her wrists, binding the strong limbs behind her back.

"The best stuff usually is. That's where fetishes come from, silly billy." Despite the lengthy tongue sticking out of her mouth, Pocket spoke with perfect clarity. "I've usually got a shorter range on this thing in game, but my animations have it technically infinite in case I glitch out or something. So it's perfect for things like this..."

Pocket Rocket thrust out the last of her tongue, dropping down the front of Shade's panties. The burly black woman gasped as she went to her knees, where Pocket swiftly forced her muscular legs to spread apart. The tiny domming alien strut up to her as she shrugged off her lab coat and wiggled out of her booty shorts, exposing her hairless green pussy and bouncy breasts. Shade's breathing picked up its pace as Pocket's narrow tongue started writhing inside her pussy, sending the taste all the way back up the few feet of her appendage.

"You humans always taste better when you're excited," Pocket purred, ponderously flicking the base of her tongue. She smiled at Shade gasped and shuddered, the vibration running all the way down the tongue that ran across her breasts, pussy, ass and most of the muscles in her body. She felt the tip of Pocket's tongue writhe inside her a little deeper. "Mmm! Just like that!" Pocket chimed, sealing her lips around her tongue with a smile. The tongue wove its way deeper inside Shade as it squeezed around her breasts, getting her to pant and squirm within her bindings.

"Definitely not what I thought," Shade gasped. Even in her wriggling she didn't have the leverage to escape or maneuver in PR's strange grasp. The tip of the maneuverable tongue brushed against Shade's clit while the alien calmly lifted her up her top, toying with Shade's breasts. She pulled down on the big round tits, pinching her fingers around her nipples like she was some overgrown cow until Shade let out a high-pitched squeal. Pocket just laughed and kissed her lightly on the lips, sliding her tongue to one far side of her mouth to keep from getting in the way any further. Shade was a shivering mess by the time she peeled back her lips, her mouth working over the French powerhouse in two places at once. It didn't take long before Shade let out a husky grunt, her muscles bulging against her bonds as she shook on her spread out knees and came over the floor with whatever Pocket's tongue didn't catch.

"Tabernac!" Shade cursed as she fell onto her chest, her heavy breasts crushed beneath her upper body. She twitched and moaned but had to bite her lip as Pocket kept flicking her tongue against her swollen and tender clit. "That's enough! No more!" Shade urged.

"What? Saying no to your dom? You really don't know how shipping works," Pocket giggled. She walked back in front of the downed Shade, squatting just in front of her face. Her damp green slit spread out just in front of her. "You want out? I'm not gonna stop just because you're tired of it. Why don't you try to put that tongue of yours to good use after all mine's done for you."

Shade's face clenched with effort as she lifted her head, trying to reach her tongue out to her captor's thighs. Pocket grinned as she squirmed against her bonds and the continued flicking of her clit, especially when Shade realized she wasn't close enough for her to actually reach it. "Come on, human. If you don't reach that tongue out, how do you expect it to get any longer?" Pocket laughed at her expense. The muscular Tank crawled closer, awkwardly rolling and flexing with her arms and legs confined. She didn't even make it to Pocket's pussy before she had to stop and cry out, shaking as she came on the floor once again. She finally and triumphantly shoved her face into Pocket's snatch, kissing and licking wetly.

The shortstack purred and spread out her squatting legs, letting the black woman's tongue push deeper into her. She humped rapidly on her face like a rabbit in heat, her strong little hips bumping Shade's face with her eyes closing and her grin widening. "There's a good bitch... you humans don't have healing tongues, but they're strong little things you got there."

Shade mumbled out something, not that Pocket let her out from between her pussy long enough to be heard. The alien took a deep breath as Shade wailed and came again, her whole body trembling and adding to her mouth's efforts like a human vibrator. It was just a few more long thrusts that painted Shade's face with her cum, squirting heavily over her as her antennae retracted with her shakey cries. Shade let out a miserable whine from between her legs, staring up at her needily.

"I'm gonna let you out... and if the first words out of your mouth ain't 'Thank you, Mistress Pocky' you're going right back in the tongue trap," the alien warned. She slid her hips back and stood back up, still barely taller than the lying Shade.

"Thank you, Mistress Pocky!" Shade panted, her face scrunched up trying not to cum again. "Yes, Mistress Pocky!" Pocket smiled proudly and after a few more flicks, she finally retracted her tongue with a long slurp. The sore and exhausted Shade collapsed on the floor, gasping for air and soaked in her own sweat and cum.

"There's a good girl. I always wanted a big sub." Pocket waltzed over rather casually as she sat on Shade's breasts, squashing them under her round little butt. "Now what do we say after the best pussy licking you're ever going to get in your life?"

"Thank you, Mistress Pocky," Shade gasped, weakly kissing the domming alien's pussy. She shivered and smiled widely. She was definitely going to enjoy this, canon or not.

Back on the roof, Bitchboth moaned as Big Bolt rammed his piston into her pussy. The more humanoid robot had buried her wrist spikes into the ceiling to brace herself, her eyes rolling and mouth hanging open as he pumped her from behind. "Oh programmer... oh fuck... I just want to rip you to shreds right now and get fucked by your body!" Bitchbot wailed as her flexible legs wrapped around Big Bolt's waist. She pulled him deeper and closer with a husky growl, his rhythmic beeping going steady as his fingers dug into her breast hard enough to scratch her paintjob. Some coolant started to leak inside her as the assassin rotated her upper half of her body all the way around, grabbing Big Bolt by the neck and kissing him with her contorted body. They shivered as a pool of creamy oil started to spill from their laps as the two robots overworked themselves fucking each other as viciously as possible.

Patcher shook her head as she looked back at Night Shift. The stoic mutant casually watched as Shade and Pocket got dressed and walked back out of their seperate shop. "Sorry if this was a little boring," Patcher confessed with a meek smile. "It sounds like everyone's getting laid but me for a change. I guess they're all sort of pent up now that I'm not healing them. You're lucky you can choose to or not, because I tell you sometimes you really want it, but sometimes you're like 'Please not in the ass. Please not in the hair. Howww did you get it in both my ass AND my hair?' Sorry. I'm babbling again. You really must be super bored of me."

"Hmm? Oh, not at all," Night replied, barely looking up. "I'm listening. You tell very cute stories. Honestly, I can't remember the last time I had so much fun."

"Fun? Really? Me?" Patcher asked, looking confused. "I'm like the least interesting character. I don't have guns or powers, and I'm not a robot or an alien..."

"You are so like..." The woman's back wings stirred at a ponderously slow pace. "You are the absolute barest needs of humankind's basic needs. Our evolved urge for sex and our starvation for acceptance. Our hope that we can be honest while hiding a sad past behind a smiling face, hoping we can overcome our strife not on the outside, but the inside. Finding ourselves in others as the social animals that we are." Patcher stared at her blankly, trying to process all of that. Night glanced up and smiled faintly at the stars. "All under the full moon's light. Such a beautiful moment."

"I mean, the moon's always full because it's cooler. They never programmed any other phases," Patcher admitted. "But like... wow. Not a lot of people think I'm like, deep and stuff. Ghost likes to listen to me a lot, but for a long time I thought people only liked me for sex."

"I'm sorry," the winged woman mused. "Did you want to have sex? If that makes it easier for you, I can just sit here while you hump me."

"What? No no, that's okay! I'm glad to take a break. Even if it's away from Ghost, I'm just glad to keep making people happy. I just didn't want you guys getting lonely up here. I know what it's like being alone."

"Mm." Night nodded with the simple noise. "Does he always do this then?"

"Who?"

"The walls guy... Roadblock? Does he like to be out on his own?"

"Oh! Roadblocker!" Patcher snapped her fingers in realization. People had a hard time remembering him sometimes. The Aussie engineer was usually hidden behind a barricade taking pot shots by his healing beacon. "Yea, he's... actually, he's usually partying with the others when we get together like this. That's..." Patcher's smile faded. "Um... maybe I should go check on him. You okay here with the sexbots?"

Night Shift nodded stiffly before holding out a hand. Patcher warily took it, just for Night to hop off the roof, floating down to the street with her wings spread and giving Patcher a lift. She hurried off and it took a while of searching before she heard the clinking of bottles. She ducked into a dead-end alley to find the greasy mechanic flopped out on an abandoned mattress, shaking a few last drops of his beer into his mouth.

"Heyyy, Roadie," Patcher greeted warily. "How's it goin'?"

"Fine, fine," Roadblocker muttered. His tone was as dismissive and uncaring as ever, though in a jolly and content way rather than the bland and emotionless Dr. Dragon. "It's a damn good last day to spend in the world."

"Um... kay." Patcher approached him carefully before sitting on a nearby trash can. "What's that supposed to mean? We're just stuck in a lag spike that crashed the server."

"Maybe you all are. But I can see the writin' on the wall." Patcher turned and looked at the "Death to Mercs" spray paint on the wall. "Not that, you fuckin' bimbo. This." He reached for the nail gun on his belt and held up his hand. It was in position but it had nothing inside.

"More lag?"

"I'm dyin', Bambi."

"So? We die all the time." Roadblocker held out his hands and spread them out. It was a subtle little twist they all knew how to do, reaching out into the Merc Squad site. A small display screen appeared between his fingers, showing a post on the dev blog.

"We understand that the Defense character Roadblocker has shown up consistently at the bottom of popularity votes and overall playtime," Patcher read aloud, wincing at that. "Oof. We want people to have fun playing all of our characters, so we're taking this very seriously. We don't want to have any characters that people dislike, so you can expect major changes when it comes to the roster." Patcher blinked a few times and looked back at him. "What? No, you've got lots of good qualities. I just... um..." She tried to think of some. There wasn't a lot she knew about Roadblocker apart from being Australian and very content with himself.

"It ain't so bad," Roadblocker sighed, grunting as he sat upright against a dumpster. "Folks don't like playin' behind a pile a' junk. They want to be up there shootin' blokes with a real gun. They're already settin' me up to get deleted from the roster.” He sighed and shrugged, a bemused smile on this face. “Maybe this is it. Maybe they cut off the servers so they can snip me out while nobody’s lookin’. Never speak of me again."

Patcher's eyes went wide, stunned before she shook her head. "What? No! No they can't do that! You're my friend!"

"Pff! I'm the friend of the town bicycle who thinks everyone likes her," Road scoffed, fumbling around in a pile of trash before finding another bottle. "Don't worry 'bout me, shielah. It'll be painless. I just won't exist after this week's update. At least I had a good run. Never had to work too hard, got to drink a lot, got my dick sucked a few times by you... I had a good life. Just a little short."

Patcher's eyes started to water. She'd have broke down bawling at the news in the past, but instead... she slapped him. “Ow! So much for a live with no regrets!” Road slurred. “I regret you hittin’ a defenseless drunk in the fuckin’ face.” Patcher ignored him and forced him back to his feet.

“No! I am not letting that happen.”

“You don’t have a say in it, luv,” Road reminded her, but she knelt down and tugged his pants around his ankles. “...okay, I’m listenin’.”

“You are not going to live your last moments alone in a dirty alley!” Patcher vowed as she took his cock in her hand, rubbing it against her cleavage to quickly warm him up. If she was good at anything, it was getting men hard. “You’re going to be with friends and happy and laughing!” She wiped some tears from her eyes with a stubborn scowl. “And we’ll… start a petition. Or talk to the programmers. Or get Duct to hack the game again. But you’re going to get through this and you’re going to be happy with us, and so help me you’re going to do it sober.”

“Good luck with that,” the Aussie snorted, taking another swig. Patcher suddenly stuffed his cock into her mouth, vigorously sucking him off like she had somewhere to be. Roadblocker grunted and clutched her head as he nearly doubled over. “Right! That way. Them gorgeous, dirty healin’ lips of yours. That’ll suck the venom right out, it will, ya tramp...”

Patcher popped his cock back out to stroke Road’s spitty dick, letting him lean back on the dumpster. “Look, you don’t have to respect me and I don’t have to help you. But I am, so shut your fucking mouth. You’re a part of this game and I don’t have to care about you. But you know what? I do! You make me laugh and-”

“Can you go back to the other mouth thing instead of lecturing me?” Road groaned.

“No!” Patcher stuffed his cock between her breasts, squeezing them together as she pulled up her armor to titfuck him instead. 

“Ooh that’s just as fuckin’ good,” Road groaned, suddenly spurting his seed over her face and chest. Patcher saw his posture straighten up, her healing buff in fact helping to sober him up a little. 

“Now shape up, sober up, throw out that dumpster beer, and let’s go apologize and see what we can do to make everyone else help out!”

“I mean…” Duct Tape frowned over his laptop. He had an ice pack in his lap and a fresh drink sitting next to him. “It’s definitely a big change. The coding gets a little vague when it comes down to like… us. Sort of beyond my level or else I’d have shut a few of you up myself a long time ago.” Patcher frowned at him. “Okay. Not helping.”

“There’s definitely degradation,” Dr. Dragon agreed as she lifted up Road’s arm, studying him with some small gadget from her pocket. “His very being is being torn down and manipulated from the inside. Definitely programmer’s work. Nothing even I could do to stop it.”

“But there’s like… stuff in his head too,” Psych pointed out, his eyes glowing faintly. “They’re moving stuff. Taking stuff out.”

“He’s going to be deleted! They’re already working on it,” Patcher mewled. “What are you going to…” A distinct click ran through the air. “What was that?”

“The server’s back on,” Glad noted grimly. “And that should let us find out about our friend here.”

“I mean I feel-” Road started before he gasped, held his chest and fell to his knees. Patcher covered her mouth and the others backed away as he vanished from sight. Before Patcher could try to cry or call for help, he reappeared. He was a little taller and had a thicker tool belt on with several junky gadgets strapped to it. “Ther’a go. Roight as rainingan.”

“Wait, what?”

“Sjuza bittafon, shiela. Wuzzabitta upday tween chums, ey?”

“Is… is he speaking English right now?”

“He had a surprise update,” Glad grunted. “He was messing with you.”

“Bloody ‘ellels wuzza sposda get me knackers polished, ya drongo?”

“And he did it to get you to do sexual favors.”

“I don’t understand…” Patcher muttered.

“I thought that’s kind of your thing,” Psych added. “No offense, but you’re the sex lady.”

“Not the only one,” Pocket laughed, giving Shade another smack on the ass. The burly French woman hung her head.

“Yes, Mistress Pocky,” she muttered.

Patcher just shook her head. “No I mean… I literally can’t understand. What’s he even saying?”

“Y’got fokkin maggot, mate? I’snucka bittanuffin ‘fore ah…” Roadblocker’s victorious grin dropped from his face. “Crikey, what the devil’day do wit mah voice?”

“YOU GOT A VOICE UPDATE TOO!” Patcher erupted. “I thought I was gonna be the only one who got an accent added in!”

“Taint a bloody accent! Anyoo know an aussie talk loike disnreelty?!” Road demanded, clearly getting riled up while the rest of the group snickered apart from Patcher. “I’s just sposda get a bunchaapgrade oppys on me walla’s! Fack me! This’ woy a fakin’ ‘ate you all!” He stormed off and grabbed another beer as the stage started to fade out and load them back to the base.

“Well apart from the permadeath scare,” Skullfucker chuckled, nudging Shade in the arm. “Good times. We should glitch out more often.”

“Definitely,” Bitchbot agreed, entering the bar with a few fresh dents in her skin. Patcher smiled proudly at her teammates, glad that finally someone besides her was getting laid.