Resident Evil: The Perfect Organism

In the deepest depths of an underground research facility built off the sprawling cavern system hidden under a Spirit Halloween, BSAA agents Leon Kennedy and Chris Redfield train their guns on a lone figure in a white labcoat.

“Freeze, Wesker!” Leon shouts, his coifed, platinum blonde hair fluttering in the underground breeze.

“Umbrella’s reign of terror is over,” Chris declares, his veined muscles bulging like an over-stuffed speedo.

“No, Chris.” Wesker sneers. “For eons, the vermin called humanity have infested this planet.” He turns, raising his hands in triumph. “Today, only one reign ends!”

“Wrong, Wesker.” Leon quips, re-training his gun. “The only rain today is on your sick parade!”

Suddenly, steam erupts from the colossal mechanical apparatus behind Wesker, a snarled nest of pipes, vents, and wires surging with ominous crimson light.

Leon and Chris stagger back.

“Behold! The perfect organism!”

A bio-tank surges up from the grated floor, pale mists swirling around the base. Steel-eyed, Leon and Chris tense as the blast shield lifts, revealing the man-made horror within.

“Jesus,” yelps Leon.

“Christ,” gasps Chris.

“It’s…it’s…” Leon lowers his weapon, stuttering in disbelief. “It’s so fuckable.”

The gun drops, clattering on the grate.

“Leon! We’ve fought a thousand of these freaks! Get a hold of yourself!”

“Look at it, Chris. " Leon shuffles forward, arms raised, pupils dilated. “Those delicate curves. Those nimble limbs. And so many glistening orifices.”

“Damn it, Leon,” Chris spat. “You promised to fuck my sister and preserve the Redfield bloodline.”

Wesker cackled. “Now you see, Chris. For years, Umbrella wasted precious time and resources on creating grotesque, untameable monstrosities for world governments that perpetually refused to purchase them. An obscene misallocation of corporate funds in service to a poor market fit.” 

Leon drops his pants and humps the bio-tank.

“Only I had the vision to save this company, to create the perfect product—a woman with ten thousand holes! Her hands are orifices. Her breasts are orifices. Even her arm pits are orifices.”

Chris levels his gun. “Stop saying orifices!”

“Consumers won’t be able to resist! Our product will sop up every last ounce of genetic material—a boon to Umbrella’s research department. And an end to the pathetic human race.”

Chris cocks the hammer and re-levels his gun. “You’ll need more than one of these freaks to end the world!”

Red lights flash. Alarms blare. Wave after wave of bio-tanks emerge, stretching into the horizon.

“What will you do, Chris? They won’t attack. Are BSAA agents authorized to murder a sea of innocents?” Wesker preens, a sadistic glee glimmering in his eye. “The only way out is to fuck your way out!”

“Jokes on you,” Chris retorts, re-cocking and re-re-releveling the gun. “I’m a power bottom.”

On cue, ten thousand cocks sprout from the ten thousand orifices.

Chris narrows his gaze. “Damn you, Wesker.” Ω