Work Text:
Hohenheim wants to strangle whoever thought mixing bug pheromones with human genetics was a good idea.
After that one hell of a raid on the lab, he was no longer able to study & experiment like he used to, now stuck on doctoring duty, and seeing as he only had 2 patients, he thought "oh, this is going to actually give me time to work on my side projects."
And then Gregor woke up.
Hohenheim presumed he'd wake up screaming in pain or shock, or a brief lapse in unconsciousness for a moment, but he was unfortunate enough that what woke up Gregor is not his injuries healing, but roach pheromones. Apparently according to biology, whatever happened to Gregor was less important than forcefully waking up his body to enter a heat that could be heard across the hall, his wailing immediately requiring Hohenheim to figure out how the fuck to solve this... issue.
...
The roach emperor faded in and out of control of his mind. Last he remembers, his horrible wings unfurled, and his close friends looked at him through his blurry eye, in fear & terror. And that hurt him enough.
But those wings, those damn let-downs of appendages, only meant something he dreaded ever happening again, was happening again, and as he opened his eye, he felt himself tied down, in this disgusting, hybrid form again. He wished he could never see this damn bug arm again tied to this bench, he wishes his damn useless wings could be ripped off, never to sprout again, he wishes he never had to deal with the consequence of this half-bug anatomy all the freaks from g-corp had to deal with.
Mother, in all her infinite wisdom, thought that making the roach soldiers able to self replicate would be a good idea. However, all it did is give the roach soldiers an easily exploitable weakness, something that triggered randomly on its own or through pheromone grenades.
The heat that Gregor was subjected to in the past, and the heat he feels in his core, as his body slowly wakes up. Gregor blinks, realizing his eyes have been open for a while, he feels his throat sore, and his holes feel uncomfortably full. But through that, his body demands more, and as much as Gregor would rather be curled up in rodya's arms, her comfort was not a luxury as he tried to make sense of what little signals made his way to his brain.
"You've never... roach before?.."
"This feels... wrong... he's a..."
"the roaches were made for this."
That sentence alone sent Gregor back into the past, with his eyes fogging over, seeing only those past scientists that held him like he was an object to be used. His arm, tied down as it was, tried to protest, thrashing just as Gregor started to thrash as well. He swore he escaped the army. He swore those medications the LCB provided prevented that damn heat from ever truly taking hold.
He swore he saw his mother looking down at a clipboard, trying not to pay attention to him.
It was Hohenheim's job to pay attention to the current predicament Gregor was in, and unfortunately the only available option was to either let his body naturally wither away from the heat, and have Dante revive Gregor after a few weeks, or take the reliable option employed by those who work with retired roach warriors. The bench.
He earlier had to drag a limp, incoherent Gregor from his hospital room to this spare chamber, and after explaining & confirming with other staff, there agreed to be a group effort to help quell the ticking time bomb that is Gregor's fucked up reproductive system.
And he already regrets participating in this "procedure" if you can call it that.
An hour ago, the team went out of the chamber, off to explain the situation to the sinners, & acquire other... items to assist with Gregor's heat. And with that, the mumbling mutant was tied down to the bench in front of him, his legs spread, and the interesting insect wings adorning his back. (He already noted them when initially putting him in the medical bay. )
As the chief researcher, he believed he should make the first impression, and take the first notes. He strafed towards the bound roach emperor, leaving his clipboard on a table nearby. His gloved hands grazed the wings on his back, eliciting a half-conscious reaction, reminding him of a quote from a colleague:
"They don't wake up until after they're bred the first time."
The implications of that being common Backstreets knowledge sickens him, but provides comfort that there will hopefully be no ill will between him and Gregor for what he's about to do.
He took off his gloves, leaving them to the side, petting the delicate-looking, yet sturdy, chitin-built wings that protruded from his shoulder blades. As much as he felt guilt, being up so close to these bio-engineering miracles swelled up an urge to examine them. As he heard the roach chitter in response to this petting, he pushed his feelings & pride aside as the buckles on his belt he pulled aside to position himself to enter.
Any guilt he would have felt washed away as Gregor's heat altered his body in ways one could only dream of; his entrance was already slick, his clit engorged yet from a lack of use, and his body so accepting of the cock penetrating. With Gregor lost in a mindless, nearly-unconscious heat, Hohenheim was lost in awe at the marvel Gregor's body was hiding underneath the roach emperors hatching. His hands ran over his insect wings, worshiping the abstract pattern they provided, his body pistoning in to the wet hole as he lost himself in the awe.
The panting from Gregor brought a possessive lust he never thought he had; he petted his hair & ran his hand over his insectoid arm, as he felt the body below him shiver in delirious pleasure. As he felt himself tie that knot in that stomach, he heard noises he wished Gregor could have made earlier, a chorus of chirping akin to music to a entomologist's ears. The symphony pushed him over the edge, as he muttered phrases like "wonderful", "marvelous", "beautiful", petting the glistening wings.
As he mused over the roach's previous eagerness, his gaze picked up to the thrashing of glazed over eyes, and his stomach churned at the realization that this is just the beginning of a very, very long week.
As much as Gregor knows he's panicking, he can't get out of this headspace this wicked heat brought up. All he can do is breathe through his mouth in terror as he unconsciously murmurs out "no" repeatedly to the ground below him.
He feels a hand pull his chin up, and as much as he can't hear, the bold assistant from earlier holds a calm smile, he's done this before, he's worked with these freaks before, and he's willing to assist with the side effects of the genetic superiority. "Look, he won't bite, let me show you proof." He held Gregor by the chin as he pulled his genitalia out, sticking it next to his face, and to the others bewilderment, he immediately latched on without a single protest, prompting or otherwise.
In Gregor's head, he couldn't tell who was in front of him, and he wouldn't care, as the instinctual urge to seek out mates found him with his mouth preoccupied with the tip of a cock inside. And as much as he could try to resist the heat, the hand that held his chin was... oddly gentle, and a second hand petted his hair, something the researchers back at the damned g-corp never bothered with. As much as he relaxed into the haze clouding over his sanity, his tongue lapping away at the member in his mouth, he still struggled to figure out where he was. It wasn't home, but he was doing something only did back at that damn lab... and he doesn't know whether or not being home would be better or worse than being somewhere he doesn't recognize.
Their co-worker made it clear that there was no risk in breeding the roach, and that he would perish if there wasn't sufficient intervention to his heat. But still, they hesitated, leaning on top of his ass, as the wings briefly twitched as their coworker thrusted in at a particularly strong angle. As much as they were the "any holes a goal" kind of person, this hesitation felt justified as the body below them shivered.
They couldn't tell if the body below them was conscious or not, and the lack of the ability to consent worried them greatly. They wished they could ask him if he wanted to be ridden or if he wanted them inside him, but maybe they'll ask if he'll be conscious enough at any point during the heat. For now, they Shuffled off their cargo pants as they felt the lean muscles against his chest, lining up to enter, and even the brief tip inside sent a shudder and a loss of tension throughout his body.
As they entered, they wonder if they've only slept with people that run cold or if he currently has a higher than normal body temperature. They immediately realized how stupid that thought was with the description of this being a 'heat'. As they adjusted to his body, letting him adjust to them, a groan was vibrating through his body as they felt it through their hands bracing his sides and their cock in his ass.
Gregor felt like he was overheating, yet the air felt horribly frigid; but the cock nestled in his backside felt like a cool, comforting relief to his brain. He would be crying out for more if his mouth wasn't full, a distant part of his dysfunctional brain working at the 'mate' in front of him.
In the assistants mind, he reaches back to an old memory of a young, blonde boy who left the war hurt, traumatized yet willing to fight for a banner that calls for him. In this syndicate he joined, the roach boy joined shortly after him, and was discovered one fateful night tied up by his fellow syndicate against the bunker wall. It was then a kinship was formed between them, where he learned about how the roaches hated themselves the most out of the pests, how their heats worked, and their midnight sessions where he would help the young boy in their room together.
He felt pity for this roach he is caring for now; and he misses his old roach friend who took hits for him, and saved his life so many times before his old 'friends' cut his life short. He sees Gregor's eyes glazed over as the roach half did its work quelling the human loathing that all roaches tended to have, but the gentle petting he provided was leaned into; he never asked if all roaches reacted to petting that way or not.
Gregor was lost in his mind, praying they would let him go, he begged to himself, wishing he could vocalize, he wanted people he could trust, he wanted his- he caught his wandering mind at that. His mother let them manhandle him, she let them rape him merely because she did not want to undo the mistake that was the pheromones. His body choked at that old memory, and as much as he wishes he could shake his head, he dared not damage the member in his mouth, his eyes locked upwards in terror & a begging request to be freed.
As much as he'd like to pause & check on Gregor, he felt himself clench & eject a load into his mouth; Gregor's eyes seemed to still be widened, yet glazed over again. He unmounted himself from Gregor's mouth, continuing to pet his hair in assurance that it's okay, he's safe here, and his heat is taken care of.
The fellow assistant finished up, hilting deep inside as Gregor gasped out in discomfort. With this, Hohenheim finally decided he had to step in before Gregor had any further complications. "I think that's enough until the sinners arrive."
Gregor was not doing so hot after his body felt cold from the 2 sources of warmth leaving his side. The paranoia, delusions that he was back in that lab seemed to swing into full force as he reeled in the eyes upon him, helplessly on display. He saw the mouth of 'mother?' Move, as 'she?' Commanded the researchers to move about. He heard more talking, he couldn't tell if it was about him, if they were mocking how his body was designed better than a whore's like they always said back at mother's lab-
The door on the testing chamber crashed open as a gambler, a furry, and a sentient clock burst in.
Rodya was the first to complain about doing this without them. "Hey! Why'd you not wait for us? Can't i have some of my emotional support roach?~"
Heathcliff, in all of his singular braincell glory, Did Not Care he's a roach, and Did Not Care that he was murdered by said roach man recently. "Oy, i ain't gonna let a bug bloke of mine suffer alone, I'll be gay fer a day for 'im!"
[Note: Heathcliff later found out he's bi.]
{well, i was not expecting those two to be eager. I'll leave you guys to it.} Dante Shuffled into the corner next to Hohenheim, mildly embarrassed he's only here if things go wrong.
The roach was tied down to the bench, stressed, scared, and confused. He struggled to recognize where he was, who was talking, what was being talked about, until a beautiful Russian woman entered his view, clearing out his mind with her cool, ice-cutting beauty. his roach half being as useful as always chanting 'mate! Mate!' In his head.
Rodion was impressed how quickly his eyes focused on his girlfriend, as she cooed lovingly, "gregs, hun, i arrived as soon as i could. Are you holding up okay?" And as much as she was informed coherent responses were unlikely from a roach in heat, Gregor murmured "i want you. Please. I want to go back to the bus with you and ride you, you ride me, i just want you rody. I trust you."
Rodion wanted to pluck her little prince off the bench and whisk him away to her room, she had no idea how to get him free, and even if she can make it back to the bus at all. She gave a kiss to his forehead and praised him, whispering sweet nothings to soothe his broken heart, like she needed so long ago. "It's okay gregs, we'll do all that once we get back, can you hang in a little longer with me and heathy helping you out?"
Heathcliff let the two lovebirds coo at each other as he hid his blush looking to the side, much to the quiet assistant's smug gaze of knowledge. In that they know he wants that bug pussy as much as they want more of it too. He saw Rodion gesture him closer as she began kissing him fervently, the tanned mutt pulling out and embarrassingly feeling out the crevice he was about to shove himself into. As much as he should feel some reluctance Gregor was greedily eating up his finger, he decided "fuck it" and plunged in.
And by the wings, had he wished he topped sooner. He groan of approval let out by Gregor as he leant in, sheathed in the pussy, Rodion released the kiss briefly, checking in on Gregor, as he let out with glazed over eyes, "more please", "Rodion", "feels amazing" and other incoherent ramblings of approval. Cutting off his muttering as Heathcliff began moving, she deepened the kiss as Gregor's stubble brushed against her chin, happily savoring her time with her favorite bug.
Heathcliff, concerningly, knew how to make a fuck quick, and his brutish nature naturally tended towards his hips snapping rapidly against Gregor's with a violent passion.
If Dante could blush, he'd blush at the violent pace Heathcliff sets. Hohenheim swore he heard a quiet tea kettle whistle from Dante.
Gregor, lost in his mind, felt warm, stuffed & full as the two familiar bodies against him kept his hormones happy. He heard the one in front of him praising, calling him a "good boy", "holding out so well", and these comments got to his head, activating his secondary organs, the ones he was born with. (Yes, Heathcliff was also activated by the "good boy", what'd you expect?) Gregor's tongue lolled out as the praise, the petting, & the ramming into his backside reached a point to a coil in his stomach, as he let out his cum across the floor, with Heathcliff following shortly after.
The aftermath of the 3 sinner show, Hohenheim was also blushing. And the two assistants. They were probably going to experiment together after the work day is over. "Seems you 3 handle the heat much better than my assistants can. Not that they did a poor job, but my hypothesis seems his recovery from the heat would be much smoother & faster if you brought him back to the bus." And, as Hohenheim would never admit, he wishes he could go and pet those pretty bug wings some more.
Dante clapped his hands together once. {alright, let's get Gregor home to help him recover faster.} as Heathcliff stumbled to pull up his pants & grab Gregor his, Rodion winked at the roach guy, and he shuddered knowing what that meant.
That Amazonian had infinite stamina, he swore.
Back at the bus, the sinners all were in their various corners doing wings-knows-what, Don & Ishmael playing Uno, Ryoshu, Sinclair & Meursault in the kitchen (that will be rectified shortly) and all the nerds, plus Hong lu in the projector cabin watching some nature documentary Dante does not want to know the details of.
"Guess what guys? Greg's back! I say we hold one of those parties to celebrate tonight?~"
Don Quixote, the little shit, knew the type of party, and still, she replied: "A par-tayyyy sounds perfect, dear Rodion! I shall prepare the goods post-haste!"
Dante did not escape the grasp of this variety of party this time.