An unexpected gift for you!

You walk over towards Bitch 2, stepping through the debris of smashed computers and torn files that the ex-guard had acquitted himself well to destroying as you told him to. That was probably mostly fear motivating him to make sure he didn't spark your ire by half-assing the destruction of property you'd tasked him with, but you had a feeling, now that you know the effect your various fluids had on people, part of it was probably also the fact that you had what he was probably now realizing he craved: your cum. It amused you to no end to know that you had unknowingly made two cock-hungry cum sluts out of two guards without even meaning to. Imagine what you could do now that you knew exactly what you could do?

You put that thought on the back burner for now, however, as you moved over to Bitch 2 and set your eyes on what it was he was calling your attention to. "So...what the fuck am I lookin' at?", you ask, though you can tell roughly what it is just by looking at it.

What it is is what appears to be a locker, but one much larger and more sleek and secure than you'd see in your average locker room. It was metallic black and only barely had seems that marked a door. It was also about your height and breadth, which meant it was a big fucking locker. There was a keypad that even you could figure out was meant to be where one punched in a code to unlock the locker. And etched into the door itself were two words in bold lettering: PROJECT DREADNOUGHT.

"It's a locker.", Bitch 2 replied and you gave him a look like he was growing a second, very idiotic head out of his shoulder.

"I can FUCKIN' see that it's a locker, you stupid bitch. I mean, why the fuck are ya bringin' me over here to look at the fuckin' thing?", you ask, glaring at him in a way that has him shivering in fear as he starts to stammer out a response.

"I-I-I just thought you'd w-wanna look at it! I mean, it-it's got your name on it and everything so, you know, w-whatever's in it has gotta be yours, right?", he quickly rambles, hoping to god you see his way of looking at things.

"First of all, fuckin' everythin' and anythin' I fuckin' WANT to be mine is mine now, ya get me?", you say to him, poking a large finger hard enough into Bitch 2's chest that he stumbles back and rubs at the spot as though you had punched him instead of just poked him, "And, second of all...ya got a fuckin' point. Project Dreadnought. That's me, right? So that means the eggheads who were in charge of the whole thing meant whatever's in here for me, right?"

"R-right! That's what I meant! So...so we should find a way to open it, right? If we look around we can probably find...", Bitch 2 starts to say, only to be interrupted in his thoughts by your jabbing your hand forward, jamming your fingers into the door's seam and bending the metal back as though it was made of clay instead of whatever high-tech alloy it actually was, "Or that. You can do that instead."

"Fuck doors and fuck locks. Nothin' gets in my fuckin' way anymore.", you say as you toss aside the ruined locker door and look into the locker to see what it contains.

What you see appears to be a full tactical suit like those the guards wore except much bigger and with a few more metallic accoutrements that you couldn't quite tell the use of. It was a full suit, from black combat boots to gloves and body armor to a helmet that looked like it belonged to some sci-fi soldier. It was all colored the same matte black the guards' uniforms were. It also looked like it would fit even you loosely as every piece of the body armor looked rather oversized. You looked at the body armor with discernment as you reached out and took one of the gloves from the locker, looking it up and down and inspecting it thoroughly.

"The fuck is this? Were they gonna shove me in some kind of uniform? If they were, they shoulda figured the size better. All this shit is too big.", you say as you slip the glove over your hand, finding it to be, sure enough, loose and unwieldy.

"Wait! I found something on the computer about it!", Bitch 1 calls out, having apparently run back to the computer after seeing what it was Bitch 2 had discovered, "It says here that this combat armor is prototype tech. It's supposed to be waterproof, fireproof, shockproof, bulletproof, resistant to piercing and slashing damage of most types and...well, theoretically, it's supposed to be everything-proof, really. Oh! And it says it can conform to fit any frame once fastened into place."

"Really?", you say as you do just that, fastening the glove upon your hand which results in it suddenly shifting in size, shrinking down to properly encase your hand with a sound like a vacuum seal, "Holy shit! That's some Back to the Future shit right there! Ha! That's pretty fuckin' awesome. Not bad. I was startin' to think I should figure out a way to stop walkin' 'round with my dick swingin'. Not that I got anythin' to ashamed of, but, hey, keepin' my cock an' balls tucked safely away is always a good idea, if ya ask me."

You start to reach out for the rest of the armor, but pause as you look down at yourself, realizing you're still covered in blood, dirt and other detritus you'd picked up during your rampage through the prison. You shake your head at that as you unfasten the glove, causing it to return to its original larger size, and then toss it into the locker. You then turn to look at Bitch 1 and 2.

"Ya know, before I put on this nice new suit o' badass I've been given, I should get all this blood and shit off o' me. Don't wanna gunk up the inside of this fuckin' thing if I'm gonna be wearin' it.", you say, "Take me to the showers. I know you fuckin' guards had to have a locker room or somethin', right? Let's go there. I need a fuckin' shower."

"O-ok. But what about the suit? Are you gonna leave it behind? Gonna be hard to haul it along with you in pieces, isn't it?", Bitch 1 asks.

"Bitch, who the fuck do ya think you're talkin' to?", you say as you reach over to the large locker, wrapping your arms about it and, with a grunt of exertion, you tear it up from where it was bolted to the floor and wall and then rest it on your shoulder as though it were a piece of lumber instead of what should be a ton of metal shaped into a high-tech locker, "Now let's fuckin' go, bitches. Lead the way."

The two ex-guards comply readily enough and you, with locker and impressive new set of clothes in tow, follow after them.