No one can stop them

You sat at the worn bar, nursing a nearly empty pint of beer, the remnants sloshing gently as you tapped the side of the glass. Another news report was on the television mounted in the corner, the familiar face of a well-known anchor appearing grave as she detailed the latest Martian attack.

"In what has become an all too common occurrence, another public place has fallen victim to the Martian invaders," the reporter intoned. "This time, a movie theater in downtown LA saw its patrons transformed into breeders for the aliens' insidious purposes. Eyewitnesses describe a terrifying scene as men and women alike succumbed to the Martians' infernal power, their screams turning to moans of pleasure as all were transformed into lusty females begging to be fucked."

Sighing, you shook your head, feeling a mix of anger and disgust. "Can't anyone stop them? It's bad enough they keep **** women, but this... turning men into whores for their pleasure. It makes me sick." Your voice carried more than a hint of disgust and fear. The thought of being reduced to begging for Martian cock made you shudder.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the sticky bar top, and addressed the weathered bartender, his name tag reading 'Ralph'. "Why can't anyone stop them, Ralph? I mean, they're violating people left and right. It's disgusting what they're doing, turning men into..." Your voice trailed off, imagining the horrors of such a fate.

The bartender, a grizzled man in his fifties, scoffed, wiping down a glass with a rag. "Son, you must have missed the big news a while back. America tried to stop 'em when they hit DC. The whole damn government was turned into their sluts in a single day. Sent in the army, Air ****, even had a few Marines try and flush 'em out, but none of their bullets or bombs did jack shit. The Martians were just too damn tough. Bullets might as well have been nerf darts, and their tanks might have been lawn ornaments for all the good they did."

You felt a chill hearing this. "But... what happened then? Did we give up?"

Ralph's laugh was mirthless. "No, America didn't give up. They went after the Martians with everything they had. Sent entire armies, but the Martians only laughed. Then the Martians showed their hand. Those fuckers unleashed hell, quite literally, with energy blasts that turned platoons into panting breeders, soldiers dropping their guns to cup their new tits. The ones who resisted, the Martians marched right up to, fucked 'em until they couldn't think straight, left 'em begging for more Martian meat."

A lump formed in your throat. "So... what are we supposed to do? Just let them take whoever they want?"

The bartender shrugged. "What can you do, kid? They're farming humanity, plain and simple. Martians know they don't need everyone, and they're just taking what they need. Could be worse, at least the Martians are not genocidal. They're happy to let humanity be, so long as they get their breeders. Those traps they sprinkle around are just for entertainment."