The King meets the enemy head on

Aiden/Ares rocketed over the trees of Julie's forest, his mind fixed on where Lilith's cry for help had come from. He hated to leave his breathtakingly sexy queen so soon, but if the succubus was afraid and his horde was being pushed back, he had no time to waste. Whoever Hermes was, the organization was clearly familiar with the virus and what worked to repel it. They would need to be eradicated.

As Ares approached the invading ****, he could see some of what he was up against. Hermes was apparently well funded, if the dozen tanks and groups of armed soldiers were anything to go off of. They moved in groups, advancing in a perfect line, with a larger **** behind the initial ranks. The armored tanks were outfitted with flamethrowers and grenade launchers, as well as high caliber guns, all of which were used to tear the members of the viral horde to pieces, usually literally. Apparently the average Infected's regeneration didn't apply to complete dismemberment.

The foot soldiers, each wearing a full tactical suit with a helmet, had similar loadouts to the tanks, each group comprised of a few soldiers armed with either grenade launchers or flamethrowers, with one or two members in the middle of the cluster carrying powerful rifles they used to pick off targets. A notable addition were a few carrying heavy riot shields that were used to hold back any Infected that got too close until they could be dispatched.

In short, they were well-trained and decimating Ares' army. He couldn't even see any that had been infected, any who tried either repelled or killed before they could accomplish their task. No wonder Lilith had panicked; with firepower like that, Ares had no doubt his infected would be whittled down to just a few, who would then be hunted down. Or rather, that would have been what happened.

Folding his wings flat against his back, Ares shot towards the ground, the air screaming around him. As he neared the ground, he changed his body again, bringing back his muscle mass, gaining feet of height, and forming a layer of burning red natural armor around himself thick enough to deflect a bullet. He vaguely heard shouts from below as he plummeted, bullet whizzing past him. He flipped his massive, 9 foot tall body around just before he landed, driving his feet into the roof of one of the tanks with enough **** to make it crumple like paper. He roared and threw his arms out, splitting each of them into dozens of tentacles, each one tipped with either a sharp and jagged edge designed to tear and cut or a pointed needle that dripped a concentrated form of the virus.

He stomped through the panicking troops, none of their attacks able to phase him. Their bullets ricocheted off his thick armor and fire rolled off of him. On impulse, he grew small patches of dry leaves on his shoulders, the brittle foliage immediately catching fire and giving him a sort of flaming cape. The grenades would have proved a nuisance if it hadn't been for his enhanced reflexes and dexterous tentacles, the combination of which made it child's play to pick them out of the air and throw them back.

Ares, on the other hand, was living up to his changed name. He was unstoppable, wading through scores of men two thirds his height, his tentacles lashing out at anyone withing reach. The lucky ones were dead before they knew what hit them. Others had the misfortune of seeing the bladed tendrils coming their way and tried to block them, only for them to pierce armor, bone, and flesh to seek their targets. Anyone who managed to sever a tentacle had barely a second to revel in their victory before it regenerated and resumed seeking its prey.

However, more than half of the invading **** met their end with a pick of a stinger, the small needles seeking out exposed skin at the joint of the neck or wrists, or rather just punching through armor to inject their viral payload. Any who felt the sting had barely three seconds before the virus exploded through them.

Panicked gasps and aroused moans, all slowly rising in pitch, followed behind Ares as his victims mutated rapidly. Tactical suits became ill-fitting as muscle diminished into sleek softness and breasts blossomed into existence. Few of the transforming soldiers could resist the urge to tear their clothes apart, spilling their new, wobbling flesh out for all to see. Cocks shriveled away to nothing and new pussies opened up, immediately becoming slick with arousal. Hair flowed out from beneath helmets in every shade of red, brown, yellow, and black imaginable. Faces became delicate and feminine as higher thought disappeared into a rolling ocean of lust, leaving transformed soldiers-turned-sluts with only the desire to seduce and fuck.

Seeing their comrades change into busty nymphomaniacs was enough make many of the soldiers panic, either fleeing for their lives or opening fire on their lustful comrades. A few of the newly transformed women fell the the ground as they were hit by lucky shots, but they were back up a second later as the second phase of the virus activated.