She squatted, bracing herself against the wall of the bombed-out factory, and as she arched her hips up he saw, for the last time, the sunset as it passed between the line of ruined buildings that had once been a street.

He could feel the other members of his fireteam struggling inside her now. High on her chest, her breasts shook and bulged as the men trapped inside were smothered tighter and tighter by soft, pillowy breastflesh; and beneath him, through the wall of her vagina, he felt the thrashing of his team leader, muffled moans of pleasure faintly audible as her rectum squeezed his body.

He'd expected pain, humiliation, torture, but almost from the moment she'd slipped his feet between his nether lips, the pleasure had been indescribable. Waves of ecstasy rolling over his flesh, her slick pussy pulsing around his body as she sucked him inside herself.

He didn't know what happened to the men they captured - he only knew that they never came back. He'd never understood why - why none of them had ever escaped, why they'd never seen a POW camp. As her soft, wet labia crept up over his face, he understood for the first time that he might never see daylight again; and as the darkness enclosed him, the first orgasm ripped through him, shredding every thought, save for one - that he never wanted to be let out. This was where he belonged. And where all men would end up, in time.

--
Lots of ideas, and many renders, don't really go anywhere. This is something that may or may not have been inspired by Death Stranding, at one point? But apart from the flash fiction above, I couldn't really develop it into anything satisfying.

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