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"Can you feel it?

"Yes sir" replied the collie, drawing in a breath of air as it flooded the molded scuba mask which covered his face, muzzle and all. A single tube hung over his shoulder, connecting the mask to a yellow cylinder on his back.

"Good." The german shepherd commander, taller than the other males present, stepped back from the younger collie that sat before him. The soft thrum of the submersible carrier's engine filled the tight confines of the metal craft. Portholes gave the occupants a dim view of the ocean they now travelled through and only the occasional glimpse of a school of fish, or an algae covered reef of coral broke the monotony of the scenery they passed.

"Are we almost there?" An athletically built puma leaned forward from his seat as he asked the question, his eagerness betrayed by the grin visible through his own mask as much as it was by the stiff cock in the simple silver swim briefs he wore. The others wore similar briefs and the puma was not alone in his eagerness.

"Soon enough, meat" was the only reply the commander offered.

"ETA five minutes, commander, start prepping the newbies." The pilot's voice crackled over the submersible's intercom but each one of the assembled males could hear it just as clearly in their masks, a small radio installed in each of them to allow for communication. The simple announcement drew a low buzz of excitement as the assembled males began to murmur amongst themselves, this was it, they were going to see some action!

"Quiet down" barked the commander as he rose to his full height, hand curled around a ring hanging from the roof to stabilize himself as the sub begin to turn and ascend; they were nearing the target location and while they had evaded enemy radar by remaining below it thus far, it was time to spring the surprise.

"You heard Sanchez up front, get your shit together and prepare to head out. Secure your masks, get your weapon harnesses on and cut the chatter." Even as the commander spoke, his charges followed his orders. Slipping on simple black harnesses, the thin strips of fabric sporting several rings which they could attach their weapons to, they prepared. Each of them had been issued a simple knife, serrated near the tip to allow them to saw through the regulator hoses of any enemies they encountered as well as a compact speargun with several shots pre-loaded to help thin the ranks before the knives became a practical option. They were lightly equipped and unarmoured, but in this environment speed and being maneuverable was the best armour the boys could have.

They were the Silver Spears, a branch of the larger West Wind mercenary brigade and were often tasked with missions West Wind intelligence deemed as high risk. Today was no exception and though the Silver Spears had a success rate above and beyond the norm, their casualty rates were often just as noteworthy. They were specially selected from the general recruit pool not by talent, but by psych reports. Each of the boys that would participate in today's raid had demonstrated strong masochist and sadist tendencies with an affinity for ending the lives of others; they had no fear of death, or of dealing it, and a special affinity for the possibility of being ended themselves. It was for this reason as the assembled Spears stood to ready themselves that more than a few sported tents in their lycra briefs.

The commander, a veteran of several battles-- a record which put him within the most senior echelons of the unit-- looked over the assembled rookies before him. There were ten in this craft, and they would be joined by five more submersibles with matching numbers of boys in each. They were tasked with the reclamation of a nearby deep-sea fishing facility by a private contractor. It had been captured by a branch of eco-militants that the Spears were well acquainted with; they had met several times in the past and the commander had no doubt that this would not be the last they saw of each other. They had proclaimed some nonsense about freeing their undersea friends from the grip of big business and it was up to the Spears to show them that big business had more of a grip on their operations than the enemy gave them credit for.

Whitby stood amongst his comrades, the collie adjusting his mask one last time as his heart raced in his thin chest. He could feel the seconds until they disembarked slipping by him and the heat that filled the craft as ten eager males waited to meet their fate was stifling. He tugged on the elastic waistband of his briefs with one paw as the other held onto a rail which ran along the ceiling of the craft, breath fogging his mask.

"Any moment now" he muttered under his breath.

"What was that, private?" came a bark from rear door.

"Nothing, sir!" he replied, cheeks flushing and a nervous curl of his feet against the steel floor causing his nails to dig into the rubber of his flippers irritatingly. The red light which suddenly filled the craft stung his eyes, the boy blinking even as a sudden chill splashed across his bare toes. Whitby sucked in his breath, thin stomach going concave as he felt a shiver run up his spine. The door at the rear of the carrier had begun to open, only a portion of the door raising to allow the compartment to fill slowly with water.

"This is it, boys. Good luck!" The commander's voice filled their masks, each boy reacting in their own way to the sudden inevitability of battle. This was no training exercise and whether they enjoyed the thought or not, many of them would not be returning to the barracks. Whitby, for his part, steeled himself against the encroaching water. His fur kept the brunt of the deep-sea cold from chilling his blood but it was still enough to draw a shuddering breath from the collie. He looked down at the water as it reached his thighs and couldn't help but feel the weight of his stiff cock pressing against the tight fabric of his swimsuit, a sensation that the canine found himself concentrating on to help counter-act the water as it continued to rise. It wasn't long, however, until he and the others were fully submerged. The door at the rear of the craft finally fell open and the Spears closest to it began to push out into the broad expanse of the ocean. Light filtered from the surface far above, the pressure of the water pressing at Whitby's body as it trying to crush him in a vice.

"It'll take a moment to acclimatize to the pressure, grunts. Stay calm and let your body do its thing" the commander instructed. Whitby could see similar craft to the one he had just left begin to spill their contents of silver-clad males into the water, all manner of species, and boys of all sizes beginning to form up into their squads. The age of enlistment was eighteen and like Whitby himself, many of those assembled looked like they had signed up at their first opportunity. The Spears' exploits were well known and they never had a problem finding recruits.

As the pressure on his body diminished, Whitby breathed slowly into his mask. In the distance he could see the dome-like ceilings of the facility's main structures and could already imagine what kind of welcome they were preparing for the Spears. Several minutes passed before the collie felt able to breathe, and move, properly. The others seemed to be growing accustomed to the depth as well, some of them beginning to detach their spear guns and prepare for the fight to come.

When they began to move, they moved quickly. Each squad merged into one large force that made a beeline for the lights of the facility. Bare silt stretched out below them like a desert and Whitby could feel his stomach begin to coil into nervous knots. Ahead he could see movement, the perimeter guards had spotted them! Their surprise attack had played its surprise and now it would be up to the skill of the Spears to turn that surprise into victory.

"Form up, boys. Ready weapons, fire when you've got a shot and don't be afraid to engage in close combat; you have your knives for a reason so lets give those guys a salty drink of water before we put 'em to bed!" The commander's voice filled their ears, the command drawing a short roar of acknowledgement from each of the boys. Fuelled by the adrenaline that coursed through his veins, Whitby was no exception. He held his speargun firmly in his paws and as a cloud of defenders rose up to greet them the collie was ready for them.

The first casualties of the battle were almost anti-climactic. Silence buzzed in the collie's ears as he looked for his first shot. Already several boys had opened fire, and the defenders had done the same. There was no overarching hail of fire, no fanfare or explosion to mark the beginning of the battle, simply a low growling moan over the intercom as a golden retriever who had been beside Whitby clutched his belly. A short harpoon jutted from the canine's belly, his eyes wide with surprise as he realized he'd been hit before even getting a shot off; Whitby couldn't tear his eyes away as the retriever thrashed in the water, both paws curled around the shaft that had pierced him. The collie could see the look on the other canine's face as the dying boy fell out of formation, his cock throbbing in his swimsuit even as the others began to swim past him. Whitby tore his eyes from the sinking male and turned his attention back to the encroaching enemy.

Spears whizzed past Whitby, some missing the cluster of Spears but more than a few resulting in a cry over the intercom that the collie couldn't distinguish was pain or pleasure. They were close now and the collie finally saw a mark. A red fox that seemed to be Whitby's age had drawn a bead on a leopard but it was the fox that quickly found himself thrashing helplessly. A single shot from the collie's speargun and the other boy was pierced, his arms and legs thrown back as the spear collided with his belly. Whitby couldn't hear the fox's deathcry but he could see it, the other boy's face contorted behind his mask and his muzzle open wide as he fell backwards, belly upthrust as he kicked away his final moments before falling still. Whitby was amazed to see the fox's cock was hard in the red briefs he wore. He had no time to appreciate what he had done, the fox forgotten as he spotted an antelope in a green swimsuit aim at him. Whitby's muscles seized up as he realized what an easy target he'd made himself and as he waited for the sharp piercing pain of the antelope's spear, he found himself flushed with an almost eager anticipation; he'd blown it and would be another thrashing boy soon enough, getting one last thrill out of his mistake before falling still like that fox had.

The hit never came, however. To the collie's surprise it was the antelope that soon arched his body in the murky ocean water. That puma from the carrier had spotted the collie's predicament and had taken the opportunity to claim another kill for the Spears. The antelope's body jerked hard as the puma's spear slammed into his exposed stomach, the surprise on the doomed boy's features clear as he bleated soundlessly into his mask. One hand went to clutch the spear that would finish him off soon enough as the force of the impact sent him drifting harmlessly away from the collie, the dying boy's gun falling from his spasming grip. The fighting was frantic and the undersea environment left a three hundred sixty degree firing angle available to everyone involved. Shots began to zip through the water from above as well as below the collie and he realized any second could be his last. Boys thrashed out their final moments all around him and the collie found himself aching with lust as he brought his gun up to fire blindly towards a group nearby.

The two sides were nearly ontop of each other now, no-one daring to enter close combat without the bulk of their force to back them up so the boys expended their last few shots from the relative safety distance provided. The puma's luck soon ran out as he chased after a black panther in a pair of white trunks. It was impossible to keep track of everything and the cocky puma missed a trio of boys hiding amongst some rocks on the ocean floor. It only took one lucky shot to end the puma, the spear that took him unseen until it had pieced the lean muscle of his belly. Whether it was the built up tension of the battle, the suddenness of the impact, or the puma's own perversity, it ended the same way for him. A short cry over the intercom marked the feline's demise as his gun flew from his paw. His body stretched out and rolled over as a fine mist of cum pulsed from his throbbing cock, dispersing in the water above his struck stomach even as the boy's body convulsed and writhed. It ended quickly for him, though the battle still raged around the boy as he exited it without so much as a moment's notice from those still fighting.

"Forward!" came the cry over Whitby's mask-radio, the battle bogged down now by dwindling numbers of combatants and a growing number of stiff cocked casualties floating listlessly in the water. Empty spear guns were discarded and left to sink to vanish into the silt that made up the ocean floor, their usefulness at an end. Whitby turned and followed the sudden charge of Spears as they made for the scattered and disoriented defenders; reinforcements would come to bolster the defenders soon and the commander knew that time was not on the Spears' side. The remaining silver-clad fighters regrouped and as Whitby joined them he couldn't help but look over the battlefield. Bodies floated in limp defeat, their bellies pierced by short harpoons that seemed to mimic the stiff cocks tenting the swimsuits of some of them. The number of them caught the collie by surprise, so preoccupied with avoiding their fate that he hadn't even noticed how many of his comrades had fallen. They had their own reserves to draw on but nearly a third of the Spears' first wave was now fish food.

The second phase of the fight was like nothing the collie had experienced before. As the two forces collided amongst the floating dead, the battle became less a fight of aim and nerves and one of sheer strength. Boys wrestled in the murky water, all of them brandishing blades that could easily dispose of any boys too careless, or weak, to stop them from cutting through the simple hoses that carried their oxygen. A silver-clad cheetah couldn't help but gurgle helplessly as a defender's blade slit open his regulator hose; his mask filled with water within seconds and the poor boy was shoved away to clutch helplessly at his throat and mask. They were far too deep to reach the surface and any boy that lost his hose was as good as sunk. The cheetah learned that the hard way as he tried to suck in air but found only water filling his lungs, his body writhing as the doberman who had overpowered him moved on to the next Spear. A defending husky joined the cheetah as the commander's blade cut the smaller canine's hose wide open. His eyes widened as his back arched, the commander simply grinning as he dropped the boy a wink and shoved him away. The husky fell backwards, tumbling through the water slightly as his mask slowly filled. The sweet grip of asphyxiation claimed him quickly as he soon found himself blowing bubbles into the water that filled the mask, unable to do anything save suck down the water and eventually succumb to the burning heaviness in his lungs.

Whitby could hardly contain his nerves as he found himself pressed against a goat boy, the other male's impressive dick dragging across the collie's thigh as the goat grinned wickedly behind the plastic of his mask. The vulnerability of the collie's regulator hose was maddening, the boy trying to keep his body turned away from the goat to protect the thin plastic tube that stood between him and a watery grave. He could feel the hands of his opponent trying to turn him, trying to shove him away and he knew he wouldn't be able to fight defensively for long. Whitby's blade lashed out several times, only nicking the goat's hose once but not severing the plastic. The canine could see the other male mouth something but he couldn't be sure what the goat said, though he was certain it hadn't been anything friendly.

Gurgling filled his ears as a grey-scaled dragon nearby, a runt in comparison to others of his species, clutched his throat with both paws. His cock was clearly outlined by his silver swimsuit and Whitby could see the doomed boy's tongue lolling from his mouth even as the water seeping into his mask poured down his throat. The boy was pushed unceremoniously away by the hyena that had scored the kill, the predator's lips pulled back in a sneer. When he brought his foot up to press it against the dying dragon's stiff shaft he was rewarded with the sudden warmth of dragon-cum spurting against it, a final shove sending the drowning wyrm spiralling down towards the silt below.

Whitby was still locked in his own fight with that goat as the dragon struck the ocean floor and sent up a billowing cloud of soft sand. He could feel the warmth of the goat's body as he wrestled with the stocky male, waiting for the first gulp of water that would warm him that his hose was slit but, like the antelope, that hit never comes. His own blade, flailing now as the tiring collie sought simply to strike a lucky hit, felt the momentary resistance of the goat's hose before it melted away, his weapon cutting through the rubber easily much to the goat's dismay. The collie couldn't believe it as he saw the other boy's eyes widen, body jerking and writhing as if he could somehow drain the water which now poured into his mask. Whitby pulled back, flippers kicking as the goat reached towards him as if looking for help, the cocky look melting into one of frantic desperation. Whitby simply grinned, the reserved canine's disbelief at such an unexpected victory tempered by his own satisfaction at reducing the cute goat into another burbling obstacle for the surviving boys to navigate as they fought.

Boys continued to drop like flies, the sounds of drowning Spears filling Whitby's ears as he sought a new opponent. The defender's reinforcements had begun to trickle out of the facility and the Spears were running out of time. The commander had already requested the reserves move in, the remaining boys of the first wave soon found the number of defenders overwhelming. Spears began to drop as the defenders doubled, or even triple teamed them, an otter only able to squirm and plead uselessly as two boys held his arms while a third slit his hose wide open; another Spear left gurgling and thrashing as he was cast aside. Whitby came up behind the panther in the white trunks and slit the boy's hose before he'd realized the collie was even there, another cry echoing in the defenders' ears as the feline doubled over and clutched at his chest.

"The reserves will be here soon" thought the collie, certain he could hold out long enough. The defenders had number superiority now, but once the reserves reached them they could wipe out the defenders and take the facility before the survivors had time to regroup. He just had to... Whitby's body jerked as he felt a pair of paws close around his arms from behind, holding them in place. The familiar weight of another body pressed against his back, though try as he might the collie couldn't turn his head far enough to see who held him. He could, however, see the red panda coming up from below him. He could see the thin blade the male held in his paw, and he could see the aching cock in the red panda's black swim briefs. The collie struggled against the paws that held him but he could feel the futility of it creep through his belly and chest like a slug on a leaf. His own shaft ached.

"He-Help!" he cried out into the intercom but the remaining Spears were busy and none were in a position to help the boy. The red panda shook his head, dragging his thumb across the collie's throat teasingly before grabbing the canine's dick with his free paw. The humiliation of his predicament was enough to draw a low moan from the collie, torn between fear, pleasure and anticipation. The deadly blade flashed in the fractured light, which filtered through the water that just waited to rob the boy of his breath. It didn't hurt when the panda's blade slid through Whitby's hose though the sudden cold that splashed against his chin as the first bubbling gush of water raced up the severed hose caused the boy to jerk back against fur behind him. Whitby cried out in a mixture of horror and surprise, his arms still held and the boy unable to do anything but strain his eyes downward to see the rising water as it poured into his open mouth. The hands which held him released his arms, and the panda gave the doomed collie's cock one last squeeze before pushing the boy away. Whitby's heart pounded frantically as he tumbled backwards, fingers curled against his mask as if removing it were an option! He was finished; the realization did little save drive the boy to thrash harder. Feet kicking as the water in his mask reached his eyes, Whitby could only watch as both the red panda and the deer that had been holding his arms swam away, leaving him to his fate. Whitby could only gurgle as water filled his lungs, his tongue lolling, smacking against the plastic of the moulded scuba mask.

As darkness draped over the dying boy's eyes he couldn't help but notice his movements had caused him to bump into a limply floating rabbit; a fellow Spear by the silver trunks he wore, the rabbit stared blankly at the collie as Whitby stared back, his muscles burning as his lungs tried desperately to send them oxygen which simply wasn't there. He could feel himself slipping, his thoughts growing fuzzy and disjointed. Flashes of images, each of them marred by black spots brought on by the growing asphyxia raced through his mind; he was dead, another boy floating in the dimness of the ocean battlefield, a statistic and ultimately fish food. The thoughts seemed to draw a final hidden reserve of strength from the boy's muscles, though they had nothing useful left to do. Even as the boy's vision faded he could feel his cock spasm, spewing a final load of his cum into the chilled waters that had claimed his life; the boy was gone.

The commander grunted as he dispatched a tabby, sending the orange and white furred feline mewling towards the bottom of the ocean. Even as the feline sank however, the Spears' reinforcements swam upwards, finally reaching the battle in time to mop up the remaining defenders. The fight ended quickly after that, the remaining defenders either dispatched or sent hurrying back towards the relative safety of the facility.

"Good job, lets get moving" he barked. The bodies of defenders and fallen Spears alike were pushed aside as the attackers surged forward, the fresh reinforcements moving quickly and easily through the debris-filled waters. As they moved, the commander couldn't help but smirk as he twisted his body to make his way around a familiar collie floating facedown in the water.

"Nice work, kid" all the shepherd said as he passed Whitby, unable to help but notice the stiff tent the vanquished fighter sported in his silver trunks. With that, the Spears moved on, their battle had only just begun after all.