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Wounded pride, and desperate, feral hope. Life. Sweet, holy life glimmered before her, and she was lunging, flying, clawing through all the universe. Life. Life! She wanted to live!

A high gasp, air whistling in her throat as Myrilla launched herself onto her feet and paws, eyes wide, teeth bared. Her heart pounded in her head, feet planted wide on cold stone as her eyes darted around, taking in everything in a blink. A massive room, cold, cast in massive slabs of pale concrete. A heavy metal door to one side. And one wall was sheet metal, studded with heavy bolts. The room must have been fifty feet or more to a side, and roughly as tall. And a rabbit. A rabbit stood a few paces to one side, stepping back uncertainly under the canine's intense gaze.

Myr faltered. For a moment, she thought it might have been her-- the rabbit that she'd... the memories were slowly straining through her conscious mind, sluggish and hard to interpret. She'd done horrible things to a rabbit. She had been huge, and she'd... breathed fire?! Myrilla fell on her ass, blinking uncertainly, and her mouth hung open. Just what the hell had happened to her?

"Relax. You're going to be alright." The rabbit stepped closer a bit hesitantly, offering a soft smile when Myr looked up. "You've been through a lot, and you're going to have to learn to deal with it. I'm here to help." She crouched next to the canine, inadvertently giving her a peek up the rabbit's skirt. Cheeks flushing blue a hint, Myr kept her eyes up, scanning the rabbit's own gaze uncertainly. The lapin offered a paw. "I'm Julie."

Remaining still a moment, Myrilla considered that paw. Well... it was true that this was the nicest another person had been to her in the last 24 hours. The last that she could remember, anyway. She took that paw and gave it a brief shake. "Myrilla Winterbeau. Er, Doctor." She'd worked damn hard for that degree, and she never remembered to add it. Restraining a sigh, she took back her paw. "Where am I?"

Settling down with her legs folded under her, Julie considered a moment before responding. "You are in a United States experimental facility, deep underground. Dr. Winterbeau..." She quietly reached to clasp one of Myr's paws. "America needs your help." She met the canine's gaze, and her eyes were a solemn hazel. "You are singularly qualified for one of our most confidential projects. If we are successful here, we may very well be able to end the cold war." She paused a moment to let Myrilla digest that. "There's no good way to say this, Doctor. You are currently the only candidate we have for this program, and we can't afford to sit around waiting for another to show up. Your participation... isn't optional, I'm afraid."

Eyes widening, Myrilla straightened. "What... You mean like... I'm drafted?" She withdrew her paw, glancing around slowly with incredulity.

"You could say that." Julie let a slow breath go. "Doctor, you are a singular hope for America right now. The work we will be doing here could potentially make you worth more than a hundred soldiers. More than an atom bomb. I wish we could give you a meaningful choice in this matter, but I hope that if you can understand what's at stake, and what's to gain from your participation, you'll agree that this project should go on." She sat up slowly, folding her paws in her lap. "I'm here to help you with what you'll be going through however I can. We don't have too much time to talk right now, but I can explain a little."

"Time?" Myrilla frowned. Julie glanced up at one of the corners of the room, and Myr followed her gaze. A camera was mounted just below the ceiling, along with a little speaker horn. She shook her head. More importantly, "why me? What makes me the only one?" She was trying to work up a good indignity, but somewhere between the preposterousness of it all and Julie's disarming kindness, she couldn't quite kindle up a good temper flare.

"It's in your blood, doctor." The rabbit gave a small nod. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but you have a dragon somewhere in your ancestry. We estimate five to six generations back. Your father would have been an excellent candidate, but we have been unable to find him."

Silent shock stilled the canine. Her foster parents had told her she had dragon blood once, but she'd thought that was just teasing, a fanciful story to make her feel special. An odd vertigo swept over her as she traced that old memory, and the fantasies it had kindled in her youth, to her fascination with archaeology as a budding adult. The idea that dragons had once roamed the earth, that they were once rulers of all the land, that there might still be dragons out there somewhere, hidden away, if only we could find the clues... It had intoxicated her, incensing her curiosity. How much of her life had been built around that idle childhood dream? And now, like a buried gem, the truth suddenly appeared in the center of it all. It didn't even occur to her to doubt the rabbit-- it all fell together effortlessly.

"So... that was why... at the dragonhome, I...?" Myrilla's eyes searched the floor a moment before rising to Julie's.

"Yes." The rabbit was quiet. "We invited you to one of our newest digs to confirm that it would happen. Something in the dragonhome reacts with even a trace of dragon blood, and we need to find out exactly how it works."

Turning that over in her head, Myr stuck on something. "'We'... So this is the project Ms. Tremic was working on?"

The speaker overhead squawked suddenly, grating at the canine's ears a moment before she could make out the words that warbling formed. "That's correct. I am the head coordinator for this project, and I should like to get along with our initial experiments before my companions fall asleep." The crisp, dehumanizing tone was quite familiar. Ms. Tremic. The wolfess that had run the instant Myr had started to change, and returned with an army. Myr tensed just at the tin-filtered sound of her voice.

Julie winced. "Several upper officials are observing, since this is the big first day and all." She smiled apologetically. "Want to see what they've been paying for and all that. We can talk more later, but for now, it looks like we'd better get started."

"Get started with what?" Myrilla shifted, halfway to getting up, her head craning around to watch the walls suspiciously. "What exactly are 'we' going to be doing?"

"We have several fragments of dragon-made obsidian from various dragonhomes around the world." Julie reached into her pocket, and hesitated. Smiling apologetically, she rose to her feet and stepped back before producing a small sliver of black stone. She could only just tell it had the unnatural glint of that fated substance. A strange mixture of emotions rose in her gut at the sight of it-- wariness, curiosity, and some surprisingly persistent sense of desire. "We believe that physical contact with the stone will prompt another transformation like the one you underwent at the dragonhome. For today, we want to confirm this, and to run a few basic tests on you when you are in this new form." She closed the stone in her first. "We will test your ability to communicate and reason on a basic level over the speakers, and then we will have a brief combat test."

"Combat?!" Myrilla bristled, and climbed to her feet as well, frowning incredulously. "I'm no soldier! I've never given a person worse than a scratching." She blinked. "Well. Until... um, Hastings..."

The rabbit gave a sympathetic smile. "Private Hastings survived. You put her through a hell of a lot, but you seem to have a lot of powers we don't understand yet. Including some... sexually focused abilities." Her eyes fell away as she said that. "But that, among many other things, is what we're here to learn about." Her smile returned. "So it's up to you and me to get through this and learn everything we can, okay? I'll be outside while you're transformed, but I'll be right back in when you come down so we can talk about it." She spread her paws in a soothing gesture, slightly spoiled by the dark shard clipped under one thumb. "Don't worry too much about the combat test. We'll start easy and work up just to see what you can handle. I don't know how much you remember from the dragonhome, but you were quite the sturdy creature." She smiled wryly. "I'm betting you'll be just fine. We just need to show off a little for the brass, and then we can take things slow and easy later. Okay?"

Myr frowned slowly, still considering, but... "well. It's not like I've got a whole lot of choice, right?" She gave an overly deliberate shrug, and frowned down at her clothes. They'd wrapped her up in some kind of drab linens, and it was a little snug in the bust and the hips. But if it was anything like last time, she guessed she wouldn't be dealing with these clothes much longer.

"You do have a choice, Doctor." Julie smiled sadly. "You can choose to embrace this chance to be something amazing. Or you can be our new sulky superman." Her smile took a teasing twist. "Approach it with a good attitude, and you just might have a little fun and save the free world while you're at it. I'd say that's a pretty good deal." She stooped and placed the sliver on the floor. "When you're ready... all you should have to do is touch it." She straightened, and her smile softened into a quiet look of... hope. "Good luck, Doctor." Turning, she quietly stepped to the door. It opened just as she reached it with a heavy creak of steel, and Myr just barely glimpsed a well-lit hallway through the way before it clunked shut.

The room seemed colder, suddenly. It was just her, alone in this massive underground bunker with the cameras --there was one in each corner-- and the stone. Myr rubbed at her arms, glancing around at the towering walls, and slowly stepped closer to that stone. Finally, her eyes dragged down to that little black fleck, and she crouched over it, considering it. So if she touched it... she'd become that... thing again? So furious and hungry, mindlessly craving flesh and pleasure and... She realized that her thoughts of condemning that strange creature were debased by the hunger already creeping up in her belly. She wanted to touch it. She wanted to be that thing, and she wanted to-- to live. When she touched on that thought, her eyes watered, so sincere and desperate this desire was when acknowledged, but... she couldn't understand. She was alive. It wasn't a matter of not partying enough, she literally felt like she was... dead. Somehow. But in this stone... was life. Her paw reached out before she realized it.

Four cameras watched in silence, recording every moment as the change began. She swelled suddenly-- her dress exploded as her back surged up, and Myrilla fell onto all fours. Muscles bulged under her hide, massive and powerful, and her bones pushed out, her limbs lengthening to match the thick muscling, the demi-canine growing rapidly taller by every measure. Her tail lashed about, spines surging through fur, sprouting scales as the appendage stretched to whip across the floor. Her neck popped and crunched, shoving her head forward as it lengthened, and her wide, gaping maw sprouted a forest of intimidating fangs. Her muzzle lengthened, bone-like ridges seeming to push the formation out into a snout. Green scales blossomed across her face, along her paws-- claws, now, her thumbs popping into locked positions and gaining slender, deadly tips. A cry, a shriek rose from the creature that had no name but Myr, as the hide on her back tore open, and two new limbs surged forth, spreading thin membranes. She was sprouting wings-- but when they settled, shivering on her back, they were much too small for her bulky form. She must have been over ten feet at the shoulder, standing on all fours as she was, and her long, sinuous tail almost swiped at the wall. She might have been over twenty-five feet from nose to tail tip if she straightened, though she was curled on herself now, examining her own mottled blue-and-green form. Scales made gaps in her fur all over her body, randomly speckled across her whole form, though a great concentration of them centered on her extremities-- her four clawed feet, her tail, and along her face.

"Dr. Winterbeau." The speaker screeched in the toneless voice of Ms. Tremic. Myrilla's eyes were great, green orbs, faintly luminous, with two black slits for irises. Those slices of black swung up at the sound, and the beast stilled. "Do you understand me?"

Myr turned to consider the speaker and its camera, and slowly crawled closer. Her gait was an odd, almost awkward locomotion, as her form was still almost humanoid, but heavy enough in the front that she walked leaning on her forearms, almost like a gorilla. She slapped two claws to the wall, half-standing against the hard surface, and roared at the camera-- a grating cacophony of ground-shaking bass and high, hair-raising shrieking.

"It would seem you are unable to speak. Please stomp once for yes, twice for no." Ms. Tremic was coolly professional. "Can you understand me?"

Myr gave another horrible cry and turned away, landing on the floor with one heavy crash. Her tail grated across the wall, leaving scratch marks in the concrete as she returned to the center of the room and sat. Settled back on her haunches, her breasts were thrust out before the cameras, rather surprisingly massive and studded with two green nipples. Even more striking was her arousal-- the dragon was panting slowly, her shaft standing at slowly waving attention between her legs, a pillar of greenish blue flesh that was quite intimidating just to look at, making quite an impressive endowment even on her massive frame. She seemed to be inspecting the very same thing herself-- Myr's head twisted around on her serpentine neck to look down her underbelly, one claw rising slowly to touch at herself as her panting grew heavier.

"Your answer was unclear. Please stomp three times if you understand me." That crackling voice jolted the Myrdragon a little, and her head whipped up to hiss at the camera, eyes narrowing a moment before turning down again. She raised one claw to her breast, seeming to have some difficulty turning her forearm enough, but she rubbed over that heavy teat a moment before giving a heavy huff. The speaker popped and inquired with a hint of condescension, "do you intend to sit there and make a show of touching yourself for us?" The dragon bristled, and screeched up at the camera, flopping onto all fours, spread as though to pounce. "Thank you," the speaker promptly responded, "basic understanding confirmed." Myrilla faltered, a hiss dying in her throat. "The subject will proceed into the next room."

A heavy clang almost swallowed the last word of that announcement, coming from that great, steel wall. Heavy thuds rumbled through the floor under her, and with a great rumble, the wall parted down the middle, becoming two behemoth sheets of metal sliding apart. A colossal door. Beyond, steel flooring was grooved with gear treads much like those under where the door had sat. It was a hallway of steel on scale with the room she was in, and beyond was another room, seemingly identical-- but filled with heavy hardware. The next room.

Myrilla glanced around a moment, considering the barren room she sat in, and quietly, she stepped through the doorway. The walls to either side may well have been more doors, and she saw a few heavy-duty hatches for workers here and there. When she stepped up onto the stone, that great rumbling started again almost immediately. She had to step fully into the room and curl her tail up round her side to avoid the massive slabs of steel as they slid slowly into place, locking her in this new room. The floor in front of her was thick with man-sized spikes, bound together in monstrous caltrops, likely originally designed to deter some kind of over-sized tank. They looked terribly sharp and strong-- she'd have to be careful if she wanted to pass them. Beyond, several low walls of concrete bristled with more steel spikes, each stacked on a layer over the last to create a small mountain of stone and metal. At the top-- a soldier popped up. The dragon perked a second, faintly surprised at first. That grew as he spoke.

"I saw what you did to Hastings!" It was the colt. He was shouting across the room at her, hefting an automatic rifle. "When I heard they were planning this, I goddamned volunteered! I'm gonna put an end to you, you... monster!"

"The assistant will proceed according to the scheduled escalation scenario." The ever-present speaker seemed very annoyed.

"Shove that noise!" The soldier pelted a grenade, and it burst into a cloud of gas in midair. Myr blinked, and sneezed. Whatever it was, it was mildly annoying, but more because it obscured her vision. Gunfire rattled off, and her breast itched a little. Growling with annoyance, she started to push aside one of the heavy caltrops. It caught and scraped at the floor, proving difficult to dislodge even on this smooth surface, and she was just squeezing through between the two when a much louder rattle of shots filled the room. A sharp sting nicked the top of her head, and a second later, something punched a hole in her wing.

A yowl burst from the dragon, and she surged forward. Steel crashed, some bowling over to the side, one or two crushed. Her claws seared with pain, and green blood stained her tracks as she plowed through the field of traps, head low, eyes almost closed. Her wings took a couple more holes, but her arms only stung viciously when the spray of that gun found her.

Finally, she burst free of the fading cloud, and saw-- the colt had uncovered some kind of mounted cannon. An anti-tank gun, likely. She could only just see him, wide-eyed, staring down the barrel at her before he adjusted his aim and fired. She flung up an arm, roaring as she closed the distance, flinging aside the one-ton spike bundles as she went. Her arm was searing and swollen under the beating, but she was alive, and she mounted the lowest wall, slowed having to grab at the spikes before they caught at her. The gunfire stuttered to a stop, and the colt stooped a moment in silence-- before a clattering announced several grenades rolling down the walls at her. A screech cut through the bursts of fire as she was flung back, and the sound swelled into a horrific, soul-shattering keen as she landed on a bundle of spikes.

The dragon hauled herself off, one leg shaking, unsteady a moment under her, and several gashes drained green onto the floor. A thick snarl rolled through the creature, her eyes narrowing as the colt returned to his cannon. She tensed-- and leapt.

Three terse shots tore at the air, not quite catching her tail as she arced over the barrier, undersized wings spread, claws and teeth bared as she plummeted at her prey. Half a scream tore from the colt before he was buried in dragonflesh.

Bruised and sore, the young horse was a little surprised to find himself alive upon waking on the floor. He lay on his belly, face mashed into cold stone, and-- a gust of hot air burst against his back, surging inside his pants with strange ease. He bristled and shivered, jerking his body into awkward motion and pushing himself up to look around behind him. He barely caught a glimpse of the dragon's face, a strange amalgam of canine and dragon, of lust and wrath, of blue fur studded with heavy green scales and ridges. That face swelled suddenly, eclipsing his vision, as she firmly nudged him to the floor again. He collapsed, shaky, and those heavy, clawed forelegs landed on either side of his vision. She was crawling atop him-- and suddenly, he remembered what she had done to Hastings.

The little two-legger had almost seemed to have blacked out again, until he suddenly yelped and tried to scramble away on hands and knees, panting and wailing something. He barely made it two feet before she caught him-- slapping her dick down on his back. The weight of that immense dragonhood, combined with a firm lean of her hips as she stooped low over him, pinned him firmly in place as she started to leak precum between his shoulderblades. Those warm juices soaked into his fatigues and trickled down his sides, spreading in dual waves down toward his hips as she slowly dragged that shaft down his quivering form. His pants were an annoying obstacle, and she hissed slowly over her would-be fucktoy, grinding against that barrier of fabric and soaking his ass with glob after glob of precum.

A lower hiss echoed Myrilla's frustration-- some kind of warm tingle around her head as she ground against those cheeks. Slowly, the fabric thinned-- and began to melt away around her cock. A thick murr of approval rolled from her chest as she felt bare flesh press in around her impatiently pushing head, and she throbbed needily against that infinitesimal hole teasing at her very tip. Whatever magic blessed her, her precum must have become some kind of acid for just a moment-- his pants were a smoldering ruin, the legs barely connected at his waist, the edges ragged and eaten away. Leaving that sweet hole slowly flexing and stretching around her.

Without that great weight, and left bare before that beast, the panting, yelping colt started to scrabble at the floor again, trying to drag himself away as fast as his military training had taught him. The simple fact, however, was that Myr didn't want him going anywhere-- and as she watched with amusement, neck curved to observe her miniature mount, every time that he pulled away, a peculiar force held his ass tightly stuck to the broad curve of that fearsome dragon cock. His greatest heaves forward managed to make her rod bob up, dragging the mighty shaft a bit taut between his straining arms and her groin before he collapsed to the ground again. He was cemented to her, and there was only one direction the little horse could go now...

Teeth bared in a feral grin, Myr angled her hips up, pinning the horse's hips tight to the cement, and gave one crushing swing of her hips, straight down. His ass split wide open in a blink, the horse's face a rictus of shock as she shoved deep into his gut, burying a foot and change of green-striated dragon cock in a heartbeat. She was hardly a third of the way in. The colt was shaking weakly, his mouth hanging open with no passage of breath, so caught was he in the shock of his nigh-instantaneous objectification. He was her new cunt to fuck. That dick dominated his body-- even laid out on his belly, the swell was visible in his back, it made his entire body rounder around the middle for its overwhelming presence.

A hint of a draw, and she shoved deeper, hips burrowing in toward the ground. A great, rich brown swell shoved his head up-- his own belly punching out along the floor. The shape of her cockhead, a cruel battering ram, pointed with a brunt that was only barely rounded, pressed into clear definition through his tight-stretched hide. His chin ached where it had punched him, and he kept his head high as he could, arms struggling to keep in place under him. This wouldn't last long, though-- her next shove rocked through him like thunder, and shoved him two feet along the floor as she struggled to bury to the very last inch in his obscenely stretched ass.

Two surprisingly soft, white, fluffy balls smothered his legs, settling straddling his thighs and draping them in her sack as she ground in hungrily, a growl like crushing rock crackling in the belly looming over his head. That massive swell that was his belly, now little more than a condom, stretched out a foot in front of his face, but Myr couldn't seem to work deeper-- the stubborn little colt wouldn't stretch out, and he was too tight, too dry around her throbbing destroyer for all the precum she was pouring into his gut. He just slid up and up along the floor, and she had to step forward every few hungry thrusts to keep up. Her tail lashed in frustration, the dragon shifting her weight-- and finally pushing down. Two massive, furry, blue breasts each larger than the colt himself descended to bury his head and almost half his torso-- and the greater bulk of them was spread across the floor in front of him. He was instantly crushed against the floor, face mashed into that dragon cock through his own thin-stretched hide.

A pull, and one good push shoved his head tight into her cleavage, making his spine creak in terror, but the last half a foot buried tight in that stretched little ass, the dragon managing to bury her cockhead well in her own cleavage. As it turned out, this provided wonderful pressure to complement the tightness of this sweet little hole-- and Myr had the perfect ruttin' toy. Her hips rose, two monsters of muscle in their own right, and crashed down, her hipbones colliding with the rock, her flesh crushing him tight in place, mashing his own masochistic hardon viciously into the concrete through what was left of his pants as he struggled for air buried in a couple tons of titflesh.

Those hips rose and fell with surprising speed, jerking up to slam down, rocking the concrete under them with massive thuds that pounded a heavy, terrifying beat, each chasing hot on the echo of the last. Myr's tail was a mass of spines waving through the air, perhaps wagging, perhaps menacing to tear to shreds anything that tried to approach her from behind. Her wings flared high, flapping occasionally as her body flexed, the dragondog rearing her head up to snarl and pant out as she fucked her new conquest, her presumptuous underling, the vermin that had presumed to treat HER as an object of sexual satisfaction. How obvious now, his error, how grave, how devastating the scale of his transgression on the natural order. Her breath seared at the air as her hips slammed down like thunder, wave after wave after wave of deafening thunder. What shameless theft and arrogance! What confounding insolence! Her maw opened, and her fury, her contempt poured from her, a noxious, billowing cloud of resentment that ate away at stone and metal and all that she saw before her. Well that the horse was buried under her body, nothing visible to the world but two calves and flailing feet peeking out from under her heavy balls as she pounded away at his half-crushed, viciously distorted form. Well that he couldn't breathe, as the air before her would have destroyed him in an instant.

His sanctuary from her wrath, of course, was a prison of its own punishment. He was already bloated with her precum-- the excess poured out of him, soaking his own rod and puddling on the floor as she pounded through him, each stroke dragging out a fresh wash of the thick juices. Now that he was slickened up properly, she fucked him with the full brunt of her hunger, her seething hatred a kindling under the roaring flames of her lust now as her body roared with life, demanding satisfaction. He was the hole that she poured it all into, boiling and unrestrained.

He could feel every vein on that rod beat against his face, a ribbing of rock hard swells that tore past him in an instant, punishing his cheeks and nose over and over as that rod dragged and shoved through him rapidly. Air was a distant memory, and he only barely clung to consciousness as his body was used, USED, suspended under heavy flesh and stretched over and over, endlessly, each stroke a sudden, ferocious desecration of his entire body. His muscles were useless-- he could barely feel anything but that cock pounding through him: the searing pistoning in his ass, the rumbling and strain in his gut, the savage bouncing across his head, and occasionally, the heavy churn of arousal nearing its peak stirring over his sweltering, trapped legs. His body was a thing, a thing that matched up well enough with this cock and balls to be used. Once. He was dimly aware that he could die like this, and though he had cum himself twice, pathetic little sudden quavers under that constant, overwhelming beating, he vaguely thought that it might not be so bad to go if it made sure that he'd never go through this again. His self-image, his ego, his basic self-respect, was long ground into a fine powder.

She felt the turn, the rumble and roll in her balls that declared the inevitability of release, and her body slowly tightened, claws digging into the concrete, her muscles hardening as she bore down on her fucktoy and set to unfaltering, relentless hammering, fucking that hole with every drop of fury and lust that her massive form contained, putting it all in now, while she still could. It all went in, and the pleasure of her sudden, frenzied pounding was the catalyst-- her peak became an explosion, and between her breasts, a similar explosion ballooned the horse's inside in an instant. The weight of her tits pushed it right out, of course-- and massive, gurgling gushes of dragon seed poured out of the horse's ass, soaking her balls and pooling on the floor as she pumped into her well-used toy, searing his walls from the tip of that warped belly to the ring of that red-tight tailhole with gallons of rushing seed, a boiling river of juices spurting from around her rod as her thick cumvein pumped in ever more, those balls heaving potently as the dragon roared and rasped and gasped, giving the closest thing to a mortal's exhalation just once: an exultant moan of contentment, only just rasping with something vicious.

With that contentment, that relief, came clarity. Myrilla blinked, slowly waking from a profound rutting haze, the sensations of her body, aroused with power and fury, slowly coming into line. She was still pumping into her sweet toy, panting, and she was... massive, clawed, powerful. A lazy pleasure threaded through her consciousness as she noted her prodigious cleavage spread across the concrete under her, and for her rod to have threaded between her breasts, she must have been quite well endowed... She murred slowly, stirring her rod around its slick little sheath, taking a moment to enjoy it not as a basic tool of pleasure but as a point of pride, a cause to feel sexy and powerful. The thought of what her toy was tickled the back of her mind, but she found her wings, and murfled thickly with amusement as her head twisted around to observe the pointless little appendages, giving them a few dainty flaps.

A slow shiver rolled under her hide as she unloaded her very last, and the dragon gave a thick rumble of a murr, stretching and rising. Slick and sloppy, her toy stuck to her, cemented to her fur by her juices and firmly anchored on her endowment. She gave a few thick twitches, and for a moment, she was tempted to use it again, but it was awfully dirty. Reaching underneath, she kind of peeled it off, pulling the tip out from between her breasts and sliding it off her rod to deposit with a heavy slop on the floor, another gallon or two of juices glopping out from the impact. Her eyes turned down casually, and she froze.

It was a person. His eyes were staring, blank, and his limbs flopped under him at awkward angles. His ass gaped open grotesquely, a massive, creamy red hole, slowly collapsing rather than shrinking. His belly was a great, empty stretch of hide in front of him. He very much looked like a discarded condom with a few little dangly limbs thrown on. A thing. Not alive.

Ice clung to her heart, and she shook, stepping back. Her toy. Her thing. She hadn't even thought of it as alive. She-- she hadn't even known it was a person. Had she? She-- couldn't... think. Couldn't remember. Her body faltered, and she thought she was stumbling, but the crackle of bones announced one leg shortening as another rapidly lost muscle mass, growing slender and spindly as she fell over, tears in her eyes. He wasn't breathing. Had-- had she killed a man? Something dark, somewhere deep inside her, lashed out with a reply that she hoped she had, that he deserved everything he'd gotten. That-- that couldn't be her. Myrilla choked on nothing, terrified, shrinking, shrinking away.

A heavy clank somewhere. "Myrilla!" A woman's voice, vaguely familiar, echoed across the great, half-destroyed chamber. "It's okay!" A presence appeared in her tear-blurred view, and arms closed around her, tiny, weak arms that made a pathetic attempt at reassuring her, but slowly grew into a big warm hug, breasts pressing snug to her face as the two curled up together. "Sshhh. It's okay. We've got doctors. He'll be okay." A paw rubbed over Myr's back, and she felt it come out of her all the harder, her body shaking as she leaned into the rabbit, burying her face in her, breathing her in. "It's gonna be okay. Everything's gonna be alright..." She ached for that to be true, but something in the back of her mind, snuggled up against her spine, chuckled mockingly.