As a dragoness, Zola didn't have to worry much about anything. She had a huge hoard of gold, could burn down any village she wanted to threaten the nearby kingdom, and she could best any males in combat if she so wished given her size.
All of that changed, one day. One moment she was sleeping on her pile of gold having dreams about tormenting a small settlement, and the next moment she was tumbling through the stars, unable to find the right side up.
She felt cold. The floor was cold. The air was cold. She was cold. No good for a dragon, naturally. Zola opened her eyes and was greeted with unfamiliar surroundings. No longer was she sleeping in her cave, but she was on a flat, hard stone floor surrounded by snaking tubes. The smell of fire and ozone from electricity, like a lightning strike, permeated her nostrils. She also smelt burning flesh and hair, the scent rousing her quickly.
Zola stood up. Two legs? Not four? Hmmm, why so close to the ground? As she came to, she realized that she was no longer a large, powerful quadrupedal dragoness. She looked her own form over, she was small, walked on two legs, and had hands. Hands! She could hold things! Just like the humans she terrorized!
She still had wings, and her body was still covered in various types of scales, both red and black. But now, she had a more humanoid shape, along with the bumps on her chest that female humans had on theirs. She could still see her muzzle in her peripheral vision, and feel the weight of her horns on her head. But she was so small. It made her uncomfortable.
Once Zola got her self-bearings and felt more grounded, she turned her attention to her surroundings. The mess of scraps she woke up in was just metal and wires. Sparks came from places all over. This looked like one of the laboratories the humans spoke of, but somehow, much more advanced. Did she move forward in time? There were always human wizards messing with temporal magic, but she knew deep down that none of them were powerful enough to overcome her own safeguards to send her forth.
Perhaps, something else had happened. She decided to investigate her surroundings more closely, despite the smoke and the sounds of electric arcs. Zola was no fool, she was very aware that she was no longer in her home universe, be it sent forward in time or transported to a new one. She seemed to be in a lab of some sort, but far beyond the technology she was used to. As much as she tried to stay calm, the thoughts of losing everything she had lived for battered her mind incessantly.
Maybe she deserved to lose, or maybe she was gifted a chance to start over. As she padded around the lab barefoot, crunching metal beneath her, her mind wanted to wander in all sorts of directions. Why was she thinking this way? Was her mind altered the same way as her body? What were these symmetrical lumps on her chest? Why did her nether region feel so strange? Why did she want to partner with a male rather than fight one? She loved showing her strength and dominance over the male dragons, but now she wanted to submit to them.
Many thoughts like this distracted her as she wandered. Then, she stumbled upon a human body, charred and misshapen, as if hit by a fireball. Something caused all of this destruction: quite possibly Zola's own arrival. In the hand of the body was a leather bound journal. In the other was a writing implement. She picked it up and dusted it off, noting the blood splatters and the scent of blood on the journal. All of the runes were foreign to her, but she held the journal anyways.
Zola kept wandering the laboratory, searching for an exit. She began to feel a feeling in her stomach and chest. Her heart began to beat faster. Her breathing sped up. She felt as though she might not be getting enough air. It was almost like she had butterflies in her chest, a sort of pressure feeling like it wanted to escape.
She frantically started jogging, going through doorways. On one of the walls she saw a sign, a human running up stairs and an arrow pointing up. There were also runes, but she couldn't read them. Heading that direction, the anxious feeling only grew. She reached the stair well and started running up them two at a time, flapping her wings to give her more speed. Flight after flight of stairs passed, until she began to detect scents from the surface. The unmistakable stench of humans and human filth, food she had never eaten before, lots of small animals, ozone, smoke tinged with acridity and punge.
Sounds she never heard before also began to enter her ear holes; rubber on some kind of stone, mechanical machines, an artificial roaring, people talking and yelling. Finally, with one last wing stroke, she burst out of a heavy metal door and spilled out into the world above. The brightness of the sky temporarily blinded her, and she tripped on something. There was a metallic clang as her head hit the ground, and everything turned dark.
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