Sigma AU Short Story: Reprisal Pt.3

CONTENT WARNING
THE FOLLOWING FICTIONAL LITERATURE CONTAINS SEVERAL INSTANCES OF TRIGGERING MATERIAL, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO STRONG LANGUAGE, GUN VIOLENCE, AND GORE. INDIVIDUALS SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS SHOULD STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.

Zoey Lavender's amber eyes almost seemed to glow with a fierce intensity as she stood before the Sigma City military contract officers. The room was dimly lit, with the only source of light being a flickering fluorescent panel overhead. Her towering figure cast a menacing shadow across the room, her dark red fur almost appearing black.

The contract manager, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek, cleared his throat and began the briefing. "Aright, now that you're here Zoey, we've got a situation in the sewers. A nest of drug dealers has been sabotaging our convoys. They've been hitting us hard, stealing supplies, and causing chaos. We need someone with your... particular set of skills to clear them out. I don't like you, you don't like me, but this is a problem we can help each other with."

Zoey's prosthetic arms whirred softly as she crossed them over her chest. "Sounds like a fun time," she said, a wicked grin spreading across her muzzle. "What's the pay?"
The officer slid a dossier across the table. "Double your standard rate, plus a bonus for bringing in their leader. Dead or alive."

Zoey picked up the dossier, flipping through the pages. Her eyes scanned the details, taking in the information about the targets, the layout of the sewers, and the expected resistance. "Alive is boring," she muttered. "I'll take care of it."

As she turned to leave, the officer called after her. "Remember, Warlord, these guys are heavily armed and dangerous. Don't underestimate them."

Zoey's laugh echoed through the room as she walked out, always reveling when people used her callsign. "Oh, I never do."

The sewers of Sigma City were a labyrinthine network of tunnels, stretching deep beneath the city. The stench of rot and decay hung heavy in the air, mingling with the scent of damp concrete and stagnant water. Zoey's power armor, an advanced prototype designed for maximum protection and firepower, clanked with each step she took. Her internal monologue was a mix of rage and focus.

These bastards think they can mess with me? They've got another thing coming.

She adjusted her helmet, the heads-up display flickering to life and providing her with real-time data on her surroundings.

As she delved deeper into the sewers, she encountered the first line of resistance. A group of sentries, armed to the teeth and clearly on edge. Zoey's lips curled into a snarl as she fired a burst from her machine gun. With a deafening roar, she unleashed a torrent of pain, ripping through the first sentry before he even had a chance to scream.

The others scrambled to return fire, but Zoey was already upon them. Her movements were a blur of lethal precision, her prosthetic limbs enhanced by the power armor delivering bone-crushing blows. Blood sprayed the walls, mixing with the filth and grime of the sewer.

One of the sentries, a young man barely out of his teens, tried to crawl away, his leg shattered and bleeding profusely. Zoey's foot came down on his back, pinning him to the ground. "Where's your leader?" she demanded, her voice cold and devoid of mercy.

The boy whimpered, his eyes wide with fear. "I-I don't know! Please, don't kill me!"

Zoey's pressed harder, the boot's sharp metal edges digging into his flesh. "Wrong answer." With a swift motion, she pushed her foot down and snapped his spine, the sickening crack echoing through the tunnel.

She moved on, her anger fueling her every step.

These lowlifes have no idea who they were dealing with.

Her mind drifted to her past—her creation, the torture she endured, the countless battles she fought. All of it had forged her into the relentless force she was today.

The next chamber she entered was a makeshift drug lab. Tables were strewn with chemicals and equipment, the air thick with the acrid smell of cooking drugs. Several dealers, caught off guard by her sudden arrival, scrambled to arm themselves.

Zoey didn't give them the chance. She lunged forward, her fists punching through flesh and bone. One dealer's head was severed clean from his shoulders, blood spraying in an arc as his body crumpled to the floor. Another tried to flee, but a well-aimed burst from her MG reduced him to a messy pile of flesh.

As she moved through the tunnels, dispatching any resistance with ruthless precision, she couldn't shake a nagging feeling of emptiness and soullessness. Each kill brought a momentary rush of satisfaction, but it was fleeting, leaving her feeling hollow and numb. Her anger, her drive for vengeance—it all felt like a never-ending cycle of self-destruction.

Finally, she reached the heart of the nest. The leader, a hulking brute with a fully cybernetic body and a cruel grin, stood waiting for her. "So, you're the famous Zoey Lavender," he sneered. "I've heard a lot about you."

Zoey's eyes narrowed, her grip tightening on her machine gun. "Then you know how this ends."

The leader laughed, a deep, guttural sound. "You think you can take me? I've survived worse than you."

Zoey's response was a spray of machine gun fire, but the leader was quick, dodging to the side and returning fire with his own weapon. Despite his bravado, the leader was no match for Zoey's rage-fueled onslaught. She cornered him, her power armor's metal hands digging into his chest as she lifted him off the ground. "Any last words?" she growled.

He spat blood, a defiant glint in his eye. "Go to hell."

With a savage roar, Zoey ripped his head from his shoulders, the spray of blood painting the walls. She stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, the weight of her actions settling over her like a shroud.

Back at the military headquarters, Zoey clanked into the briefing room, her armor still stained with the blood of her enemies. She approached the contractor's desk and dropped the leader's head onto it with a sickening thud.

"Job's done," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.

The officer looked at the severed head, then back at Zoey. "Jesus Christ, the horrors of working with you never cease."

"Go fuck yourself, pay me," she responded, the armor softly humming as she stood over him.

"Ugh, payment will be transferred as soon as this mess is cleaned up."

Zoey turned to leave without another word. The thrill of the kill, the rush of battle—it all felt meaningless now. She craved a hit, an injection, a puff, anything to help her. She might have killed these lawless dealers, but she also depended on them to cope with the stress of simply existing.

She was a weapon, a force of destruction. And in the end, all that was left of her was the cold, numbing emptiness of her trauma that ruled her life every day.

Sigma AU Short Story: The Tiger and the Dragon, Pt. 1

Content warning: sexual intercourse

The pre-race tailgate party was a vibrant affair, a cacophony of revving engines, booming music, and animated conversations. Car enthusiasts, drivers, and spectators alike gathered in a hidden parking lot beneath the city, a sprawling expanse illuminated by the harsh glow of floodlights and the flicker of neon signs. The air was thick with the smell of gasoline, grilled food, and the faint tang of anticipation.

Zola navigated through the crowd with practiced ease, her human disguise blending seamlessly among the other attendees. Her light brown hair was tied in a casual ponytail, and she wore a fitted leather jacket over a plain white tee, paired with well-worn jeans and sturdy boots. Her striking green eyes scanned the scene, taking in the various cars and their owners. Each vehicle was a testament to its owner's personality and skill, from sleek sports cars to heavily modified muscle machines.

Food trucks lined one side of the lot, offering an array of tantalizing street food. The sizzle of meat on the grill mingled with the chatter of excited conversations. Groups of friends gathered around portable grills and coolers, sharing drinks and stories of past races. The atmosphere was electric, a blend of camaraderie and competition that set everyone on edge.

Zola moved from group to group, exchanging pleasantries and pretending to be a curious spectator. Her true purpose, however, was to assess the competition and gather information. Her eyes flicked towards a particularly imposing figure in the distance—Etrius vanRandr. Even in the dim light, his presence was unmistakable. Towering over most of the crowd, his cybernetic arms glinted menacingly under the lights, and his white tiger features made him stand out among the human gathering.

Etrius was engaged in conversation with a few other drivers, his posture relaxed but alert. He was dressed in a black racing vest and jeans, his long black hair tied back in a low, loose ponytail. His green eyes were scanning the crowd with a keen interest as he gauged the skill levels and potential threats of the other drivers.

Zola approached cautiously, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. She was drawn to Etrius, not just because of his striking appearance but because of the stories she had heard about his reputation as a mercenary. As she neared, she overheard snippets of conversation about previous races and upcoming modifications.

"Quite the turnout tonight," Zola said, injecting a note of playful curiosity into her voice as she stepped into Etrius's line of sight.

Etrius turned to face her, his expression neutral but his eyes alight with interest. "It always is," he replied, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "What brings you to a place like this?"

Zola smiled, her eyes meeting his with a glint of mischief. "I've always had a fascination with fast cars and the thrill of the race," she said smoothly. "And I've heard you're one of the best."

Etrius's lips curled into a smirk, a hint of pride in his gaze. "Well, I do my best to live up to the hype," he replied.

Their exchange was brief but charged with tension. Zola could feel the weight of Etrius's gaze, his eyes assessing her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, as if he was looking straight into her, as if he could see through her illusion. She maintained her composure, her own eyes moving over the various cars and drivers gathered around them.

A nearby group of racers erupted in laughter as one of their own recounted a particularly daring maneuver from a past race. The sound of clinking bottles and the hiss of opened cans punctuated the ambience. In the distance, the booming bass of a makeshift DJ booth kept the atmosphere lively, the beats resonating through the ground, and the Sigma City police were nowhere to be found - and that's exactly the way it should be.

As the announcement for the race start echoed through the area, the mood shifted from festive to focused. Drivers began to make their way to their vehicles, checking final adjustments and mentally preparing for the race ahead. Zola offered Etrius a nod and a playful smile before slipping away into the crowd, her heart pounding with the thrill of what was to come.

The tailgate party began to disperse as the racers headed towards the starting grid, each one eager to prove their mettle on the streets of Sigma City. The pre-race camaraderie gave way to the intense focus and competitive spirit that defined the underground racing scene.

The starting grid was a spectacle of precision and chaos, the final moments before the race transformed the parking lot into a scene of organized bedlam. Cars lined up in neat rows, engines revving, their headlights illuminating the darkness. The air was thick with exhaust fumes and the tension of competitors ready to unleash their machines on the streets of the city.

Etrius stood by his Famdorchini Airesuqque RRR, his fingers trailing over the sleek curves of its custom bodywork. The car was a masterpiece of engineering, modified to perfection with a blend of brute force and cutting-edge technology. Its powerful V10 engine rumbled with a low, menacing growl, promising speed and dominance. Etrius's cybernetic arms gleamed under the streetlights, a deep contrast to his dark racing suit. He was the embodiment of confidence and recklessness, a formidable figure in the world of illegal street racing. He rarely raced in these illegal races and preferred the safety of the tracks, but on a perfect night like this, the world was his, and his to take.

Around him, other drivers made final adjustments to their vehicles, checking tire pressure, tweaking engine settings, and securing harnesses. Conversations buzzed with last-minute strategies and words of encouragement. Spectators lined the sides, their excitement and anticipation adding to the atmosphere.

As Etrius scanned the lineup, his eyes landed on the enigmatic Kimetto Rocket prototype. The car had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, its presence commanding immediate attention. Sleek and aerodynamic, the Rocket was a marvel of engineering, known for its unparalleled agility and speed. Its midnight black paint job shimmered under the lights, giving it an almost otherworldly appearance. It was the only vehicle of its kind to ever exist, a legendary relic of a defunct manufacturer, and showed up at every single high stakes race only to disappear after destroying the competition.

Etrius's curiosity was piqued. He had heard legends about the Rocket, a car that was as elusive as it was fast. The driver, however, remained a mystery. He wondered who had the audacity and skill to bring such a legendary vehicle to an underground race. The car should be on display in a museum, for the world to learn about the past of automotive engineering, but here it was, being pushed to its absolute limits by whoever commanded it.

As if sensing his thoughts, the Rocket's driver stepped out for a brief moment, disguised as a nondescript figure in a hooded jacket and dark glasses. Zola, under her illusion, moved with purpose, adjusting her gloves and checking the tires one last time. She avoided drawing attention, blending into the crowd of drivers and mechanics. Her heart raced with anticipation, knowing the challenge that lay ahead.

Etrius's gaze lingered on the Rocket, a mix of admiration and competitive spirit in his eyes. He knew this race would be different, more intense. The Rocket's presence added an element of unpredictability, and Etrius thrived on the unknown.

The race coordinator, a grizzled veteran of the underground scene, stepped forward with a megaphone, calling for the drivers to take their positions. The crowd fell silent, the roar of engines the only sound cutting through the night.

"Drivers, to your cars! The race begins in five minutes!"

Etrius climbed into the cockpit of his Famdorchini, strapping himself in and adjusting his helmet, a custom piece made to fit his pantherine head. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of the Rocket settling into its position on the grid. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, his focus narrowing to the road ahead. As the fastest cars and the most expensive, Etrius and the Rocket were at the back of the starting grid.

Zola slid into the driver's seat of the Rocket, her fingers gripping the steering wheel with practiced ease. The car felt like an extension of her, every part of it fine-tuned to respond to her commands. She took a deep breath, calming her pounding heart. The disguise was perfect, the illusion flawless. No one would suspect that she was the driver of the Rocket.
As the countdown began, the grid fell into a tense silence. Engines roared to life, and the air vibrated with the raw power of finely-tuned machines. Etrius tightened his grip on the wheel, his mind laser-focused on the race. He cast one last glance at the Rocket, a silent acknowledgment of the challenge it represented.

The race exploded into action as the starting pistol fired, engines roaring like unleashed beasts. Tires screeched against the asphalt, sending up clouds of smoke as the cars surged forward. The once static parking lot transformed into a battlefield of speed and skill, the competitors jostling for position in the initial chaotic moments.

Etrius gripped the wheel of his car with a steely determination. The powerful V10 engine roared beneath him, responding to his every command with precision. He expertly navigated through the pack, his eyes focused on the road ahead. Despite the chaotic start, his mind was calm and calculating, each movement a deliberate act of control and finesse.
Not far behind, the Rocket 2006 prototype moved with an almost supernatural grace. Zola, concealed behind her illusion, handled the car with the ease of someone intimately familiar with its capabilities. The Rocket darted through the throng of competitors, its sleek frame slipping through gaps with a fluidity that seemed impossible. Her heart pounded with excitement, her mind sharp and focused on the race.

As the cars hurtled through the initial stretch, the weaker drivers began to fall behind, their vehicles unable to keep up with the blistering pace set by the leaders. The race quickly narrowed down to the most skilled and daring, with Etrius and Zola leading the charge.
The streets of Sigma City became their playground, a blur of neon lights and urban obstacles. Traffic lights were mere suggestions, their red and green signals ignored as the racers barreled through intersections at breakneck speeds. The city's labyrinthine streets offered a mix of straightaways and treacherous turns, each one a test of reflexes and nerve.

Etrius and Zola found themselves in a high-stakes dance, their cars locked in a fierce battle for supremacy. Etrius's Airesuqque, with its raw power and professional tuning, was a force to be reckoned with. He took corners with controlled drifts, the tires gripping the asphalt with a tenacity that kept him in the race. On the straights, he unleashed the full might of his engine, the car rocketing forward with a primal fury.

Zola's Rocket, however, was no ordinary vehicle. Its legendary agility and power allowed her to stay ahead, the car responding to her every thought as if it were an extension of her own body. She took corners with a precision that defied logic, the Rocket weaving through the streets like a predator on the hunt. Her advantage lay in the car's superior handling, allowing her to maintain speed even through the tightest turns.

The two racers pushed their machines to the limit, the city flashing by in a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. They drifted around corners, their tires leaving streaks of rubber on the pavement. The roar of their engines echoed through the concrete canyons, a symphony of speed and power that drowned out the sounds of the city.

With each passing moment, the other competitors faded into the background, unable to match the intensity and skill of Etrius and Zola. The race became a duel, a test of endurance and strategy between two of the most formidable drivers in Sigma City.
They hurtled through narrow alleys, barely missing street trash and pedestrians. They blasted down wide boulevards, Etrius's raw numbers allowing him to pull ahead, only to fall behind in the corners. The thrill of the race coursed through their veins, a heady mix of adrenaline and determination.

As they approached the final stretch, the finish line loomed ahead, a glowing beacon of victory, the road flares sparkling brightly. Etrius and Zola were side by side, their cars pushing the limits of their capabilities. In those final moments, time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the thin line of the finish.

With a final burst of speed, they crossed the line together, the roar of their engines melding into a single, triumphant sound. The crowd erupted in cheers, the thrill of the race snapping in the air. The race coordinator, stunned by the display of skill, announced a tie.

Etrius and Zola brought their cars to a stop, the tension of the race giving way to a moment of shared victory. Etrius climbed out of his Famdorchini, a smug grin on his face as he accepted the split prize. Zola, still concealed by her illusion, drove the Rocket around the block before stepping out, her heart still pounding with the thrill of the race.

Zola then cloaked herself in a different illusion, presenting herself as the 'representative' of the Rocket's driver and accepted her share of the prize. Something about her movements struck him as familiar yet off. His altered biology, a mix of heightened senses and intuition, sensed a subtle disturbance around her. The crowd, still buzzing from the excitement of the race, paid no attention to these things, but Etrius's instincts told him there was more to this stranger.

As the gathering began to disperse, Etrius slipped into the shadows, his eyes never leaving Zola. He silently followed her as she made her way back to the Rocket, her steps purposeful but unhurried. Once she reached her car, she cast a quick glance around before dropping the illusion momentarily to put something inside the vehicle. It was only a brief moment, but it was enough for Etrius to glimpse her true form – the dragoness Zola.

His curiosity now fully piqued, Etrius made his way over to her, his approach silent and measured. Zola, busy with her adjustments, didn't notice him until he was almost upon her. She turned sharply, her eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey! You startled me! Why did you follow me?" she demanded, her voice guarded. She quickly recast her normal humanoid illusion once again.

Etrius stepped closer, his gaze intense but not hostile. "I know what you are," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Or at least, I know you're not what you're pretending to be."

Zola's heart skipped a beat. She considered her options, her mind racing. Denial seemed futile; this man had seen through her illusion. "What do you want?" she repeated, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice.

Etrius's expression softened slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Relax. I'm not here to cause trouble. I'm just curious. You're quite the driver, and that car..." He let the sentence hang, his admiration for the Rocket clear.

Zola straightened, her initial fear giving way to a mixture of relief and curiosity. "And what if I am?" she replied, her tone cautious.

Etrius leaned against the Rocket, his cybernetic arms gleaming under the streetlights. "I don't care about your secrets. But I do care about skill, and you've got plenty of it. Who are you? What are you? You're clearly not human, but you're not transhuman like me."

Zola hesitated, weighing her options. She could try to lie or evade, but something about Etrius's demeanor suggested he wasn't easily fooled. Instead, she opted for a different approach. "I'll tell you what," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'll share a bit of my story if you promise to keep it to yourself."

Etrius raised an eyebrow. "And what do I get in return for my silence?"

Zola stepped closer, her voice dropping to a seductive whisper. "How about a little... private performance?" She traced a finger down his chest, her touch light and teasing. "I promise you won't regret it. And maybe you could entice me to repeat performances."

Etrius's eyes darkened with interest. "You drive a hard bargain," he said, his voice thick with anticipation. "But I accept."

With a quick look around to ensure they were alone, Zola dropped her illusion completely, revealing her true form. Etrius's breath caught at the sight, a mix of awe and desire in his eyes. She was even more stunning in person, her black and red scales shimmering in the dim light.

Etrius stepped closer to Zola, his cybernetic arms gleaming under the dim streetlights. Her true form, revealed and shimmering with scales, was breathtaking. His eyes roamed over her body, taking in every detail – the smooth, iridescent scales, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the curve of her hips.

Zola, feeling his gaze, felt a thrill of excitement run through her. She had never encountered anyone quite like Etrius. His sheer physical presence was magnetic, and she found herself drawn to him despite the initial wariness. Her heart raced, a mix of fear and desire, as she wondered what would come next.

"Let's see if you can handle more than just a fast car," Zola whispered, her voice a sultry challenge.

Etrius's eyes darkened with interest, a smirk playing on his lips. "I can handle a lot more than that," he murmured, his voice thick with anticipation.

With a swift, practiced motion, Etrius pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together. His hands settled on her hips, firm yet gentle, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. Zola gasped at the contact, her hands instinctively reaching up to trace the lines of his muscular chest. She had fucked other humans before, but never someone like Etrius, and certainly not without her magical disguise giving her whatever appearance and body she wanted.

Their lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss, a clash of desire and need. Etrius's kiss was demanding, his tongue exploring her mouth with urgency. Zola responded eagerly, her own forked tongue dancing with his, pressing down his throat, her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. The taste of him was intoxicating, and she lost herself in the moment, her worries and fears melting away. Etrius's black saliva dripped down their chins, splattering on the ground as they kissed passionately and deeply.

Etrius's hands roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour. He marveled at the contrast between her smooth scales and the softness of her flesh. Zola's hands moved to his back, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, feeling the strength beneath the surface. She moaned softly against his lips, her body arching into his touch. Etrius broke the kiss, trailing his lips down her neck, nipping and kissing the sensitive skin. Zola shivered, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"I need you," she breathed, her voice a mix of need and desire. "Inside."

With a growl of approval, Etrius lifted her onto the hood of his Famdorchini, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies. He stood between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs, spreading them wide. Zola's breath hitched, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made her heart race. His penis was almost bursting out of his tight pants, and he certainly hadn't counted on the race ending like this.

Etrius took a moment to admire her, his eyes roaming over her body, taking in every detail. Her scales glistened in the low light, her body a perfect blend of strength and beauty. He could feel her trembling beneath his touch, the anticipation almost too much to bear.

With a low growl, Etrius undid his zipper and leaned down, capturing her lips in another searing kiss. His hands moved to her waist, lifting her slightly to align their bodies. Zola gasped as she felt his cock press against the folds of her pussy, the heat of him sending a shiver of anticipation through her. She realized now that she had cast every illusion completely naked, and realized how that might become an issue.

Etrius's thrusts were powerful yet controlled, each one drawing a moan of pleasure or a gasp from Zola's draconic lips. She wrapped her short legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her claws digging into his back as she held on.

Etrius's mind was a haze of sensation, the feel of Zola's body beneath him, the sounds of her pleasure, the taste of her lips from another universe. He was lost in her, every thrust driving him closer to the edge. Zola's moans grew louder, her body arching into his, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"I'm so close," she cried out, her voice trembling with need.

With a final, powerful few thrusts, Etrius pushed his knot into her, eliciting a loud scream from Zola, her cry of pleasure piercing the night air. He held her close, her body trembling with the force of her release. 

As their breathing slowly returned to normal, Etrius gently pulled out, his eyes locking onto Zola's. There was a connection between them now. He smiled, a satisfied.

"That was..." Zola began, her voice breathless and filled with wonder.

"Incredible," Etrius finished, his voice soft but filled with certainty. "You're incredible. Dragons are incredible. I definitely need you again."

Zola blushed, a rare, vulnerable smile crossing her lips. "So are you, Etrius. And I look forward to it."

When it was over, they lay together on the hood of the Famdorchini, their breathing slowing as the adrenaline began to fade. "You said you'd keep my secret," she reminded him, her tone playful but firm.

Etrius nodded, a satisfied smile on his lips. "Your secret's safe with me. But this isn't the last you'll see of me. What's your name? I usually get a name before fucking someone's brains out. And you still haven't told me what you are."

She chuckled, handing him her phone number. "I certainly hope not. Call me sometime, and maybe we can race again. Or something more. Oh, and my name is Zola Pohzar. It...used to be something else, but-"

"Ash fire? Your name is Russian," Etrius interjected, recognizing a language that had been put into his brain by his creator.

"Uh, yeah! Most people don't know what it means...Do you know Russian?" she asked, surprised that Etrius knew a little bit more about her than most.

"Yeah, my story is probably just as interesting as yours, to be honest. Maybe we can share over a coffee sometime?"

"I'd love that. Remind me in the morning." she replied.

With a final, lingering kiss, Zola climbed back into the Rocket, her illusion snapping back into place. Etrius watched her drive away, his mind already spinning with possibilities. He had just been fucked by a dragon.

Etrius watched as Zola drove away, the Rocket's taillights fading into the night. The sounds of the street race still echoed in his ears, but his thoughts were now focused on the enigmatic dragoness who had just turned his understanding of the world upside down. He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was just the beginning of something much larger.

Returning to the crowd, Etrius found himself the center of attention. His reputation as a mercenary and a street racer had already made him a legend in Sigma City, and now his tie with the mysterious Rocket driver only added to his mystique. Fellow racers and spectators approached him, congratulating him on his performance and asking questions about the race. Etrius responded with his usual cool demeanor, but his mind was elsewhere, replaying every moment of his encounter with Zola.

As the crowd slowly dispersed, Etrius made his way back to his Famdorchini, the sleek lines of the car still warm from the race and their passionate encounter. He ran a hand over the hood, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. Tonight had been more than just a race; it had been a test of skill, a battle of wills, and an unexpected encounter.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Etrius took a moment to collect his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, entering Zola's number into his contacts. He hesitated for a moment, his thumb hovering over the call button, before deciding against it. There would be time for that later. For now, he needed to process everything that had happened.

As he approached his apartment, Etrius's thoughts shifted to the future. He knew that Zola was more than just a talented driver; she was a force to be reckoned with, and their paths were destined to cross again. She was nowhere near as innocent as she had come across. She had the Rocket, she had the skills to drive it, and the money to fix it if something went wrong. And she could use magic, just like Ravenna.

Parking his car in the underground garage, Etrius made his way up to his apartment. The adrenaline of the race was still coursing through his veins, making it difficult to settle down. He poured himself a drink, the amber liquid glinting in the low light of his living room, and sat down on the couch and turned the TV on to fill the silence.

The questions swirled in his mind as he finished his drink, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to calm his restless thoughts. He knew that his encounter with Zola had changed something within him. It had reignited a spark of excitement and curiosity that had been dormant for far too long, since he had left Russia and the ruins of the Winter Palace behind.

With a final, determined thought, Etrius stood up and headed to bed, tossing off his sweaty clothes and laying down. He couldn't help but smile, anticipation mingling with exhaustion. Sigma City still hid many secrets, including a fiery hot dragoness.

Sigma AU Short Story: Getting Back In Shape

Content warning: sexual intercourse

Etrius strolled into the bustling heart of Sigma City, his towering figure drawing curious glances from the lunchtime crowd. The people were used to the weird, but even human-animal hybrids were still few and far between, especially those as highly regarded as Etrius. The smell of street food wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of vendors hawking their goods and the chatter of city dwellers. As he approached their usual meeting spot, a small, tucked-away café on the edge of the Hub District, he couldn’t help but notice the growing disparity between the clean, well-maintained hub and the shadier outer districts.

Zoey sat at an outside table, her once voluminous frame now significantly slimmer. She looked up as Etrius approached, her amber eyes narrowing slightly in annoyance at his punctuality. Despite the outward signs of neglect and abuse, she still had an aura of raw power and defiance, her large ears flicking back and forth and her serpentine tail swaying restlessly.

"Hey, Zoey," Etrius greeted her, his voice a blend of warmth and concern. He pulled out a chair and sat down, his large frame causing the chair to creak slightly. "You're looking... different."

Zoey's ears flattened for a moment before she forced a smirk. "Yeah, well, got tired of being the fat fox," she replied, her tone defensive. She took a long drag from her vape, blowing the smoke out in a way that seemed more challenging than casual.

Etrius studied her closely, noticing the dark circles under her eyes and the trembling in her hands. "You lost a lot of weight pretty quickly. Are you... okay?" His voice was gentle, but his concern was palpable.

Zoey’s scaled tail flicked irritably, and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" She snapped, her voice rising slightly. "Can't I change without everyone getting up in my shit?"

Etrius sighed internally, recognizing the familiar walls she put up. "Zoey, it's not about the weight," he said softly. "I'm just worried about you. We've been through a lot together, and I care about you."

Zoey's eyes flashed with anger. "Worried about me? Please," she scoffed, taking another drag from her vape. "I'm tougher than you give me credit for. I don't need your pity."

Etrius leaned forward, his gaze intense. "It's not pity, Zoey. It's concern. You're drinking too much, using too much. It's not sustainable."

Zoey slammed her cybernetic fist on the metal table, denting it and causing a few nearby patrons to glance over nervously. "You think I don't know that?" She hissed, her ears pinned back and her tail thrashing. "But this is how I cope, alright? You of all people should understand that."

Etrius felt a pang of guilt, knowing she was right. He helped Zoey with her harsh reality, and her methods were not exactly healthy. He helped her achieve safe highs away from dangerous places where she could be assaulted, killed, or worse. 

"I do understand, Zoey. More than you know," he said quietly. "But there are other ways. Better ways."

Zoey's defiance faltered for a moment, her eyes softening as she looked at him. She quickly masked it with a sneer. "And what, you're going to save me? Again?" She laughed bitterly. "I'm not a damsel in distress, Etrius. I don't need saving."

Etrius leaned back, feeling a mix of frustration and sadness. "I don't want to save you, Zoey. I just want to help. But I can't do that if you won't let me."

Zoey's tail stopped moving, and she looked away, her ears flicking back and forth. "I don't need your help," she muttered, but the conviction in her voice wavered. "I don't want your help."

They sat in silence for a few moments, the sounds of the city filling the space between them. Etrius reached out and gently touched her hand. A spark jumped between them as the cybernetics of both momentarily connected.

"Just... promise me you'll be careful. That's all I ask."

Zoey glanced at his hand, then up at his face. Her expression softened slightly, and she gave a small nod. 

"Yeah, fine. I'll be careful," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Etrius smiled, though it was tinged with sadness. "That's all I needed to hear," he said, withdrawing his hand. "Now, let's get something to eat. I’m starving."

Zoey chuckled, the tension easing slightly. "You and your endless stomach," she teased, though there was a hint of genuine affection in her voice. "With how much you eat I'm annoyed that you don't need to lose weight, ever."

As they ordered their food and settled into a more relaxed conversation, Etrius couldn't shake the lingering worry. Zoey's bravado was impressive, but he knew all too well the toll it took on her. Beneath her tough exterior, he still loved her, and he would do whatever it took to keep her safe.

After they ate, they decided to go for a walk in the park nearby for some fresh air. The park, a rare sliver of greenery amidst the urban sprawl, was alive with birds chirping and insects buzzing. Zoey’s eyes darted around, taking in the sights, but there was a restlessness and anxiety to her movements, a sign of the inner turmoil she tried so hard to mask.

Etrius walked beside her, his tall, muscular frame still dwarfed by Zoey's, even if she was thinner now. He glanced at her from time to time, his green eyes filled with a mix of concern and affection. Despite the tension during lunch, there was a comfortable silence between them now, a reminder of the bond they shared.

As they reached a secluded bench under a large, shady tree, Zoey plopped down with a sigh, stretching out her legs. Etrius followed suit, sitting close enough that their shoulders touched. The physical contact seemed to ease some of the tension in Zoey, and she leaned into him slightly, her thick scaly tail wrapping around his waist.

"You know, for a big city, this park is pretty nice," Zoey said, her tone softer than before.

Etrius nodded, enjoying the rare moment of peace. "Yeah, it's a good place to clear your head," he replied.

They sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the park fading into the background. Zoey's hand found its way to Etrius's, her fingers intertwining with his. He squeezed her hand gently, feeling the rough texture of her cybernetic enhancements, the roughness and wear so different from his own.

Zoey shifted, turning to face him. Her eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the mask of bravado slipped, revealing vulnerability. Etrius cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft fur.

"You're beautiful, Zo," he murmured, leaning in closer.

Zoey's ears flicked back, and she gave him a rare, genuine smile. "And you're a hopeless sap," she teased, but her voice was tinged with emotion. With a quick movement, Zoey sat on top of Etrius, facing him.

She straddled him on the park bench, her eyes blazing with a mix of lust and defiance. She ground against him, feeling the hard lines of his muscular body beneath the thin fabric of his clothes.

Etrius's hands moved to her hips, gripping her firmly. The sensation of his strong, cybernetic fingers against her fur-covered skin sent shivers up her spine. "Zo," he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

"Shut up," she growled, leaning down to capture his lips in a fierce kiss. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the heat of his body. She tugged at his clothing, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Etrius responded in kind, his hands sliding up her back, tracing the curves of her spine and the softness of her rear. He could feel the tension in her muscles, the raw energy just beneath the surface. His lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, eliciting a low moan from Zoey.

"Fuck," she breathed, her hips moving more urgently against him. The friction was maddening, a delicious torment that left her craving more. She could feel his arousal, hard and insistent beneath her, and it only fueled her desire.

Etrius growled softly, a deep, primal sound that vibrated through his chest. He shifted, his hands moving to her thighs, lifting her slightly to position her better. Zoey's tail wrapped around his leg, the scales brushing against his skin. Her hands moved to his belt, her fingers working quickly to free his throbbing cock.

When she finally succeeded, Zoey wasted no time. She positioned herself over him, her eyes locking onto his with a mix of challenge and hunger. Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, taking him in, inch by agonizing inch. The feeling was electric, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that had her gasping. She shuddered as his penis slid into her asshole, stretching it. It had been so long since they last had sex.

Etrius's hands gripped her hips tighter, guiding her movements as she began to ride him. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, a rhythmic dance of flesh and synthetic parts. Zoey's moans grew louder, her breaths coming in short gasps. She leaned forward, her hands bracing against his chest.

"God, E," she panted, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Harder."

Etrius obliged, thrusting up into her with more force. The bench creaked beneath them, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the air, Zoey’s once-quiet moans now breaking the silence in the once-tranquil park. He could feel the tension building, the pleasure building and Zoey’s hole getting tighter with each movement.

Zoey's head fell back, her eyes closing as she lost herself in the sensations. The world around them faded away, leaving only the heat of their bodies and the raw intensity of their connection. She moved faster, her hips grinding against him with a desperate urgency.

Etrius could feel his control slipping, the edge of release tantalizingly close. He thrust harder, his breaths coming in rough. "Zo," he growled, his voice thick with need.

"Fuck, yes," she cried out, her body trembling with the force of her impending climax. "Don't stop!"

With a final, powerful thrust, Etrius sent them both over the edge. Zoey's body tensed and she clenched, a high-pitched moan escaping her lips as pleasure washed over her. Etrius followed quietly a moment later, his release a shuddering wave that left him breathless.

They remained intertwined for a few moments, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their release. Zoey leaned against him, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Etrius's hands moved gently over her back, his touch tender and reassuring.

As the world slowly came back into focus, Zoey lifted her head, her amber eyes glinting with satisfaction. She stood up and began to dress, and Etrius re-buckled his belt and buttoned his shirt back up. 

"You know," Etrius began, his voice still thick with emotion, "you felt... different when you were bigger."

The words were out before he could stop them, and the impact was immediate. Zoey's expression hardened, her ears flattening against her head. Without warning, she punched him in the chest, the force sending him flying off the bench and crashing onto the grass several feet away.

Etrius lay there, stunned, as Zoey stood up, adjusting her clothes with a practiced ease. She looked down at him, her eyes cold.

"Halt die Klappe, du hirnloser Narr," she said angrily, her German taking precedence in her momentary rage. "Maybe you should think before you open your fucking mouth," she snapped, her voice dripping with anger.

"I didn't do this for you. I did this for my own health." Her serpentine tongue flicked out of her mouth as she stared angrily at him, and her devilish tail twitched. "If you don't wanna fuck me because I'm not fat anymore, that's your own goddamn problem."

Etrius winced, feeling the sting of her words as much as the physical pain. "You're right," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

Zoey didn't respond. She turned and walked away, her serpent tail swinging behind her. The black fluids from Etrius still dripped from her, staining her shorts and trickling down her leg. Etrius watched her go, a mix of regret and sorrow filling him.

He lay there for a few moments, staring up at the sky, replaying the scene in his mind. He made a mistake, and he knew he deserved the hit. With a heavy sigh, he finally pushed himself up, brushing off the dirt and grass.

Etrius made his way back to the parking lot, where his sleek, black car awaited. He climbed in, the interior eerily cool and quiet. As he drove away, the cityscape of Sigma City blurred past, his thoughts consumed by the events of the afternoon. After a bit of driving, he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building and went inside.

Sigma AU Short Story: Big Lizard Friends

 The narrow path to the cave wound through dense underbrush, flanked by ancient trees whose gnarled roots reached out like skeletal fingers. Jared trudged along, his camera slung around his neck, capturing every step of his adventure. He had heard the stories—rumors of a giant lizard creature living in isolation, and the thrill of meeting her was too enticing to resist. He had made the trek from Sigma City, determined to get a glimpse of this legendary creature.

As he neared the cave, a deep rumble echoed through the forest, stopping him in his tracks. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He took a deep breath, adjusted his backpack, and stepped into the dimly lit entrance of the cave.

Inside, the air was cool and damp. Stalactites dripped steadily from above, forming small puddles on the rocky floor. Jared's eyes adjusted to the low light, and he spotted her—a massive, blackish-green lizard-like creature lounging near the back of the cave. Her dark red eyes gleamed with curiosity as she watched him approach.

"Uh, hi there," Jared called out, his voice echoing slightly. "Are you Bestalsh?"

Bestalsh tilted her head, her large nose twitching as she sniffed the air. "Hello!" she replied, her voice a deep, almost childlike rumble. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jared," he said, stepping closer. "I heard about you and wanted to come see you for myself. Is that okay?"

Bestalsh's eyes widened with excitement. "Visitor! Visitor come to see Bestalsh!" She clapped her large, clawed hands together, causing a small cloud of dust to rise from the cave floor. "What you bring?"

Jared reached into his backpack and pulled out a bundle of fresh berries he had picked along the way. "I brought these for you. I heard you like berries."

Bestalsh's eyes lit up even more. She crawled forward with surprising agility for her size, her long, thick tail dragging behind her. She took the berries gently from Jared's hands and popped them into her mouth, savoring each one. "Yummy! Thank you, Jared!" she said between bites.

Jared smiled, feeling more at ease. "You're welcome. Can I ask you some questions?"

Bestalsh nodded enthusiastically, her spines rattling with the motion. "Yes, yes! Ask Bestalsh questions!"

"How long have you been living here?" Jared asked, pulling out his camera to capture the moment.
Bestalsh paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "Long time. Many moons. Bestalsh not remember exactly."

Jared snapped a photo, marveling at her size and the strange beauty of her dark red scales. "Do you ever get lonely out here?"

"Sometimes," Bestalsh admitted, her voice softening. "But travelers come. Bring food. Talk to Bestalsh. Like you!"

Jared chuckled. "Do you like having visitors?"

"Yes! Visitors fun! Bestalsh learn new things. Like...like that!" She pointed a claw at Jared's camera. "What that do?"

"This?" Jared held up the camera. "It's a camera. It takes pictures. It can capture moments so you can look at them later."

Bestalsh's eyes widened with wonder. "Camera? Picture? Bestalsh want picture!"

Jared grinned. "Sure, let's take a picture together." He set up his camera on a rock and set the timer, then hurried back to stand next to Bestalsh. "Look at it, and smile!" he said.

As the camera clicked, Bestalsh leaned in close, her broad smile revealing sharp teeth that gleamed in the dim light.

Afterward, Jared showed her the picture. Bestalsh giggled, a sound that echoed through the cave like a deep, joyful rumble. "Bestalsh look funny!"

Jared laughed along with her. "No, you look great! This is a fantastic picture."

Bestalsh beamed with pride. "Jared kind. Bestalsh happy you visit. Tell others to come. Bestalsh like visitors."

"I will," Jared promised. "I'll tell everyone how wonderful you are. But one more question—what do you do for fun out here?"

Bestalsh scratched her head, her large eyes twinkling. "Bestalsh like to hunt. And sleep. Sometimes Bestalsh make pictures in the dirt. Look!" She scurried to a clear patch of ground and used a claw to draw a crude, but recognizable, image of a deer.

Jared watched, fascinated. "That's amazing! You're an artist, Bestalsh."

Bestalsh's chest puffed out with pride. "Bestalsh like making pictures."

As the day wore on, Jared and Bestalsh shared stories—mostly Jared's, as Bestalsh's limited language skills made it difficult for her to share much about her own past. But she listened intently, her eyes wide with fascination at Jared's tales of the bustling city and the strange technologies he described.

When it was time for Jared to leave, Bestalsh walked him to the entrance of the cave. "Come back soon, Jared," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"I will," Jared promised. "Take care, Bestalsh."

"Bye-bye, Jared!" Bestalsh waved her large clawed hand as Jared started down the path. He glanced back to see her silhouette framed by the cave's entrance, a gentle giant with a heart full of curiosity and kindness.

As he made his way back to Sigma City, Jared couldn't help but smile. He had met an unknown legend, and in doing so, he had found a friend.

Sigma AU Short Story: Reprisal Pt. 2

 CONTENT WARNING
THE FOLLOWING FICTIONAL LITERATURE CONTAINS SEVERAL INSTANCES OF TRIGGERING MATERIAL, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO DRUG USE, STRONG LANGUAGE, AND SEXUAL ABUSE. INDIVIDUALS SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS SHOULD STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.

    "Are you sure about this?" Etrius asked, the concern audible in his voice.

    "Fuck off," Zoey replied, angrily crossing her prosthetic arms while waiting for the chimeric tiger in front of her to finish assembling a rather intimidating-looking steel chain.

    "I only ask because I care about you," he said, fiddling around with one of the heavy links.

    "You know I can handle my shit, and you've known practically sssince the day we met." Zo replied, her forked tongue producing a slight lisp.

    "The day after we met, you were buried under thirty tons of rubble and begged me to save you," Etrius chided.   

    "Fuck off, don't remind me of that. I would have gotten out. Eventually."

    "Well it looks like these are done back here. Please stop breaking these, they're annoying to fix and finding quality metal like this is getting harder. Old world steel is just better." Etrius began to affix the chains to Zoey's arms, around her torso, and her legs.

    "You've lost weight, have you been eating properly?" he remarked.

    "Shut the fuck up and tie me down already." She slapped Etrius in the side of the head with her serpentine tail, urging him to hurry up as her arms were bound.

    "Alright, almost done here," he said, hooking a crane hoist to the chains around her back. "Let's can get this over with. You know I hate this, what it does to you."

    Zoey stared Etrius dead in the eyes, her own burning with the fire of a thousand suns.

    "It'sss better than endlessssly sssuffering." she replied, with strong sincerity. "Give me the fucking drugssss and let'ssss go already."

Etrius yanked the chains to make sure they were tight, checked the massive padlock holding them together behind Zoey's back, and then pulled a large auto-injector from his waist pack.

    He stabbed it into her naked buttock, waited a moment, and then dashed off.

    Surrounding Zoey was a serene industrial scene. It was late at night, the full moon shone through the smog of Sigma City. The docks were silent save for the sound of the harbor water lightly slapping against the concrete pylons. She was surrounded by metal cargo containers and the equipment to move them. But all else was quiet.

    As she felt the injection begin to swim around in her bloodstream, the chain hooked to her back tightened and she was raised into the air. The sound of a crane's winch sputtered in the background as it lifted her off the cold, wet asphalt below her.

    Her head began to swim. Her horns felt heavy on her head. Her tail twitched to-and-fro. Then, the very bowels of Hell itself emerged from her heart, searing pain spiraling through her chest, into each nerve in each limb, in each cell. She could no longer see anything around her. Blinding fire seared her retinas. It felt like her fur was on fire. Her scales felt like they were molten. She felt as though her skin was going to melt off. A raging inferno deafened her, making her cry out as loudly as her smoking lungs let her.

    As soon as the sensation of being boiled alive began, it was replaced with complete, soul extinguishing darkness. There was no sound, there was no light. It was as if she was at the bottom of the ocean, being crushed by the immense pressure of the water. She felt frozen, as if moving would shatter her. She held her breath, waiting for every next moment to free her. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into what felt like hours to her.

    She was floating, sensationless and serene, in the nothingness of space itself. A completely empty world devoid of existence. The scene shifted and she was in Germany, being experimented on as a kit-fox. The Americans came and tore the place down. Then, she was wandering the wastes of mid-war America. Next she was fighting in a very real battle for Sigma City, the sounds of gunfire, the clank of tanks, the sounds of fighter jets and bombs.

    She exploded, standing right next to the nuclear reactor of a submarine, her power armor taking the blast. She spent weeks in the sand of a beach, waiting for someone to rescue her, wasting away without food or water.

    Suddenly coming to, she was standing, laughing next to a friend, unidentifiable but friendly. She was having a great time, drinking, telling stories of her adventures, laughing at great jokes that she'd mess up if she tried to repeat.

    In the next moment, she was being raped, taken by ugly men, bound by a pillory in a decrepit factory. Mocked, stained, put down, and drugged into enjoying it. She felt desecrated, and less than human. Self pity wasn't enough. She just wanted to curl up and die.

    Time accelerated and her face was spattered with blood, and she couldn't tell if it was her own or someone else's. She only remembered the rage, the anger, the primal desire to kill everything that moved. She howled like a wolf, roared like a lion. She was the demoness of the world, and it would succumb to her rage.

    And with a jarring thud, everything was black.

    Etrius watched as Zoey thrashed and jerked about, suspended and bound. He felt immense pity for her. Someone who had been through what she had been through deserved so much better. It was amazing to him that she had made it this long without somehow killing herself, either through accident, self annihilation, or an overdose.

    What he gave her earlier was respite sorts, a cocktail of drugs to keep her sane. He knew all too well the kind of rage that builds up from feeling like the world owes you something for all it's done to you. She didn't ask to be born. She didn't ask to be a mutant. She didn't ask for her traumas, she didn't ask to be freed from her prison. She never asked to exist.

    He was able to deal with it better than she could. Etrius sought therapy, while Zoey took shelter with drugs and substance abuse. It got to such a horrible point where not even mechanical blood cleansers would have helped her. Her pain was too great, too severe, and too deeply rooted in her own psychology to ever be cured.

    When he looked up from his thoughts, Zoey was still. Her head drooped, her eyes were half closed and glazed, and drool dripped from her slightly open mouth. He lowered the crane and gently set her down, and began to unravel the chains that bound her. When he finished, he wrapped her in a big, soft blanket and carried her to her truck and drove her home, to her dirt plot of land on the outskirts of the city.

    After giving her a wash and cleaning the abrasions where she struggled against the chains in her drug induced seizure, he laid her down in her bed, gave her a smooch on her forehead, closed the door to her home, and left.

    When Zoey came to, she was laying in her bed in her APC. She could never tell if it was a dream. She never remembered the time leading up to it, and she could never remember what had happened the day before. A week had passed since she could last remembered the date. It was surreal. But, it made her feel better, at least until the next time her own brain got her in trouble against her will. It gave her overactive mind time to rest, overwhelming it so much it shut down temporarily. She swung her feet over the side of her cot, put her head in her hands, and cried.

Sigma AU Short Story: Reprisal Pt.1

CONTENT WARNING
THE FOLLOWING FICTIONAL LITERATURE CONTAINS SEVERAL INSTANCES OF TRIGGERING MATERIAL, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO RAPE, DRUG USE, STRONG LANGUAGE, GUN VIOLENCE, GORE, AND SEXUAL ABUSE. INDIVIDUALS SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS SHOULD STOP READING IMMEDIATELY.

    Zoey knew that her addictions put a giant target on her back. In a city where she was constantly making enemies, traps and set-ups were inevitable. She had been jumped several times before, knowing well that the sales were probably a sham.

    Nothing, however, could prepare her for what was about to happen. It was a cool evening, no cloud cover, and the sounds of the city drowned out her soft footsteps to the abandoned industrial facility. It was some sort of old factory, where chemists now manufactured new synthetic drugs and sold them to anyone looking to get their mind off whatever was bothering them.

    Zo was no stranger to trauma, her life was full of it. Dependencies like hers are what allowed her to function at all, and gave her the nerves she lacked while sober. As she walked down an alley, she couldn't help but feel like she was being watched. Maybe there were cameras. Maybe there were guards on the roof. All she wanted was to buy some drugs and go home.

    At last, she found the door she was looking for and knocked on it.

    "Whatcha want?" came a gruff, cockney voice from the other side.

    "I'm here to make a special purchase of BX-17," she said.

    The door opened and she stepped inside. As the door shut behind her, she was grabbed by both arms and her legs were knocked out from under her. She felt a sharp pain in her neck, and suddenly became very, very sleepy.

    "Get her tied up," another voice said, before everything went black.

    When Zoey woke up, she couldn't tell how much time had passed. She tried to move around a bit, but as the world around her became clearer, she realized she was naked, and locked in some sort of makeshift pillory, and in a small room with concrete walls and a high ceiling, most likely used to be a closet or storage room. Her legs were held apart by bar shackles, and her abdomen was supported by some sort of harness hung from the ceiling.

    She tried to break the pillory with her arms, but her prosthetics didn't seem to have enough energy to power through. She had been asleep for quite a while, at least a whole day.

    "Aha, the stupid, brutish fox awakens," a man's voice said over some sort of intercom. It was the same one from before, that wanted her tied up.

    "You have absolutely NO idea how fucked you are!" she yelled in no direction in particular.

    "You see, Kriegsherrin, it's you who is about to be fucked." The sound of a door opening somewhere and big, heavy footsteps approached her from behind. 

    A strong hand grabbed her muzzle and twisted her head sideways to the point she yelped in pain.

    "Tell me, bitch, where's your home? Where do you live? Because you've destroyed and sabotaged many of my operations. And I'm gonna destroy yours, forever."

    "I'm not telling you anything, you fuckin asshole. We had a deal!" she snapped.

    "Oh, you will talk eventually. Speaking of fucking assholes," the man said.

    Zoey felt a sharp pain in her buttocks, like a needle being inserted. She suddenly felt calm, and her whole body relaxed. Without warning, something big, cold, and metallic was inserted roughly into her ass, but she was too sedated to do anything or cry out. She managed a whimper, but then fell silent as her eyelids grew heavy. 

    A second needle was inserted into her buttock, and although her body remained relaxed, she suddenly was very, very aware of everything around her and everything touching her body. Her paws on the floor, the cuffs around her ankles, the object in her rectum, the needle being pulled out of her, the harness around her waist, her breasts dangling and swaying with slight movement, her neck being held by the pillory. She felt her arms that had long been gone, despite her prosthetics not able to relay tactile feedback.

    She was able to hear the chains of her shackles, hear a draft coming in from an open window, feel the air moving slowly across her naked body. She could hear footsteps coming closer from behind, the sounds of zippers being undone.

    Zo felt hands against her twin vaginas, spreading the lips, testing the pliability. She knew exactly what was going to happen next and dreaded every moment of it.

    First, the left one. Then, the right one. Two men, whom she couldn't see. She could hear them grunting, feel them having their way with her. She could feel them twitching and throbbing inside of her, and couldn't do anything to stop it. She could feel that one of them was smaller than the other. She could feel the object in her ass move around as it was bumped by their torsos as they thrusted into her.

    Her legs tensed against her will, and she felt her nipples grow harder and become moist. All without wanting it. She was no longer in control of her arousal. The first man on her right came, grunting loudly, and a few minutes later the second man finished and they both pulled out of her without a word.

    More of the same heavy footsteps from before, and suddenly she felt a needle in her right breast, and another needle in her left breast. As the footsteps withdrew and faded, she could feel the prolactin surging through her. More, lighter footsteps followed, and the metal object in her ass was ripped out, only to be replaced with warm flesh.   

    As she was taken, her body moved back and forth, her breasts beginning to spew milk all over the floor. She could hear the liquid splattering, and she could her the wet sounds of the man behind her, grunting and slapping her ass.

    She suddenly had a horrifying thought - they might be recording this as well. The mighty Terrorfox, the Vulpis Belli, brought to her knees and made into a toy.

    Her horror was replaced with fluttering joy as she heard a familiar sound, very faint and distant, but unmistakable. Her vulpine senses were keen enough to hear sounds miles away, amplified by the drugs she was forcefully given.

    So he does care, she thought.

    As the sound grew closer, Zo could hear it suddenly stop, replaced by the sounds of a car door opening and closing, possibly a few blocks away. Instead of focusing on her body, she put every ounce of her will into focusing on the sounds outside the building. The soft footsteps, the rustle of light clothing, the slight clank of metal lightly bouncing across someone's body as they ran.

    More men came into the room she was in and took turns having their way with her, but she gave them no notice and focused on the sounds from outside. Light footsteps on the roof, someone slipping inside an open window, footsteps on the catwalks in the ceiling. Men choking and being laid on the ground, the sound of a neck snapping, and a blade through someone's chest.

    She could hear all these things, growing closer and closer, while the men behind her took no notice of the intruder in their compound. Finally, there were no more men behind her, and she just rested there, her back area soaked with fluids, her breasts sore from milk production, and her stomach grumbling from hunger.

    "Are you ready to tell me your secrets yet?" the voice from before said menacingly. Someone in black paramilitary garb stood in front of her. She couldn't do much more than whimper, and lost focus of what she was listening to.

    She was struck hard across the face and could feel blood dripping from her cheek.

"I can do this for as long as you will be alive, and as soon as you tell me where your base of operations is, I will let you go." 

    "Go...fuck yourself," Zo managed to reply through the drowsiness. She couldn't tell at first whether she had simply just thought the response or said it aloud, but found out after she was struck once more.

    "It seems like you haven't learned your lesson yet, you despicable abomination," came the reply. "Bring in the dogs," the man said over the intercom.

    Several moments passed, but no reply came. 

    "I said bring in the dogs, you useless lackeys," Once again, no response on the intercom. "Fine, I'll do it myself." he said, and left the room.

    Zo heard the sounds of extremely light and soft footsteps almost immediately after the man had left the room. She felt the shackles being removed from her ankles, the pillory lock being lifted, and she was lowered to the ground from the harness.

    Strong, metallic bronze arms held her and set her upright, and another needle was pushed into her thigh. Suddenly, she uncontrollably pissed herself, and was pulled into a standing position by her silent rescuer. Already she began to feel her adrenal glands working, flooding her system with epinephrine.

    She couldn't bear to look at her savior, not like this. She was given a towel, and as she dried off she could feel her strength returning. Her heart began to beat faster, and with it, the piezoelectric generators attached to it began to charge her prosthetic arms more. Once she was dry and at least modestly clean in her crotch, she was presented with her clothing she had arrived in, and a bronze hand held her revolver out for her. As she dressed, she turned to ask her hero a question, but he was already gone.

    As she heard the heavy footsteps returning, she hid behind the closed door and waited for it to open.

    "What the? Fuck, fucking fuck!" the man said, realizing Zo wasn't in the pillory any longer. Zoey slammed the door shut from behind it, and the man turned to face her.

    She held her revolver out, the massive underbarrel bayonet touching the man's nose as he looked directly down the barrel.

    "I told you, you're fucked," Zoey said calmly.

    "You're dead meat," the man said, reaching for the pistol at his hip. Before he could finish, Zoey pulled the trigger and the man's head exploded. Blood and brains sprayed everywhere, the wall in front of her, and on her face. 

    The scent of fresh viscera sent Zoey's predatorial instincts into overdrive mode. She yanked the door open, right off its hinges, and ran through the building as fast as she could.

    Her large, fatty body gave her momentum, and she slammed through every closed and locked door like they were Japanese shoji. She pounced on the guards and other henchmen as if they were merely plush toys, knocking them into walls and slamming them into the ground with the force of a maelstrom. At last she found the exit, and shoved the head of the door guard into the door frame and slammed the door, decapitating him.

    Zo didn't leave yet, as she hadn't found what she was after. Going through the rest of the building, she searched high and low for her prize, until she found it in a room reached by catwalk stairs. A small, metallic briefcase with 8-digit locks. She tucked the little box under her arm and jumped out the window to the roof of the factory, tumbling down the slight decline until she could stop herself.

    After dropping down the roof to the street below, she found her motorcycle where she had parked it last, albeit with a freshly printed parking ticket. Shredding it, she put the case into the storage under the seat and rode off with a squeal and some smoke.

Author's note: While this story is purely fiction, it is inspired by real people and real events. It is not a rape/drug sex fantasy of the author, it is an expression of trauma.