Meeting, Not By Chance

The disgusting alleyway behind a strip mall is rarely appealing. At night, it's a disturbing place to be. Yet, Fyrre heard that Zahn was working as a night shift janitor and the quadrupedal black dragon had to see it for himself. He had a score to settle with the drox and an alleyway would be perfect for doing it without any witnesses to the act. He just had to wait until everyone else left so he could catch the creature unaware and unprepared.

He didn't have to wait long. Zahn's heterochromia was unmistakable even in dim light; his pupilless red and cyan eyes pierced through the darkness. The dingy graphic T-shirt, baggy blue jeans, and black high-top sneakers were unassuming but Fyrre knew better. Zahn was a size-shifter capable of destroying entire worlds. He would only assume a lowly role like this if it served some hidden agenda. The anthro drox propped open the shop's back door and lit a cigarette to kick off a short break. He leaned against the cinderblock wall next to the dumpster, took a long drag, and puffed smoke into the still night air.

This was the opportunity Fyrre was waiting on. He stepped out of the darkness and made eye contact with Zahn. Although the drox saw the dragon he didn't dignify him with a hello. He just leaned back against the wall and continued to smoke. "Zahn?" Fyrre inquired.

One of Zahn's short, pointed ears twitched upon hearing his name. "Who wants to know, dragon?" He was unafraid of anything a mugger could do, given that he could do far worse to them.

"It's Fyrre you asshole," the quadruped snarled. "I know what you did. I was there. I saw everything."

"What I did?" Zahn mused, "I don't know what you mean."

Fyrre clenched his teeth at the snarky response. "You know exactly what I mean. You're a kaiju. A monster."

"Aaaaaaaand? I'm not the only size shifter in town."

"You're the only planet fucker in town! And you know it!" Fyrre's voice rose; his temper was running out.

Zahn dropped his cigarette on the ground and pointedly snuffed it out. His foot twisted violently back and forth several times more than necessary. "So do you have a point or are you just jealous? You wouldn't be my only admirer..." He casually groped the prominent, growing bulge in his jeans. It was pretty hot to get reminded of snuffing out a planet by someone who witnessed it firsthand.

"You fucked my planet!" Fyrre both shouted and cried. "You killed everyone I knew!" The dragon moved closer until his yellow eyes gazed right into his tormentor's. The stench of burnt tobacco was heavy on Zahn's breath.

While Fyrre was besides himself, Zahn merely laughed in the dragon's face. "Me?" He feigned innocence. "I'm just a janitor working night shift in a shithole for two bucks over minimum wage. But since you're being an annoying little shit..." A flash of crimson light pierced the darkness and Fyrre felt like he'd been smacked between the forelegs by a flaming wrecking ball. "I can extend my break to break you while I'm at it."

Descent Into Hell

Shrink rays were theorized but Fyrre didn't expect them to exist. Now that he was shrinking, he couldn't deny just how terrifyingly real they were. The sensation was a mix of vertigo and being squeezed from every direction at once. He felt sick and, if not for the pressure holding his snout closed, he would have lost his dinner. Zahn casually holstered the shrink ray as he watched Fyrre writhe in pain and diminish to a sixth of his original size.

While Fyrre was in agony, Zahn was entirely amused. While he'd done some snuff films in the past, it had been far too long since he'd gotten to torture a dragon in public. The drox removed his right shoe and peeled the sweat-soaked black sock from his green-padded foot. Their stench filled the air but it wasn't nearly as offensive to Zahn as it would be to the dragon.

The shrinking took just fifteen seconds. Fyrre was no longer a person in any meaningful sense; he was just a toy for a cruel god to abuse. When the dragon looked up in terror, Zahn raised his bare paw over the dragon and spread his toes, showing off strings of toe-grime and releasing their pungent scent. He waited just a few seconds for Fyrre to 'appreciate' the view before stomping the diminished quadruped into the concrete. Fyrre's chest cracked under the intense pressure; when the dragon screeched and gasped, he was only awarded with more stink from the unwashed paw.

"Aww, did you want a turn under my feet, just like your family had?" Zahn rolled the dragon onto his back to appreciate the pathetic sight. "They looked up at me just like you are now. Helpless. Powerless. Covered in and treated like filth." He twisted his foot back and forth to smear more paw sweat into the dragon's scales. Zahn glanced around to double-check that nobody else was around. "But it's been a while since I've gotten off and you're gonna help me with that."

Broken Inside...

Help? With getting off? Fyrre didn't have long to consider those words. Zahn crouched and yanked his victim from the ground with one hand, cruelly indifferent to the internal injuries he'd created and exacerbated. The next thing Fyrre saw answered how he was going to 'help' this sadistic monster. Zahn's other hand yanked his pants underneath his balls to reveal the twin erections from his oversized sheath. The bright green cocks had dark green ridges on their underside and a fist-thick knot at their base. The smell of his sheath poisoned the air around the unwilling micro.

"Let's see how much I can fit inside you, shall we?" While Zahn asked the question, Fyrre's answer was to shake his head and incoherently cry for mercy. Each of Zahn's cocks was as long as Fyrre's entire body and at least half again thicker. A droplet of precum was the only lube Fyrre would receive as the drox lifted the dragon until his left cocktip pressed against Fyrre's asshole. This wouldn't fit but Zahn was intent on forcing the issue, just as he did with Fyrre's former homeworld an untold time ago.

The only small 'mercy' Fyrre would receive: Zahn was pressing just one of his cocks into his ass. It wasn't an act of kindness, however; Zahn just wanted to keep his toy alive for longer. He wanted to savor the feeling of slowly snuffing out a life with every thrust he made. Once the drox started pushing Fyrre downward there was no hope of resistance. The micro's anus tore a Zahn's pointed tip forced its way inside; his blood was merely lube for his torturer to use.

"God you're tight..." Zahn growled. Of course Fyrre was. He was barely the size of a Fleshlight compared to the sadistic fucker ruining his body. The rigid cock had no concern for Fyrre's internal anatomy; it pressed straight into the dragon and tore apart whatever was in the way. His intestines were the first thing to go. Other injuries soon followed.

Zahn started masturbating once the first of his cock ridges pressed inside the dragon's body. He tightened his grip on the micro and jerked up and down; each pass forced another few millimeters of flesh into fragile little creature. The drox's other cock gave Fyrre an indication of just how far he'd been impaled... and how much more he had to go. His front was pressed against the other cock; its precum and sweat smeared against his stomach. He was being marked in the drox's crotch stink even while being raped.

"This isn't as good as planet fucking but I could still get used to it~" Zahn teased as he forced another ridge into Fyrre's ass. After all, Zahn was merely ruining one life in a dark alleyway, rather than billions with an entire world watching in terror. However, it meant Fyrre was going to die alone and afraid, which was a powerful turn-on to the unrepentant sadist. Every time he forced Fyrre further onto his dick, he felt another bone crack or internal organ squish into useless gore and compound Fyrre's suffering.

Fyrre knew that Zahn was close to getting off. He felt the cocks getting even harder. The precum flowing from his mouth--forced through his throat from within--became thicker. The violent motions of masturbation became even more chaotic. The dragon soon learned that the drox's oversized balls weren't just for show; they contained even more cum than expected and Zahn's ejaculations were explosive.

Cum shot through Fyrre's entire body and out his mouth. The normally white liquid contained streaks of red from the internal wounds inflicted on the living sex sleeve. Several of Fyrre's teeth broke due to the force of Zahn's cumshot, joining the rest of his torn internal organs in a puddle upon the pavement. The other cock's cum splattered onto Fyrre and coated him in seed as if the dragon were nothing more than a tissue to be used and disposed of.

When Zahn pulled Fyrre off his dick, another heavy glob of pureed gore flowed from the dragon's backside. The micro felt empty given the amount of damage he'd suffered and the absence of a cock within him. He'd ask to go to a hospital but he couldn't even speak due to his ruined vocal cords and collapsed lungs. Zahn ignored his victim's incoherent sounds, dangled Fyrre by the tailtip, and lit a post-masturbation cigarette.

... And Out

Zahn didn't say a word as he enjoyed his smoke break. Fyrre managed a few pained noises but those, too, were silenced by the drox casually blowing smoke over the dragon's face. The quadruped struggled to even cough as that toxic plume covered his broken body; the damage to his nervous system couldn't trigger that reflex in the first place and the damage to his lungs would have made it impossible to react. Fyrre's vision was swimming as oxygen deprivation and internal bleeding continued to take their toll upon him; he remained on the twilight of consciousness, though Zahn shook him awake if the micro ever passed out.

The silence was broken when Zahn flicked his cigarette to the ground and snuffed it beneath his left shoe. He gave it the same contemptuous twist as he'd give a bug or, perhaps, an entire city as he rampaged across a planet. Fyrre had flashbacks to his home being destroyed in much the same way; the fire of a burning city and a discarded cigarette were uncannily similar to the broken dragon's eyes. He was entirely helpless to the drox, just as his entire world was in the past.

"Gotta get back to work," Zahn announced. "But don't worry, I'll keep ya around." Fyrre wasn't sure how he'd be kept around but he wished he wouldn't be. The sadistic creature crouched down and flicked Fyrre--an impact that broke any ribs left intact--to discard him as casually as the cigarette. The dragon tumbled through the air and landed awkwardly inside the drox's right shoe. He nearly broke his neck on the filthy insole and sprawled awkwardly upon it; Fyrre's body moved unnaturally as his skeleton was mostly pulp. The grime inside the sneaker was vile. The stench was omnipresent and would have made Fyrre gag if he still could. The sweaty filth seeped into the dragons scales, marked him with their stink, and further aggravated the scrapes upon his skin. He'd never get that smell out. He also wouldn't live long enough to try.

Zahn smirked down at the nearly-dead dragon in his shoe. Fyrre nearly filled it. That shoe was functionally a coffin for the mortally wounded ex-person and Zahn's foot was the cover for that tomb. Zahn didn't bother putting his sock back on; he wanted to feel the dragon's final moments as intimately as possible. The three-toed paw plunged Fyrre into darkness from which he'd never escape; his last sight would be Zahn's bare foot turning his world black forever.

The shoe was far too tight to accommodate a dragon and a foot. However, Zahn's foot asserted its dominance instantly. Both creatures were surprised that the Fyrre had any bones left to break, but Zahn was satisfied and Fyrre horrified by the wet snapping noises as the drox finished putting his sneaker on. Weight shifted all over the micro's body as Zahn tied his shoes and then returned to work as if he hadn't just committed a murder. There would be no evidence: Nobody would dare check inside his shoes.

Fyrre was snuffed out under the drox's foot over the course of the next hour. With every step, Fyrre's body softened more, yielding to the unrelenting force of Zahn's foot as it forced him into the worn insole. His limbs were crushed one after another, each with just another unceremonious crunch under those merciless steps. When Fyrre felt like he was finally about to die, another violent snap brought him back to consciousness. He could no longer attempt to scream; his only sounds were pained gurgles and the squishy sounds of his body being reduced to pulp.

The dragon's remains were completely unrecognizable by the end of Zahn's shift. When the drox pulled his sneakers off, there was just a mangled, ruptured sack of flesh. The dragon's internals and fluids had spilled forth, added to the slimy filth upon those rancid insoles. "Heh, pathetic," Zahn snarked. He pulled out the largest chunk of dragon and tossed it into the trash, leaving the rest to be trampled into his insole as an addition to the grime within.