Gryphon Meat Factory Side Story: Gammia
#3 of Vore Stuff
This one is different from the others. It isn't really a fetish piece, more of a 'What if?' I contemplated while working on the setting. As such, don't expect it to provide much in the way of fetish fuel, though there are some implied things I think some of you might like.
This does give some of the background information many of my readers have been asking for. I am planning for the next side story to give more, but hopefully this will be enough to satisfy some of you.
Fewer warnings this time. Death makes an appearance, but mostly things are just implied. If you can't stand implications of pain, cooking, torture, gore, and things like that you probably shouldn't be reading any further.
If you enjoy it then please leave a comment, fave, vote, and all that stuff. I like to hear about what people enjoy in my work, so comments are especially appreciated.
People don't often realize how colorful their worlds really are. They go about their various lives, not caring about the splendor that they can't see, or that they have seen so often it is normal to them. Occasionally they will see something new, or take a moment to really appreciate what is in front of them, but they can't do that all the time. None of the worlds allow for it. At least, none of those actually worth living in. Progress and work are part of the color after all, and without them worlds are left reduced.
Some people try to constantly see new things, but this can only last for so long. Perhaps the average lifespan of one of these people isn't long enough to actually run out of things to see, but if you keep going long enough eventually it happens in one form or another. Even billions of years are as nothing compared to eternity, after all. Few beings can ever reach that point though. Eventually age, accidents, malice, or even the end of their universe entirely kill most of them.
A very few keep going though. Odd beings, with strange forms and unusual minds. It takes an odd being to get to that point. Most give up or fail before getting that far. Eternity outlasts love, hate, curiosity, and even boredom. Going for eternity doesn't mean giving up such things, but it does mean the certain knowledge that they can't last forever. Eventually any state of mind will change, or it will cease to be.
Once at that point all that such creatures have left is the color of the worlds. Experiencing and appreciating the things that are in front of them, no matter how often they have seen such sights before. Those lucky enough to encounter a being like that are few and far between. And the experience is likely to be one they will never forget for the rest of their lives.
A golden gryphon stares at the tall buildings all around him. Normally this wouldn't attract much attention at all, but then normally with gryphons 'golden' doesn't mean 'looks like they have feathers made out of solid gold.' He could almost look like an incredibly detailed statue if it weren't for how the light wind causes his feathers to shift and flow.
Those gryphons passing by who take more than just a quick curious glance notice other oddities. His eyes are too large, his ears too long, and the way he stands just doesn't seem to be quite right. Nothing too far from the normal variation, but together they stand out. Also he is big. Intimidatingly big, which is part of why nobody seems willing to step within five meters of the unusual figure.
Gammia doesn't react to the stares he gets. They are the intended result, but he has plenty of time to enjoy them. Right now he is doing his own staring, specifically at the towering structures surrounding him. He has seen skyscrapers before, but the particular way the light reflects off the glass can be utterly fascinating to see. Little warps and ripples cause images to be distorted, almost like looking into another world.
This place is interesting to him. A whole city of gryphons, but remarkably little of it seems designed for quadrupedal or avian use. Almost like they inherited it from someone else, or they were changed somehow from another form. He is hoping for the latter. That would be very useful in his goals.
In the meantime the plan is to get attention, which is working remarkably well. Also working is doing it without bringing down the wrath of whatever law enforcement or defensive groups exist in this place. He could deal with them, but that would make things harder later, and he might miss something.
A single one of the watching gryphons finally steps forward, beating out the conformity pressure to just stay back and watch like everyone else. That one might be useful. "Um, excuse me. How did you get your feathers to look like that?"
Gammia turns to look at the person talking to him, making sure to keep his expression friendly. It is female, if he is not mistaken, and seems more curious than anything else. "I made them this way. It is what I can do."
He loves the way her curiosity rises when he gives his vague response. He can see it in the pose of her muscles and the lay of her feathers, hear it in her heartbeat, and even smell it in the air. Beautifully expressive creatures. It almost makes things too easy.
"Well, yes. What I am wondering is how you did that. It isn't just paint, so how did you manage it?"
"This is the way my feathers are. I designed them to be this way."
Now the female's expression shifts, looking annoyed. She is pretty sure this strange gryphon is just evading the question.
"Well, how did you do that then?"
"I am . . . not quite like you. Here, let me show you."
Gammia reaches into his feathers and pulls one out, rather easily. He reaches out and hands it to the gryphoness, who takes it with renewed curiosity. He makes sure she has a good grip on it before letting go.
He smiles as her expression turns to wonder when the feather starts to crumble away before her eyes. Not even dust is left, as the will that keeps the temporary matter intact is no longer in contact with it. It just vanishes, taking only a couple of seconds.
"W-w-what!" She stares at her empty claw, not quite believing what just happened. She has seen magic tricks before, but this seems different. "What are you then?"
The golden gryphon smiles, and is just about to speak when the both of them are surprised by a deep rumbling noise. It seems to fill the air, and reverberate deep inside their bodies. They each look about, trying to identify the source.
A probable origin becomes clear quite quickly, as what appears to be roughly circular dark clouds appear between the skyscrapers. As the gryphons start screaming and running, Gammia looks about, seeing that the clouds are evenly spaced above the roads, and there are over a hundred visible. Possibly thousands total, assuming this is happening across the city.
The female runs off like almost everyone else, messing up his plans quite a bit. Whatever is doing this better be worth his time, because otherwise he will be rather annoyed. The clouds start to get thicker, and take on a distinct shape. Suddenly they seem to snap into focus with a sound not unlike a gunshot, becoming hovering airships. He doesn't specifically recognize them, but given that they could be from almost anywhere in the multiverse that isn't too surprising.
Machines start to emerge, jumping across to the nearby buildings or falling to the ground. At the same time the crack of unleashed electricity can be heard, as hundreds of gryphons are stunned where they stand.
Several stun bolts are aimed at Gammia, and in a split second decision he falls to the ground as though they have worked. He actually feels pretty much nothing from them, having designed his form to be immune or at least resistant to many common forms of attack, but if he stands out then they might just decide to shoot him down with something he can't resist. Without preparation and against this level of threat he might just lose, and that would set him back even further.
He takes a few minutes to alter his form, mimicking the vital signs of one of the stunned gryphons. He doesn't lose his awareness though. From the sound of things somebody is trying to fight back, and not being entirely unsuccessful. The scream of jet engines can be heard, along with the sound of rapidly firing armor piercing ammunition tearing through exotic metals.
Both sounds cut out rather quickly, but Gammia hears at least one of the airships crash to the ground. It sounds like it is all plastics and metal inside, with no crew. Just machines.
The resistance dies off fairly fast, and soon enough nothing is left moving but the robots. They seem to be gathering up the stunned gryphons, and loading them onto the airships. No distinction is made between them, and none are left behind. Gammia's turn comes quickly, and he remains limp as he is unceremoniously dragged into the ship and thrown into a pod. It closes up around him tightly, and he can smell when reprocessed air starts to be fed in to him.
With nothing else to do, he starts to make plans. He has seen enough to get some idea of what is going on, and he will be ready to act when the time comes.
Damrir works to prepare his station, getting ready for the next set of gryphons. There are always stray bits of feathers and blood to clean up, as well as equipment to reset and sterilize. Wouldn't want one of the birds to catch a disease or something before they can get sold.
He yawns. It has been a tiring day so far, with two attempted escapes and even one gryphon that was dead when it showed up and needed to be cut up right then. Fortunately he just has to process two more before he can go onto his meal break. He likes having this particular shift, as it means he goes for his meal shortly after they change out the gryphons in the breakroom. He grins as he anticipates finding a nice fresh one to scream for him.
His apprentice Imne is over across the station, tapping on a pad as she finishes up the paperwork from the last gryphon they processed. She is rather attractive and smart, and he looks forward to when she graduates and it won't be inappropriate for him to ask her out on a date. There is nothing stopping him from sneaking an admiring glance at her though, and he does so. He particularly likes how her emerald green scales catch the light.
The station is cleaned up with a few minutes to spare, and Damrir sits back next to Imne. "Anything you have questions about?"
She thinks for a second. "Most of the procedure makes sense, but I don't get why we pull out a feather at the end. We don't even do anything with it."
He nods. That confused him at first too. "That is rather simple actually. It is to see how easy they will be to pluck. If they are too hard, then they aren't good for people to pluck themselves. Those ones are better for selling as parts, or as prepared whole gryphons. The ones that are easier can be sold to restaurants, and for people to prepare themselves."
Imne still seems a little confused. "So why isn't there a spot on the paperwork for that then?"
Damrir shrugs. "Because it isn't really an official part of the procedure yet. Just something that we workers have been passing down. It does improve our satisfaction ratings though, and I hear that the higher-ups are considering making it mandatory."
The female nods as she understands. "I see now. Good idea."
They likely would have continued to converse, but a green light flicks on above their station, indicating incoming gryphons. Damrir stands up, and walks over into position. He can see other dragons doing the same at the other stations in the section. The conveyor belt in the middle of the space spins to life moments later, and many awaiting eyes look down at the tunnel the gryphons will be being brought through.
This particular section of the factory is for unusually large or dangerous gryphons, and the bindings on those that emerge from the tunnel are reflective of that. Every motion restricted by a smart restraint, keeping them contained without letting them hurt themselves. The platforms carrying the birds start to file into the stations one by one, and the dragons there get to work immediately.
Damrir is counting as the gryphons emerge from the tunnel, and so he spots the one that will be his to process immediately as it appears. He blinks in surprise. "That can't be a natural coloration." It actually looks like it is made of gold.
Imne tilts her head in confusion. "I thought any with dyes or chemicals were to be set aside by the drones, to be cleaned up and processed later."
The male nods, still watching the unusual gryphon as it is brought closer. Something about it seems off, and not just the color. "They should be. None of those we get ought to have any such problems."
As the gryphon is slid into their station, Imne taps on the pad in her claws a few times. "Looks like the color is natural, as far as the drone could tell. It took three samples to confirm. A little odd composition, but no chemical additions."
Looking over the golden feathers up close, Damrir can't help but wonder what sort of environment would produce such a coloration. Then he shrugs. It isn't his problem, as long as the meat is good. He walks over to collect the flesh sampler. Some prefer to start with measurements, but he likes to get this going just in case he needs to redo the test.
He feels a bit of a tingle in his talons as he walks. Figures, since he has been on his feet for hours already. He ignores it, and grabs the cylindrical device he is after. He carries it back over to the gryphon, pressing it up against the featherless skin on the bird's chest, and squeezing to activate.
Instead of the little snick noise he expects, the sampler grinds, then gives an unhappy sounding beep. He pulls it away, first noticing that something is tangled in the teeth of the cutting saw. It is an orange fiber that seems to have caught and been pulled into the machine without being cut or torn.
The second thing he notices is the color of the blood on the implement. It is a deep purple color, far outside the range of normal gryphon blood he has seen. From how the blood sticks to the fiber, it appears the orange thread was inside the gryphon.
He looks up at the strange bird's face for the first time, not seeing the usual fear or anger there. Instead the expression would be best described as amusement.
"What are you?" Damrir tries to step back, but his legs don't move right. Instead he falls down on his side. He can see Imne start to get up to try to help, but she stumbles too. Something is definitely not right.
A loud alarm suddenly blares across the section, followed by an authoritative voice. "Atmospheric contamination detected in section L-21-9. Quarantine initiated." The sound of heavy shutters closing all around the whole section can be heard, along with the surprise of the dragons trapped by it. Though it seems that many of them are also having the same problems as Damrir and Imne.
Damrir can feel his heart beating harder as he realizes he can't move any of his limbs. He has trouble keeping his eyes open. The last thing he sees before they get too heavy to keep open is that gold gryphon, looking at him with a smirk.
Gammia watches as the dragons drop, listening carefully to their hearts. None of them stop beating, which is good. He wouldn't want to kill them, since they will be much more useful alive.
He does hear one of the gryphons have a bad reaction to the chemical he is putting into the air, and stop breathing. The gas is designed for a dragon's biology after all. That is okay though. Right now they aren't important.
The whole time he has been setting up for a form shift. Small things like gas producing glands under his skin are fairly easy, but the restraints make larger changes hard to do. He can compensate for that though. He just needs to take them with him.
The gold gryphon's shape starts to flow, becoming amorphous as the features fall inward. The restraints are caught up in it too, getting absorbed into the mass. Even his internal organs and brain dissolve and change. It only takes a few seconds for the shape to not be recognizable as a gryphon anymore.
It is a rather fast process after that, with the mass flowing outward to take on a new form. Armor appears, along with claws and spikes. It is the shape of a predator designed from nightmares, with every surface deadly and protective. Somewhat insectoid, with six limbs and an exoskeleton, but nothing nature could come up with would be so terrifying.
Gammia is quite proud of his combat forms. He takes elements from creatures he encounters and mixes them with his own creativity. The result is deadly, and he rarely has cause to use such a form. But this time definitely qualifies.
Alarms blare, and robotic arms reach from the ceiling and walls to target the monstrosity with a wide variety of weapons and implements. Most get cut down before they can do anything, as Gammia moves faster than any creature that size should be able to. Claws tear apart the closer threats, while metallic spikes shoot out at those further away with incredible velocity, severing servos and breaking metal limbs.
Those few weapons that do get off a shot seem to be rather ineffectual, as lasers fail to cut and projectiles just bounce off. Almost as soon as it began the combat is over, and the floor is littered with bits of destroyed machinery. Gammia stalks along the platforms, alert to any further threats.
None seem forthcoming, though he does notice one of the dragons having a reaction to the ongoing paralysis chemical. He moves over to her, and forms a hypodermic needle to inject a counter-agent. He needs as many of them alive as possible for what is coming next.
With everything still, the monster sits in the middle of the space and waits. A response is sure to be coming, and he wants to be ready for it, in whatever form it takes.
Deep in the depths of the sprawling factory sits a massive computer core. It is the size of a building, and huge cables stretch from it out across the whole facility. This is the central AI in charge of making sure everything keeps running smoothly.
It has some incomprehensible designation, but most of the employees of the factory just call it the Overmind. Usually its attention is spread out across all the various machines and sensors under its control. Making sure the gryphons, and a smaller number of individuals from other species, that it is processing get to their destinations as good as they can be. Cutting, gutting, stuffing, roasting, frying, breeding, milking, and all the various other activities needed to make the desired products.
Occasionally something out of the ordinary comes up, but usually the sub-processes are enough to handle that. The factory has been in operation for well over a hundred years, and it has seen and dealt with many different crises in that time.
One sub-process calls for the Overmind's direct attention. A particular criterion has been met, and a possible re-occurrence of a previous crisis seems likely. Processors that rarely see use anymore whirr into activity, functioning just as well as when they were new.
Something powerful has entered the factory, and it needs to be removed before it can do too much damage.
Gammia's wait isn't long, though the response isn't the armed attack he expects. Instead a speaker crackles to life on the ceiling, and a reasonable female voice comes out.
"Greetings troublemaker. What can we do for you?"
The monster tilts its head, such as it is. "Really? I paralyze your employees, break free, and destroy your equipment, and you just come and ask what I want? What is the catch?"
"This isn't the first time we have dealt with your sort of being here. It usually causes a lot more damage than it is worth, so we are trying something new. We must thank you for not killing any of our people. It may make things go much smoother."
Gammia looks over the collapsed dragons. "Well, a hostage is more useful than a corpse. Don't think I won't kill them and anything else you send my way if I need to." He gives the speaker his best menacing look, much enhanced by the half-meter long teeth. "As for what I want, you have interfered with my plans. I want all the gryphons, and anything else, you took alongside me to be taken back. Not a single individual or item missing, or I will come after you directly."
"We are afraid that won't be possible. Already 32% of the individuals taken with you have been processed, and 68% of those have been killed in one manner or another."
The monstrosity waves a clawed paw dismissively. "Oh don't give me that. I can see your technology, and smell your magic. You have plenty of capabilities to bring them back. I don't require them to be completely intact mentally, as long as they are generally there. I know it will be expensive, but I am prepared to do enough damage to your facility to make it worth it to you."
The Overmind doesn't like this situation. Calculations run through it, weighing the loss of product and resources against the probable damage done. This creature has made a vital decision in leaving the employees alive, as otherwise it would be possible to just vaporize the whole section and rebuild. As it is, the lives of the dragons are a huge weight on the scales.
More computing resources are brought into play, trying to determine the extent of the troublemaker's possible power. No magic has been detected, though continuous emissions of various gases without a corresponding weight decrease suggest either mass generation or some way that it is hiding the matter.
There are too many variables, and that tips the scales further in favor of giving in to the demands. But not quite all the way. Perhaps there is something else to try.
Tactical simulations are run, and more processing power is brought in. Creative algorithms spit out ideas, and resources are measured. One idea comes to the forefront, and signals go out to sub-units. Most of L block is told to evacuate, and gryphons are redirected to other sections.
The whole process takes a fraction of a second. Now all that remains is to buy time.
"That will take a while for us to manage. Would you like to move somewhere more comfortable while you wait?"
Gammia chuckles, a sound like a pit full of snakes hissing in synchrony. "And give up my hostages? Not likely." He hears a change in the sounds of the facility around him. The area is soundproofed, but that is impossible to do completely. It transmits through the structure, and he can feel it. He doesn't say anything though.
"Thought it was worth a try. Could we at least send something in to check on our people, and make sure they are doing well? We can have it bring you something to eat and drink at the same time."
"You may do so, but make sure it is unarmed and doesn't do anything besides check on them. I will destroy it otherwise. I don't need anything from it." It definitely sounds like things are being moved away from the area. Avoiding potential collateral damage, no doubt. Which means there is a plan, and not likely to be one that is good for him.
"Of course. It will be along in moments."
Gammia sits down as well as his form will allow, deciding on his course of action. He watches as a small drone enters and starts running medical check-ups on the dragons. The danger won't come from that though. It will be from somewhere unseen, which makes it harder to plan against.
Well, the best way to fight the unknown is by being unknown. He works on his body, altering internal structures to make them more enigmatic and harder to disrupt. And altering his protections, to cover possible threats that weren't quite covered before.
Soon enough he is as ready as he feels he can make himself. He will just have to wait and see.
The evacuation is complete, and the equipment is in place. Some of it isn't designed for this sort of use, but it will do. Now, time to learn something.
First is to save the hostages. Nothing can be done with them still in play. Fortunately all the sections are designed modular, and it is a simple matter to choose the right seams to break. Precision lasers fire synchronously, cutting the bolts holding things together. Just an instant later the whole section shifts upward. The force on the people still inside is large, but bearable for such a short period.
Even the troublemaker's reaction speeds are not enough to let it grab onto the rest of the section before it is falling away. Cameras watch as the monstrosity changes shape, becoming smaller and growing a large set of wings. It is recorded on every available wavelength, and with other more arcane methods of sensing.
Already a swarm of robots is dragging the employees away to safety, but possibly not fast enough. The troublemaker halts its decent faster than anticipated, and starts eliminating the weaponry aimed at it with precision shots from whatever weapon it somehow has. The spikes being fired are an unknown alloy, and seem able to penetrate most of the armors available.
That is no matter. The data collection continues, and the important thing is to keep the monster away from the people. A series of lasers from further away is called into play. Heavy ones, that have only rarely seen use other than cutting the multiple-meter thick plating that separates the various blocks of the factory from each other.
The troublemaker is resistant to lasers, due to some property of its exoskeleton forming a vapor when burned that is particularly effective at absorbing light. Even pulsed lasers haven't been effective so far. But there is always a high enough power that makes such a cloud not matter.
Coherent light slashes through the space, cutting the creature's wings into shreds. Unfortunately it also cuts through some of the other sections off in the distance, ruining them. It was a calculated cost though, and added to the tally.
Gammia is rather angry. All he wanted was to be let to go back to his plans, and now this place is fighting back. A grumble of rage comes from him as he plummets for the second time in less than a minute.
He meets the ground rather quickly, crashing into a huge metal sheet. His form is battered, but nowhere near broken. Even so he lays still. His next move will take some time.
Time which the computer fighting him seems entirely willing to give him. He can feel the wires and information running through everything, so it is good probability that this is an AI. That is good. Such a thing can be reasoned with, if you know how.
It takes over a minute to set up the next shift. He will be somewhat vulnerable during it, but attempts could have been made to kill him already several times and they weren't. Hopefully that trend continues.
The metal underneath Gammia's form starts to crack and rumble, before beginning to flow like liquid. Several cubic meters of the stuff at least. It is all he could extend his will to in such a short time, but it will do.
If his previous form looked like something out of a horror movie, this one wouldn't look out of place in a film about the robot apocalypse. Guns and armor plates cover him, and massive metal limbs steady his motion. Instantly shots ring out, destroying the heavy lasers that tore apart his wings before.
With the main threat gone he starts just focusing on doing damage. It is all about numbers with an AI. There is some value of projected loss that will make it give in, and he merely needs to reach that point.
The Overmind is pleased. This is just the data it was looking for. All the people are evacuated, so it is content to just wait for a time as its sensors do their work. Many of the numbers wouldn't make sense in a conventional situation, but that is to be expected.
It watches as the cost value rises. Too high, and this won't be worth it. The turning point comes when the troublemaker starts turning its weapons on the sensor equipment directly. No point in letting things continue if no data is being collected.
A loud shout rings out across the space, plenty enough to be heard over the sound of the guns Gammia is firing. "Cease! We will give you what you demand!"
The guns fall silent, though they remain aimed. "I thought you might see it my way eventually. Let me know when it is ready. I will stay right here in the meantime."
There is no reply. Already working, no doubt. Well, this isn't the sort of day Gammia wanted to have, but at least it may work out for the better. What better to get attention than saving a whole city? Perhaps this encounter may not slow down his plans after all.
Seven dragons sit around a table, staring at a screen at the end of the room. Their expressions are incredibly neutral. The remains of their lunch sits on the table, the messy and in a few cases bloody remnants of gryphons prepared in a variety of manners. Three of the seven have intact gryphons wearing dominance collars under the table in front of them, servicing them even during this important meeting.
The orange dragon at the end of the table is the only one that speaks, addressing the screen. It just shows a colorful static, but appearances can be deceiving.
"So you just let them go? Why didn't you kill this creature while you had the chance?"
The voice of the Overmind comes through the speakers. The static shifts as it talks, providing some visual indicator. Organics like visual indicators.
"I predicted that the data collected would be more valuable than the loss of product. In addition, we still don't have any means of eliminating such beings entirely. It is entirely probable that this one would have returned even if I killed its body this time, and I might not be able to stop it in such a circumstance."
Subtle approval sweeps through the dragons, though they are good at hiding it. The Overmind has never been quite sure why they keep up the pretenses when they know full well it can read them anyway. Their responses when asked are not helpful.
"What was so useful about this data?"
"While it may not be possible to eliminate a creature like this, all of the incidents we have had from such beings are due to accidentally encountering them in the course of our usual operations. During the incidents, little information about the creatures themselves has been collected, which has limited counter-operations, particularly in cases where the creature is disguising itself within a target population. I think I have rectified this oversight."
The Overmind can see that the directors understand the significance, but it continues anyway. This has to go into the official record after all.
"With this data I can detect these creatures before starting harvesting operations, and we may never have an incident of this scale again."